Newspaper Page Text
THREE DOLLARS PER ANNUM.
Vol. XXXII.—No 45.
©rijiiral Jltflrj.
The Triumph of Faith.
Mr. Editor:—"if I remember correctly. It was In
1860, that I sent you my first attempt at blank
verse. That piece of composition being "laid on
the table,” ;dampened ray ardor In that direc
tion. I make now another effort and await
the result.
THB TRIUMPH OF FAITH : OH LOST IS SIGHT.
Oat on a bleak and barren wilderness,
In all the loneliness of dreary wilds,
A child appeared In view; a child that bore
A standard fair and beautiful to see.
Barrier on barrier to Us progress rose
Yet steadily pursulDg the cmt path,
With quick undevlatlDg step and pace,
The youthful pilgrim ran: while prowling wolves
And rav’nlng beasts, and enemies unseen
Approached to seize: but as their hungry eye
Caught sight of that fair standard borne aloft
They hasted quickly to conceal themselves
In covert dens: that when the child was weak
And wearied In Its toilsome march, they could
The better seize their much desired prey.
But Jouroeylng still amid those dreary wastes*.
Anon, the child grew up to womathooil;
And still in her lair hand wag borne on high
That same old standard, bright with added years:
Ye*, lar more shining than In days gone by
Fearless, untired she pursued her toilsome way 1
And now bleak mountains with their snow
crowned brows
And bare and rugged hills alike combined
To bar the entrance to the goal she sought
But with a smile of triumph In her eye
Bhe raised her standard, and by help unseen
flhe quickly bounded o’er the towering cliffs
And peaks of trouble. Then steadily her way
Pursued even to the brink ot that dark river
Which every pilgrim ■ ~ at some time cross.
When near the Jordan, that standard wavered
In her weak hands: her limbs grew tremulous
And her head hung down. In her weary face
The shades of doubt began to gather:—the watchers
O ss the neigh ring heights grew sad and fearful
Lest that heart should break:—that heart so
schooled
In suffering; that ha/1 endured so long.
Their lears how vain !—her eye now spann’d the
river;
And by the glim’rlng of the light beyond,—
Herdoubts removed,—new hopes her breast in
spired.
With her weak hands—so frail in dying—she
That long-borne slamUtrd raised above the flood .
When soon an unseen Land conveyed her safely
O'ar the dismal, dark and swollen river.
Row at the portal of a vast transcendaut
Holy City, we saw that standard fair.
Leaning on the wall; and on it plainly
Graven, In bright characters of golden light,
This word. “Fallh,” and we knew 'twas this
alone
That brought her safely through that barren
wild ;
That great and sterile wilderness, so rife
With enemies; with pits and snares and deaths
And where so many rav’nlng beasts of pray
Roamed at all hours. Yes It was faith aloue
That bore her feet above the waves ol Jordan,
Bnt at the gate of New Jerusalem
Was laid aside: as In the sight of all
Its shining, darzllng splendor. Faith no more
Could live, or have existence. No standards
Borne within the precincts of that blest place:
Faith’s, Hope's both laid aside as useless here.
And now Instead a being ot unearthly
Mold,—fair, beautiful, lovely beyond all
Else that angel, or that human eye hath
Seen, embraced the lorm of her we saw roam,
All her llfe-loug, In that bleak wilderness.
At side of Love,or leaning on the breast
Os Charity, that pilgrim, oh, how changed!
That face, how radient with ecstatic bliss !
That eye, how bright In its unclouded view!
That soul how conscious of a triumph won !
A triumph won o'er all earths woes and strifes,
Its griefs and trials, and Its conflicts too:
Which God to test I he work of His own hands
Arrayed against a weak and fragile woman.
(We publish, because the sentiment is gocd f
and very well expressed. Bat it Is not blank
verse—only a lew of the lines conforming to the
laws of rhythm. Regular English blank verse
consists ot lines of ten syllables, the stress of
voice or accent being laid on tho even syllables,
the odd syllables being short or unaccented.
Lines conformed strictly to this ruts will l>e
blank verse; although some specific exceptions—
which we need not state—are allowed tor effect,
which do not destroy the rhythm. Tried by the
rule a good deal ot the above is only prose, divid
ed off' Into lines. For Instance In the following
extract, there are only three legitimate iambic
pentameter verses, "Bhe quickly bounded o’er
the towering cliffs and peaks of trouble. Then
steadily her way pursued, even to the brink of
that dark river, which every pilgrim must, at
some time, cross. When near the Jordan, that
standard wavered In her weak hands; her limbs
grew tremulous, and her head hung down. In
her weary face the shades of doubt began to gath
er ; the watchers on the neighboring heights grew
sad and fearful, lest that heart should break :
that heart so schooled In suffering; that had
endured so long.” Put In the form of prose, this
read much like prose. How will this quantity
do—laying stress, as the law of prosody requires
tn lambic measures—on every even (Italicized)
syllable?
On ths | neigh 'bring | heights grew | sad and |
tearful.
Compare It with this leglmate line;
But with | a smile | of tri \ umpli in I lier eye :
Anil it will be seen that this is not blank verse
—though very good religious sentiment.
El), a. C. AJiVOCATK.]
gDctriue ani> (Erfieritnce,
From the New Orleans Christian Advocate.
The One Holy Spirit.
The peculiar mission of John Wesley
was to witness to the work of the Holy
Spirit. The doctrines which he held dif
fered in no wise from those which were to
be found in the Articles of Faith as held
by the Church of England. In her homi
lies were imbedded those great truths of
the Beformatiou which distinguish the
Protestant faith ; but whatever force they
bad when uttered by her martyrs and de
fenders, the time had at length come
when a demonstrator of their original
meaning was required. That demonstra
tor Providence raised up in the Wesleys
and their coadjutors. To the Church of
England Mr. Wesley was no more indebt
ed for his conversion than was St. Paul
to the church at Jerusalem for his. While
in the other ends of the earth, and when
entirely disconnected with all bis usual
sources of religious knowledge, he receiv
ed the truth of the doctrine of the new
birth ; and this must have given to it, in
his own mind, the force of an independ
ent discovery. He revolved it, and evolv
ed it experimentally from his heart and
bit closet, and then preached it as one
who had suddenly come into the posses
sion of some momentous lost principle.
The place which the Holy Spirit holds in
the new dispensation was again recog
nized. The church was like the Magi
when the star disappeared for awhile aDd
left them at fault in the city of Jerusa
lem; but to the mind of Mr. Wesley the
doctrine and experience of the new birth
was like the reappearance of that glorious
light. His finger pointed the nation to it.
“The Spirit itself beareth witness with
our spirits that we are the sons of God,”
was the single blast with which his bugle
shattered the Alps. The cold barriers of
formal religion were burst by the divine
power of the life of the word. His own
heart was transformed, and the hearts of
thousands pulsated with anew being.
The spirit of the power of life raised great
multitudes from the death of sin to the
life of righteousness with the quickness
of the last trump. The candlestick, seven
branched, was once again seen in its place,
and the “stars” in the hand of the Master.
The Shekinah which for generations
hung resplendent over the mercy seat, in
the golden chamber, its only light, now
shone in the hearts of men—“our hearts”
—"giving the light of the knowledge of
the glory of God”—again discovering the
blood that was sprinkled there! Then
men felt indeed that they were the tem
ples of the Holy Ghost. Pentecost it
self scarcely gave greater witness to the
immediate presence of the Holy Spirit.
This, we say, was the one great mission
of Mr. Wesley, to declare the work of the
Holy Spirit. That he and bis followers
were looked upon as a species of fanatics
or religious enthusiasts is as certain as
that the apostles were thought to be drunk
at the “third hour” of Pentecost; and, so
far as the finding of the world is con
cerned, this has been its deliberate ver
dict, from that hour until this, in regard
to Methodism. To be sure many other
denominations have truly set forth and
fmutlmn Cfctisfiati JUtunjlr.
do now profess faith iu the immediate
work of the Holy Spirit upon the hearts
of men ; yet wherever men are converted
in any number there are not wanting
scoffers and unbelievers—as a recent Epis
copal paper quotes, with much satisfac
tion, the opinion that Methodist revivals
and converts do so fall off that it is much
“like carrying water in a seine.” Ami
yet if water i3 not carried this way, woe
to this same Episcopal Church that main
ly gathers and lives off of those multi
tudes of Methodists who straggle or faint
by the way; for the wastes and debris of
Methodism give constant employment to
the rag men of the “succession,” and
they may always be seen, book in hand,
stirring among its outside channels, at
taching anew value to everything they
may chance to pick up, They refuse
nothing.
Despite (all the ridicule of the world,
SataD and sanctified churchmen, Metho
dism is a revival or nothing. She has no
glory but that of the Holy Spirit. Her
architecture, her learning, her numbers,
her charities, are equaled, may be out*
stripped, by other Christian churches. If
she has only these to show then is she
poor indeed. But if she can point to
myriads won from the world to Christ,
rescued from death and made heirs of
eterual life; if her people live godly lives,
and then “die well;” if she holds forth
the doctrine of justification by faith, and
by faith only; if she stands forth as a
witness that God has power on earth to
forgive sius, so that a sinner may “con
sciously believe,” and feeliu himself that
he is healed ; and if, above all, she reali
zes and demonstrates that this is the dis
pensation of the Holy Ghosf, then indeed
may ehe be seen standing at her Lord’s
right hand in all the beauty of Ophir.
It is upon this sublime doctrine that
she reposes her faith—the presence of the
Spirit; His life working upou the minds
and the consciences of men ; His truth
enforcing power ; His quickening energy;
His co-operative light shining upon the
One Victim for sin ; His revealings of the
"Beloved ;” His searchings of the deep
things of God; His tenderness and en
couragings, and groanings unutterable;
as the One who has in hand all the truth,
and ail the blood, and all the love, and all
the life there ever was, or is, or ever will
be in heaven or earth for the benefit and
salvation of men. To get a clearer view
of this benign One Holy Spirit as the
Lord now at work, was the design of the
week of prayer. To feel that all the ma
terial and resources of Moses, Elias and
Christ are placed at his disposal; that he
takes of the thiugs of Christ as be will,
and shows them unto us; that this is His
prerogative and that He consummates
the work of Christ, and that without Him
the mighty labor of the Bon of Man
would have been iu vain—this is the key
stone of our faith, and to this we point
with an earnestness that earth calls en
thusiasm.
Winding Up.
The preachers in our Southern Confer
ences are rapidly finishing their labors
for the year. They are winding up the
affairs of their respective appointments.
The word is expressive. It suggests the
importance of compacting and oringing
tilings together, as we would disentangle
thread, smooth away the knots and
snarls, and put all snuglfr upon the ball.
In such sense as this it behooves the
pastor to wiod up his work in the church.
Nothing should be left at odds and ends
for him who may come next. Things
should by no means be left in a loose and
scattered condition. Cases of discipline
can be better disposed of by the old pas
tor than by the new. Everything in the
shape of church property, debts, titles
and disputed claims ought to be placed
in a state of security and equitable ad
justment. Because these matters are of
ten troublesome and extremely disagree
able, we are not justified in leaving them
to embarrass somebody else. In some of
the circuits the records are neglected or
carelessly kept. Os the membership there
is no other account than may be found in
fugitive class papers, and these are in some
instances lost. We have known circuits
where the preacher himself kept no record
of his members, and none of the baptized
children. In some stations the same
negligence may prevail, so that the new
preacher is left almost without a clew to
the flock which he is sent to feed. Many
appointments need a special winding up
in these respects, for everything has been
conducted in a hap-hazard way already
too long. The record of members should
be expurgated at the last church meeting,
and the names of those who “have been
lost sight of for twelve months” struck
from the roll. No preacher should leave
this duty to his successor. He is better
qualified to perform it, and it is just that
his administration should sustain the sta
tistical loss.
The preacher is to wind up his work be
fore Conference in the sense of bringing
it to a conclusion and final settlement.
He is to take it for granted that he will
be removed. This is the theory upon
which he is to act, because he is a travel
ing preacher and an itinerant. He must
preach as if certaiu of never having
another year in which to proclaim the
gospel message to his present congrega
tions. What he expects to do for their
spiritual welfare cannot be adjourned
over, even iu part, to another year. He
must so labor now as to be clear of the
blood of those committed to his care. The
Methodist preacher is compelled by the
tenuie of his annual appointments to
preach a present salvation, and to look
lor immediate results. He must go to
Conference with a clear conscience that
he has done all that he could to build up
the church and to save sinners. As to
that people he is to regard the end of the
year as the termination of his ministry.
Happy is the pastor who concludes his
labors amidst revival influences, and is
able to wind up the spiritual part of his
work with this divine seal to his minis
try !
In temporul matters the preacher should
have ail settled before Conference. Fi
nancially nothing can well be allowed to
go over without prospective embarrass
ment. Stewards and people should be
instructed in this feature of our economy,
that all claims end with the Conference
year, and that not to meet them by that
time is iu effect to repudiate them forev
er. It does not brighten the prospects of
the newly appointed preacher to find the
stewards still agonizing over the arrears
due to the presiding elder and their last
year’s pastor. A clear balauce sheet, with
all claims generously met, and a trifling
surplus to begin the new year with,
would be an augury as charming as it is
unheard of. In this final settlement the
special collections are not to be forgotten.
These are important, not alone for the
money raised for benevolent objects, but
also for their effects upon the intelligence
and piety of the church. They afford oc
casions for the instruction of the people
with reference to the duty and grace of
giving, and for the exposition of the Gos
pel of money. Life in both preacher and
the people is fairly indicated by the col
lections. These must be taken, of course,
before the year expires. The missiona
ries, the widows, orphans and worn-out
preachers, and the Bishops, are waiting
and dependent upon the pastor’s faith
fulness and the people’s considerate liber
ality. No work can be regarded as brought
to a just conclusion until all the collec
tions have been attended to. Not till every
interest has been presented, and some
thing gathered, does the preacher wind
up the labors and toils of the year.
The preacher’s work is to be wound up
in the sense of renovation, or as a clock
is wound up. and thus put in a state of
continued motion. A circuit or station,
spiritually and financially run down, is
the saddest of ail objects to the believing
heart. This state of things may some
times exist in spite of the pastor’s faith
fulness, and owing to untoward circum
stances and influences beyond his control.
Success must be considerably qualified
before it is made the test of ministerial
fidelity. The aim should be to leave the
charge in good workingorder, all the cogs
and wheels lubricated, and the entire
cbureh machinery moving .harmoniously
and effectively. The brevity of the ap
pointment may have the effect on some of
relaxing their diligent efforts to build up
the church. The thought that they will
not be permitted to reap where they have
sown may influence a few. It is possible,
i» rare instances, that the pastor finds
resignation to a state of declension in the
hopeful reflection that things will hold
together until the end of the year. The
true pastor, the real seif deDying itine
rant. wiil rise above these low and selfish
considerations, and seek only the glory of
God and the welfare of the church. He
will strive to leave his charge in the
highest prosperity, and the more certain
ty of his removal the more strenuous will
be his exertions to realize this result.
In all these respects many of our preach
ers are now winding up their affairs pre
paratory to the certain or probable
cbaDges which are soon to be determined.
The most disagreeable feature of the
whole process is the violent displacement
and dislocation of local attachments and
domestic interests, and the separation
from those who have been made dear by
a brief but most intimate and tender re
ligious fellowship. Private business in
terests are to be settled, debts paid, and
thus all the fibres, spiritual, social and
temporal, which have united pastor and
people,' and given them a common life
and experience, are to be severed. In this,
as in life itself, the end of a tiling should
be better than the beginning—the wind
ing up should be crowned with peculiar
grace.
Hymn for the Lord’s Day.
O day of rest and gladness,
O day of Joy and light,
O halm of care and sadness.
Most beautiful, most bright;
On thee, the high and lowly,
Bend: ug before the throne,
Slug, Holy, Holy, Holy,
To the great Three in One.
On thee, at the creation.
The light first had Its birth;
On thee for our salvation,
Christ rose from depths of earth;
On thee our Lord victorious
The Spirit sent from heaven.
And thus on thee most glorious
A triple Light was given.
Thou art a port protected
From storms that round us rise;
A garden Intersected
With streams of Paradise;
Thou art a cooling lountaiu
in life’s dry dreary sand ;
From thee, like Pisgah’s mountain,
We view our promised land.
Thou art a holy ladder,
W fieri: angels go and come ;
Each Sunday finds us gladder,
Nearer to heaven, our home;
A day of sweet reflection
Thou art, a day of love,
A day of resurrection
From e irth to things above.
To-day on weary nations
The heavenly manna falls;
To holy convocations
The silver trumpet calls.
Where gospel light Is glowing
With pure and radiant beams,
And living water flowing
Wlthsoul-refresblng streams.
New graces ever gaining
From this our day of rest.
We reach the rest remaining
To spirits of the blest.
To Holy Ghost be praises.
To Father and to Son;
The Church her voice upraises,
To thee, blest Three in One.
—Canon Wordsworth.
From the Melbourne Wesleyan Chronicle.
Our Class-Loaders.
There is no more Important question for
Methodists of the present day than, how
can our class-meetings be preserved in full
efficiency, so that the members shall at
tend them from week to week with unde
clining interest, and find in them a bless
ed medium of Christian fellowship, a
fruitful source of spiritual good? It can
not be ignored that some of our hearers
shrink from the ordinance as one that is
uninteresting and unprofitable; while
others—and among them not a few of the
wealthy, the intelligent, and the educa
ted-prize it as among the most precious
institutions of our Church. And, to a
great extent, the difference arises, as eve
ry one knows, from the difference in men
tal qualification, mode of address and
spiritual state of those who are put in
charge And we should be glad to spend
a few solemn moments with our friends
the class-leaders, in discussing the mo
mentous question, what can we do, in the
discharge of our office, to render the
weekly meeting one of lively, fervent,
confidential, and soul-reviving commun
ion ? It is no wonder Uiat some classes
are dry, and cold, and formal. The leader
embodies these qualities in himself. Our
beautiful hymns are lazily read ; the pray
er is without point and power; his “ex
perience” is marked by evasions rather
than by a frank, genuine, open-hearted
statement of his walk witli God; the
questions proposed to his members have
a stereotyped formula from year to year ;
and his counsels are deficient in force aud
pungeucy; they can neither rouse, uor
search, nor melt. The wonder is, not that
classes so conducted languish, but that
any members can be found to attend.
Asuccessful leader,likeasuccessfulprea
cher, must be thoroughly in earnest, lively
in manner, affectionate in spirit, ready in
speech. Aud, thank God, the number of
such menjaffloiig us was never larger than
now; their educational advantages may
have been few, but their life is hid with
Christ in God ; a moving earnestness and
depth of character shows itself in their
daily walk; when they enter the class,
the members can tell at a glance that they
have been with Jesus; their own state
ments of experience are the frank and
simple utterances of living piety; they
have furnished their memories with Scrip
ture texts and verses of Christian hymus
with which to apply their counsels; by
their readings through the week they
have replenished their resources, so that
the routine is never one of tame repeti
tion ; records of the holy lives and deaths
of God’s people are recommended au.l
conversed upon ; stiff prosiness and pro
lixity are banished from the place, aud
the members gladly acknowledge, "it is
good for us to be here.” A lively and in
telligent address distinguishes the leader,
and that is cue secret of his success. But
other qualifications are necessary; and
among them, perhaps, we should give the
greatest prominence to a tender, jealous,
unceasing concern about the experience
and life of his members. Methodist ex
perience-meetings originated in the cry of
penitence, the joys of faith, and the long
ings for holiness; and they area necessi
ty of intensely earnest religion. The only
sense in which it can be true that class
meetings are not suited to the present
day, is simply that in the present day,
with a wide surface of religious influence
and feeling, there is a lack of depth aud
power in religious earnestness. The mo
mentous questions of personal religion,
conviction of guilt, misery, aud danger ;
the forgiveness of sin, peace with God,
growth in holiness, victory over tempta
tion, and hope of everlasting joy—these
are matters of perpetual interest; ami
when they properly move the soul, the
counsels aud the prayers o,f Christian com
munion are sought and prized. People
then meet together, having sympathies
of the highest aud holiest kind. Ear
nestly seeking spiritual blessings, or re
joicing in liaviug found them, they find
that the class-meeting is just the oppor
tunity for a sad heart to unburden its
perplexities, and gain consolation and
strength; while those on whose lips is
the voice of joy and thanksgiving wel
come the season when they can “men
tion the loving-kindnessos of the Lord.”
Now, as class-meetings originated in, and
and are kept op by, that earnest religious
feeling which is the very soul of piety,
the leader must feel that his great work
is to bring all his members into a state of
all-engrossing earnestness about the one
thing needful. Os what use is it to try to
make the class-meetinginviticgand bene
ficial to any one who is not in earnest?
A model class-meeting, like a model
church, must be composed of persons all
pressing towards one standard of expe
rience and enjoyment, of character and
habits. And to bring this state of things
to pass, the leader must talk on expe
rience in an alluring and enlivening man
ner. It will not suffice that the same in
quiry be always proposed : “How are
you getting on ?” "How is it with you ?”
and an evasive, indirect statement receiv
ed. The leader must show by his ques
tions that he has set his heart on their
present enjoyment of the great salvation.
And variation iu the questions will secure
variety in the answers. “Do you eujoy the
life of God?” “Can you rest moment by
moment on the merits of Christ?” “Do
you feel a greater deadness to the world ?”
“Have you access to God in prayer?”
“Are you diligent in the study of the
Bible?” New members must not be al
lowed to rest till they know that they
have passed from death unto life. Old
members must be kept awake aDd active,
diligently striving to be filled with the
Spirit; and backsliding members must
be warned and aroused till they repent
PUBLISHED BY J. W. BURKE & CO., FOR THE M. E. CHURCH, SOUTH.
Macon, Ga., Friday, November 5, 1869.
and do the first works. We know that a
work like this will tax all the zeal, and
wisdom, and experience even of the best
of men. But the interests of these pre
cious souls are committed to their care;
and, as they hope to be pure from the
blood of all men, they muse bend all their
powers to the work—preparing themselves
for its responsibilities by reading, study,
and prayer; and, above all, by active
consecration of themselves to God. Next
to the ordaiued ministers of the sanctua
ry, our leaders hold the most responsible !
position in the Methodist Church : aud if
in the fear of God they have undertaken
its duties, they ought to spare no pains,
no self-denial, no prayer, in order to be
thoroughly competent. Our daily prayer
to the Lord of the harvest is, that He will
raise up holy, enlightened,soul-saving miu
isters. And with equal earnestness we
pray that he will give us, in eompiteDt
supply, class-leaders who will watch for
souls, and lead them on to heaven. So
shall we renew our “anei nt strength;”
and “God, even our o\v G~d, will bless
us.”
Weekly Coll -e.iora.
L Scripture Autlc.rity far Wc p Vy Cols
lections.— lt is no sm-t i
this practice that it * as ir.-ritured iy *t.
Paul in the very infaocj if uhristiai.it/,
and enjoined by him with great ear out
ness ou the Gentile chuicit- s b . h in Eu
rope and Asia. In addr ring iix- Omu
thians he says, “As I have giver md«-r to
the churches in Galana, .-on s> and • >e.
On the first day of the week, lot evr-rv one
of you lay by him in store ns Goii bus
prospered him,” etc. Tne design of this
collection was, ostensibly to relieve (I
poor saints at Jerusalem ; but ’ally, by a
laudable device of the apostle, according
to commentators, (Drs, Claike and Tay
lor,) to recommend the Gentile converts
to the Jewish Christians, who had enter
tained prejudices against them very un
favorable to the extension of Christiani
ty ; they supposing it neoessary that the
Gentiles should first be subjected to the
yoke of the law. The design then of this
measure was, in the true missionary zeal
of its author, that the grace of God might
be multiplied and spread abroad in the
earth, and the temporal wants of the poor
saints in Jerusalem supplied at the same
time. But were it only to relieve the poor
saints of bodily distress,, with how much
more propriety might we, in this our day,
make contribution for the good of the
souls of poor sinners exposed to eternal
burnings ?
11. Weekly Collections first gnveriseio Class
esand Class Leaders —Mr. Wesley himself
gives a full account of the origin of ela’-s
--es, class leaders, aud class collections.
The first hint toward this regulation was
purely accidental, “for which,” says Mr.
Wesley, “we have cause to bless God ever
since.” He continues, “I was talking
with several of the brethren at Bristol,
concerning the means of paying the debts
there; when one stood up and said, ‘Let
every member of the society give a penny
a week till all are paid.’ But many of
them are poor, and cannot afford to do it.
‘Then,’ said he, ‘put eleven of the poorest
with me; if they can give anything, well.
I will call on them weekly, and if they
can give nothing, I will give for them as
well as myself. And each of you call on
eleven of your neighbors weekly ; receive
what they give, and make up what is
wanting.’” This was acceded to, and
the same method, as soon as possible, ad
opted in London and all other places.
The general rules make provision for
weekly collections for the’ preachers.—
Here, then, wo have precedents for week
ly collections for three different objects:
for the poor, but with a missionary de
sign, according to commentators ; for the
church, according to the Bristol practice;
and for the preachers, agreeably to the
general rules: and hence the origin of :he
words iu tile Discipline, “the preachers,
the church, and the^ioor.”
111. Weekly Collections have never been
relinquished in England.— The great and
continued prosperity of the temporal
economy of the British Methodists may
justly be ascribed to this cause. Both the
itinerancy at home and the missions
abroad partake equally of this prosperity.
And it is to the early habit of weekJv, or
other often-repeated collections, even in
their societies and associations for the sup
port of missions and other benevolent ob
jects, as well as in classes, that much of
their success depends. Much of the tone
and extension of itinerancy and missions
depends on the unembarrassed condition
of the society, aud the ease with which
the preacher’s allowances are paid.
IV. Happy Results of the Practice.—
The great and happy spiead of Methodism
is chiefly to be ascribed to weekly or fre
quent collections as a system of temporal
means ; for it should ever be kept in view,
that the Wesleyans in England, who
have ever pertinaciously adhered to this
system, are the parent stock, from whence
have annually, as it were, been transplant
ed scions into various lands and crimes.
Our own land early felt the eflVcts of this
policy, in the reception of missionaries
even anterior to the revolution. In rapid
succession, Ireland, the Canadas, West
Indies, the Mediterranean. Webern and
Southern Africa, the East Indies, Asia,
Austral Asia, and the ’shim's in the grea'
Southern Ocean, ha a pern -h- recipients
of this Christian n-un ih-et oe. What a
glorious result! Not wu i-iied wi’h the j
supply of their own nun's cur Brili-h
brethren have heard the tcedonian cry,
and have answered it; no', indied. with j
their prayers only, but by alto-ding that |
aid also, which, through divine
could make their prayt’s eld cu.nl, v ■/..
pecuniary means and living t-piy'h* Thus
we see, that every Methodic >n!s‘ii<uia;.y
enterprise in foreign lands, c-'eu to this
day, owes its origin, in the first insttuee,
to the sympathies and Christian z-’ui o
the Wesieyans, seconded by me pecunia
ry aid of a willing people and anYffieitiit
temporal economy.
V. Lamented relinquishment of Week'y
Collections in America. —Whether this
arose from the embarrassed and unsettled
state of affairs for some time previous to
aud during the war of independence ; or
from the beligerent attitude of the country
and consequent loss of the counsel and in
fluence of Mr, Wesley aud his coadjutors ;
or, from our prejudices at that day against
everything savouring of British influence;
or, from the practice, which, according to
the venerable Garrettson and others, was
common among our preachers in those
times, of saying in their addresses, “We
seek not yours, but you,” and, “We have
come for your souls, and do not want
your money;” or, from all these com
bined, it is not now necessary to deter
mine. Whatever might have caused are
linquishment of a practice purely Metho
distical, it must now be evident to every
candid observer, that an immediate prac
tical return to this provision of the Dis
cipline is not only our true interest, but
that ou which greatly depends the tuture
prosperity and accelerated march of the
peculiar economy of itiberancy, of mis
sions, and of the general cause of Chris
tian benevolence in our own land and
elsewhere.
VI. Unhappy losses that have resulted
from this Omission.— ln bringing this top
ic before the Methodist public, no discour
agement is designed to be thrown in the
way of the future, or reflection on the
past. And hence, in alluding to losses, it
is only designed to speak comparatively,
and of what might easily have been ac
complished by a system of more vigorous
and better-directed efforts. We have great
reason to be grateful for what we have
been enabled to accomplish, under God,
in the great work of spreading the gospel
both at home and abroad. But, alas, bow
little have we done compared with our
means, and with the necessities of the
world ! Look at the millions of men as
yet unvisited by the first influence of our
Christian benevolence. Bee whole coun
tries destitute of the gospel, and of the
word of God. See millions of heathen
perishing for lack of knowledge. See,
too, the vast fields open for missionary ex
ertion, and behold how few are the labor
era. At the same time, let us also look at
home, aud observe thousands of feeble so
cieties struggling for life.and salvation in
the midst of surrouuding difficulties. They
need our aid, and so do numberless places
where wickedness abounds, aud where
souls are perishing, but where the gospel
has not yet obtained a foothold.
Again, how poorly is the gospel sup
ported in many parts of this prosperous
country. How many faithful ministers
scarcely receive enough, in the midst of
their toils, to furnish the necessaries of
life to their dependant families! How
many self sacrificing men, after devoiing
the prime of their days to the service of
the church, are left in sickness aud in old
age to suffering aud distress! How many
hundreds of zealous preachers of (” rist
and him crucified have felt themselves
compelled, through fear of such emue
queuces, to withdraw from the itinerancy,
aud provide by their own hands wha? he
liberality of the church should iave
promptly furnished them! How ma- v
may have been deterred from entering the
ministry by similar considerations!
Who can tell but that most of these
evils would have been effectually removed
ere this, bad the thousands of our mem
bership done their duty and thei; whole
duty, by weekly offering to God that
which he gave them for the promori m of
his glory? It must be evident to every
mind that we might have done much
more than we have done toward all these
objects.
Let the time past of our delinquency
suffice us, and let us now awaken to h foil
sense of our responsibilities.— Old Tract.
The Poor Preacher.
‘Ah, there's the misery of it, Mrs. Gen
era! Likens,’ she says to me. ‘Mr. Merkes
is on hap; yas a pieacher; but it’s that or
nothing else. Wretched in it; more
■* fetched out of it! And then there’s the
salary, sue says to me ; 'some people look
”u Christmas as a happy time. It’s just
lie worst of all the year to us. The gala*
*y is so small at best. And when the time
c jtnes to get it in the officers of the church
einl Mr. Merkes have to go over the sub
scription paper. This name can't pay—
lost too much money during the year
some way ; this one fiDds he can only pay
i.«if he promised, and bard work to do
that; this next one will try and see what
l e can do. Tie next one i9 that man who
look such offense at something the minister
said, or his wife said, or the man’s children
told him the minister's children said.—
Next man can’t stand such preaching;
dou’teaich him coming to hear him again,
much less Day. This next family on the
paper has moved away. That other fami
ly was carried off since it subscribed by
some other denomination ; aDd so on and
so on. ‘Settling up, Mrs. General Likens,’
says she, ‘for last year’s, bad enough, but
the making up the salary for the next
year—oh, me ! Officers of the churoh go
at it from a dreadful sense of duty only,
hunting people down, reasoning with
this man, cornering that mao—squeez
ing them to subscribe. Just fancy your
husband, Mrs. Geuerai Likens,’ says she,
‘you just saucy the General up that way
on the block at New Year’s like a nigger,
being excepted to, and run down, and hig
gled over!’ and she would have cried, only
the tears were all shed already.
I do believe she really loved her hus
band, and he was a good man—a real
pious man, though a mighty poor preach
er, whatever he may have been : uninter
esting, you know.
‘lf they could only uot tell Mr. Merkee
so much,’ she said.
‘But, then, he needn’t tell you about it, T
says I.
‘lt’s his disposition to talk over his
slights, to dwell on them,’ says she:
Jseems to take a kind of satisfaction in it.
Tell them !’ says she; ‘why, unless I wa9
stone blind I couid’nt help reading it all
in his face at table, in bis manner to me
aud the cbildren, to say nothing of his
groaning and twisting about in bed all
night.’
‘Why dou’t he jump on a horse and ride
'round, exercise—brighten himself up?'
says i.
•But where’s the horse?’ says she. ‘He
couldu’t afford to buy one ; and if he did,
he couldn’t pay for provender for one.—
He cau’t afford, even, to buy a watch ;
that keeps him nervous and guessing ou
-riabbatbs lest he’s too late for church ;
and it’s impossible for him to tell except
by people gettin’ up and going out, wheth
er or no he isn’t preaching too long. A
horse !’ says she. ‘I tell you, Mrs. Gener
al Likens, the dyspepsy he got in the
Seminary’s the cause of all his trouble.
After he’s beeD recreating a little, for a
week or so, he’s fifty times brighter and
happier, in the pulpit and out of it—only
it’s uot often he gets the chance. It’s
poverty that crushes Mr. Merkes!’ she
says, ‘an’ keeps up his dyspepsy—Ji i g
continued poverty ! It’s that keeps t iia
awake all night; it’s that makes him I
preach the dull sermons the people com- I
plain of; it’s that makes him seem gioorr
and sour; it’s that is stamped so into his
face. He’s struggled and prayed ugaiu t
anxious care for the morrow; but tin i
his children and his mortifications imd
his slights and his debts year after joar I
seem killing his very soul, with all the i
faith in it.’
The Best Christian Speocfc.
When the statue of George Peabody,
recently erected in one of the thorough
fares of London, was unveiled, the sculp
tor, Story, waa asked to speak. Twice he
touched the statue with his hand, and
said twice, "That i9 my speech! That is
my speech!”
There are Christians who deem them
selves too destitute of “gift.-:” to plead the
cause of Christ in words. But let them
not think that they aredebarred from the
privilege of bearing testimony for this
cause Their “graces” aud their “good
works” may be their speech ! They may
speak by their faith, and charity, and
meekness; by their steadfastness against
tern, tatio'i, their patience under affliction,
then honesty aDd diligence in things of
tlri? life, heir interest, zeal, and ardor in
thing? of the life to come. They may
ple and for .fesus and for souls with that
hh;hesr eloquence—the eloquence of holy
i.ive aud holy living—the eloquence of
character aid actiou, bright with the
image of the One Faultless Example,
A mi let not the gifted forget, that words
of theirs can never compensate for the
jack of tiii.« lotrier witness and advocacy.
If their walk—their manner of life —is si-
Itii , and does not speak for Christ, vain
will be m-rr? oratory, with the force of
logic and the fire of rhetoric. What De
Quincey calls “the mecbanology of style,”
is no sufficient substitute for a life that
teaches, and therefore is a sermon—that
moves, and therefore is an exhortation.
The best pulpit even of the ablest diviue
is, the way of the feet, day by day, the
common, secular scenes, where “such a
conversion ( behavior ) as becometh the
gospel,” points with one hand to the cross
which Christ endured for us, and with
the other to the crown which we shall
wear with Christ. O for the time when
all, who publish the glad tidings of peace,
can appeal rather to their personal exam
ple than to their public ministrations, and
say; "That is my speech! That is my
speech !”— lndex and Baptist.
The Devil’s Harvest.
Carefully compiled statistics show that
60,000 lives are annually destroyed by in
temperance in the United States.
100,000 men and women are yearly sent
to prison in consequence of strong drink.
20,000 children are yearly sent to the
poor-house for the same reason.
300 murders are another of the yearly
fruits of intemperance.
400 suicides follow in this fearful oata-
of miseries.
200,000 orphaus are bequeathed each
year to public and private charity.
$200,000,000 are yearly expeuded to pro
duce this shocking amount of crime and
misery, and as much more is lost in time
wasted, from the same cause. Is it not
time to drive that which produces such
results from our country? Can we be hu
man, if we hesitate to lend our aid to such
a cause? Do not humanity and religion
both demand it as a duty we owe to our
race? Let him who reads this, lay it to
heart.
“ Intemperance, with Its train of woe,
Is rife wherever we may 10 ;
On every hand we meet the foe—
The victim of this woeful curse
Is robbed of honor, health and purse,
And hope of Heaven, which 1* much worse
Than all besides.
A Good Daughter.—There are other
ministers of love more conspicuous than
she, but none in which a gentler, lovelier
spirit dwells, and none to which the
heart’s warm requitals more joyfully ress
pond. Bhe is the steady light of her
lather's house. Her ideal is indissolubly
connected with that of his fireside- 800
is liis morning sunlight and evening star.
The grace, vivacity, and tenderness of her
sex have their place in the mighty sway
which she holds over his spirit. Bhe is
the pride and ornament of his hospitality,
and the gentle nurse in his sickness.
From the Methodist.
Puffing tho C 1 *gy.
The clerical office is a position of great
levation. and hence also of great danger.
Foibles in other men become offences, if
not crimes, in preachers. Their railing
p its luto tln ii mcu’iijs She highest possi
ble themes—there, r.atneiy that re'ale lo
the future world, and to G «l him-eif.
Their vocation brings men to the bar of'
cou-qieJMse, aud aods the sauctluu of di
vine penalties to the obligations of reason,
j The very fact of their heavenly calling ie
Ia temptation to the people not to deal with
ihern us with other men ; and yet when
they siu they fall under popu nr reproba
tion as no other c!a-s possibly can, They
are mea-ured by thes'Uicrily of their pro
fission instead of the feebleness of human
nature. When th«-y succeed iu their miu
i.-tratiou in the pulpit, and the success is a
genuine < tie, they deserve praise, and are
only too • u re to win it. If the hearers
were wise as well as sincere, their praise
might lie harmless ; so it might be if the
preachers were wholly destitute of vanity.
But God has thrust out intorthe ministry
men <f like pas-nous with their brethreu;
Besides, ii me hearer has gone to church
covered up with his business and his cares,
orsluking under doubt or sore temptation,
and the preacher should succeed iu draw
ing him out of the slough, of diffusing
about him au atmosphere of celestial cer
tainty, aud for the time almost making
another man of him, au acknowledge
ment of the service is but natural and
proper. But the acknowledgement too
often comes iu the form of mere eulogy.
Instead of speaking of doubts removed,
or darkness dispelled, gratitude takes the
form of a compliment, and the pastor
hears of a “grand sermon,” a “splendid
effort,” “oueof the best discourses ever
delivered in this church.” These “ testi
monies,” frequeutly repeated, are in dan
ger, by and by, of becoming a necessity,
and the preacher is liable to depression
when they are not forthcoming. Au ap
petite for praise is created, which even a
good conscience and a sense of intellectual
ability cannot satisfy, and the preacher is
obliged to angle for a compliment. To
such a man the seuse of failure in a ser
mon becomes a source of humiliation for
a whole week. We have known strong
and popular men whose wretchedness ou
such occasions could only be dispelled by
some hearer’s good opinion of their perfor
mance.
The clergyman, in respect to this ques
tion, is not situated like members of the
other professions. The lawyer is occupied
with business; his labor aims directly at
a practical point, aud his reward is a fee;
eloquence with him is incidental. He is
independent of the crowd; the decision he
seeks is Dot upon his own eloquence or
ability, but in regard to the rights of his
client. With the preacher, whose judge
and jury are a congregation, the reverse is
too apt to be the case: to the crowd, abil
ity and oratory are the main things. The
physician’s patrons are his patients: lie
may iuspire gratitude, and win for him
self an abuudauceof kiud aud gracious
words, but from him none of the arts of
speech are expected; pills and plasters
take the place of periods; he is far re
moved in his labors from tiie sphere of
the beautiful, and his profession creates
no appetite for flattery. The artist iu his
picture, for example, boldly professes to
seek reputation, money is an inferior
aim; his work is an open appeal for the
applause of men. The preacher’s profes
sion shrinks from such a motive as sinful,
and aims to ignore or uproot it. Still,
there he stands, needing praise in order
to exist, and yet when it comes, it is at
war with the deep seriousness of his call
ing. How out of place these hum mi trap
pings look over his sable garineut-!
But few ministers reitc i the experience
of Bishop Whatcoat on tills subject The
story goes that on one occasion some
younger preachers were telling ilieir trials
in his presence. The sum of their talk
was that, when they felt after preaching
that the sermon hao heel’, a mi, -cess, Batau
tempted them to pride, mid when they
thought they hud failed, he tempted (Lem
to discouragement- They finished, and
waited for the venerable Bishop to speak
hut he was silent Tuty lueu que.iiuned
him particularly :
“ Weil, Bishop, l ave you list e experi
ences too? ”
*• No,” said the B'sh qt. “ no • ”
“ vVtiai,” raid they, "does Batan never
tell vou that you have pnashid well or
ill?”
“Oh! ves,” answered the Bishop, “but
it gives me no trouble.”
’’ What then,” said (l ey, “is jour re
ply to the tempterV”
“ Why,” said Bishop Whatcoat. “ when
h" tells me i have preached » ell, I answer,
‘Yes, pretty Will for a poor worm,’ and
when lie charges that X have preached
puoily, 1 answer, ‘ Ws, hut there is little
to be expected from a poor worm.”’
'1 here thoughts are evoked by a survey
of the religious wiekles aud by certain
recollections which they awaken. The
minis’er in the pulpit has another minis
ter behind him. The sermon is satisfac
tory, and nnird therefore he puffed. The
stranger, in his closing prayer, returns
tl.ai.ks f r ti e •* dde, clear, powerful dis
course.” Dill lie think the preacher
would expect it, and would be watching
for it iu me prayer? Does not such a
prayer share the worship between God
aud the preacher? And even if it does
not, would it not still be better to avoid
such an appearance ? Is it not a littleness,
a very great one ? But look over the re
ligious weeklies. Run over the corres
pondence, from city and country, aud par
ticularly from the camp-meetings. Many
of tbe paragraphs are taken up with ful
some descriptious of the sermons. Buch a
brother “preached the sermon of the
meeting; ” another was “ able and clear,”
yet another “eloquent and masterly,”
another still “ took the audience up to
third heaven.” Under one “the people
shouted aloud, aud tbe camp ground was
wrapt in a blaze of glory,” while another
was merely “ effective,” aud a half dozen
others, unfortunately, only "preached
from such and such texts.”
Now, we are not objecting to the truth
fulness of these portraits, uor merely to
tbe bad taste of making them public ; we
do object to tbe greed for praise which
they enkindle; to the disgust they pro
duce iu all sober-miuded readers, whether
religious or uot; to loading down religious
service, and disfiguring divine verities
with flippant and often bombastic compli
men’s. Let the grace of God be chron
icled, but not as a mere clothes-horse for
human finery, not as a canvas, ou which
to paint a clerical hero.
The Ministry Honorable.
That young men are to such an extent
averting their faces from the Christian
ministry, gives an unfavorable impression
of their manliness. An ambition of
wealth, of political power, of .iterary
eminence, may not be disreputable, but to
go past the noblest profession of all, fear
ing its trials, to take up with secular pur
suits, at a time like this, when the conti
nent from ocean to ocean Asks religious
instruction, indicates a state es mind
much to be deplored. Even if preachiug,
to-day, was accompanied by as many pri
vatious as it was of old, it would still be
the noblest profession of all. No man
ever entered heart and soul upon the work
of tbe Christian ministry who was not
thaukful all his life long for the choice.
After the vicissitudes of thirty years, tbe
earliest ten in straits of health and of
means, and ail of them laborious ; with a
clear uuderstauding of the honois, emolu
ments, and pleasures of other liberal pro
fessions, I would, to-day, if I were to be
gin life again, choose eagerly, irresistibly,
the Christian ministry, it has its burdeu-*,
all professions have. It has its restraints
and limitations, but not more thau otli. r
pursuits. It is the freest. Use most eugag
ing, the most soul-satisfying of ail eaii
ings, to those who are of the right spirit
for it. The commerce of the mind is witli
the noblest themes, tbe business of its Me
is the most benevolent. It keeps a man’'
heart related to his fjllows iti ils nr”*
generous moods. Belter than all, riu
crystal vault above one’s head is not daik
ened by such passions as so often tend
their fuliginous influence into other »vo
Citious, aud oue has a fruition ot i he coin
ing joys, even while a stranger anei pii
grlni. *■ .... ,
Ac the present day the work of the min
istry demauqs the set vices ot every giai -
of mental Tu leaching, in
pastoral wor ~ in leu thousand hituih er
fi-ids. men of good sense unel deep heart*
eduess will liad -buudjnt cccupaiiou, al
though they are not children of genius.
But in dealing with the phases of philoso
phic th< light," In bringing religion in Its
au'iioipy and beauty above the level of
jurisprudence, of literature, and of civil
affairs, that to it “every knee may bow
and every tongue confess”—is a work on
which men of the noblest parts, fired with
truest genius, may find the noblest oppor
tunities for the benificent exertions of
their whole nature.
Not Now But Hereafter.
As we stand before the unrolling scroll
of God’s providences, there is often a
struggle to know why he does or permits
this tbiug or that. This turmoil of earth,
this conflict of holiness with siD, of light
with darkness—thisapparentoverwhelm
ing of good by evil—these sufferings of the
excellent of the earth which so often cover
it as with a pall of sorrow—these early
and sudden deaths, often the removal of
those whose presence seemed most neces
sarv—these bitter disappointments that
come upou us—the slow advauce of the
kingdom of God—the apparent indif
fere nee of God to the prayers of his own
children; —we stand before these myste
ries, and question them but thev are
dumb. Why is this?
Some of these ways of God we cannot
know from absolute incapacity. We have
not the powers to understand them, and
by no language, no signs could God com
municate the knowledge of them. An
explanation, if given, however true and
full iu itself, and however clear to the in
telligence ot au angel, might only involve
us in greater mystery than before.
But, then, it cannot be denied that there
are other thiugs which could be under
stood if they were revealed. Why is the
knowledge of them withheld? It may be
of daily use in our walk through life to
keep iu view some of the answers which
may be given to that question.
Perhaps it may be to rebuke a vain cu
riosity—perhaps to try our trust, and see
if we are willing to take God’s word wheie
we do not know. It may be that He has
ends which would be defeated if we were
allowed at present to know more. It is
evident that giving us " all knowledge so
that we may understand ail mysteries,”
is not the main thing which God has in
mind in iiis dispensations with us here
below. He has ends above and beyond
that. And iu connection with this there
is the important fact that we already
know more than we practice. Ourintei
lecls are better than our hearts. Our curi
osity is greater than our faith. Our hearts
need to be brought up even with our
heads—cur faith with our knowledge,
We need to learn the duty of trusting God
more thau we need an increase of under
standing.
Let us take more constant and loving
lessons in this, and comfort ourselves with
that good promise of the Master—“ What
I do thou knowest not now but thou
slialt know hereafter.” There is a world
where many things shall be cleared up,
and mauy questious answered that can
not be answered here. Borne of the ways
of God that were once dark, are perhaps !
even now clearing up. We are growing
more into the knowledge of God’s provi
dence. We are getting a liftle more
around towards the illuminated side.
Mauy a child of Ond bus bowed before (be
dispensations of Goil as very hark, which
in his advancing piety have become all
light to him. What lie knews not. he
tow knows very well, and knowing, 1 >ves
anil adores the more.
Still, other tilings await the light of
eternity. In that heaven where “(be glo
ry of God doth l g‘ten it, and the Lamb
n the light thereof,” it wi l lie plain
enough. We shall there see that this daik
calamity which suddenly overshadowed
Us —tjiat the loss of fori nee which put us
to safe straps—that those days of weari
some s ckiuß-i that the terrible trials and
t- mptarions through which we passed,
had a great deal i<> do in leading us to a
better world. Nulling that befell us could
well have inen spared. The Lord now,
as of obi, leads his people by a right way,
that may go to a city of habitation.
In what has been said it is not meant
ma’ the “deep things of God” will be all
exp'alned when heaven is reached. Pro
f'Umt studies await us on that “farther
shore." Mysteries will be darkening and
char ng away,rising and setting, in steady
procession forever. Wherever God is,
there is and will be mystery; for “who by
searching can know the Almighty to per
fection ?’’ Wbeu we shall have gone to
llie farthest point, the exclamation will
he just as appropriate as in the days of
Job, “Lo, these are parts of his ways, but
bow little a portion is heard of him.”
Let us see the wisdom of waiting quiet
ly. The clouds will presently roll away.
We shall know if we will wait. Weshall
know more when the knowledge will be
best for us.— Central Presbyterian.
Things Miscalled Amusements.
The popular amusements of the day are
grievously misnamed. They should be
called excitements. The Anglo-Baxons
aDd the Celts, the races that give charac
ter to our American civilization and reli
gion, know little of amusements in its
proper sense. It does not content them.
The dance, the evening party, the card
table, the theatre and opera, the race
course, the billiard saloon aud the ten-pin
alley are either in their very nature, or by
tbeir almost invariable associations, ex
citements of the most unwholesome, in
ordinate aDd pernicious sort. Buch a party
as that given by a prominent New Eng
land Representative in Washington last
winter, when, after the usual gayeties and
feasting and drinking had extended to
one o’clock in the morning, we are told
“the German” was commenced and kept
up till near daybreak aud tbe whole was
finished by a champagne breakfast—could
this be rightly called amusement? By no
means. It was a piece of real businesss,
of the hardest and most tryiug nature,
cruel to body aud soul, as severe a draft
upon the nerve-force as a forced march, or
a total route and pell-mell retreat of an
armj’. Nay, we believe the downright
butchery of a battle-field is less barbarous
and more truly amusing than the orgies
of such a first-class all night party at the
Metropolis. The theatre is also the scene
of wearyiug, demoralizing, embruting ex
citement, more enfeebling and corrupting
thau a miasm. The fierce passions, tbe
gorgeous lewdness, the unmitigated sen
suality of spectacle aud costume and situa
tion and plot of the staple performances
of the drama, —what refreshment is there
in all this, what refreshment indeed ou
the very crater of hell, inhaling the sul
phurous fumes of the pit? Men do not
go to those places for the innocent and
wholesome thing properly called amuse
ment, they go for excitement. They go
not to be entertained, but to be inflamed.
Bo in games, which of themselves are
innocent and pure, as billiards and nine
pins, (we cannot include cards, as the ele
ment of chance enters too largely into the
game ) Americans are not content until,
by connecting the excitements of betting,
loss aud gain of money, and above all,
drinks, with the play, they have fairly
shut it out of the list of amusements and
make it a snare to character aud posses
sions, a swift pach to dissipation aud
ruin.
Amusement, relaxation, innocent gay
ety, hiliarity. sporliventss, is a gospel
duty. There is a time to laugh. Bui it is
one of the gravest mistakes ot our»«e hi and
country, that it knows so little of amuse
ments, aud has gone aluu-st exclusively
into dissipation iu their stead. With that,
the true Cnristian plainly lias nothing to
do, tiut to discountenance, and if the way
• e hedged up against reformation, lo with
draw from it utterly. Diaaiptiiou is not
among tilings imhff ten'. Gay parties
Justing till past midnight, in » nich every
body is overdrta»ed or uuderdressed, in
which dunces handed down from those of
the children of 1.-raol around the Golden
Cass, are tin main attractions ; theatres,
operas and race-*, these are not things iu
d llVrent, these are uot amusements, but
gross abuses, by which, in the false guise
of amusement, body and soul are dam
aged, spiritually rendered impossible and
our eternal well-being put in jeopardy.
Toward- ail these, a Christian has but oue
simple duty. Touch uot, taste not, handle
uot. Come out from among them and be
ye separate, saith the Lord, and touch uot
ihe uuclean thing.— American Presbyte
rian.
Human Nature is a bad clook. It may
go right bow and then, or be made to
strike tbe hour, but its inward frame is to
go wrong.
E. H. MYERS, D. D., EDITOR
Whole Number 1776
The Coming Battle,
c Pa., paper says that “two
sabbaths ago bather Hickey announced
in the cathedral of this city, that Roman
Catholic parents would be required to
withdraw their children from the public
schools. The work has been already
commenced; 100 scholars have been al
ready taken from the First Ward school ”
In Cincinnati 8,000 citizens assembled
and remonstrated against the passage of a
resolution pending in the Common Coun
cil to banish the Bible from the public
schools of that city.
On a recent trial iu Irelaud, a priest
testified that he had positive orders from
Archbishop Mac Hale to refuse all the
sacraments, even at the hour of death, to
those who send their children to the free
schools.
The Western Catholic, speaking of the
boast of Father Hecker aud others that
the Catholic religion is gainiug ground in
this country, says;
“There never was a greater error. True,
millions of Catholics, flying from misery
m the Old World, have taken homes In
the New, and their millious of offspring
now cover all the laud. But this is a loss
to the Church, and not a gain ; for two
thirds of them have lost their faith.
"There are ten millions, at least, of
persons In these United States, born of
Catholic parents, who are now heathens •
aud will, in all human probability, die
heathens. Many of them fill the jails
and prisons all over the laud. Many oth
ers of them are on their way thither.
There are said to be live millions still
faithful to the faith of their fathers. The
natural increase of Catholic population in
this couutry is more tliau 100 per cent,
in a generation. If the same causes which
are at work now, continue, that 100 per
ceut. will be lost to the Church as sure as
it will come.”
The Roman Catholic Church is deter
mined to take its children out of the influ
ence of association with the children ot
intelligent Protestants; for this purpose
they will break up our school system, ir
it is necessary to accomplish their secta
rian design. They are welcome to edu
cate their own children in their owu way,
aud they may be exempt from the school
tax if they please; but as to,their having
the people’s money for their schools, it is
out of the questiou. But that's the com
ing battle. —AT. Y. Observer.
The Father-heart.
It is the uature of a father at all times
to love his child. But if a sou be lost—
if he boas good as dead—bow especially
does a father’s heart melt iu tire longings
after him ! Then does it seem as if he had
never before loved him. And the love
never ceases. It is the fatber'who is the
last to give up the search for a lost child.
When ail rivers have been dragged, and
the shore near at hand, aud the woods
and the rocks examined; when neigh
bors and friends, and even servants and
brothers, have given up the search, there
is one who has uot. Ah, that one need
not tie told. It is the father or the mother
«f (he child. Thoughts of tbe lost oue
m iy have loug since died out of the minds
of others, but never do they die out of
theirs.
Aud where is the father whose ohild is
an outcast, who does not think of wbat he
ivas to him when a child? “I remember
him,” he will say, "the kindness, the
love of his youth ; I remember wbat he
was to me as a oliild; how he sat upon
my knee, aud put liis young hand upon
my locks, and played with me, aDd sung
to me, and loved me, and embraced me,
calling me ‘father.’ ” Ah, it is here, in
the old love, that memory finds its ten
derest chord, its sweetest solace. And the
old love never changes. Others may hate
and abandon, and never care for separa
tion ; but not so a father; he loves ou and
on. How pleasant it is even to think of
it! For thus will a father love on in the
midst of his son’s shame and sin and dis
honor; yea, even when that son is at ac
tual enmity with him. —From a Dublin
Tract.
Why am I not a Christian P
1. Is it because I am ashamed of ridi
cule, uuil of what others will say to me!.
“Whosoever shall be ashamed of me
and of my words, of him shall the Sou of
man be ashamed."
2. Is it because of the inconsistencies of
professing Christians ?
“Every man shall give account of him
self to God.”
3. Is it because I am not willing to give
up all to Christ?
“What shall it profit a man if be shall
gain the whole world and lose his own
soul?”
4. Is it because lam afraid I shall not
be accepted ?
“Him that cometh unto me I will in no
wise cast out.”
5. Is it because I fear I am too great a
sinner?
“Tbe blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth
from all sin.”
6. Is it because I am afraid I shall not
"hold out ?”
“He which hath begun a good work in
you will perform it until the day of Cnrlst
Jesus.’’
7. Is it because I am thinking that I
will do as well as I can, and that God
ought to be satisfied with that?
"Whosoever shall keep the whole law
and yet offend in one point, he is guilty
of all.”
8. Is it because I am postponiug the
matter without any definite reason ?
“Boast not thyself of to-morrow, for
thou knowest not what a day may bring
forth.”
A Protestant Bishop for Mexico.—
A wonderful reformatory movement baa
been in progress for several years in the
Romish Church of Mexico, aud whioh
originated in the united and voluntary ac
tion of several enlightened priests. The
“Society of Reformisis” now numbers,
upward of sixty clerical members, besides
whom many others are In active and ear
nest sympathy with the cause, and tbe
objects of the association are cordially ap
proved and encouraged by most intelligent
Mexicaus. So:ve four years since, two of
the principal reforming priests came to
New York, where they remained upward
of two years, and were formally received
into union with the P. E. Church, though
their names do not appear iu the alma
nacs. Oue of these gentlemen, the Rev.
Raphael Diaz Martinez, who lias endured
great sufferings at the hands of the Je
suits. has been elected first Bishop of the
Reformed Church of Mexico, by the Re
formists, who are now anxiously awaiting
the day when he may receive conse
cration from the Bishops of the P. E.
Church. The Mexican Reformers have
announced the Bible and the Book of
Common Prayer to be their doctriual and
ecclesiastical standards. Rev. Mr. Marti
nez is said to be a consistent, devoted, and
truly pious clergyman, and a gentleman
of education and pulpit abilities. £ie is at
Brownsville, Texas, on the very confines
of Mexico, where, in connection with a
fellow-laborer, Rev. Mr. Dominguez, he
lias gathered a congregation of Mexican
families, converts from popery.
Take Time. —Pastors, take time. Be
patient with your people. Teach them,
l’tach them continuously. Scolding, as a
rule is damaging- Do not stone the sheep.
Feed them. Do not rebuke much, but
instruct. You can not set a whole churoh
to work in a minute ; nor in a year, J.
you do it in five years you do well. But
keep working iu that direction. Ply the
truth to them vigorously. Stir them up
on all sides. Study adaptation ; that is,
set each man at wbat he is adapted to do.
Even a strong man, out of bis adaptation,
is weak.
A New Mission in South Africa.—
A Fingoo chief, named Zibi, some time
since expressed an earnest wish that a
mission station might be commenced
among bis people. In the months of
April and May last two Moravian mis
sionaries visited these people. The jour
ney was a very fatiguing one, and was
not unaccompanied with danger. Tba
result of the observations of the brethren
is that they have recommended the Board
to establish a station. This is now to be
done.
(|“I thank God,” said Richard Baxter,
“for that word Whosoever. If God had
said that there was meroy for Richard
Baxter, I am so vil6 a sinner that I would
have thought He meant some other Rich
ard Baxter; but when He says Whosoever,
I know that includes me, the worst of all
Richard Baxters.”