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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.”