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THREE DOLLARS PER ANNUM.
VOL. XXXIII. NO. 15.
Original
Names and Verses
FOR SUNDAY SCHOOL CLASSES.
ZION’S NURSBKY.
Jesii«, when on this earth he dwelt,
For the sweet babes compassion felt.
“Forbid them not to come to me,
I fain would take them on my knee.’’
’Twas thus He spake—and speaks to-day—
And Zion's Nursery doth obey.
LITTLE DEW-OBOPS.
Thorn'll we are but Little Dew-Drops
tnt ( , , , 1 1
g a i litre is work for us to do;
Barc Little hands can toil for Jesus,
IS rests Infant heart s can love Him too.
ToKON ' itt,,e dew-drops, when full of grace,
itish I Jan light witl ' j°- v tlle oddest face.
inlon 1 JESUS’ LITTLE IAMBS,
a rec* We are Jesus' Little Lambs
T frc Shielded by His daily care;
i *' He will take ns home at last,
To His pastures green and fair.
But till then each little heart
Must to earth its joy impart.
JEWELS OP SONG.
Jewels of Song we have chosen to be—
Bright jewels of song for our Lord and King;
And when from this earthly life we’re set free,
Tlis praises in heaven we hope to sing.
But till He shall come, His jewels to claim,
We’ll sing praises on earth to His holy name.
LITTLE SOWERS
TAttle Mowers of Christ’s hand,
Marching through Immanuel’s land,
In the morning hours of life
Ere we reach its care and strife—
We would sow the seeds of grace
In the footsteps that we trace.
Then shall Christ our future bless
With the fruits of Righteousness.
CHILDREN OF LIGHT.
In the light of God the Father,
Clear as is the noonday sun,
We pursue our daily journey,
’Till the march of life is done.
From the works of darkness ever turning,
We our lamps of faith keep biightly burning,
Through the darkest night of earc and sorrow
Children. of Light see a glad to-morrow
WAYSIDE FLOWERS.
God plants not His (lowers of human life
Alone in the beautiful fields;
For all the highways and hedges are rife
With the fragrance their blooming yields.
We Wayside Flowers have an odor sweet
Os the grace of God, your presence to greet.
TREASURE SEEKERS.
’Tis not the vain things of earth we seek—
Its treasures of silver and gold!
We want a spirit lowly and meek,
And love for Christ that ne’ergrows cold.
If these to Treasure Seekers are given,
We ean lay up richest treasures in heaven.
FAITHFUL HELPERS.
Not unto all hath the dear Master given
Five or ten talents to defend the Right;
There are some souls that boldly march to heaven,
While others follow those wlio win the tight.
Faithful Helpers ; we arc ever at our posts,
To render service to Christ’s battling hosts.
BIBLE STUDENTS.
We love the blessed word of God,
And study its inspired page;
We trace the pathways Jesus trod,
To bless the people ofllis agr.
But Bible Students walk with Him indeed,
Who all His life with patient thought do read,
They learn His doctrines, and explore his plan
To save from death rebellious, sinful man
Clayton, Ah’,, IS7O. Sidney Herbert.
(7b be concluded next week. )
Contributions.
moderation a Moral Obligation.
BY Ij. PIERCE, t). I>.
“Let. yemv moderation lie known unto nil
men. The Lord is at hand.” The injunc
tion is imperative. Indulgences—no mat
ter how allowable when moderate—must be
come immoral, when they are immoderate,
else, there is no law of moderation imposed
on Christians, in regard to indulgence in
hose pleasures belonging to the palate. IT
to, an epicure, so fur as moral law is con
cerned, is at full liberty to indulge his appe
tite, not merely to generous satiety, but
also to surfeiting. This, however, none
but a brutal glutton would dare to assume.
This divine injunction we will consider
now as applicable only to indulgences, al
lowable when indulged in only in modera
tion and to nono others. The term “mode
ration” is wholly inapplicable to any indul
gences wrong per sc. In these, there is no
margin for moderation. This very fact
proves that there are things that may be in
dulged iu, iu the line of luxuries of the ap
petite in moderation, which become immoral
just as soon as the indulgence becomes im
moderate. And if onr moderation is to be
known unto all men, its moral obligation is
absolute. There is neither time, nor place,
nor occasion, where immoderate indul
gence in palatable luxuries may be allowed.
They are not ruled out merely because of
example; but because to be immoderate in
lawful places, is evil per se —evil because
every immoderate indulgence in oven law
ful pleasure is a practical denial of tbe moral
necessity of self-denial as a religious duty.
Hence, an immoderate indulgence in those
pleasures which we are running against in
this article, would be as certainly wrong un
der Elijah's juniper tree, as they would be
in Solomon’s Temple. Os this, ercessants
must be convinced, or else they will always
find room iu life, for immoderate self indul
gence. We will predicate our remarks now
upon the immoderate use of t obacco—wheth
er the quid, or the pipe, among Methodist
preachers, leaving all other tobacco idola
ters to apply our remarks to themselves, al
ways premising that a minister may right
eously indulge in any pleasure of this kind
in which any other Christian man may in
dulge. In this regard, God has made no
difference between us and you.
On the tobacco question, I have no sym
pathy with those ultraists who would make
total abstinence from the use of it a condi
tion of fellowship. 1 believe all such requi
sites have their root in the doctrines of men.
It is tithing mint and rue, while passing too
lightly over weightier matters. lam well
satisfied from close observation that nine
times out of every ten, every man who lets
iu any ideal of this kind, as a religious
monomania, will become as much too loose
in some essential element in godliness as he
is too excessive in his zeal for his ideal vir
tue. If a man spends a great deal of his
excitability on non essentials in religion, he
will, as a sequence, become dull in his sen
sibility on more spiritual points. Nay,
worse. If he ever comes to think that the
carrying of lus point in favor of his ideal
will be a crowning virtue in his religions
zeal, as he estimates it, his better sensibili
ties will not only become dull, but his reli
gious conscience will become perverted; be
cause it is al ways, in these eases selfishly di
verted.
Among the cautions I would put out upon
this basis is this one—Fanatical notions on
upstart religious vagaries, whenever they be
a rule in the mind, give it a morbid appe
tite for some religious hobby to ride upon.
Christian
Accordingly, some of these ultraists have al
ready sounded the depths of this tobacco
question, to see if there is any chance to
make total abstinence from it a ground of
religions disputation. Traditional celebrity
is a vain glorious passion with all these lit
tle reformers. Now, while I believe that the
immoderate use of tobacco—quid, and pipe
—and too many of us are using both at the
same time, which I think any sworn jury
would say is an immoderate mse of it—will
shorten the term of physical life, notwith
standing general good health, ten or twenty
years. Still, with this opinion, I could not
be induced to join any anti-tobacco associa
tion, appending to its constitution total ab
stinence as a moral and religions obligation,
the non-observance of which could justify a
declaration of non-fellowship with them.
I could not, becanse all these views are ultra.
And there is no rule that works its moral
value out, with more certainty than this
one. Whatever is overdone is undone. Ul
traism in religious movements is always det
rimental to their true dignity and- spiritual
resources. Real religion is rendered less at
tractive by all these fungus excrescences
which fanatics hang around it.
I cannot allow that total abstinence from
anything, where its sin is in its abuse, can
ever be urged as a moral obligation. For
if it could, I think I could give it more
breadth than most of these fanatical refor
mers would like. I admit, that temperance
associations have been useful in saving some
inebriates from the ruin of drunkenness.
But it was not by convincing them that
total abstinence from anything that could
intoxicate, would bo required by moral lain,
just as total abstinence from all murderous
passions is required; but by convincing
them that in their case, total abstinence
was their only safe refuge; and, therefore
it had become a moral duty to take the vow
of total abstinence.
I am aware that it is hard to bo under
stood by others, ns a man understands him
self. But Ido not feel that this risk should
overrule me in a matter where principle is
involved, or good policy endangered. I
will, therefore, suggest, in ail good faith,
that to me it has always appeared impolitic
for persons to take upon themselves volun
tary vows of total abstinence from anything
lawful when used, according to the divine
motto, in moderation —especially, when
snuffing in a popular breeze of this kind,
ardent minds are induced, in advance of all
practical necessity, to pitch in and vow that
they will never do certain thingß, which
tilings tlieir conscience and their common
sense tell them might be done inside of the
law of moderation in good faith and in
keeping with moral rectitude—and the bar
in their way of a voluntary impressment
but invites temptation to the violation of
the vow, if over the vower is led to regret
his vow. To take an oath that I will never
do a thing in its lawful order because it may
be unlawfully done, is, in general to stake
oneself on a mere idea of honor against
the strategies of satan and sin without any
felt or acknowledged sense of dependence
upon God’s grace to cany one safely on.
Now I can sec very clearly liow an infidel
error of this kind may demand judicial dis
aster. If there is any point in religion that
must be fearfully defended, it is that what
grace alone can do, must not be thwarted by
the empirical prescriptions of mere human
associations. This is the reason why even
the time honored institution of Masonry
has its moral wrecks all along its pathway.
Too many of its Pharisaical sons have tried
to substitute religion with it, and thereby
made the. exposure of its insufficiency patent
to all.
I do not, however, argue against volunta
ry associations absolutely, but relatively.
Two are better than one—and there is safe
tv in a multitude of counsellors. But Ido
argue against too much absoluteness in
mere voluntary vowr, and against all ex
cesses iu tlieir provisions. I have always
believed our first great movement iu tem
perance securities foiled, mainly because
the idea of total absolute abstinence was
carried so far as to overleap the common
sense bounds of temperance; and men came
to sec, that in guarding against the abuse of
a beverage, they had cut themselves off
from the lawful use of it; that in intending
to prevent an immoral use of wine, they
had vowed not to use it within the bounds
of undeniable temperance, thus attempting
to establish ethical lines clean away beyond
those laid down within the latitudes of
scripture language.
I am opposed to taking vows, that I will
not do things allowable inside of moral law,
as a guard against (he doing the same thing
outside of moral law. The true policy is, so
to educate our minds and consciences, in
reference to every allowable indulgence; in
eating, drinking and smoking, as to make
all men see we make it a matter of religious
conscience to let our moderation be known
unto all men—not because we have taken a
voluntary vow that we will not drink w ine
inside of moderation, as if it followed,;as a
sequence, that in this indulgence we would
very certainly come to the immoderate use
of it. I admit, of course, that if a man never
tastes wine he will not abuse it by the use of
it. But I deny that abstinence from the use
of what may be lawfully indulged in, is any
moral proof of obedience to the law of mod
eration. To cut ourselves off from the moral
right to indulge in an innocent, palatable
luxury in moderation becanse the immoder
ate nso of it is wrong, is only an attempt to
effect by artificial bonds, what God’s word
provides to secure l>y the wiser prescription
of moderation in its nse. To lay it down as
a fundamental rule iu defence of temperance,
that total abstinence from anything that
could, by its immoderate use, produce intox
ication, is to supplant the necessity of en
joining moderation in the use of life’s lawful
luxuries, by the total disuse of them. I
protest against this flimsy amendment, and
insist on it, ns the only common law of tem
perance, that we settle scrupulously within
the well-known lines of moderation in the
use of anything coming under allowable lux
uries.
I respectfully suggest, that more can be
done to prevent intemperance by a strictly
temperance pledge, than by a pledge of to
tal abstinence. Indeed, temperance and
total abstinence are different things. To
prevent intemperance, it is only necessary
to secure temperance l>y a pledge of moder
ation; in other words, that we will never
use wine or strong drink as a habitual indul
gence, neither as a social custom. This will
prevent intemperance. Inebriates, as a class,
can only be saved by total abstinence; at
least until they reconsider the moral power
of self-government.
But my object in this article is especially
to check the immoderate smoking of some
of our preachers. I do not commend the
use of tobacco at all, in any way; it is, as I
suppose, nine times out of ten, a contracted
habit—hurting more than it profits its devo
tees. But it is evidently erected iuto the
rank of an innocent luxury. Wo will, in order
to being certainly right, put the moral evil
of its nse only in an immoderate use of it.
Then,what is an immoderate nse of it? Why
certainly, snch a nso of it as removes it from
a temperate indulgence in it asaluxury, into
a teasing, controlling appetite. No one
would ever think of calling a man a wine
bibber because he, once in a while, took a
glass of wine, and said it was a delightful
luxury. But as soon ns it was known that
he carried a bottle of wine in his pocket,
and swigged at it every chance lie got, all
would know that he no longer tasted wine as
a luxury, but drank it for its intoxicating ef
fects.
The same is true of our smoking preach
ers. As long as a preacher smokes privately
or sociably, in a moderate way, as a simple,
lawful luxury, no sound, generous mind will
ever be disgusted or displeased. But when
ever a minister enslaves himself to his smok
ing, as many are doing now, so that his pipe
is seldom out of his mouth when he is en
joying life—the teasing appetite calling him
off from an altar of mourners to get a smoke
—it is time to call attention to the question:
“Is this letting my moderation be known
unto all men ? And if I smoke or chew to
bacco immoderately, can I boldly and con
sistently object to others indulging in the
other luxuries, engrafted on their appetite
just as I have engrafted this on my appetite?
No verily. Therefore I will let my modera
tion be known unto all men. The Lord I
will always know to be at hand.”
Welcome Home.
BY ERATO.
It is night in the parsonage; the little
ones are tucked in bed, and the dear “head”
of the family is away; gone forth to preach
Jesus. The sighing and howling of the
wind, the roaring of the mighty deep would
suggest the idea of dark spirits holding
counsel to fill the world with loneliness
“that may be felt.” And this loneliness has
driven the writer from reading of good old
Moses, and how he “was gathered to his
people,” to thinking of this day one month
ago. Then she was not in a strange village,
in a great house alone. Where was she ?
Many years ago, there was living in the
sunny South a family consisting of father,
mother, and eight children. They were
joyous and happy. But death eamo. He
was not a terrible monster to his victim,
He only loosed her barque from its moor
ings and let the mother drift into the port
of glory—to join the babe that had pre
ceded her eleven years. There was sorrow
and sighing in the home she had left. In
two weeks death eamo again and carried
blue-eyed, bonnie Willie to his mother’s
arms. Five months later, darling Fannie
sailed for the same port. “God is answer
ing my prayer,” said the father, as he tried
to raise his grief-bowed head, ‘‘l have pray
ed for the salvation of my family; and God
is saving them !” Another came to be
mother to the fix orphans, and after a while
the children grew up, and four oi' them mar
ried—the two youngest remaining in the old
homo.
Year after year, they try to gather at the
old home. Sometimes they are not permit
ted to do so; but they have met and had
precious seasons together.
It was on the 2dth of January, IS7O, one
by one the scattered members of the family
began to gather, and ere night-fall thirteen
of the absent ones lmd landed in the home
port. There was joy and gladness in the
old home. The walls echoed with the cheer
ful greetings; the “wee ones" seemed to
catch the spirit of joy; they laughed and
romped and sung snatches of song. A
sumptuous supper was served by the present
mother—and one would think at those
family gatherings that she was real mother
and grand-mother of the happy throng.
About 8 p. m. , the father commenced singing
a sweet solemn hymn, and the throng grew
quiet and, following the sound of the mu
sic, entered the dear old parlor. Every
picture and article of furniture in that
apartment brings up some sweet recollec
tion. There the windows and pictures were
adorned with evergreen—and fronting the
door over the fireplace, twined of evergreen
in graceful curves were the words “Welcome
Home.” How every heart-chord thrilled!
Welcome Home ! sweet words : they knew
that loving hearts suggested and loving
bands formed these soul-touching words.
All joined in singing the hymn and then
knelt in prayer, after which, the dear father
—assisted by a son and a son-in-law bap
tized three of the grand-children and ad
ministered the holy communion. It was a
precious season, long to be remembered !
It is sweet to gather thus—to find such a
cordial “welcome home”—to commune with
each other, to tell the dear father of the
toils and snares; of the storms and perils;
of the winds and tides of life’s stormy jour
ney. Sweet to be welcomed to the home
port and rest secure and happy for a night
or two. Sweet to tell the dear father of the
trials and triumphs, and know that his great
heart-sympathies are with his children!
Sweet to bow together and “remember
Calvary.” *
But sadness will come into tho heart even
in the midst of joy. Life’s pleasures are so
transient! The morrow must bring the sad
breaking up ! The gathered ones must scat
ter ; must go again on life's tempestuous
wave and toil and row—suffer and weep.
We must go ! Duty says : “np and depart.”
Our gladness turns to sadness, our laughter
to tears ! But hark ! the sire speaks ; “We
will meet again in the morning—meet in
our Father’s house where there are many
mansions.” That father has taught his chil
dren to look to that great family gathering,
where they may meet around tho great
white throne, and there will be no more
partings, no more scattering. If they “be
faithful, firm and holy,” they shall gather
never to scatter, never to sob a sad “good
bye.” Glorious thought ! to lay down life’s
troubles and rest in the home of glory : not
for a night only, but forever ! to be “gather
ed to our people,” not to tlieir dead bones
and ashes—but to their spirits— never to
leave them, never to recross the threshold
of “our Father’s house” where angel hosts
shall shout; “Welcome home !” and the
Father shall say : “Well done thou faithful
servant!”
When the heart is so thrilled and filled
with an earthly meeting that so soon turns
to a separation, wliat must be the joy of
that one who weary of life and its troubles—
one who has been “faithful and firm and
holy,” when he shall sail iuto the port of
glory and hear the shout of welcome home !
Christians, we are journeying to “Our
Father’s” house. Some have preceded us.
Let us hasten onward in the race, that we
may all meet there. Let not one log or al
low petty difficulties to retard his progress.
It is sweet to think of getting there—of
finding there the loved of earth—and there,
too, we shall find “Our Father” and His
holy Son ! All the Christians of the earth—
PUBLISHED BY J. W. BURKE & CO., FOR THE M. E. CHURCH, SOUTH.
MACON, GA., FRIDAY, APRIL 15, 1870.
the pastor and his charge—the editor and
his readers—the physician and his patient,
and the writer, and he at whose request
this is written— all Christians shall gather
there and hear the glad Welcome Home !
Two Incidents in a Local Preach
er’s Experience.
During the year 1567, the writer, had charge
of J circuit, South Georgia Confer
ence. At one of his appointments in July,
after dismissing the congregation, a good
brother came with unusual earnestness in
his countenance, and asked me to go home
with him. Having been there frequently I
declined the invitation, wishing to distri
bute my visits with others of the brethren.
Feeling impressed, however, that there was
something particularly on his mind which
caused him to look so earnest, I made it con
venient to inquired of Jam if it were so.
He replied that his wife wished to become
a member of the Church, and, being una
ble to attend at the house of God, desired
to know if she could be received at home.
“Os course,” said I, “she can, and as that
is the reason I will go home with you, after
preaching to the colored people. Do you
got some of the neighbors, and we will have
a prayer-meeting to-night and receive her
into the Church. ”
The evening turned out to be rather in
clement, so as to prevent the attendance of
any neighbors. Nevertheless I went as
promised, and around the family altar the
door of the Church was opened. The first
one presenting himself was a son of 14—
the second a daughter just grown, the third
his wife, and the fourth a house-maid of
color. Thus you perceive four were receiv
ed iuto the Church, and no others to witness
but the family. My mind recurred to Peter
and Cornelius, for we had a joyful time.
Iu the bounds of the same circuit at the
last quarterly-meeting, A. D. 1869, another
brother, who has an interesting family, and
with whom I lodged frequently during the
two years I was pastor, asked when I was
coming to preach for him. Not suspecting
any particular object on his part, in such a
request, I gave it but little attention; but
on my way to our first quarterly-meeting for
this year, iu passing by his house a promise
was extorted from me to call aud spend a
night on my way home. I did so, and be
fore leaving he explained his request, by
saying that some of his family wished to
unite with the Church, and lie desired that
I would attend as early as convenient at his
house in order to give them the opportuni
ty of so doing. Os course I made an ap
pointment. At Ip.m. ,on the 27th March
a congregation of a dozen outside of the
family assembled. After singing and prayer,
a text was chosen and I preached. Serious
ness was depicted in the countenances of
most of the congregation, the door of the
Church was opened, and four of the broth
er’s daughters joined the Church, besides
four others of the congregation, making
eight in all. I need not sav we had a good
meeting. I know, Mr. Editor, if present,
you would have been delighted. Oh, what
a source of encouragement to a poor local
preacher. Bless the Lord, Omy soul.
B. .
From tbe Richmond Christian Advocate.
Rev. Win. A. Smith, D. 13.
BY REV. J. C. GBANBEBY, I). D.
William Andrew Smith was born in Fred
ericksburg, Vu., Nov. 29, 1802. He became
doubly au orphan at a tender age. First,
he lost his mother, a pious Methodist, who
with her dying breath prayed God to make
her son a preacher of the glorious gospel of
Christ. He did not learn this fact until he
had spent several years in the work of the
ministry. The fourth year of his connec
tion with the Virginia Conference ho was
stationed in Lynchburg ; and when he was
there introduced to Mother Essex, the ven
erable widow of one of our preachers, the
old lady gazed wistfully on her new pastor,
and asked, “Is this not Andrew Smith ?”
for that was the name his parents gave him.
Discovering that this noble young preacher
was indeed the son of her former friend, on
whose last illness she had waited, she told
him of the dying prayer which was now ful
filled before her eyes. He was deeply af
fected, and ever alter felt the mother’s bles
sing and consecration on his head. With a
moist eye and a quivering lip, he related to
me this incident a few weeks before his
death. His father was a man of honorable
character and position, but not a professor
of religion. There hangs over his sudden
death and the loss of his valuable property
to his children, a mystery which I cannot
solve. For a time the orphan boy fell into
rough bands. Mr. Hill, a worthy merchant
of Petersburg, had been a warm friend of
the father; so soon as lie became acquainted
with the unfortunate condition of Andrew,
he took him to his own home, and raised
him as one of his own children. Dr. Smith
retained through life a most grateful and af
fectionate recollection of Mr. and Mrs. Hill.
At a school in Petersburg he received a good
English education, and began the study of
the classics, which the arduous duties of his
subsequent career never afforded him the
opportunity to resume. I have heard one
of his school-mates speak admiringly and
fondly of him as he was then, a bold, trank,-
impetuous boy, kindly and not quarrel
some, yet quick to repel injustice against
himself or any comrade. He quit school to
enter the store of liis benefactor. About
this time lie conceived a preference for the
Methodists, and became a teacher in their
Sabbath-school; in the study of the Scrip
tures for the purpose of instructing his class,
the first deep religions impressions wore
made on his heart; this was the means of
his awakening. He happened to overhear
a negro in a lumber-room explain to his son
the way of salvation by faith; this conver
sation quickened and enlightened his own
mind on the subject, and was the immediate
occasion of his seeking Christ with all the
heart. Straightway he went to a godly lay
man, opened to him his heart, and with
characteristic thoroughness of investigation
asked questions and suggested difficulties
about the meaning of faith until his friend
was sore puzzled. However, lie took the
enquirer to a prayer-meeting, aud though
he was not taught there the philosophy of
believing, after he returned home, in the
stillness of the night, in the privacy of his
chamber, there came into his soul.the peace
of God wich passeth all understanding—
came in a way he comprehended not. He
was then seventeen years of age, and imme
diately joined the M. E. Church.
He soon felt that he was called of God to
the office of the ministry, and earnestly de
sired to attend William and Mary College
that he might qualify himself for the more
efficient prosecution of his life-work. Com
pelled to abandon this hope by lack of funds,
but firmly resolved to devote himself to the
work of the ministry and to prepare him
self to the best of liis ability, ho studied
privately one year at the home of his ur.clc,
Mr. John Porter, in the county of Orange,
and taught a private school tiro or three
years in Madison county. I suppose that
there he was licensed and began to preach.
lam told his first attempts werefailures. It
is certain that he rapidly rose to eminence
in the pulpit. In 1824 he traveled the
Gloucester circuit under the presiding el
der; in February, 1825, was admitted on
trial into the Virginia Conference, and re
turned to Gloucester; in 1826 he was sent to
Amherst circuit. The next year he was
stationed in Petersburg where he had been
raised. This was a severe ordeal for so in
experiened a minister; but he at once com
manded the respect of the community that
had recently known him as a boy, and served
the church with signal reputation and suc
cess.
I cannot state the stations which he filled
~rn their regular order of time, but will pause
to describe him in the freshness of his youth
and the prime of his manly' vigor. lam in
debted to others for my knowledge of him
as he was at that period ; for when I in my
boyhood first saw him, he was a cripple.
From my earliest recollection his has been
to me a dear, honored and familiar “house
hold name.” Under his pastorate my father
was converted and received iuto the church,
and in the spring of 1844, I also was led by
his ministry to the exercise of saving trust
in Christ and taken into the fellowship of
saints. At Randolph Macon, I was his pupil;
two years that I was chaplain of the College,
I lived in his house ; from that time a son
could scarcely have been admitted into more
intimate and confidential relations with him;
the last two months of his life he spent at
ray home, and there I watched him as he
closed his eyes. Partly from the many ac
counts I have heard of his earlier days, and
partly from my personal acquaintance, I am
probably prepared to give a correct estimate
of liis character and labors. I ean imagine
the young preacher, noble in form and face
(none nobler than he, say his contempora
ries,) vigorous and agile iu body, frank,
fearless and enterprising in spirit, dignified
‘yjul thoughtful in manner. The first glance
• levealed to the observer manly strength—
strength physical, strength intellectual,
strength of feeling and of will. He was a
hard student, an earnest thinker, a Chris
tian philosopher; yet not a recluse, but a
man of action and of influence with the
people. Ho was always revolving some
grand theme in liis mind—a habit which
sometimes gave him an air of abstraction in
company and on the street. He was mighty
in the Scriptures, to expound, defend and
enforce. His sermons were able discussions
of the cardinal doctrines of the gospel, full
of matter, instructive, in reasoning luminous
and forcible. It was impossible not to un
derstand him, well nigh impossible not to be
convinced. Those who sat regularly under
his ministry had a rare opportunity to be
come rooted and grounded in the faith. He
was more a logician than an orator; yet his
logic was not cold and dry, but steeped in
emotion and aglow with zeal. In those days
he was truly eloquent; was not sparkling,
but weighty; not imperative, but argumen
tative; not hortatory, but didatic and con
vincing. On the basis of great truths
which he first set forth with the clearness of
sunlight and established with power of ar
gument, he appealed strongly, sometimes
overwhelmingly, to the conscience and the
y soe.i ‘.\ Neither then, nor to the last, were
his discourses easily forgotten; the train of
thought remained in the mind of the hear
er long after the voice of the speaker died
upon the ear.
Dr. Smith was an excellent pastor. Ho
threw his whole mind and soul, a strong
mind and large soul into his duties. He
knew how to kindle the zeal of the church,
arouse the community, instruct the enqui
rer, guide and help a tender and troubled
conscience, comfort the feeble minded and
inspire with hope the desponding. The af
flicted of his flock found him far more sym
pathetic than the public supposed, for in
that strong frame there beat a tender heart.
His ministry was blessed with powerful re
vivals in Lynchburg, Norfolk, Petersburg,
and probably in other places, lie was judic
ious in conducting them, and no man ex
ceeded him in untiring diligence and fideli
ty. Os the hundreds who were converted
through his labors, an unusually large pro
portion proved to boos the best material
for the solid and permanent edification of
the Church. I wish that I could give the
long list of ministers, > of our own and sister
churches, some dead, others still living, not
a few eminent, who acknowledged him as
their spiritual fathers. I will mention two,
. Anthony Dibrell and Leroy M. Lee.
Dr. Smith attracted great attention,
wherever ho lived and labored, not only
within his own charge, but in the general
community. Cheerful, but not light, social,
but never idle, he mingled freely with men
of every class, of other denominations aud
of no ecclesiastical ties; hut he did not for
get the sacredness of his office and the
gravity of liis one mission to save souls.
The elevation and purity of his character,
the vigor and clearness of liis intellect, his
generous scorn of all that was mean and lovo
of nil that was just and good, the candor
and independence, as well as ability with
which lie avowed and maintained his opin
ions, impressed all who knew him, aud
caused him to ho held in high honor and
to wield a wide influence.
Dr. Smith, when yet a young man, took a
prominent position in his Conference.
Whatever iie thought he boldly spoke, not
watching to sec how it would bo received by
the fathers and brethren ; and the views ho
expressed, lie knew how to defend with al
most irresistible power. Few could cope
with him in debate, to none was he inferior.
He never songlit, so far as I know, to carry
or defeat any measure by mere personal in
fluence or private entreaty; he used no un
fair, no indirect means; he despised ad cap
tandnm appeals and sophistry ; he had even
“too little policy. But he spoke from strong
convictions, and relied with full confidence
ou the truth ol' his positions and the force
of his arguments; if he could not succeed
in making others see that he was right, he
was willing that they should vote against
him. I have never heard his equal as a de
bater, and an advocate. His fame in these
respects was not limited to his own Confer
ence. He was a delegate to the General
Conference of the M. E. Church of 1832,
and to every subsequent session down to the
celebrated and eventful one of 1844; lie was
a member of tho Louisville Convention
which organized tho Methodist Episcopal
Church, South, and of all tlie General Con
ferences of this Church. Li the appeal of
Harding, in tlie extra-judicial trial of Bish
op Andrew, and on other occasions, he won
a national reputation for the highest delibe
rative and forensic eloquence. His manner
was simple, unstudied and natural; ho was
too full of his subject to think of mere stylo
or elocution; he spoke with evident sinceri
ty, fearlessness and intense ardor; his voice
was like tlio thunder, and he hurled the
blazing and resistless bolts of Jupiter.
I resume the story of liis life. Iu 1833 he
became agent to raise money for Randolph
Macon College, the i in its infancy, and lor
’a few months prosecuted that work with liis
wonted energy aud success. In September
of that year, just before proceeding to a
camp-meeting in the county of Louisa, in a
conversation with Rev. Ethelbert Drake in
this city (Richmond,) he mentioned a
strangely vivid presentiment that some
dreadful event would soon befall him or one
of his friends. While preaching on the
camp ground, tlie same couvietion or feel
ing came upon him with the suddenness and
power of lightning; so that lie broke off
from the plan of the sermon, and informed
the audience of his impression that either
death or some terrible accident overhung
the speaker or one of them. With startling
impressiveness he warned them to be ready:
they listened with breathless attention and
strong emotion. After the sermon, in com
pany with certain relatives, he started oil'
in a' carriage, himself driving, for the house
in the neighborhood where his wife was
stopping. Turning his head to hear the
conversation of those within, he neglected
the horses, aud presently a wheel passed
over a stump in the road, the carriage up
set and fell on liim, he was dragged a num
ber of yards, and when help came, it was
found that liis right thigh was broken and
his left hip dislocated. There followed a
protracted and painful confinement to liis
bed, and he was badly lamed for life. It
was his belief that God sent him the pre
sentiment to put him on his guard, and that
his own inattention to the warning brought
ou him the calamity from which lie never
recovered.
After this accident Dr. Smith was never
able to walk with comfort, but. liis energy
was unabated. He continued to fill the
chief stations in the Virginia Conference
until the fall of 1846. The urgency of the
Board of Trustees, sanctioned by the Con
ference, then prevailed on him to accept the
Presidency of R. M. College. This institu
tion was then amid the breakers. Not only
were the annual expenses in excess of tho
receipts, not bvdy did it labor under debt,
but internal dissensions had broken up the
Faculty iu part, and driven away nearly all
tho students. Despondency hail seized tlie
hearts of its founders and friends. It was
precisely this state of affairs which led to
the selection of Dr. Smith by the Trustees
and his acceptance. He had the courage,
the resolution and energy to undertake any
work for the good of the Church, which
was needed and not impossible. Difficulties
did not daunt his brave and hopeful spirit,
and he shrank from no toil and self-sacrilico.
It soon appeared that a strong hand had
seized the helm, ami that the vessel would
be saved from wreck. Twenty years Dr.
Smith held this office, and I may say was
the College. As the head of its government,
contrary to the preconceptions of the public,
he was gentle, forbearing, full of sympathy,
as easy of access, as ready to forgive, as
watchful over the interests and tender of the
feelings of the students ns a father among
liis children ; if he erred, it was on the side
of leniency. He bore those youths on his
heart while they stayed at college, as his eye
followed their fortunes after they left with
the profnndest interest. As Professor of
Rhetoric, Logic, Mental and Moral Philoso
phy, he was satisfied neither with his own
attainments, nor with the course of study
which had been hitherto pursued. All the
time he could snatch from those active du
ties which were imperative and engrossing,
he devoted to mastering the best works on
the subjects embraced in his Chair, and to
original thought; for he was not a mere re
ceiver of other men’s opinions. With great
labor and patience be prepared a system of
lectures to cover the entire ground, and at
the same time added to the number of text
books which his classes were required to
study, or substituted fuller and more diffi
cult books for those previously used. It
was a dull brain which he could not excite
to thought and interest about the themes of
his lectures, and the studious and capable
made sure and rapid progress under his
guidance. His services to the College were
not restricted, however, to the ordinary du
ties of a President and Professor. Some
times during the sessions, but chiefly dur
ing the vacations, lie traveled extensively
through the bounds of the Conference, alone
or in company with the zealous and able
agents of the College, making public speeches
on its behalf and raising collections to pay
its debts and create an endowment. The
number of students steadily increased, and
nil endowment fund of SIOO.OOOjn cash or
in reliable bonds was obtained through the
joint efforts of the President and agents;
and when the war began in the spring of
1861, Randolph Macon was a flourishing in
stitution. The religions influence of Dr.
Smith over the young men who gathered to
its halls was very happy. He often preach
ed in the chapel and in the village of Boyd
ton; lie attended their prayer-meetings, ho
was tlio judicious counsellor and cheerful
assistant of every chaplain; he talked pri
vately to the students about their morals
and spiritual religion. The revivals which
annually occurred there and the sound piety
of hundreds of young men, who went forth
from the College to till useful positions in
the land, many of them to preacli the
Gospel, were due in a large measure to his
labors.
The stern exigencies of war emptied those
classic halls upon tlio fields of battle.—
When peace returned in the fall of 1865, tho
College was reopened. As tlio students
were few, and not sufficiently advanced for
the department of Moral Science, Dr. Smith
was appointed to Randolph Macon circuit.
Though in feeble health, he performed all
his duties, pastoral as well as of the pulpit,
with an assiduity and fidelity which his
younger brethren might well imitate. In
the summer of 1806, he resigned tho Presi
dency of tho College, and in tho fall was
transferred to the St. Louis Conference.
This was an important change for a man of
his age. He could not without a .severe
struggle sever liis connection with the Con
ference of which he had been so influential
and honored a member during more than
forty years, and with whose history he had
been so closely identified all that time.
Weighty considerations induced this move,
but the ruling motive was the hope, based
on tho earnest counsel of judicious breth
ren in Missouri, that lie might accomplish a
needed work for the Church in the great
and growing West. No other State could
supplant his own Virginia, no new associa
tions Jill tho place of life-long friendships;
nevertheless, lie received a hearty welcome,
and with the enthusiasm and enterprise of
his great soul bent all his powers to the
promotion of Methodism in Missouri. Two
years he served Centenary Church in St.
Louis; I have evidence that lie preached the
truth in the demonstration of the Spirit and
of power, and that his labors were highly
prized. Then eamo tho last chapter, the
closing glory of liis eventful anil useful ca
reer. He was called to the arduous task of
reviving Central College, and of establish
ing it on a broad and sure foundation. Eve
ry argument of personal ease and comfort
was against the acceptance of this responsi
bility. Dnt it was urged that the College
was essential to the prosperity of our Church
in Missouri, and that lie was the man to
raise it from death into a more vigorous life
than it had ever enjoyed. No one had a
higher appreciation than he of the import
ance of our institutions of learning; and
when Bishop Marvin, Dr. Finney and others
pleaded with him as lie loved the Church
to undertake this mighty work, ho could
not resist. He was elected President of the
College; but first, it must bo furnished with
suitable buildings and apparatus, and large
ly endowed. He. thought, not of failure, lie
feared no difficulties; he moved straight on
to success, Tlie same grand addresses on
the necessity of education hallowed by reli
gion and of au educated ministry which
had enchained and stirred vast audiences
in his native State, fi ll with equal effect on
the people of Missouri. It was no small
triumph, it demanded no little power to
raise near §IOO,OOO in the course of a few
months. But this was only the beginning
of the grand plan of Dr. Smith. He in
tended, he fully expected to establish not
an ordinary College, but a Methodist Uni
versity, with an auip'e endowment, a com
plete curriculum and a first, rate Faculty.
Ho would not have been content with less
than §250,000; lie would not have rested
until that amount was secured. But God
did not design that he, should carry out his
own scheme; I trust that He will raise up
men to fulfill the largest hopes of our de
parted brother. His strong constitution
succumbed under liis too heavy labors. In
October 1868, ho was attacked with dysente--
ry which became chronic, anil was after
wards complicated with other disorders.
Dr. Smith was not the man easily to yield
to sickness. He battled with it, and con
tinued liis toils, as long as possible. Leave
of absence being kindly given him by the
curators of the College, he visited Virginia
last summer, accompanied by his devoted
wife, in hope of recovering liis health by tho
aid of the mountain air aud celebrated
springs of the Old Dominion. He seemed
to improve for a time, but the disease was
incurable. He came to Richmond during
the session of our Conference in November.
With sad hearts we looked on the ghastly
face of onr venerable father and friend; un
changed in mind and heart, in body he was
the wreck of his former self.
The last two months of his life he was eon
fined to liis room, and for tho most part to
his bed. He did not suffer much physical
pain, but liis nervous system was shattered,
and his restlessness and depression on this
account often extreme. He received the
greatest attention from numerous friends,
both of liis own Church anil tho general
community, and they spared no pains to
make him as comfortable atf possible. lie
delighted in society, and would seem him
self again, tlienoble eliristian sage and leader,
as with kindling eye and voice that had not
wholly lost its old tone of authority, he dis
cussed at length, the sublime truths of the
gospel, and tlie interests of our Church.-
With special unction and power dill he dwell
on the declaration of John, “ God is love.”
His friends saw that he steadily grew worse,
but this fact he did not understand. He
felt that there was life in him yet, and lie
hoped Room to return West, and complete the
enterprise on which his heart was set., the
building up of ilie great Missouri College.
He had a hard fight with death,and if strength
of will could have availed in the struggle, ho
would not have been conquered. He believed
that his work was not yet finished, and there
fore he was loath to die. But this desire to
live aid not conflict with liis entire resigna
tion to tho will of God, and an assured hope
of eternal life. He expressed himself fully
on this subject. In his youth he had given
his heart to Christ, and though he had often
erred, he never recalled that act of self sur
render, nor did his trust in liis Saviour waver.
His mind was full of peace in the prospect of
the eternal hereafter. It was a lake em
bosomed in a deep forest; the rough winds
could not find it, but there it lay with an
unruffled surface. This is the beautiful fig
ure by which ho described the state of liis
mind. He was fond of hearing the sweet
songs of Zion, and they wafted him to the
pearly gates of the New Jerusalem. The last
few days he was so feeble, and a bronchial
cough so constantly harassed him, that he
could say little. “ I have so much to say to
you,” he whispered in my ear, “but I can’t
say it now.” He retained the clearness of
his faculties until a few hours before his
death; almost without a struggle, lio fell
asleep in Jesus on Tuesday, March 1, at 4,
A. M. A large and deeply affected congre
gation filled Centenary Church on the day
of his funeral. Bishop Doggott preached aii
impressive aud appropriate sermon on 1 Cor.
15: 57. “But thanks be to God, which givctli
us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. ”
Dr. Lee, his friend aud spiritual son, added
a brief sketch of liis life. Rev. G. W. Nolley,
who entered the Virginia Conference at the
same session with Dr. Smith, and other min-
isters, assisted in the solemn services; the
Faculty and students of Randolph Macon,
the Masonic Fraternity, and a large proces
sion of friends followed him to the Holly
wood, and in that beautiful sleeping place of
the dead, in the lot of brother Wm. 8011, tlio
body of our honored brother reposes in hope
of the resurrection.
I have mentioned few facts of his private
life. He was thrice married. First, to Miss
Maliala Miller, of Delaware, a lady of fervent
piety and uncommon talent,but feeble health.
She was a licensed preacher, and by her
modest, winning, melting appeals did great
good. By her he had two daughters who
survive him, Miss Susan who lives in this
city and waited on his last illness, and Mrs.
Willie Fuller, a widow with two children,
who lives in Fayette, Mo. His second wife
was Miss Laura Brooking, of Richmond, an
excellent lady. She left two children who
have siuee died. He next married Mm.
Eliza V. Williams, of Lynchburg, the wife
who, with unwearied fidelity and tenderness,
sustained aud comforted him through the
many months of liis fatal illness, who had
shared liis joys and sorrows more than twenty
years; the widow who, in the depths of her
grief, needs the special prayers of the Church
of God. Ho Heaves also an adopted son,
Thomas Skinner Smith, orphaned during
the terrible scourge of yellow fever which
visited Norfolk iu 1855. I cannot forbear
to mention the former slaves of the Doctor,
who visited him in his illness, and wept with
a sorrow which was not only sincere, but
deep, over the corpso of their honored mas
ter.
There was a moral grandeur about Doctor
Smith. He was not a finished scholar,
but lie was decidedly a mail of genius.—
Strength, not grace, was his chief character
istic. He stood in the front rank among the
leading minds of the M. E. Church, South.
On the whole he had no superior, and in
many respects lie had no equal. His was a
warm, generous, expansive heart. Only his
intimate friends knew its tenderness, its
keen sensibility. When lie overbore an an
tagonist in debate, when he swept aside with
a powerful hand everybody that stood in the
way of the measures which ho advocated
from an honest conviction that they were
for the good of tho Church, it was easy to
conclude that he was severe mid imperious.
But this is a mistake, lie was not obstinate
in opinion nor self-willed in action, but easy
to bo persuaded. No one was readier to
hear and take advice, and even reproof, if it
were offered in a kindly spirit,no one readier
to confess and repair a fault. Ho did not
cherish prejudices and resentments. After
his controversies with the Methodist Pro
testants, who felt a kinder and more broth
erly regard for them than ho? Prominent
and powerful as he was in the stormy dis
cussions which preceded or followed the M.
E. Church into a Northern and Southern or
ganization, and fully ns lie was identified
with the States of the South in their disas
trous struggle for independence, lie always
retained a Christian character free from see-
tionnl narrowness and from bitterness to
wards the people of tho North, and hoped
that fraternal relations, though not union,
might be soon established between the two
branches of Methodism. Ho had an almost
invincible will, but it showed itself not in
stubbornness, not in a determination to rule,
hut in tho fixed resolution anil in the un
bounded energy to effect whatever tho eauso
of pure religion demanded, despite obstacles
which would have discouraged common men,
anil personal sacrifices at which they would
have staggered. He served not himself, but
Christ Jesus tho Lord, nnd the Church pur
chased with His precious blood. In the
councils and in tho pulpit of the M. E.
Church, South, he will be sadly missed, and
who can fill his place? But his influence
and memory abide. In the hearts of thous
ands and on tho page of history tlio name,
tho reverend name of William A. Smith is
written, and long shall it endure.
lilantcuverlng for a Position.
A contributor to the Nashville Christian
Advocate writes:
The Western Christian Advocate, February
2d, discoursing at length on the “Reunion
of Methodism,” says ;
( “Tlie subject is now fairly before that
Church. The Southern Bishops have con
sidered it and it will come before the next
General Conference. Wo cannot predict
the action of the General Conference, bnt
some action must be had. Necessity is laid
upon them; they must take hold of the
subject, aud do something. This is pro
gress. And they must act in the presence
of the whole Christian world. This is ad
vantage to tho right. Every Christian de
nomination in the land will scrutinise their
action. Whatever tlieir passions, they will
regard tlio good opinion of Christendom,
and seek to do nothing that cannot show
some justification before intelligent Chris
tians.”
Ever since that passionate act of their
General Conference, rejecting Dr. Lovick
Pierce, Northern Methodists have felt them
selves at a disadvantage before the Chris
tian world. Dr. Pierce bore from us greet
ings and propositions for fraternal inter
course between tho two great bodies of
Methodism iu America. His mission failed,
signally. Those to whom ho was sent would
not even give him a hearing. They would
not admit our ambassador of peace iuto
tlieir presence, but let him find a place iu
the gallery, where Bishop Soule also was al
lowed to sit. He was not even invited to
preach in their pulpits.
Tiruo moves on, and this attitude of res
ponsibility of Northern Methodism be
comes unpleasant. It cannot bo excused
before the better portion of their own
people. The Christian sentiment of the
world condemns it. But they do not like
to meet tlie issne squarely, and do tlio tiling
that justice and right, and tho self-respect
of tho Church, South, require. Their Gen
eral Conference has not yet sent a delegate
clothed with power to accept the offer which
they once discourteously spurned; nor to
make a similar offer. That would be some
thing like the amende honorable.
How to get out of this situation, and to
escape the responsibility for the attitude of
the “two Mcthodisms,” is tlieir problem.
Passing by several quasi official winks and
overtures, which were never regarded, wo
find their bishops calling upon ours in St.
Louis, last. May, with vague propositions
about reunion. They had no authority , but
they came, and used often the words “union”
and “re-union.” This, it was thought,
would have its effect on tlio public. It
would satisfy some who were dissatisfied
among them; and mislead somo who liung
loosely to us. “Has not the Northern
Church offered union to the Southern ?
Now, the latter must answer for the continu
ed separation.” Their own press being
judges, tho mission of Bishops Janos and
Simpson was a movement of strategy. They
were manoeuvring for a position. Blit they
got an answer they did not bargain for.
They did not succeed in putting tho work
ing-oar into onr hands. The reply of onr
bishops could not be objected to, in its
spirit; while its statements reached many in
the North who had not heard our views. .
Now, we hear that a commission hits been
appointed to lay the union matter before
our approaching General Conference. By
E. H. MYERS, D. D. f EDITOR
WHOLE NUMBER 1796.
what authority ? From their General Con
ference ? No.
Our General Conference in 1870 is to bo
informed that their General Conference in
1868 appointed a commission to confer with
the African Methodists about union; and
tlio powers of this commission wore, by'
amendment, enlarged, so as to treat “with
a like commission from any other Methodist
body that may desire to unite with us.”
This is an attempt to get us to take the
initiative. But. the trick is too bald and
shallow. It can hardly deceive anybody.
Tlio Western Christian Advocate thinks the
position for which they liavo been manoeuvr
ing nlrcady gained, aud exults prematurely.
Hut we can inform the editor of the Advocate
that we comprehend the movement.
Tlio Church, South, stands, and will stand,
where she stood when her fraternal offer
was made and rejected. Let the Church,
North, take it up when she will. This must
bo done by equal and competent authority.
All this strategy we understand—this at
tempt to stir up a charitable dust—these
semi-official approaches and quasi authorita
tive communications and commissions. The
way is short, open, plain, simple, to fra
ternity, if the authorities of Northern Meth
odism honestly desire it. This dodging the
question that naturally'and historically comes
first, and lies next to us both, cannot suc-
ceed.
.But that is just the one thing they do not
wish—acknowledged recognition and fra
ternal intercourse with us—anil for these
reasons;
1. It would be backing down from an as
sumed loftiness of position, and recanting
the old insult.
2. There must follow a rendering tin of
our property, which has been unlawfully
seized and yet is held.
3. Well, we will not give that now.
They would absorb us under tlio name of
union. Tlieir pride of power, greed of num
bers, ambition of ecclesiastical area and in
fluence, would be so gratified in that achieve
ment, our sins could be overlooked and all
our unworthiness, They do not wish to build
up a rival, but are ready to accept a victim.
Tlio Church, South, knows her position,
and tlio advantages of it, and is not uneasy.
She is under no ‘ ‘ necessity of acting. ” Sho
means to stand still, so far ns you of the
North are concerned. You must take up
the negotiations where you broke them off,
and by tho same authority.
An Educated Ministry.
Wo eonelnde this week tho articles of Dr.
Garland, of Mississippi, on tho necessity of
an educated ministry in tho Methodist
Church. Dr. Garland lias given the Church
nn exhaustive and able discussion of the sub
ject. Those, who liavo carefully followed
him in this investigation, if not fully con
vinced of tlio utility of Theological Semina
ries as a whole, must admit the force of his
reasoning in favor of tho establishment of
one such institution for the M. E. Church,
South.
Dr. Garland has boon careful throughout,
to insist upon nothing which would change
the principles or practice of the Church, in
regard to the character of onr ministry, or
which could iu any wise affect injuriously'
its efficiency or its spiritual power. Success
ful nud’nggrossivo upon the kingdom of Sa
tan as our ministry have been—ablo and
learned aud eloquent as our clergy' must bo
admitted to be—wholesome and efficient ns
our agencies for education and improve
ment, both to our ministers and people,
have been, ho nevertheless demonstrates
the necessity of an advauco beyond and
above onr present facilities, in order to tlio
endowment of our. clergy with those higher
elements of usefulness and power, which the
times demand and which the improvements
in Biblical learning, etc., have in late years
developed.
If the approaching General Conference
shall second tho recommendations of Dr.
Garland, and throw around the institution
proposed, the safe-guard suggested by him,
carefully protecting the time-lionoreu prin
ciples and practice of the Church, from in
vasion or change, we are prepared to hail
the movement as a good omen for the fu
ture of Zion.
In pulpit power, in saving force and en
ergy, no church in the land can boast, of a
superior ministry to ours. In the past, it
has accomplished more in a shorter time, in
saving souls and in fitting men to live and
to die well, than porlmps any other. But
the day is fast approaching, when the con
flicts of Evangelical Christianity, with infi
delity aud religious error, will be removed
to new arenas, and will assume a higher in
tellectual type than heretofore. Rome and
her satellites, and infidelity in new and more
dangerous forms, are rallying their force as
if for their last struggle against a pure,
spiritual Christianity. The great body of
our ministry, true to the commands of their
Master, must ‘Go iuto all the world and
preach the gespel to every creature’—must
still preach Jesus and the resurrection, ns
they have learned it from their English Bi
bles and the teachings of the Spirit, bnt
there will bo need, here and there, of men
thoroughly instructed in tlie higher walks
of theology, of philosophy, of criticism and
science, to stand forth to defend, not the
outposts merely, hut the citadel of onr holy
religion. Let tho Chnreli therefore do her
duty, to meet the emergency. —Raleigh Epis
copal Methodist.
‘I Will Give ns Much ns Williams,’
And Williams, who is thus chosen as the
standard of contribution, is known to give
as little as nny member of the congregation;
so that this is an excellent mode of refusing
some charitable design, and at the same time
retaining the credit of liberality. But who
is Williams, that yon adhere so closely to
him? Christ says we are to give from self
denying ability, and not according to the
doedffof others. Besides, you do not un
derstand his accounts. lie may really be
unable to give half as much as you think lie
should, and he may have perfectly satisfac
tory reasons for his conduct, which ho does
not think it necessary to disclose. And sup
posing him to give far less tliau his ability:
if you insist ou reaching his standard of
contribution, you must also expect to reach
his standard of contractedncss, and conse
quently be exposed, as lie is, to God’s dis
pleasure.
No; let Williams do as ho pleases, do you
act as responsible for yourself to God. As
it is, when A breaks liis arm, B looks around
to notice liow much C will give, thus show
ing a much more liberal disposition with his
neighlxir's money than with his own: thus
ahnost every purse is closed until C opens
his, anil consequently benevolent enterprises
languish and sometimes die, because one
stands looking at another. However, tho
time is soon coming when you must surren
der everything, ami yon would do well “to
make to yourselves friends of the unrighteous
mammon, that when ye fail they may re
ceive you into everlasting habitation, ”—Er
changu.
Howto be Happy. —Saida venerable, far
mer, some eighty years of ago, to a relative
who lately visited him: “I have lived on
this farm for over half a century. I have no
desire to cliango my residence as long us I
live on earth. I have no desire to be any
richer than I now am. I have worshipped
the God of my fathers with the same people
f(>r more than forty years. During that period
1 have rarely been absent from the sanctuary
on the Sabliath, and never lost hut one com
munion season. I have never been confined
to my bed from sickness a single day. Tho
blessings of God have been richly spread
around mo, and I made np my mind long
ago that if I wished to benny happier I must
have more religion.”
Depend upon it, religion is, in its essence,
the most gentlemanly thing in tho world. It
will alone gentleize, if unmixed with cant;
and I know of nothing else that, will alone.
Coleridge.
It is tho mark of a generous spirit, to aim
at what is lofty, to attempt what is arduous,
and oven to keep in view what it is impossi
ble for the most splendid talent to accom
plish.—Seneca.
Deatti may remove from us tho great, nnd
good, but the force of their actions still re
mains.
Most of the shadows that cross our path
through life are caused by our standing iu
our own light.