Newspaper Page Text
THREE DOLLARS PER ANNUM.
VOL. XXXIV. NO. 19.
(Original IJottrg.
t or the Southern Christian Advocate.
Sabbath Evening.
How calm and peaceful is the hour,
When, coming from the house of prayer,
As evening shades begin to lower,
Homeward the family repair.
What blessing Iras the Sabbath brought!
What mercies does it leave behind !
How full the heart of purest thought;
What promises compose the mind!
No busy stir of active life,
No tumult of the world is there;
Banish’d is pride, and hush’d is strife.
Anxiety forgets its care.
How sweet the thoughts of that bright land,
Where suns shall never rise nor set 1
And of the gath’ring of that band
Who psrt no more when there lhey’vc met!
How swells with hope tli’ exultant heart!
How strong in faith the spirit «rows!
What i ar»est longings to deport,
And leave behind a world of woes!
And now the sire collects his fold
To offer up the evening prayer;
The hymn is sung by young and old,
For all delight to cluster there
The prayer goes up to Him who hears;
To those who pray the answer’s given ;
Each wipes away his joyful tears,
And feels, "th in in the gate of Heaven."
Month Carolina. Clio.
Contributions.
i’ost-Rcllimi Error--. No. V.
BY HERBERT FIELDER.
A. was a man of neat anrl fashionable
dress, polite manners, unusual intelligence
and a gambler by calling. In the course of
his travels he visited the town of—,
where it was not a violation of law or social
morals, to play and bet. When he opened
his faro bank, the balance of the alphabet,
desiring to become suddenly rich, fell into
the temptation and snare ; bought his ivory
checks representing money, and tried their
luck night after night for three months. Be
sides the implements of his calling, he
brought to the town Sioo iu cash. While
there he did no work—produced nothing for
man or beast; but ate, drank, smoked, rode,
and enjoyed all the luxuries, to say nothing
of the vices, of the place. When he took his
leave, B. had won 8500, C. 8-00, and D.
8100 —had all received the cash, and were in
high glee—friends to A. and warm approvers
of his exalted mission among them. A. had
spent in board, and luxuries and in charity,
8500 while there, and carried away 81,000 in
cash. He had made 8000 above liis expendi
tures; B. C. and D. respectively 8500, 8300
and 8100—making 82,200. The other twen
ty-two letters of the alphabet, on footing up
accounts found they had lost 8100 each—B9oo
of which was carried away by the gambler,
leaving the town that much the poorer; 8800
iu way of winnings went into pockets of
their more fortunate neighbors and 8500 had
been -spent *.s;i g.. a away iu the town ny
the gambler himself.
They found, also, that the money had been
withdrawn from their respective business, in
which it was much needed—that in their
high hopes of winning a fortune, they had
neglected business and spent a good deal of
valuable time. And twenty-two out of the
twenty-five were disappointed and vexed, re
solving to rely upon slow but steady gains
in future.
A. travelled over the contineut, visited the
places of pleasure and spent his 81,000, and
ultimately returning to tho town, re opened
his bank. But he found the twenty-two did
not frequent it as before. B. C. and D. met
him cordially, skirmished at bis game night
after night with unimportant results—aud
all dragged heavily. Finally, being on the
road to fortune by illicit gains, they farmed
a league with A.; won large sums, and boast
ed of their good luck upon the streets. They
explained to the twenty-two in detail liow
by a change of the game and mode of deal
ing, the chances were in favor of the better,
and finally got them all into it again, result
ing in heavier losses than before. The part
ners divided the spoils, went off together,
aud each iu a short time became a travelling
gambler. After long lapse of time, when
the twenty two, by industry and frugality,
had regained more than their losses, A. re
turned and again opened his bank. All de
siring amusement, and to get back what
they had deposited, again invested in tlie
checks. He had become dissipated, and for
gotten many of his winning tricks—most of
them were ahead on tho game, but, not
doubting his solvency or honor, they played
night after night holding his checks, and
when finally they were “handed in” he
coolly stated tho “bank is broke.”
They began seriously to*reflect upon what
they had been doing. Much valuable time
bad been worse than foolishly spent; some
of their early companions had been corrupt
ed and lost to society. They had taxed their
folly to maintain au extravagant man who
produced nothing—whose bills they footed
when bis game was in his own favor, and
when in their favor they, were not footed
at all.
I desire to reach the judgement without
offence, and it is no part of my purpose to
apply to the reader, the odium of the gam
bler’s profession; but to illustrate the de
moralizing tendency of that general desire
for sudden gains by chance, instead of by
labor and and the ordinary methods ordained
by God, approved by our religious code of
morals, and sanctioned by the experience of
civilized men in all ages of the world, which
has of late manifested itself in the patronage
bestowed on Lotteries, Gift Enterprises and
Life Insurance—the first by secret adven
tures; the next by small but numerous drain
ings of the substance of the poor; and the
last by all classes and by enormous outlays
of the proceeds of our industry, and in the
management of which many good men are
engaged—and with no bad or questionable
motive. Insurance Companies have the legal
and natural right to issue policies and receive
compensation, and the people to take
and pay for them, taking the chances of ul
timate returns; aud each has the right to
judge and act for himself in the premises.
But we have also the right, without offence,
to consider this and all other questions, as
they affect the country in its resources and
general prosperity, and the church in her
morals and vital piety.
Viewing it purely in an utilitarian aspect,
I assume, that if these Companies do not re
ceive more than they me required to pay to
the insured, the investment is unsafe, be
cause their expenses are heavy.
Again, if their profits arise from the ad
justment of rates of insurance upon the doc
trine of chances of human life, these profits
must in the aggregate, come out of the in
sured. If a given Company can make SI ,000, -
000 by insuring the lives of a given number
of people, they can save to themselves that
Sonthrni Christian Inmate.
sum by not insuring. The agents answer
by evading the argument—and assure us the
Companies realize large profits by lending
the money at usurious and compound inter
est —thus conceding, that while the business
is lawful, they are driven to unlawful means
to sustain it. But to whom do they lend it ?
Is it not to the people ? aDd could the in
sured not do the same thing ? Mast the
people place their money in these Companies,
pay them commissions and salaries to get to
borrow it back at heavy usury, and com
pound interest ?
But we are told, the Companies are located
in the large cities, which gives them great
advantages. This is true in part, and is the
evil of the situation, produced in no shall
degree, by the proposed remedy. If this
money were distributed among its original
owners, it would tend to abate their fictitious
financial condition. The neceasit.y for enor
mous usury would not be upon them. The
circulation is drawn from the extremities
and centralized in the heart—leaving them
cold and languid, and making it plethoric
and feverish. There is a money congestion,
and the financial body is diseased. This dis
ease they propose to cure by repeating its
cause. The people in the interior, and even
under the nose of the money mouarchs,
need the generous and untaxed circulation
for their business. But they are urged to
send, and do send it away to the great cen
ters, in order to get it back in loans and ad
vances—to conduct business on a credit, and
at ruinous prices.
The wine merchant, who ships his liquors
to India and back, gets them, not reduced
in quantity, but enhanced in quality and
price, by the rocking of tire vessel upon the
free waves of the ocean. But our people
send theif own money through the windings
and toll gates of insurance to the great marts
of usurious interest, for the privilege of do
ing business at home on a credit upon other
men’s capital, or upon their own placed thus
iu the hands of others to manage for them—
all for the hope of getting it back to their
wives and children—when the heart to will
and brains to plan, and strong arm to exe
cute, and to use it skillfully, are cold iu the
grave. Hope, did I say ? If—ah ! that little
word, if, hangs like a cloud, between them
and fruition. If there is no war or other
commotion to destroy securities; if by this
abnormal financial condition, the Companies
continue to realize large gains by usury; if
the good men now managing do not them
selves die and leave a worse c-lasS to carry out
or to ignore their bargains, and integrity
holds out as it promises; if there is no fraud
discovered or alleged iu procuring the poli
cies, and at a time when the helpless victim
of the accusation cannot come to court to re
pel it; and if—but these are enough ! It re
quires no gift of prophesy to see that thou
sands of our good people, whoare struggling
under the weight of their life policies—so
lacing themselves with the conviction that
the Companies who,by their liberal terms, do
not collect from the insured more thsn from
HO to 60 per cent, on what they promise to
pay back, can ultimately redeem those premi
ses, arc building on sandy foundations, crea
ting in their offspring delusive hopes of fu
ture enso and wealth, diverting them from
the road to success in life by labor and steady
gains, to that of chance and luck—in a word
providing for them helplessness and poverty
instead of self-reliance and consequent in
dependence.
Why not invest this money in land and
mules, and agricultural implements, in tools
of mechanical trade, in merchandise, in the
cultivation of the sciences and fine arts, in
implements of domestic manufacture and in
substantial home improvements ? Why not
teach and train your growing children to
rely upon themselves, so that even yon may
lean upon them in your decliue of life ?
It is intended to reflect upon no Insurance
Company on the continent, or meant that I
believe all are unsafe. Sonin will doubtless
meet their policies promptly. It is the sub
ject, as it affects the country at large, that
I pi'esent, and would urge every family in
the land to organize a life insurance at home
in a well regulated system of industry and
frugality. With these, the children will be
safe when the parents are dead. Without
them, the money paid on the policies
will pass away like a cloud, and corrupt, in
stead of make them happy.
The institution of Masonry, honorable as
ancient, with charitable aims, but misguided
judgment, has embarked in Insurance —I
hope for the best, but fear she will in the
future suffer popular reverses bv it. Not
the Church yet as an organized body, but
the membership—clergy and all—seeming
to distrust the Providence of God as well a s
their own efforts by labor ‘and slow gains,
have cut loose from their ancient mooring,
and are swimming iu the floods of Mammon
—in the wild hunt for speedy gains by for
tuitous means. We complain that the clouds
of infidelity not only lower but thicken —that
the sacred altars are surrounded by a foggy
and cold atmosphere which obscures the vis
ion of faith, chills the souls of believers, re
pulses the men of tlie world—leaving them
to perish outside the temple for want of the
bread of life. But the cause, we are blind
to —or seeing, wilfully disregard; and wheth
er we are blind amid effulgent light, or re
fuse to be convinced amid “reasons as thick
as blackberries,” the general effect upon
piety is the same.
It is not pretended that the mania for
gain by pure luck, is the only idol we wor
ship—but that is the one under review.
Think of Paul sitting on a board, stitching
upon a tent cloth, to raise funds, or begging
his brethren at Corinth and Phillippi and
Ephesus, to send him up money to pay the
premiums on the policy of some rich Compa
ny at Home or Athens, instead of trusting
in the God he preached, consoling himself
that there was a worldly fortune laid up for
somebody after his death, where moth and
rust corrupt! Think of James and Stephen,
disputing with the disciples about what
Company can extort the biggest rate of usury,
and pay its policies upon the least premiums !
Think of John Wesley when he was return
ing from the splendors of the English
Church, courting poverty among the coal
diggers, or tossed by the waves on a rickety
ship over the Atlantic, or preaching the un
searchable riches of Christ under a live oak
upon the Western shore; then think of a life
policy concealed under his jacket, near his
great heart! How long would Christianity
have survived the preaching of Paul ? How
long would Methodism have outlived Wes
ley ?
The Assyrians, Egyptians, the Greeks—
the whole ancient Pagan world, worshipped
ideas through the images that represented
them, and in ignorance of the true God. We
worship the things themselves without the
images—and in the face of Revelation. It
was the idolatry of the church of *Tsrael,
upon which the anathemas of the Bible are
poured out. Measured by that standard
what shall become of the Christian Church
in America ?
The General Rules of the M. E.
Church, South,—No. I.
BY REV. W. KNOX.
I propose to discuss in several consecutive
numbers, “The General Rules of our
Church,” with special reference to the na
ture and extent of their obligations.
These Rules were set forth by Mr. Wes
ley, very nearly as we now find them, for the
government of those societies which he him
self had formed,—not outside of the Church
of which he was a member, for separation
from that church was, at the time, the far
thest thing from his intentions, —but outside
of the ordinary services of that Church.
They were adopted by the Methodist Epis
copal Church in this country, and subse
quently by the Methodist Episcopal Church,
South, and they are considered binding up
on all its membership.
But whence, it may bo pertinently asked,
do they derive their authority? or why are
we under obligations to observe them? I
answer unhesitatingly, that they aio not
binding upon the conscience because of
their having been put forth by Mr. Wesley, or
any other uninspired man; or because of
their being found in our Book of Discipline,
to the requisitions of which we are volun
tarily pledged to conform; or because of
their adoption by our highest ecclesiastical
authority, for the regulation of the lives and
conduct of our church members; —but be
cause, and only because of their conformity
with the teachings of the Scriptures of
eternal truth.
It is a fundamental principle of Protestant
Christianity,—and these Rules, as we shall
see after awhile, fully recognize the princi
ple,—that “the Bible is tho rule, the only
and the sufficient rule, both of our faith and
our practice, so that whatsoever is uot tangh t
therein or deducible therefrom, is not bind
ing upon the conscience of any man, either
as a doctrine to be believed, or as a duty
to be performed.” These General Rules,
therefore, and the doctrines and principles
of all churches, must be subjected to this
test. They bind, and can bind the con
science only, as they obtain the sanction,
and to the extent only to which they obtain
the sanction of the Holy Scriptures.
I will remark also, —for iu this connec
tion tho remark is an important one, —that
while “no Scripture is of any private inter
pretation,” yet iu the final issue every man
must determine for himself its meaning, and,
consequently, the nature and extent of his
duties and obligations. No man or body of
men, no ecclesiastical tribunal whatever, can
become the keeper or keepers of his con
science. 11 will be understood that lam speak
ing here —not of those regulations which a
church is authorized to make for tho pur
pose of sustaining its own internal policy,
and of carrying into effect the great inter
ests committed to it, and which all the mem
bers of that church should feel conscience
bound to observe—but of those principles
which are designed to influence and control
the moral conduct..
Tho view I have taken is fully corrobora
ted by the Apostle Paul. 1 Cor. vii, 10—12.
It was iu reference to a question of morals,
that ho said—“l command, yet not /, but
the Lord;” aud again,—“To the rest speak
I, and uot the Lord.” Here he clearly dis
tinguishes between the utterances of the Di
vine inspiration to him, or through him,
and his own opinions and observations. Iu
the former instance ho regarded the obliga
tion as that from which there is absolutely
no escape; iu the latter, he considered the
direction, however important in itself, not
as positively authoritative, but at most as
advisory.
These things being premised, it is easy to
evade the foreo of a very common, and at
the same time a very damaging, objection
to the economy of Wesleyan Methodism.
The members of other churches have some
times looked upon these General Buies, as
being exceedingly oppressive, and have
greatly pitied those who, as they reasoned,
were brought under special obligations to
keep them; and some of the members of our
own Church, have consideied some of these
rules as altogether over-strict, and have
sighed for the liberty which they suppose is
fouud in those churches uot so strict in their
requirements, aud where a wider license is
granted iu respect of some thiugs.
Now let us consider this for a moment.
These rules are of moral force, and impose
upon us moral obligations, only as they are
in conformity with tlio sacred Scriptures.
If there is not such conformity, they are not
binding upon ns any more than they are
upon others; but if there is such conformity
—if it can be shown that these rules are but
expressions of the will of God, as revealed
in the written word, they are certainly bind
ing upon us; but, at the same time let it be
carefully noted, they are equally binding
upon the members of other churches—of
all churches—unless, forsooth, it can be made
to appear that the members of other churches
are not under the samo obligations to com
ply with the requisitions of sacred Scrip
ture, as we are. The fact of their being
printed in our book of Discipline gives
them no authority, nor does it deprive them
of their authority. The simple circum
stance of their being recognized as “the
General Rules of the Methodist Church” or
Churches, does not increase our obligations
to observe them, nor does it, nor can it
make those obligations less. If, —and I here
make this strong poiut,—they are in ac
cordance with the Scriptures of Divine truth,
they are, from the very nature of things,
binding, and equally binding upon all who
take the .Bible for their guide! Let not,
then, the members of other Churches waste
their sympathies on us; for in this aspect of
the question, they are as we, and ice are as
they Let not the members of our Church
be dissatisfied, but let them remember that
an escape from our Church into another, is
not an escape from the stringency, or what
they may regard as the stringency, of these
Rules, provided of course, these Rules, as
it is my purpose to show, are in harmony
with “the only and the sufficient Rule.” And
furthermore:—while any church may well
tremble at the idea of attempting to lay
heavier burdens upon its membership than
the word of God imposes, or of requiring
more in a moral point of view than the sa
cred Scriptures require, it should stand ut
terly aghast at the thought of requiring
less, —of licensing its members to do what
God’s Holy Word prohibits!
The object of our present investigation,
iet it be clearly understood, is not to dis
cuss “the General Rules” in of every point
view in which they might be presented,—
but simply to consider their conformity, or
want of conformity, with sacred Scripture.
Hence, when such conformity is at once ob
vious, I shall do little more than to quote
the passage, or passages, which show it; and
thus leave more room for the discussion of
those rules in referrence to which the Scrip
tural authority is not so apparent. I shall
endeavor to be impartial. I will not know
PUBLISHED BY J. W. BURKE & CO, FOR THE M. E. CHURCH, SOUTH.
MACON, GA., WEDNESDAY, MAY 10, 1871.
ingly warp the Role so as to make it confer m
to the Scriptures, nor will I bend the Scrip
tures to bring them into harmony with the
Role.
The keeping of these Rules is presented
as “the evidence of a desire for salvation.”
The evidence is distributed into three classes;
—l, The things forbidden, 2, The duties
enjoined, and, 3, The ordinances of God.
First. It is expected of all who desire
salvation, to continue to give evidence of th»t
desire, “by doing no harm, by avoiding evil
of every kind, especially that which is most
generally practiced. ”
Whatever may be said of this general
principle, it cannot be urged that it is at
variance with the Divine teaching. The
Apostle Paul stated it more strongly. He
taught we should not only “do no harm, ’
and “avoid evil of every kind,” but that we
should “abstain from the very appearance
of evil,”—that wo shonld not only avoid t’ £
which is itself an evil, but that also which
has the semblance of wrong doing. If there
is, therefore, any error, it is one of defect,
rather than of excess.
In scanning the list of evils included in
this general class, it is to be observed that
there is no mention of the grosser immoral
ities or sins, crimes in the eye of the com
mon law; as the violations of the sixth,
seventh, eighth, and ninth commandments
of the Decalogue; because, perhaps, they
are too palpably vices, crimes, to be put
into a list of this character; or, perhaps, be
cause they are elsewhere and better provi
ded for. It is observable also that not all
the evils belonging to this general class are
enumerated. This is obvious, from the use
of the phrase, “such as.” Let none, there
fore, make the mistake of supposing that
because an evil,- —as for instance, dram-sell
ing,—is not especially mentioned, it is not
therefore included.
“ The takin / of the name of God in vain.”
This is but a brief re iteration of the
third commandment: “Tbon shalt not take
the name of tlie Lord thy God iu vain; for
tho Lord will not hold him guiltless that
taketh His namuiu vain.” The Lord would
have all to reverence His holy name. The
habit which some have of profane swearing,
of interlarding their conversation and
speeches with oaths and execrations, of
using too freely and without proper rever
ence any of the names of God, in common
conversation, in prayer, or iu preaching, is
worse than an idle and a useless one:—it is
a grievous sin against tho moral law of God,
as set forth in the above quoted command
ment, aud in other places in His holy word.
“Theprofaning the day of the Lord, either
by doing ordinary work’therein, or by buying
or selling. ”
Here we have a less comprehensive decla
ration than the fourth commandment, as
the two instances given are not, as I ap
prehend, the only ways of “profaning the
day of the Lord.” If tho rule errs at all, it
is certainly not by requiring too much; and
its conformity with sacred Scripture, as far
as it goes, cannot be doubted for a moment.
“ Drunkenness , or drinking spirituous li
quors, unless in cases of necessity.”
In so far as it regards the first part of this
rule there can be no differences of opinion.
The Bible clearly, strongly, forbids drunken
ness, informing us that “no drunkard shall
inherit the kingdom of God.” No one
doubts that drunkenness is a sin, dark,
loathsome, ruinous. The latter part of the
rule, however, requires consideration.
“Spirituous Liquors,” or distilled spirits,
were not known when the Bible was written,
and lienee are not mentioned in the Scrip
tures. We read of “strong drink” but we
have not the means of ascertaining what
that was. Most probably it was a strong
wine, or some other fermented liquor, calcu
lated to produce intoxication or drunken
ness. Wine itself is spoken of in both a
good and a bad sense. It is 'recommended
under certain circumstances; and again we
are cautioned not to “look upon the wine
when it is red, when it giveth its color in
the cup,” from the consideration, that “at
the last it. biteth like a serpent, and sting
eth like an adder.” Prov. xxiii. 31, 32.
Possibly there was a wine, like our domes
tic wine, both innocent and refreshing,
while there was another, whose use, at any
rate whose free use, was interdicted.
“Spirituous liquors” have been produe
tive of so many and such wide-spread evils,
that their habitual use can scarcely bo
looked upon as in harmony with the teach
ings of God’s word. This, I think, can be
shown. As, however, I design the argu
ment to be elaborate, exhaustive, sufficient
ly so at least as to remove all reasonable
doubt, it cannot be entered upon hero. It
must be deferred for the next number.
From the Nashville Christian Advocate.
Recollections of Bishop Andrew.
In 1824, my grandfather, John Howard,
was stationed in Charleston, and James O.
Andrew was his Presiding Elder. Stephen
Olin was his colleague. My mother was just
nine years old, and she formed for Uncle
Andrew an attachment which was never
broken. Less than twenty years afterward,
when Bishop Andrew had his home in Ox
ford, we lived near him, and so I cannot re
member when I did not know him. My
mother educated his younger daughters—
my father was his family physician, and at
tended his dear Amelia in her last illness.
Will I intrude on your columns, then, if I
give some few personal recollections of one
of the grandest, nobftst, gentlest men, I
ever knew ?
When I was a little boy of six years old I
remember going, with some little dish my
mother had prepared, to the great house on
the hill to see Aunt Andrew, who was sick.
I remember a sweet, sick lady who kissed
me, and my next remembrance is of her
grave beside her mother, and of my mother’s
grief at her loss.
My first remembrance of the Bishop is
when he was preaching. How his preaching
impressed my boyish mind ! It was so ear
nest, so simple, so rich in anecdote and il
lustration, that I never grew weary under
it. Bishop Pierce says we of this genera
tion never heard him preach, and it may be
we did not; but how often have we heard
the old man talk, as he called it, and how
our hearts have burned as he talked with us
by the way ! He was always feeling—and
his feeling was so manly that it always moved
others. During the revivals in Oxford he
always preached—and O how earnestly ! I
have seen many an audience moved by his
simple eloquence. Once, I remember, in
Atlanta, in a church crowded to its utmost,
there was scarcely one who did not weep.
He was preaching the funeral-sermon of my
mother. His second wife, one of the dear
est women, was not long since dead. He
spoke of my mother, of his life long love
for her—of the beauty of her character. He
then gave way to his grief, and spoke of his
own sorrows. He had seen, he said, one
after another of his mates of the forest
wither and die, until now ho felt like a blas
ted oak, standing alone in its desolation.
How deep he felt, how bitter was liis grief,
none but those who knew him well can know.
And then his official burdens, how great
they were to him !
I was with him once in Augusta, and he
was cheerfnlly telling the amusing scenes of
his early life. My circuit was then a part of
what his had been when he was of my age,
and he laughingly told of a family in it who
used to serve up coffee in a great bowl like
soup, in which each one dipped his cup as
it came round, and then he branched out
and told us of his adventures, and dangers,
and hardships.
“You had a hard time then, Bishop ; but
yon have had a harder time since you have
been a Bishop.”
“O,” said he, “George, the privations
have been nothing ; it is the stationing the
preachers which has given me pain the deep
est. I have had to send men to places when
I knew I was afflicting the places—then
again when I knew I was afflicting the men ;
but what could I do ? the work demanded
it—l had no choice.”
“O,” said I, “in thirty years you ought to
have become used to that. ”
“No, no, my son,” lie said, “I never can
get used to that.”
He then told me the often-told story of
Bishop MeKendree’s advice to him when he
was elected Bishop. Surely never was good
counsel better followed. The Bishop around
the fireside was delightful. Quick in repar
tee, rich in anecdote, no child ever left his
presence if he might stay in it —yet lie never
for a moment lost his grand dignity.
There is one personal incident which I
must relate as illustrating his mighty faith,
and power in prayer. I was on a visit to my
sister in Thomasville, Ga. She had been
baptized by liim, and was named Amelia, in
honor of bis wife. She was taken dreadful
ly ill. One morning the physician told me
she could not live—she must die iu a little
while. The Bishop was holding the Florida
Conference in Thomasville. I wrote a note
to him and sent for him. The sun was just
rising when the dear old man came. He
seated himself by her side, spoko to her in
touching words, then sang a verse and
prayed as he only could pray. In a half
hour she was free from danger, and recover
ed perfectly. It would require much rea
soning to convince any then present that the
prayer of the good man did not avail.
I have a letter from him which will inter
est your readers, aud may be of real service
to some young preacher—so I send it.
I see Atticus, as the Bishop calls him—as
all his old friends do—proposes to erect a
memorial church by the contributions of the
Sunday-school children. It would be most
fitting ; but might we uot suggest that a
memorial chapel in Oxford, a beautiful
chapel where his home was, where his bones
repose, would lie the most fitting monument,
i > his memory ? The church is needed
there, aud it will there serve the whole of
Methodism as it can nowhere away from a
great school. I see Dr. Myers has sugges
ted, also, the memorial church in Oxford. I
had not seen that when I wrote the above,
but it confirms ray opinion.
G. G. Smith.
Dear George : — I received your letter a
few days since, and was glad to hear from
you, and especially to hear that you intend
ed to enter the ministry. I am glad you
have not imitated Jonah. God, I doubt not,
will make you useful if you are faithful to
the grace given. Look well to your own
personal experience of the thiugs of God :
keep the vital flame alive iu your own heart,
then you will be able to win others to Christ.
As to the question you propound, I should
say as soon as you aro free from debt enter
the work at once. You are prepared by
your early training to study to advantage,
and, if industrious on your circuit, you will
very soon know all you could have learned
in college ; besides, if you go to college, an
ill,crease of embarrassment and debt may be
tho result—besides, life is short, death at
tho door, therefore let us work while it is
day. May God direct you in all things, and
bless you abundantly is tbo prayer of
«.t, Yours very affectionately,
James O. Aedrew.
Summerfield, Ala., Sept. 16, 1856.
In addition to the foregoing, Brother Smith
sends us a pleasant letter of tho Bishop,
which lie declined publishing because it is
personal. Well, we hope he will forgive us—
we shall print it, and return him the origin
al, which, like some of the Bishop’s letters
which we have, will lie kept as a souvenir of
the venerable man.
My Dear George I once knew a young
man with whom I was acquainted from his
birth. He grew up to manhood, was a good
boy, and thought, he ought to preach, which
he did, and got along pretty well, till he
took a notion to play with bullets. In the
play he came out second best. He belonged
to Georgia, but finding things too hot down
here, he left, going in the direction of the
north pole. The last I heard of him he was
in,Baltimore, where I hope he is doing well.
Should you know any such man, present him
my respects, and tell him I should like to
hear from him how he gets along iu the
Monumental Ciiy, where he preaches, and
with what success, aud how the Church,
South, is prospering in Baltimore. The
name of this adventurer is George Smith, I
think. My health is tolerable for au old
worn-out tackey. lam of but little use, but
I still try to do a little good, and I trust that
God will accept the will for the deed. Love
to your family and to Brother Smithson and
family. Yours very affectionately,
Jas. O. Andrew.
Summerfield, Fab. 7, 1868.
Methodism and Amusements.
The Tribune has become quite devoted to
Methodist affairs lately. Some of its arti
cles are fairly appreciative, while others show
a somewhat hypercritical interest for us. It
expatiates on the debate in the late Newark
Conference, on amusements, and congratu
lates the Church on the liberality displayed
there toward dancing, tlie drama, etc. We
were not aware of any such new “signs of
the times” in New-Jersey Methodism.
The discussion of the subjects, in the
New York Preachers’ Meeting, a few weeks
since, called forth voluble sarcasm from the
New York press generally.
The fact that the views of onr own de
nomination on these matters are criticised
with so much partiality would seem to imply
that Methodism must be specially important
to the journalistic critics. The Roman
Catholic Church throughout the world is as
strict on them as Methodism—theoretically,
at least. All the recorded authorities of that
Church which have spoken on them have
condi mned the theatre, and some of these
authorities have elaborately proved that the
primitive “Fathers,” alike with later theolo
gical standards, have unanimously denounc
ed it—excepting, of course, the old church
“Mystery Plays.” As for dancing, the Cath
olic clergy, nut long since, sent out a circu
lar to their American people reprobating
the fashionable vice in severest terms.
Whatever may be said of the drama and
the dance in the,'“abstract,” Methodism
knows that it lias to deal with them simply
in the “concrete.” Methodist care litile
about “abstractions ;” they are hard at work
with concrete facts. When the advocates of
the theatre and the ball-room present the
world with a pure realization of the ideal
drama and dance, Methodists may find time
to consider it. Meanwhile they are the
least squeamish people in country about
healthy amusements. They have a very so
cial religion, with the least possible inter
mixture of acidity or bile. Most of their
religious gatherings are occasions of anima
ted sociability ; they have almost incessant
festivals, Sunday-school picnics, etc., and
a great deal of household, and good, neigh
borly intercourse among themselves,enliven
ed with the best of songs set to the best of
music, and are hearty in their enjoyment of
all “the good creatures of God.” In their
earlier aud stricter times, their preachers
had a general proclivity to corpulency.
They were pronounced the greatest wits as
well as the bent saints of the nation in the
last century. Os all American religious
communities, the Methodists aro the least
obnoxious to the current criticism about the
failure of the national health for want of
amusements. We have supposed, also, that
the tallies of longevity had long since ex
ploded this criticism iu respect to tlie Quak
ers, the strictest people iu the world about
fashionable gayeties.— The Methodist
It is Only a Pi!Ayei;-Meetino.— Very true.
There will bo no sermon from a favorite
minister. No instrumental music. The
house will not be crowded and tbe few that
will be there will not he dressed in their
best attire. The prayers that will be offered
are not likely to be clothed in accurate and
eloquent language, and it is quite probable
that many of the hymns sung will be pitched
a note too high or too low. It is only a
prayer-meeting, a meeting like those held in
the days Jgg||,[alachi, whose proceeding were
noted down'by the Lord in the book of re
membrance kept before him; like that one
held by the disciples in the upper room;
which preceded the great pentecostal revival
like those others noticed in the book of
Acts, when tho assembled disciples were
filled with the Holy Ghost and prison doors
were opened, and captives released in ans
wer to their prayers.
It is only a prayer-meeting—only an ap
pointment which the risen and exalted Sa
viour has made with his disciples, only a time
when God “hearkens, ” listens attentively,
“that be may hear the holy converse of his
people, and when the baptism of tho Holy
Ghost descends upon waiting souls.”
The Unknown God.
BY DR. C. B. MACLAY.
Lines suggested by reading Huxley on the “Un
known and Unknowable,” aud Paul, “I iound an
altar with this inscription to the unknown God,”
and Job, “Cans’t thou?” etc.
“Can’st thou by searching find out God ?
The Almighty to perfection ?”
Ah! yes, most willingly we would,
If by some wise direction,
We could hut grasp, by hand so hold,
The robes that Deity enfold;
And rashly bare, to mortal sight,
Tho rays of uncreated light.
But 'twere in vain such hopes to feed,
A fond hut weak delusion;
For as by scientific lead,
Although in sonic confusion,
We thread our way in patient mood,
—Nor can the truth our grasp elude—
Yet from eacli problem that we Bolve,
A hundred more at once evolye.
And thus, though patiently, we plod
In our investigation.
We lose within “the sun baked clod”
Each ratiocination.
With frantic energy we ply,
And prove the syllogistic “why f" —
Yet ebbing waves do soon flow back,
And wash away the new made track.
But girding up our loins once more,
Possessed by new ambition,
The darkest truths we shall explore,
Nor once forget our mission;
From “thistle juice” to human brain,
We’ll prove the weird elective train,
And teach the world that Law supreme
Dissolves the crude religious dream.
Then rear at once the marble stone
And write this dedication,
"To the unknown God !” Yes, God unknown
By prophets’ inspiration!
And now thy head in grief prepare
To bow, and own tlie soul’s despair ;
Yes, dry the penitential tear,
For there is none, to love or fear!
Can you repress the swelling heart,
Aud still its heating ?
A cold philosophy impart,
Its fond hopes cheating ?
Ah! Hold! “There is a path” I ween,
“The vulture’s eye hath never seen,”
And trusting faith will feel and find,
A holy Presence in the mind.
At First: At Last: Never.
BY. 11. R. WAITE.
One day, when tho streets w fto. thronged
with people seeking for gifts which are a
part of the gladness of the holiday time, as
I passed along one of our crowded avenues,
I was stopped suddenly by theory of a child.
I stopped, because it was a cry so full of
real grief that I could not pass it by. As I
looked about for the sorrowing one, present
ly, over in the midst of a crowd of street
boys,—who stood gazing at her with a look
on their faces which proved that even they
(bad as people think them) have warm hearts
beneath their ragged jackets,—l caught a
glimpse of red and blue, and then the face
of a child. Pushing my way into the crowd,
I fouud a litile girl—a stray bud from some
body’s home—with her chubby fists pressed
to lier eyes, and her frame trembling with
sobs. As I bent down to tho little wanderer
and asked tho cause of her grief, her brown
eyes, glistening with tears, looked into
mine, and the answer came iu broken words
—“I can’t find Nennie !”—and another sob
and a flood of tears sealed the quivering
lips.
It was not to be wondered at that this lit
tle one, far from home, lost in the midst of
a great city, with only strange faces around
her, and no one to lead or comfort her, as
the feeling of her loneliness and helpless
ness came over her, should weep blinding
tears of sorrow. Drawing the child to my
side and stroking back tl)e curly brown liair,
wet with tears, I strove to ascertain her
name and where she lived. Her name was
“Lillie,” came between her sobs, aud she
could not find her sister. She could tell me
this, and nothing more.
As the lilies of the deep, which are torn
from their moorings and sent adrift upon
the wide waste of waters with their pure
faces uplifted tearful above tho waves, go
sailing on, they know not whence or whith
er, so this child—fitly named—with tear-wet
face, in tho midst of a surging human sea,
went drifting whence or where she could
not tell. I could but pity the castaway one,
and my pity shaped itself iu thoughts aud
went searching for a way iu which she might
be guided home.
As thus the child and I stood, and while
thoughts and sobs had their way, suddenly
a glad voice at my side exclaimed, “Found
at last!”—and tho little one sprang into the
arms of her elder sister —“ Found at hast !”
There are many wandering children on
the earth. As they wander, will their hearts
bo cheered with words like these ? As they
stop in their wanderings and look with long
ing toward their Father’s house, wall they
find ono into whose arms they can thus cast
themselves with joy ?
Scattered by the wayside, like springs in
the desert, there are messages for these
wandering ones, from home. As they read,
their eyes rest upon the words, “We are the
children of God ; aud it children, then heirs:
heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ.”
(Rom. viii : 16, 17). And again, “All we,
like sheep, have gone astray” (Is. liii ; 6).
And they ask themselves, What does it
mean ? We arc God’s children—joint heirs
with Christ ! Christ, then, is our brother 1
Ah, it is plain. We all have gone astray,
and the Father has sent His Son, Christ our
elder brother, to seek and bring us back.
And they read on, “Herein is love, not that
we loved God, but that Ho loved us, and
sent His Son” (1 John iv : 10). And, with
tender thoughts of the Father’s love, their
eyes fill with tears, aud sorrowing to think
that they have wandered far from one who
loved them so, in penitence, fearing lest
they shall not find Him, they cry aloud,
“Where is the Son whom God hath sent —
our brother sent to lead us home ?” And,
through their tears, they read once more,
“The Lord is nigh unto all that call upon
Him, to all that call upon Him in truth”
(Ps. cxlv: 18) ; “Seek and ye shall find”
(Matt, vii: 7)
They who L eed these wayside words, watch
ing and waiting, spring joyful, at last, into
the arms of One who sought them long and
faithfully—wandering children, lost and sor
rowful, longing for the joys of their Father’s
house, “Found at last!”—while those who
would not heed the messages strewn along
their path go wandering on.
An hour after the sister’s coming brought,
joy to the child’s heart, I stood by the side
of a dying man, who had been a wanderer
from his Father's side all his life. He had
spent the day in the mountains of siu, con
stantly refusing to heed tho messages from
home. Erring ones by bis side had read
them, and realizing how far they were from
home, lost and helpless, had sought and
found Him who came to save them, and,
safe in His arms of love, had ceased their
wanderings. But he had wandered on, re
fusing to read or give ear ; and now, as ho
went down amid the shadows of the night,
and the sense of his utter loneliness and
helplessness came over him, he cried aloud,
iu the great anguish of a mau’s heart, for a
hand that should lead liim home. While
drops of agony stood on his brow and bis
eyes filled with the Marah waters of grief, I
told him the story of tho lost child —how
its mother sent it forth, led by one who was
able, when it grew weary, to lead it home ;
how it was led astray by the glitter of toys,
and when it became tired at last and longed
to go borne, could not find the way and bad
no one to lead it ; bow its heart swelled
with sorrow, and pitying ones who stood by
would have led it home, but could not ; bow
it went seeking, with cries and tears, for the
one who was alone able to lead it; and how,
at last, the one is sought—its elder sister
looking anxiously for it, came and folded in
her arms of love the lost one “found at last,”
and went rejoicing home.
“As this little child, you went forth in the
morning of your life, commended to the
care of your Elder Brother. Like the child,
you wandered away in search of pleasuro ;
and now, as the night gathers about you,
like the child, far from your Father’s house
and far from the side of the loying Saviour,
the Elder Brother who would have led you
thither, weary, cold aud helpless, your
heart is full of grief and your eyes are full
of tears. Sighing for home, yon cannot
find the way. There is but One who can
lead you, and He is afar off. Do you think
that He will not hear you ; that you cannot
find Him ? Nay ! think not so. Here is a
message for you. You heard it long ago,
and would not listen. But He who seeks
you is ‘long-suffering and full of tender mer
cy,’and His messages are repeated again
and again. . Perhaps you will listen now :
‘The Lord is nigh unto all that call upon
Him, to all that call upon Him on earth.'
‘Seek and ye shall find.’
“Penitent and sorrowful for your sins, do
you call upon Him in truth ? He has called
after you all your life long, and, now that
you call upon Him, Ho will not refuse to
hear. Earnestly, believingly, do you seek ?
He has been seeking for you ever since you
began to stray, and, now that you seek Him,
He will not hide Himself from you. Call
upon Him and seek Him as the little child
sought her sister, feeling that no one else
can lead you home. As you grievo for your
wanderings and long to come home lest your
Father’s anger be kindled against you for
ever, do you feel that only He can lead you !
He asks no more. Look up ! —perhaps He
is smiling on|you now. Put out your hand!
—perhaps He is even now at your side, wait
ing to lead you home.”
During the watches of that night, peace
came to the troubled soul;
“The wanderer found the fold,
The Shepherd found His sheep.”
and the soul, brought from death unto life,
met the dawn of anew day on earth with
the exultant cry of “I am saved !” I am
saved !” When I again entered that cham
ber the raiment of him who had so long wan
dered was there, but he was not.
A few days later, as the evening shadows
fell around the year, I stood by another dy
ing one—a wife aud mother, long tried with
cares, but whose chief care had not been to
prepare herself for the time which had now
come. She, too, had been a wanderer all her
life, and tho ways of her wandering had not
been ways of peace. The day was nearly
ended now ; the night was coming ; and, as
the darkness aud the floods gathered round
her, her soul was filled with fear. No one
to lead her, no one to save her, too late to
pray, and so too late to seek or find, she
closed her eyes in hopelessness. The holy
Sabbath came, ushering in the hours of a
new year, but no Sabbath calm could reach
her soul. Her feet came to the threshold of
the year begun, but stayed and crossed not
over. W 7 liat thoughts were bers as there she
lingered, her lips, past speech, refused to
tell, but fear was on her face. Passing into
the valley of the shadow of death with no
rod or staff of comfort, she joined the many
homeless, cheerless souls whom the old year
bore with it into eternity. Her Father had
waited to receive her ; her Elder Brother
would have led her home. But, seeking not,
she found Him not; aud so that darkness
came at last which, like a wall, rose to hide
His face forever.
Dear reader, of these three pictures, to
which, think you, your life, or the lives of
those you love, will be nearest like ? The
child in grief,—the man in agony,—the soul
in despair ! As the one who went, in sim
ple trust, into her sistcr’e arms, is Jesus
sought anil found iu early life ? As the one
who came, with bitter tears of penitence, at
last, though late, is Jesus sought while yet
He may be found ? Or, like the one who
refused to come at all, is the day put off in
waiting for the time when voices full of
mocking shall cry, “Too late !”
Joy all day ; rest from day-long weariness
at eventide ; an endless night of woe ! At
first, at last, or never ! Which shall it be ?
New York Observer.
M ♦ M
havin' or tlie Salt.
The Lord’s people, according to our Sa
viour, are the “salt of the earth.” They
are necessary to its continuance; keep it
from corruption; and are finally to leaven
and influence the entire human race.
There are many substances in the world
that look like salt. They crystallize, are
white, more or less heavy, and can be meas
ured and weighed. But there is a subtlo
esseuce in the salt that is perceived by the
taste, and which cannot, be weighed aud
measured, but only tasted. This makes the
value of the salt. And it is so with profess
ing disciples. They can be counted, and
their influence or their wealth can be meas
ured. But the savor, that which distin
guishes them as Christians, is too flue and
delicate to be declared iu this way. It re
veals itself to the judgment and conscience
of men, and to the eye of God. Tho salt
ness gives value to the salt. Real living god
liness gives value to professing Christians.
If we had salt without saltness, according to
our Lord, it would bo “good for nothing.”
And professors without true Christian life
are good for nothing. When the rock salt
is dug up from tho heart of the earth, or
when the salt brine is drawn from tlie spring
or the sea, a long process that requires care
and skill is necessary to separate the foreign
matter and retain the pure salt. 1 And liow
much pain and patience are needed to se
parate the worthless from the good in us,
to rescue us from worldlsuess and selfish
ness, and to make us holiness to the Lord!
Surely we should guard well what costs so
much, aud “hold that fast which we have.”
For however it may be in tbe natural world,
it is certain that we, as Christians, are in
great danger of losing our savor from ex
posure. The constant whirl of excitement,
the round of pleasures into which some are
drawn, the very crowd and pressure of law
ful things—all these endanger onr piety,
and raise the fear that, we may lose the sa
vor. We cau only keep it by having the
Lord with us iu fulfillment of His promise;
and He will only stay with those who attend
to Him. Alas! how often we might say as
the prophet in his appeal to the conscience
of Ahab: “As thy servant was busy here
and there, he was gone!” But there is no
spiritual prosperity or power while the Lord
is not with us. How much we need Re
member the warning of Azariah to Asa: “The
Lord is with you, while ye bo with Him;
and if ye seek Him, He will be found of you,
but if ye forsake Him, He will forsake you.
- -Rev. John Hall.
Tlie True Idea Os Wealth.
The Methodist thus concludes au article on
this subject:
“We would not have men desist lrom the
lawful pursuit of wealth, but we would have
them comprehend the true character of tho
enterprise in which they are engaged.
Itiches bring an increase of responsibility
which cannot be transferred to another.
The faculty to acquire money, which is given
to some while denied to others, is a talent,
and is subject to the same laws which regu
late the possession of other talents. Some
men have a gift of public speaking; this gift
they are to use only for the promotion of
the right, whether iu the pulpit, the forum,
or at the bar. In like manner, others have
the gift of money-making. Everything
they touch seems to turn into God
has bestowed this gift on them tlfat they
might bless the world. If they employ it
merely to hoard money, or to squander on
themselves, they arc recreant to a most
sacred trust, and must account to God.
“There are some wealthy Christians who
seem to understand their true duty in this
matter. They make good use of the wealth
which God gives them. There are shining
examples among the liviug and the departed,
men who have made the world better by
their presence. There are some men who
might be named who could, if they chose,
retire from the cares of business with a
competence for the remainder of tlieir days,
but who prefer to continue in their toil,
that they may have money to give away.
This assertion will probably provoke a smile
and a sneer from some who are selfish and
know not the luxury of doing good; it is
nevertheless true, and we hope that the
influence of such glorious example may
spread like a contagion among the rich men
of the church. There is abundance of money
in the church to meet all demands on its
E. H. MYERS, D D., EDITOR.
WHOLE NUMBER 1849.
treasury, but there are many rich men
among us who seldom relax their purse
strings at the calf of duty. As intelligent
and conscientious views of duty spread, it
is to be hoped that the number of these
will bo diminished to the corresponding
increase of those wlio spend {their wealth
for usefulness.”
Some ot Hie Love-Feast Words at
Epping.
‘ ‘The days of the past eleven years have
been ever
“I am in the clear light this morning,
through the blood of Jesus.”
“I am only two years old, but I have been
well fed for these two years, and am willing
to trust the Lord for the supply forever.”
“The sweetest week of my life, glory to
God!”
“Last night I gave my heart to God."
“You have been scattering the crumbs so
freely this morning, 1 have gathered some.”
A reporter of The New York Herald: “I
have an instrument on my table at home
with which I can converse with King Wil
liam if he would listen to me. I promise
that I will converse with Christ six times
where I talk with this instrument once.”
“I give glory to God for salvation through
Jesus Christ our Lord.”
"I am clinging to the cross.”
“I have received a telegram from heaven,
this morning. It signifies Glory, Halle
lujah !”
“I thank the Lord he has found mo out
and forgiven my sins. ”
A Congregationalist brother : “The Spirit
bearetli witness with my spirit that I am a
child of God. Glory to God.”
ltev. Caleb Dusten, converted sixty years
ago : “On I' 9 crumbling verge I look for
ward to the region of glory.”
A young lady : “No condemnation now I
dread !”
“ ’Tis sixty years last May sinco I gave my
heart to God.”
A young woman : “There is rest in Jesus !”
Al other following : “Bless the Lord !”
“I have been converted thirty years. I
never felt so happy.”
“It runs divinely clear,
A fountain deep and wide.”
This message was sent from Lawrence
“A sister who is not in this encampment
is playing that the Holy Ghost may fall on
the Church and ministry with power. May
it be a Pentecostal power; and sinners
pricked to the heart shall say, “What must
Idoto bo saved ?” lam looking to Jesus,
and as I behold, I nm changed into the same
imago.”
Religion in English Life.
Scarcely a family,—at least one which lays
claim to any degree of respectability—fails
to have family service at least part of the
day. These devotions are not irreverent,
rapid or tedious, as often with us; but short,
crisp and reverent. The servants como in,
bringing with them their Bibles, and the
benches on which they sit. Men who do
not profess religion ns it is understood
among us, seldom sit at meat without grace,
as it is here called. It consists of a few
words, such as, ’’The Lord make us thank
ful, for his Son’s sake; ”or, ‘For what we are
about to receive, tlie Lord make us thank
ful.” At her breakfast table, where tbo
Queen appears as the woman, and lays asido
the Queen, she frequently says grace. I
dined the other day informally with the
Lord Mayor of London. He came from the
bench where he sits as magistrate, laid asido
his robes and triple gold, chain, which are'
the insignia of his office, and approached
the dinner table, around which stood several
gentleman. In a simple and unaffected
manner ho said grace and asked his guests
to be seated.
Nor is this cant. The merchants of Lon
don have an outspoken way of talking about
religion, ns if was no appendage, or a
thing of which they need be ashamed. They
gather in their counting-rooms for prayer;
have clubs that meet weekly for studying
tho Bible; go among the lowly and neglected
on Sunday, gather little congregations
where a regular ministry cannot go, and
form that great column, five thousand strong,
who on every Sunday go out to do among
tho masses their work for their Master.— Cor.
Hearth ancl Home.
“Turn to tlie
Sometimes it is best to disguise the seem
ing of downright rebuke when dealing with
very rude people. The wit of the reply in
the case given below, by seizing on 'the
double meaning of a word, was probably
more effective than a remonstrance would
have been under the circumstances.
The late Bishop of Litchfield, who was
alike remarkable for wit and learning, (he
translated into elegant Latin, in one night,
the address of the Bishops of the late Pan
Anglican Council,) was, not long before his
death, travelling in a railway carriage in
England, when a blustering man exclaimed :
“I should like to meet that Bishop of
Litchfield, I’d put a question to him that
would puzzle him.”
“Very well,” said a voice out of another
corner; “now is your time, for I am the
Bishop.”
The man was rather startled, but presently
said, “Well, my lord, can you tell me the
way to heaven V”
“Nothing easier,” answered the Bishop;
“you have only to turn to the right and go
straight forward.”
When it is seen to imply that the man was
going wrong as he was, and must turn before
he could go to heaven, the aptness and se
verity of the admirable answer become ap
parent at once.
Sound Doctrine and Salutary Discip
line.—The Methodist pnlpit has been re
markable for its sound theology. We trust
this will ever remain its grand distinction.
In some places there is a danger of giving
less prominence to the great staple doctrines
of Christianity than they should receive ;
but, on the whole, the Methodist pulpit
sends forth no uncertain sound. We fear
that we cannot say as much of discipline—
and by discipline we do not mean simply
its ultimate act—the exclusion of unworthy
members from our Communion—but by
that term we designate all those acts of su
pervision which a pastor should perform to
keep the flock from straying from tho fold
and to recover the wandering, ns well us to
cast out the incorrigibly vile. That is what
we mean by salutary discipline. O bow
much it is needed in these times ! We must
labor incessantly to keep the Church out of
tho world, as well as the world out of tho
Church. Dr. Jolmson considered it a good
omen that in liis day, the two parties were
getting on better terms with each other ;
but Dr. Johnson was better authority in
some other things than iu Church discipline.
Ulr. Wesley understood the matter better
than he. Hear how he prays for the purity
of the Church :
Men of worly, low design,
l.ct not these thy people join.
Poison our simplicity.
Drag us from our trust iu thee •
Never let the woild break in,
Fix a mighty gulf between.
Alas for us if we bridge over that gulf 1 We
want none to enter our Communion who
will not leave the world behind them—none
who will not from their hearts “renounce
the devil aud all his -works, the vain pomp
and glory of tho world, with all covetous de
sires of the same, and the carnal desires of
the flesh, so that they will not follow or bo
led by them.” And by the same token, we
want none among us who have perjured
themselves by violating their baptismal vow.
to remain iu our Communion. If they do
not desire to be saved from their sins, aud
to use the means of gracy to that end, lot
them go—we can do them no good by hav
ing them among us, anil they can do us no
good, but will bo sure to ilo ns immense
barm.— Nashville Christian Advocate.
CnmsT Making Figures. —An aged minis
ter noted for his liberality said recently,
when a contribution wus about to bo made,
“When I am about to subscribe uny tiling
for Christ I always feel ns though I would
like to have him make the figures for me.”
Praying and Working.— l like the saying
of Martin Luther when he says, “I have so
much business to do to-day that I shall not
be able to get through it with less than three
hours’ prayer.”