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TWO DOLLARS AND FIFTY CENTS.
PER
VOLUME XXXIX., NO. 15.
JEHOVAH TSIDKENU.—“THE LORD
OUR RIGHTEOUSNESS.”
BY KEV. K M MCCHKNE.
TUB YVATHWORD OF THE REFORMERS.
] one-; was a siranaer to grace aud to God,
Iku w not niy and mrer and r elt not my lo.id;
Tnoigu fri< ndb spoke in rapture of CtiiLt on
I lie tree,
Jehc v. h Tsidkenu was nothing to me.
I oft read with pleasure, to soothe or engage,
Isaiah a wild measure and .John’s simple page,
Bjit e'en when they pie u r ed the blood sprinkled
tee,
Jebo /ah Tsidkenu seemed nothing to me.
hike tears from the daughters of Zion that roll,
I wept When the waters went over his soul;
Yet tnougbt not that my sins had nailed to the
i.i e,
Jehovou Tsidkenu—'twas nothing to me.
WJien free grace awoke me hy light from on
1 igb, . *• • • * ■ ,
Tliet. legal fears shook me, I tiemhled-to die;
No refuge, no safery in self could‘l see,
Jehovaa Teidkcuu my Saviour must be. •
My ti Ivors all vanished before the sweet name;
My guilty fears banished, with boldness I .came
To oiiwk.at the foun ain, life-giving and .free.
Jehovah Tsidkenu is ail things to me
Jehovah Tsjdkenn : my treasure and boast,
-teho.'-u Tsidkenu! I ne n c.p* he lost;
In lb •• I shall conquer by flood and by field.
Myci.be, my aujhor, my ureas.-p ate and shield.
E’en treading the valley, the shadow of death.
This “watchword” shall rally my faltering
breath;
For whi'e from life’s fever mv God sets me free,
Jehovah Tsidkenu my death song shall be.
Contributions.
THOUGHTS OX SANCTIFICATION.
M’MIS Eli <i.
BY REV. L. PIERCE.
Sanctification is the infusion-of God’s
Holy Spirit throughout our moral taste and
will, so that Satan's access to us, and our in
creased susceptibility to his suggestions, are
both reduced to the chance of mere possi
bility. For in us there is no living congeni
ality. This is the wide difference: In a
merely justified state w# feel, even while the
religious principle is in the ascendency, that
we are in constant danger from the remains
of passions, and warring lusts of various
kinds, of falling into sin—feel it to be not
only a possible, but also a probable.liability.
But after entire sanctification of soul, body,
substance, time, and talents, to the service
of God, this feeling is exactly reversed ; and
the subject of it feels, that, while sinning
will always be a possibility, it is now no
more a probability ; for, I am dead to sin.
Satan cometh, it is true ; but as my Saviour
said, so can I in my humble sphere say : “He
hath no part in me.’’ This shield ol faith,
over all internal graces, “quenches all the
fiery darts of the wicked.” It does not Bay of
“the wicked one,” but‘of “the wicked. ’
It is, in this place, a very remarkable word.
Quench —it puts out like water does, sparks
of fire. It is predicated of-taking to our
selves the whole armor of God, that we m iy
stand in the evil day—having done all, to
stand. Brethren, if it is evident to your
reason that you can be better secured against
the evils of an evil day by seeking and ob
tabling this grace, than you can be with
out it, you cannot live without it., only
as neglecters of this great salvation. No
one can be careless of any grace which
Christ was careful to provide for him, with
out bringing on himself the curse of having
reeived the grace of God in vain—in vain,
because it is not utilized as God gave it to he.
But the question now is, Is sanctification a
result of growth in grace ; or is it an instan
taneous act of grace through faith in Christ,
whose blood cleanses us from all sin ? It is,
as sanctification, an instantaneous act of
grace, through implicit, immediate faith in
Christ for this very blessing. No one ever
attained unto it, who sought it only as some
thing that might he ; for faith can never act
directly and effectually in reference to things
that only may be, because it is offset all the
time with the more successful tendency to
doubt; and in this department of Christian
faith, doubting is den ing. No one will ever
believe in Christ as his sanctification, until
he believes it to be both a specified and a
specific blessing. Anything like special and
specific faith is impossible in reference to
anything where the promise is indefinite. If
sanctification is attainable only through
growth, the experience of it as a positive
victory of faith over the w’orld is unknowa
ble, as an act of grace through faith. And
yet salvation is “by grace through faith” —a
remarkable word in this connection. What
ever is through anything else is always de
pendent on whatever it is through. And as
we “walk by faith” —another significant
phrase—it strikes me as a sort of self-evident
thing, either that there is no actual sanctifi
cation, or else it is attainable through imme
diate faith in Christ’s atoning sacrifice ; for
he died to redeem us from all iniquity. In
a word, if Christ’s dying was necessary to
save us from sin in any sense, it was just as
necessary in every sense, and to every ex
tent. If we can be saved without being
cleansed from all sin, the death of Christ
for sin was not necessary at all. This every
straight mind must see. If sin can only be
removed by faith in Christ’s meritorious
death, it cannot he by an obedient life. This
is all that can be plead, if sanctification is
the result of a growth in grace in the sense
in which we are commanded to grow in
grace. This is what is meant by “ going on
to perfection,” and by “perfecting holiness
in the fear of God,” or the “ shining more
and more unto the perfect day. It is im
possible, in one sense, for any one ever to
become so good, that there is no sense in
which they might grow better. But this is
the perpetual ripening of heavenly fruits.
It is grace growing on grace —a state of life
that never can be, only wnen the Spirit, of
God dwells in us—and this never is, until
this work of entire sanctification is in
wronght in us. Previous to this our reli
gious experience is what Paul calls “laying
again the foundation of repentance from
dead works, and of faith toward God” This
is the semi-antinomian faith of all who deny
this salvation from sin through entire sancti
fication —which is the cleansing of us from
all sin by the blood of Christ. And this
must be something more than a wearing of
it out by a recuperating effect of grace on
the soul —like unto tonics on a convalescent
patient. It must be, because, while seeking
in this way to recover again the lost favor of
God is not hereby forbidden, it is neverthe
less forbidden as a manner of Christian life
—and going right on unto perfection is laid
down as our Christian motto. Therefore,
the attaining unto this perfection can never
be compassed, so long as we have any con
nection with sin in any sense, from which
redemption by the blood of Christ was a
necessity—and this we learn was from all
iniquity. Now, therefore, the moral neces
sity was from all —or from none.
That justification does not land us at once
in the quiet paradise of peace, is the normal
experience of all well balanced minds ever
§int<hnn tHriffiii
known to me. There is a fight with many
relics of old rebellious passions. Call it
what you may, its kinship to sin is certain.
Feeling this, the sound-hearted, practical
believer, begins at once to look prayerfully
into the premises of his Christian pro
gramme ; and he readily reaches the conclu
sion, that being cleansed from all unright
eousness is as much an assured promise as
forgiveness was, end engages immediately
in seeking entire sanctification. I say imme
diately, because this i3 the order—and the
rule of faith is prompt obediance. Conceive
of a convert bearing this order from the
Spirit, and yet leaving compliance in abey
ance, declining to put it into immediate Exe
cution (which I think is now too common),
and the result is spiritual back-sliding at the
start. Here is the bleak shore where souls
lie in spiritual starvation. The duty to go
on unto perfection is as imperative as was
the call to repentance and faith at the first.
There is not one fn ten, if there-is even ope,
justified, sohl, jn whpm what we mean by the
remans of sirr, is not sorely felt —and the
broader and brighter the justification, the
more sorely do these relics of tbe carnal mind
infringe against the new-horn affections of
holiness, And now congidqr dne of these,
converts, as horrified at first at these inward
belligerant passions,but slowly Becoming less
disquieted at them, until they are looked up
• on as prisoners that need only to be watched,
while he keeps them well locked in within his
religious cells. But at the same time he ad
mits that provision was made in tbe atone
ment, l ot only for forgiveness, but also for
cleansing from all unrighteousness ; and that
all common sense declared it to be a moral
impossibility for God to look with divine ac
ceptance on any soul that is carelessly living
upon a plane of religion far below the one
to which we are called in Christ Jesus. And
it will be found at last that the reason we
were never cleansed from all sin, was that we
were never holy enough in our affections to
abhor all evil. There are thousands to-day,
who are so carnally-minded that, as God sees
them, they only want religion to save them
from hell, not at all from all carnal-minded
ne9s. This can only be broken up by the
restoration of the original Methodism on
sanctification.
OLD QUARTERLY CONFERENCE JOUR
NALS—keowke (PENDLETON) UIKITIT.
St. Peter’s Direction—Economical Expen
diture —Averages of Use—Raking Up the
Past—Ministry not Mercenary—Souls for
One’s Hire —Wretchedly Poor Diet —Evi-
dences ot Improvement—A Question Pro
posed—-Only Partially Answered.
St. Peter says, “ Feed the flock of God
which is among you, taking the oversight
thereof not by constraint, but willingly, not
for filthly lucre, but of a ready mind.” So
did these men undoubtedly; if not, there is
no such virtue on the earth. Just consider,
for an entire decade from 1833 to 1843, the
entire amount contributed for their support,
from twenty churches, was $1,685.62, giving
an average for each year of $168.56; averag
ing the twenty-five preachers, fifteen of whom
were men of family, $67.42, an average per
member, for ten years' service, of $2.60. Is
it possible for economy of expenditure to go
farther? If love of filthy lucre moved them,
it is very clear the appetite grew not on what
it fed upon. lam well aware that an average
is not a standard of Christian liberality; yet it
cannot be denied, that it forcibly brings out
the lack of that quality, and the ridiculously
low value put by many on the gospel. The
poverty of the Church, is the usual excuse
for failure in supporting the gospel, so that
it might readily be concluded that the half or
nearly the whole of one's income was neces
sary to that end; but if it can be shown there
is no such requisition, but that in fict the
gospel has been preached for a long series
of years, at little cost —(we will not say at
what to the preachers themselves) —but most
certainly at a very ridiculously low cost to
the aggregate membership, then assuredly
the averages are useful.
At no time, within the period named, did
the collections reach three hundred dollars,
$253.00 being the highest amount any one
year, and $94.25 the lowest. For the next
decade there was not much improvement; the
writer knows whereof he affirms, the figures
only lacking to confirm the fact.
But what good comes of this raking up the
past, and the portrayal of the poverty of the
Church, and the poor pay of its preachers ?
Just this, if no more, that men may under
stand that the ministry are not so mercenary
as many suppose. The world is fully agreed
that the laborer is worthy of his hire, and
sees no difficulty in the abandonment of the
work, if the hire be withheld; but here are
instances of the one not forthcoming, and the
other still going on. Nor is this a solitary
case. All over a wide spread connection has
this been going on, and is still going on to
this very hour.
Methodism has never yet recognized the
ministerial life as professional merely; it re
quires a divine call; it is a vocation emphati
cally. All that is proffered is a support;
but that this ought to be given.no sane mind
doubts.
Many have prayed fervently, and often,
“give him souls for his hire,” but all know
he cannot eat, drink, or wear them. And
however excellent they are in the currency
of heaven, payable at the great judgment day,
wbat in the name of common sense is the man
to do until pay day comes round? There must
be an inconceivable littleness of soul about
one who insists on this as the only mode of
payment. And we are not surprised at a
preacher s rejoinder to one urging it, “Souls!
A thousand such as yours would make a very
poor meal.”
But matters were not to remain in the old
Keowee Circuit at this low estate. The large
four weeks’ circuit was to give place to smal
ler fields, better cultured. And to-day, where
twenty years ago scarcely three hundred dol
lars could be raised, and where thirty years
ago, for ten consecutive years, only sixteen
hundred dollars in all was contributed, in the
past year, 1875, within the same boundaries,
51.880.94 was contributed for the support of
five families, besides 5381.10 for the general
collections of the Church; and the singularity
is that two weak stations paid double the
amount of the two strODg circuits. The gen
eral statement is as follows:
Average per member For Salary. Gen. coll.
Anderson station $5.12 sl.Ol
Williamston station 4.35 sl.lß
Anderson circuit 75 .16
Pendleton circuit 72 .09
It is a question I would like to see answer
ed : Why is it that many a weak station pays
better than many a strong circuit ? Shall we
admit that all the better preachers are sent
there, and that “poor preach, poor pay,” is
the rule obtaining on circuits?
That would hardly do; but really, ought it
not to wake up the dormant energies of any,
that might be construed to be within that
category ?
But enough; here I close, turning over the
old journals to the dust of the present and
coming years. A. M. C,
PUBLISHED BY J. W. BURKE & COMPANY, FOR THE METHODIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH, SOUTH.
A PLEA IN ABATEMENT.
Mr. Editor: Methodist Stewards and peo
ple are generally rated pretty sharply by yonr
correspondents whenever the subject of min
isterial support is introduced. That they de
serve it in almost every instance, I freely
admit. Yet while reading brother Chrietz
berg’s letter No. 7, on Enoree Circuit, and
noting his comments on this same subject—
support of ministry—it occurred to me, as it
has often done before in reading articles on
this topic, that many Churches do not get
credit for all that they pay to this object.
The Minutes show how much money has been
paid annually to our preachers; and a -calcu
lation is made, based on these figures, and
given to the world as the amount it has cost
each Church to support its pastor. Many
writers are fond of contrasting amounts paid
pastors with those paid clerks and book
keepers, and insist that the letter is the favor
ed class. Does it never occurto these writers
_that parsonage rent, cost of furniture, sup
plieg, etc., are things that cost dollars and
cents, and are expefibfei the
Churches’should get credit 3s’“tfUpport,” and
if added tejialai=ywould make quite a differ
ent showing from that How presented? A
clerk or book-keeper ge’tting in a city,j say
fromsl,soo to 2,000 par year.lcounts bn ex
pending.sioo or SSOO for house rent; and I
know where from $l5O to S2OO per year has
been expended for the last six years on par
sonage furniture and repairs. I jbeld to none
in a desire to see our preachers paid prompt
ly and liberally. I believe a man whose purse
is not converted never had his heart changed.
I am ashamed of what our best charges give;
but, when the yearly report is made, let it
not be stated that SI,OOO $1,200 or $1,500 is
all that a Church paid towards supporting its
preacher, when the whole truth is, that SI,OOO
to $1,500 was paid as salary—s2oo to S4OO
for parsonage rent, and may be SIOO to S3OO
for parsonage furniture, repairs, supplies,
etc.
I have always been surprised that this phase
of “ministerial support” has been ignored in
our reports. Stewards and people feel the
injustice of it, and it often blunts the edge of
many a ait on the parsimony of our mem
bers. Editors do not usually take advice
very kindly, yet I would respectfully suggest
a change in the tables of the Minutes to con
form as above. It certainly would be more
creditable for preachers and people. It would
often spoil the comparisons already referred
to; but it would show that preachers are not
so poor, nor people so niggardly, as they are
supposed to be.
A word with regard to parsonages. They
should be in every circuit or station. There
would be more thau there are, if some
preachers and their families would care for
them as if they were their own, and knew
that they had to replace what was broken or
lost. Steward.
Selections.
From the New Orleans Christian Advocate.
MEXICO.—HOMEWARD.
City of Mexico, March 2. 1876.
Mr. Eoitor: On last, evening { Wednes
day) we had sixty-five persons present, all
Mexicans, in our “ Templo Evangetico ”
a very good week-night congregation for some
other places besides Mexico. The preach
ing, singing, and praying, was all in Spanish.
I wish you could have dropped in and sat
down on one of the “amen” chairs, and
enjoyed the flood of light which the chande
lier pours over the audience. Your heart
would have been moved, I know, to pray
earnestly for the pouring out of that true
light upon these minds that now seek for the
truth as it is in Christ. Forty days, without
ceasing, was a long time for the apostles to
wait and pray that the Spirit might come
upon them. The Holy Spirit himself must
have aided their steadiness of purpose, their
importunate cry, their unutterable groanings,
holding an anguish of desire that no words
could syllable. It was like the notes ot that
unearthly cornet that preceded the “ ten
words” which God himself spoke on Sinai.
How many days have we prayed continu
ously for the fulfillment of his promise: “ I
will send him unto you ” —“ Without me ye
can do nothing?” Doubtless those who
have labored here, and have themselves
tasted the good word of God and the powers
of the world to come, have cried often for a
revival of God’s work among this people.
For three years in some places, for five in
others, and ten in others, the preparatory
distribution and reading of the Scriptures,
the preaching of the doctrine of justification
by faith, and the urging the necessity of a
new heart, have been going on ; is it not full
time to expect fruit? Why may not these
simple-hearted, dying multitudes, at once
receive all the precious discoveries, I may
call them, in experimental religion, which
have marked the history of the Protestant
Churches during now a hundred years, both
in England and the Uniied States. Surely
wisdom and truth and power may be trans
ported, as well as science and art, and the
peculiar wealth of distinct latitudes. Truth
was as fully intended for the “market
places” of earth as any other precious com
modity ; where men most congregate Wis
dom exposes her wares, unequaled by the
“gold of Ophir, the precious onyx, or the
sapphire.” It is this new exchange of val
ues that distinguishes this nineteenth cen
tury —the missionary argosy freighted with
blessings, its prows turned toward every land
and cutting every sea. The earth'yends and
sharp instincts of trade are now softened by
the presence of higher and nobler enter
prises. We have quite a number of Ameri
cans, full of the quick wit of our most ad
vanced marts ; some with schemes of rail
roads, narrow or wide gauge, some with tel
egraph wire, some with the latest pattern of
fire-arms, some life insurance agents with
“ $35,000,000 available capital ” —which is a
good deal —and some are representing sew
ing machines to the number of twenty seven
distinct patents ; but among all these are
also in full proportion the representatives of
Churches at.home, who seek only to spend
money, and not to make it; who are estab
lishing schools and evangelical congrega
tions, building churches, and distributing
Bibles, tracts, and hymns, planting printing
presses, and setting on foot all the grand
agencies of charity that first came from
Heaven, and is still fed by the love of a
Saviour who bought the people with his own
blood, having suffered for them without the
gate. The ocean steam lines that traverse
the gulf, and the railway that climbs the
clouds and peaks of the Cordilleras, furnish
to the messenger of Christ the wings of an
angel, so that he may swiftly reach dying
men, and pour into their bruised spirits the
news of life. It is a reflection of mingled
pain and pleasure that into this “ divine em
ploy ” we have entered.
After writing the above I went up on the
housetop of the Iturhide to look at Popo-
MACON, GEORGIA. WEDNESDAY', APRIL 12. 1876.
catepetl and Iztaccihuatl. The sky was
bright and soft. The mountains were un
dimmed in. outline, their peaks hoar with
glistening snow, and they stood as silent and
eternal in the glory of solitary height as
when I last saw them from this paved roof.
A good place for meditation, ‘by the by, is
this upper exposure; private enough for
prayer if the house is not too low; having
also the inspiration of sunshine and warmth
—two very pleasant things in this altitude.
These bricked tops are the back yards of
Mexico. Clothes are dried and aired, uten
sils scrubbed, flower-pots arranged, and
temporary rooms for servants erected ,at this
highest point of the establishment. The
division walls are strong and high enough to
insure privacy and safety. *
it is not all poetry Uiat occupies the minds
of American travelers, however, just now in
Mexico. The air is full of Pronun
dados are springing up in "every.-direefion,
and the cutting the railroad between this
place and Vera Cruz is daily expected. I
have been halting between a half dozen
opinions, each gathered from .equally expe
rienced resident- English-speaking citizens!
I sHaU bold on until through w : t.h my work,
and then certainly take the first traiu to era
Cruz. The* recent advantages gained‘by
Geu. Hernandez in Oaxaca give Color to the
fears of many and the hopes of some that
the government will be changed. I’do not
think so. Mr. Lerdo is strong in common.
sense, experience, cultivation, firmness, mod
eration, and in knowledge of the Mexican
character. He has law on his side and the
resources of the States. The army is com
manded by generals who are fully in unison
with him. He overcame, in 1872, a much
more serious disturbance and combination
of disquieting, disorganizing forces. He
may have some trouble, but will in the end
maintain his place as President. Being a
civilian, it is to be hoped that he may not be
displaced by a military chieftain, for the sake
of the future of Mexico.
This is not a conflict between Ecclesiastics
and Liberals, but between Liberals and Lib
erals. It is one way of having a “ peacea
ble election ” —not exactly our way, for it is
in advance of election day, which is in De
cember next.
March 10.
The time having come, I start to-day for
the “tierra templada”—Oriztba or Cordova.
Cordova, March 11.
Arrived here yesterday. To day saw sev‘
era! beautiful tropical fruit trees —the mango,
the cherimoya, aguacalti and the cinchona.
The coffee plant of this place is the great
feature of the profitable hacienda, and 'is as
pleasant in flavor as the Mocha. The ship
ments of it are increasing with every season
and increased facilities of communication
with New Orleans and New York. Climate
here is all that could he desired; altitude
some twenty-five hundred feet abpve the
sea.
Vera Cruz, March 14.
Here waiting for steamer. Pronunciados
have cut the railroad. Parties who started
for Jalapa have returned. Many American*
are here waiting for passage to New Orleans
or New York.
New Orleans, March 23.
Arrived here yesterday on the City of Mex
ico, by the mercy of God. We started on the
seventeenth from Vera Cruz. The vessel
was full of passengers. On the eighteenth
we reached Tnxpan and laid out in the road
stead for six hours. At Tampico, on the
nineteenth, we steamed backward and for
ward half a day, the swell too high to admit
communication with the shore; sun shining
and the wind stiff from the southwest. At
twelve o’clock on Sunday night, when three
hundred and fifty miles from the Southwest
Pass, the wind died out and the sails were
taken in. In an hour we were struck by a
full-fledged norther. My stateroom was on
deck, and gave all opportunity one might
care to have for measuring the force of an
equinoctial gale. In an instant it had made
every shroud and spar a storm-pipe. The
sough increased steadily in din and roar as
the rush of wheels hurrying to battle. No
one but a seaman could have stood on deck.
The sea was whipped up to its full fury un
der the pressure of the blasts which swept it.
Whole acres yawned far down; and then in
a moment rose by successive overlapping
strata of dark, gneisslike water, into bills
topped with crests of raging foam. The
steamer was a staunch craft, and rode the
storm wondrously. She would tremble,
shudder, poise herself on the top of a sea,
and dart down as if making a last plunge,
but presently emerge with a rush and a recoil
that absolutely wrenched my back.
Meanwhile the stars were shining, and
neither mist nor cloud at night, nor during
all Monday, screened any of the storm’s hor
rors. The clear day rather added to the
ghastlinsss of the deep’s face, as sunshine on
a corpse. The passengers kept their state
rooms and berths until Monday at six P. M.,
when the wind had abated ; indeed there
was no moving about when wave-blows solid
as a ton of iron were striking the vessel every
instant.
I am not surprised that vessels have left
port and never been heard from. The won
der is that so many survive a gale. Had
the engine or rudder failed but an instant we
could not have lived in the trough of that
terrible sea. Each one would have found
his coffin and winding sheet in his stateroom
and bed in less time than it has taken to
write these sentences. When lying at Vera
Cruz two enormous sharks came up at the
vessel’s stern. It then seemed to me as if
the two dread alternatives of sea-steaming
men were fire and sharks; but the experience
of this storm has added two other elements
of distraction —wind and water —which “they
that go down to the sea in ships” may soon
er or later expect to encounter.
I am most truly yours in Christ,
J. C. Keener.
THE MINISTER’S WIFE.
The minister s wife ought to be selected
by a committee of the Church. She ought
to be warranted never to have headache or
neuralgia; she should have nerves of wire
and sinews of iron; she should never be tired
nor sleepy, and should be everybody's cheer
ful drudge; she should be cheerful, intellect
ual, pious, and domesticated; she should be
able to keep her husband’s house, darn his
stockings, make his shirts, cook his dinner,
light his fire, and copy his sermons; she
should keep up the style of a lady on the
wages of a daylaborer, and be always at
leisure for “good works,” and ready to re
ceive morning calls; she should be secretary
to the Band of Hope, the Dorcas Society, and
the Home Mission; she should conduct Bible
classes and mothers’ meetings; should make
clothing for the poor and gruel for the sick!
and finally, she should be pleased with every
body and everything, and never desire any
reward beyond the satisfaction of having done
her own duty and other people’s too.—Lon
don Baptist Magazine,
LOST FOR WANT OF A WORD.
“Lowefor want of a word!”
JEan among thieves and dying,
Priem and Levites passing
Tbe place where he is lying.
He is too faint to call.
Too far off to be heard;
There are those beside life’s highway,
Loot for want of a word.
“Lost for want of a word!”
Ail in the black night straying,
Amocg the mazes of thought
Fal.e lights ever betraying.
O, that a human voice
Ttrt murky darkness had stirred !
Lost lud beuiglited forever!
Lost for want of a woi and !
“Lott for want of a word !”
A word you might have spoken;
Who knows what eyes may be dim.
Or what hearts may be achiug or broken ?
Go, scatter beside all waters.
Nor sicken at hope deferred;
Let never a soul, by thy dumbness,
Be lost for watt of a word!
„ THE SPURGEON FAMILY.
TIJREE, GENERATIONS ON THE SAME PLATFORM.
A.Jlttle more than twenty years ago there
was a jubilee service held in honor of Mr.
Spurgeon’s grandfather, the quaint and devo
ted village pastor with whom the distinguish
ed preacher spent the most of his boyish
j-e-i- (k On that occasion the sermons were
pfest sed by the grandson, and a part was
also taken in the proceedings of the day by
the Son, so that three generations of Spur
geons were seen and heard by the assembled
multitude who had gathered in the hamlet
where the oldest of the triumvirate had
preached .the Gospel for fifty years. That
was an incident which seldom occurs once in
a family; but now we can say that it has hap‘
pened twice to the Spurgeons. In their case
has history repeated itself. The son of twen
ty years ago is now the grandfather, and the
grandson the father; while anew generation
has sprung up in the interval, and it is also
coming to the front in connection with the
most glorious work to which the energies of
man tan be devoted. It was my pleasure on
the evening of Wednesday week to hear ad
dresses from three members of the Spurgeon
family—grandfather, son and grandson; and
I am sure your readers will not be displeased
if you allow tne to give a brief account of an
event which, taken in connection with the
facts'l have to mention, may be pronounced
unique.
Tne occasion was the quarterly meeting of
the collectors at the Stockwell Orphanage.
This is always a pleasant gathering, ofteu
piquant, and never without a family feeling
that is generated, doubtless, by the fact that
everybody who comes is practically interest
ed'in the same good work. At tea, partaken
of by. nearly 400 friends, there was much
happy social intercourse; and I wasdel'ghted
with the many evidences which cropped up
during the evening of the excellent work that
is being done at the Orphanage. Among
other things I perused an original essay hy
one of the boys, who is only eight years old —
and .1 can only say that I wish all our mid
dle-class youth in London were getting as
sound an education as that child is evidently
recen ing.
After Mr. Spurgeon had taken the chair,
we had a rapid succession of speeches by
adults, and songs by the children, Mr. Spur
geon favoring good old national melodies,
esp-Valtv those that have a smack of the sea
in them. Mr. Bartlett, a son of the lately
deceased lady who did such a wonderful work
at the Tabernacle, gave an account of the
Sunday services which he and his brother
Daniel conduct at the Orphanage. Then the
chairman called upon his father, the Rev.
John Spurgeon, who delivered a most touch
ing address, though he set out with the
declaration that be was no orator like his
son. He recalled one incident of his own
father’s jubilee—how at the close of his son’s
sermon a disturbance was raised by an Inde
pendent minister, who got up and publicly
protested against what the young preacher
had said. His eon was very harshly spoken
of in those days by some brethren; but in the
intervening years what had God wrought?
He felt devoutly thankful for all His good
ness. Mr. Spurgeon, with reference to what
his father had said about the opposition he
once received, said it had done him no harm.
He did not get his heart broken at his grand
father’s jubilee, by the Independent minister
making a noise. He then created much
amusement by describing the album in which
he pasted all the caricatures and attacks upon
him as they came out. No fewer than five
volumes of tracts about himself were in his
possession. Some speak ofhiminthe very
highest terms, and others in the lowest; he
fancied the truth must lie between. When
he turned to the first volume, and saw how
he had been blackguarded, he had only to
turn to the last volume for a change—and the
one neutralized the other. It was like a game
of battledore and shuttlecock. Sometimes a
man is helped as much by the strokes of his
opponents as by the praise of his brethren.
Last year when he was ill he amused himself
by glancing over these volumes; and he could
assure them that he was as much interested
in Mr. Spurgeon as any of them. In fact, it
seemed to be some other individual than
himself that he was reading about. (Loud
laughter.) He had been blessed in spite of
some adversaries; and he really did not know
that they were worth speaking about at all.
Mr. Spurgeon then called upon his son
Tom to speak. He has two boys (twins,)
now a little over seventeen, I believe, and
they are both engaged in business. Most
carefully has their father refrained on prin
ciple from all direct attempts to lead them to
engage in the work of preaching the Gospel,
for he believes that this is worihless work,
except when it is purely voluntary and en
gaged in from the highest impulse. More
than a year ago they were baptized, and quite
recently, of their own accord, they have
opened a little mission room in Wandsworth,
where they preach every Sunday to the poor,
the one conducting the morning and the other
the evening service. It had been hoped that
both of these young men would speak after
their grandfather at the Orphanage; but
Charles had caught a severe cold, and was
unable to come. Torn, who is the younger,
had therefore to speak for both; and an
equally effective address by one so young I
do not remember to have heard. He is gift
ed with humor, and a set of pictorial sketches
with which he began his remarks brought
down the house. He has au exceedingly
musical voice, and altogether there is the
making of an orator in him, unless I am
greatly mistaken. lam sure no one listened
to Tom Spurgeon without hoping that they
might often hear him again; and his first
speech was one that must have gladdened his
lather's heart. —London Christian World.
Sorrow. —The sorrows we bring upon our
selves are heavy, and least endurable of all.
Men are lenient judges of self; quick to ex
cuse, ingenious to palliate that which cannot
be defended; prompt to pardon their own
excesses ; prone to lay upon others, or to
impute to over-mastering fate, the evils which
afflict them. Yet when all is done, and the
offender stands accused and naked in tho
white light of conscience stripped of all sub
terfuge, driven from shelter into the hard
openness of truth, self-made sorrows rise up
against him, in cause and consequence, too
pla ; n to be evaded or denied. Tue sting of
of them is very sharp ; all the sharper be
cause no repentance or self commendation
can undo what has been done, or bring back
what has been lost. Material losses are com
mon in this class of regrets. By some fault
of his own —carelessness, greed, wilfulness—
a man throws away the chance of his life, or
breaks down a fortune, or turns the stream
of prosperity into an adverse current. He
comes to recognize the magnitude of the loss,
and the cause of it, and it is a gnawing, cor
roding grief to him, for life.—Congregation
alist.
CHRISTIAN FRIENDS.
BY MRS N. A. HOLT.
[Republished by Request .]
Of all the bright blessings that crown my
life with glory, I prize my young Christian
friends among the best. Ido not know just
how I should succeed in journeying toward
heaven, if I did not occasionally meet with
dear Christian friends to cheer and encourage
me along in this stormy old world. The wuy
is so rough at times, and my poor, tired feet,
grow very weary in walking over the bram
bles and thorns that are scattered along my
life-path. An earthly arm to lean upon, and
a strong hand to clasp my own, are invaluable
to me as I journey along in the Master’s
footsteps. Perhaps I might stumble into
the deep pitfalls, or become entangled in
the snares of my great enemy, did not
some loving Christian friend whisper a few
warning words in my ear. It is true that I
am safe while he leads me, but he may lead
me through human hands. Then 1 often be
come discouraged, as I look over my life
work, and see how little good I have accom
plished, when I should have gathered up so
many precious sheaves for the Master. I
know that it is useless to weep over wasted
time and lost opportunities to do good, yet
the pent-up sorrows of regret must find vent
in some way —and tears may sometimes bring
relief to the sorrowing soul. True, loving
friends, in the trying hoar ol sorrow are the
most precious gifts of God, save His own holy
love; and I know that th*-re 19 no earthly
power that so soon will bring relief to this
aching heart, as the low words of love and
affection. Th-se human hearts of ours cry
out for aid aud sympathy, and if not found,
a shadow of desolation fettles around our
life path, that tinges these earlh'v years with
gloom and sadness. Our kind heavenly
Father intended that we should cheer and
encourage each other along in this weary old
world, and so He placed these longing de
sires for love and sympathy in our snuls, and
the warm affections that so beautify our lives.
We are notio love our earthly f'r.ends more
than we do Him; for He must be the chief
object of our affections. It is possible for us
to love our friends, and not love the go r d,
kind Father; hut it is ilnpossible to love dim,
and not the objects of His care.
Yes, I thank God daily for the love and
sympathy that I receive from true Christian
friends. Their words of cheer, and bright,
happy faces, cast a gentle influence all along
my weary life journey, and I receive new
strength to work for the Master. Then the
blissful thought of meeting them in the sweet
est land of life, is more than a balm for every
heart-ache, and lonely g r ief. I often fancy
the scenes of happiness that await us when
we all arrive at the “house with many man
sions.” I may not he able to conceive of the
happiness that shall fill our new-born souls;
yet I know that every wish shall be gratified,
and that we shall sigh no more for unattain
able joys.
‘ We shall see their dark eyes shining
On us as in da\s of yore;
We shall feci their soft arms twining,
Fondly round us as before ”
—Northern Christian Advocate.
SEEKING A SIGN.
Every converted man is sent into the
vineyard. It may be in the early morning
when the twelve hours have to be accom
plished, or it may be in the eleventh hour
when the task wdl soon be at an end. But
whether it be for the whole day or only for
the last hour, the Lord sends every one of us
into His vineyard. Every Christian has his
place in the sphere which God, in His own
Providence, has marked out, and according
to the measure of the ability which He has
given ; and the neglect of that work will only
deprive us of the compensation and reward
when, at the close ot the day, the Master
comes and distributes according to our fidel
ity. One man has genius ; let that be conse
crated. Another man has leisure ; let that
be consecrated. One may be shut up in a
narrow circle where the influence is diffused
over few ; that is his field. This mother may
be remanded to the nursery, and have little
opportunity for usefulness except to mould
the little circle that gathers around her knee;
that is her plat in the garden of the Lord j
which she is to cultivate faithfully. But
when apparent success is withheld, how do
the hands hang down in impatience 1 There
are some hundred or more of you in this
church, who every Sabbath day gather in
mission schools the little Arabs in our streets)
that you may smooth and stroke them down
into gentleness, and teach them the precious
Gospel which is treasured in your own hearts.
Oh, if these untamed ones would instantly
lay down their wildness; if you could, with
a sort of mesmeric power, make them trac.
table and kind ; if they would receive Christ
at the first recital of the story of the cross,
and come flocking, like doves to their win
dows, into the Church of the Redeemer;
under the stimulus of such success you could
labor to the end without fatigue. But if it
pleases God to test your patience for a while)
and to prove that you are honest in your con
secration to His service; if days and months
and years pass by before you see the fruit
of your toil —I just leave it to you to say how
many there are who drop by the way in their
discouragement and despoudency ; and how
those who remain steadfast are obliged to go
into the market places and bring in other
recruits to take the places of those who,
through indolence or unbelief, fall away be
cause God does not give them the wonder
and the sign which they are seeking.
Indeed, I touch at this point one of the
mortifying weaknesses of the ministry. If
there be a class of men who know the
scorching power of this rebuke of the Sav
iour, “Except ye see signs and wonders, ye
will not believe,” it is the class which I rep
resent this morning from this pulpit. Oh,
how sadly do they come to God with Isaiah s
lamentation, “Who hath believed our re
port, and to whom is the arm of the Lord
revealed 1” And then the despondency and
the gloom darken until, like Jeremiah, they,
exclaim, “O, Lord, thou hast deceived me,
and I was deceived. * * I will Dot make
mention of him, nor speak any more in his
name.” Until at last the word of the Lord
is like a fire within their bones; and weary
with forbearing, they resume the message
and proclaim the offers of a full salvation,
whether men will hear or whether they will
forbear. I speak not to you, but to myself,
and to all who preach the Gospel, the re
proof of the Master, “Except ye see signs
and wonders, ye will not believe.” What
if it be given to us, as it was given to Jere
miah of old, to execute only a mission of re
buke upon the earth; suppose the melancholy
office to be assigned to us which the Saviour
took as His portion, to be despised and re
jected of men; suppose whilst we preach the
unsearchable riches of grace to our fellow
men, they only trample under foot the Son of
God, and consider the blood of the covenant,
by which they are sanctified, an unholy thing
—what then? Our business is to work in
our sphere patiently until theeud shall come;
and then, with the apparent failure of our
toil, to lay it down at the Redeemer’s feet,
assured that“we are unto God a sweet savor of
Christ, in them that are saved and in them
that perish.” Results ! Who of us in this
life are competent to measure what we call
results? What do you and I know of the ar
ticulations of God’s great plan of providence
and grace? It is made up of myriads of
minute parts, wheels revolving within
wheels, each having its appropriate function,
with motions that are retrogade as well as
motions that are progressive; with action and
with reaction. Not until the hereafter, when
God gathers up all this and expounds it to
us in the glory of His throne, can we meas
ure the results. Then shall we know that
never was a true prayer offered, never was
an honest effort made by a Christian upon
the earth, never was a cup of cold water giv
en to a disciple, never was there a wayside
charity which none knew except the hand
from which it fell—but it all went up as a
memorial before God; to meet us in the day
of our reward. All Christian toil and Chris
tian effort and Christian prayer have their
results; unintelligible to us, but all exact
parts of the stupendous and gracious plan
which will be disclosed to us in the world to
come. And yet, whose conscience is not
smitten by the reproof, "Except ye see signs
and wonders” in the miraculous success
which attends your labor, “ye will not be
lieve!”—Dr. Palmer's Discourses.
FAMILY WORSHIP.
Let us have a few words about it, —not
the need of it. Surely, this may be taken
for granted. A Christian family without-an
altar is more anomalous than a church with
out services. Whether a Christian shares
in public religious activity or not, his first
duly is to have a church in his house. But
a few words as to the manner of conducting
it.
Family worship may be made as uninter
esting as some prayer meetings are. It, may,
also, without any other than good intent, be
as unedifying and generally unwholesome as
ii is possible for a religious exetcise to be.
As, for example, a<ter breakfast, a stern
command summons the family into the pres"
ence of Pater Familias. Mother, children,
and servants file into the room and range in
poppied gloom around the walls. A solemn
hush pervades the apartment, as if an oracle
were going to speak. The great Bible is
brought out. The Pater consults his watch.
It lacks five minutes of train-time. Family
worship must run by the rail-road time table.
He mumbles through one of the short
Psalms; in another moment is on his knees,
mumbling something to the Lord about
“the watches of the night and the light of the
morning,” and providence and diligence in
business, —puts an “Amen” suddenly over
it like an extinguisher, and the next minute
the front door slams —slams him out, and
the breathless family in—each one going to
his or her work, unrefreshed and uncom
forted. That man would notomit “prayer,”
as he calls it; he believes in a family altar,
but when his children from after years look
back on it, about all the recollection of it
they will have will be of a short flurry of re
ligious words sandwitched promiscuously in
between breakfast and the down-train.
Here is a different kind of a Christian. He
is the antipode of the other one. He makes
a real instruction of family worship. He
has it only at night, but then he makes it
long enough to call it twice. He generally
reads the evening paper, and lounges over a
book till half the family are dozing and the
other half wish they were. Then, with a
summons mandatory as a Mohammedan
Muezz.in’s, he jerks the nodding ones back
to consciousness and announces prayers.
The sleepy boy is shaken up, the yawning
girl is directed to fix her mind, and even the
baby is given an admonitory punch by the
mama, anxious for the due observance of
the occasion. If there was a little prelimi
nary singing, it would wake them all up, but
there is none. The One Hundred and Nine
teenth Psalm is entered upon with a slow de
liberation and a monotonous emphasis that
indicates a purpose not to stop till the end
of the Hebrew alphabet is reached. The ca
dence of the voice that has a peculiar swing,
reserved for Bible reading, rocks first one
and then another to a semi-somnolent con
dition. When it stops, the whole family
wakes up, just as the sleeping-car yawns
when-the rattle of the wheels is arrested at
the station.
Then follows the prayer. It embraces
everything in general and nothing in particu*
lar. It regularly and mechanically goes
round the world, and those who are awake
know just how far on it is by the national
station that is called out. True, there was
nothing of personal want, circumstance or
condition ; true, the little ones got no more
idea from it than from the mumblings at a
Chinese joss ; nevertheless it was a good
long prayer, and the good man rose from
his knees not knowing that insensibly he bad
glided into a religious form, to all but him
self devoid of life and interest.
But here is another kind of family worship:
If it is the morning, there is plenty of time
for it; if in the evening, it is right after sup
per, before the sleepy time. It there is a
piano in the house, one of the daughters takes
her place there, a little one distributes the
books. There is an air of animation in the
household as if something pleasant were go
ing to be done. A hymn is given out. It is
not “China” or “Hamburg.” It is some
hing with life in its movement as well as re
ligion in its words. Every voice joins. Even
the baby has caught the sounds, and sings,
if not correctly at least heartily. True, she
somt times makes a comical mistake in he
words. The oilier evening she misinterpret
ed “stranded wreck,” and after the manner
of the world sang lustily, “Leave the poor
old strangled wretch, and pull for the shore.”
Then the children laughed. No matter.
There was no irreverence there, and the song
went piously on. The singing over, each
one opens his Bible, and the reading is either
responsive or around the circle, from the
oldest to the youngest. Sometimes there is
no reading at all, but a recitation in concert
or the offering of a verse from memory by
each in turn.
F. M. KENNEDY, D. D., Editor.
J. W. BURKE, Assistant Editor.
A. G. HAYGOOD, D. D., Editorial Correspondent.
WHOLE NUMBER 1990.
Then—that a collection being learned a
home it may not be regarded as an imper
tinence at church—the baby passes a little
box to receive the pennies that are eagerly
saved for this benevolent fund. The prayer
that follows is not stereotyped. It is made
up out of daily experiences and wants. It
touches every family interest. It iB plain to
the little child. It impresses all with the
idea that God is the God of the house, and
that His service is a joy and not a burden.
And then, perhaps, it closes with the Lord’s
Prayer, repeated in concert—not hurriedly
nor pompously, but the joint loving appeal
of the family to the “Father in Heaven.”
And children who look back from the toil of
after years to such a family altar, see it shin
ing with countless sustaining influences and
wreathed with tender and deathless memo
ries.—The Interior.
INGRATITUDE.
During a vjyage, a few years since, I was
conversing with the mate of the vessel
on this topic, when he concurred in the view
presented, and observed that it called to mind
one of the most thrilling scenes ever beheld.
With this he related the following story:
I was at sea on the broad Atlantic, as we
noware. It was just such a bright moon
light night as this, and the sea was quite as
rough. Tbe captain retired, and I was upon
watch, when suddenly there was a cry of “A
man overboard!” To get out a boat was ex
ceedingly dangerous. I could hardly make
up my mind to command the hands to ex
pose themselves. I volunteered to go my
self, if two more would accompany me. Two
generous fellows came forward, and in a mo
ment the boat was lowered, and we were toss
ed upon a frightful sea.
As we rose upon a mountain wave, we dis
covered the man upon a distant billow. We
heard him cry, and responded, “coming.”
As we descended into the trough of the sea
we lost sight of the man, and heard nothing
but the roar of the ocean. As we rose upon
the wave, we saw him again, and distinctly
heard his call. We gave him another word
of encouragement, and pulled with all
strength. At the top of each successive wave
we saw and heard him, and our hearts were
filled with encouragement; and, as often in
the trough of the sea, we almost abandoned
the hope of success. The time seemed long;
the struggle was such as men never made
but for life. We reached him just as he
was ready to sink with exhaustion. When
we had drawn him into the boat, he was
helpless and speechless.
Our minds now turned to the ship. She
had rounded to ; but exhausted aB we were,
the distauce between us and the vessel was
frightful. One false movement would have
filled our boat, and consigned us all to a
watery grave. Yet we reached the vessel,
and were drawn safely upon deck. We
were all exhausted, but the rescued man
could neither speak nor walk; yet he had
a full sense of his condition. He clasped
our feet and commenced to kiss them. We
disengaged ourselves from his embrace.
He then crawled after us, as we stepped
back to avoid him; he followed us, look
ing up with smiles aud tears, and then
patting our wet foot-prints with his hands,
he kissed them wi'li an eager fondness.
I never witnessed such a scene in my
life. I suppose if he had been our greatest
enemy he would have been perfectly sub
dued by our kindness. The man was a pass
enger. During the whole remaining part of
the voyage he showed the deepest gratitude,
and wheu we reached the port, he loaded
us with presents.
But, dear reader, Christ has seen you ex
posed to a more fearful peril, and has made
an infinitely greater sacrifice for your rescue.
He saw you sinking in the billows of eternal
death. He did not merely venture into ex
treme danger to save you, but has actually
suffered for you the most cruel death. Yet
you have never embraced his feet, nor given
any proper testimony of your thanks. What
estimate ought you to place upon your de
pravity, when such goodness has for so long
a time failed to subdue you?— Dr. Parker's
Invitations to True Happiness.
WHAT IS PREACHING.
There are two ways of regarding a sermon
—either as a human composition or a divine
message. If we look upon it entirely as the
first, and require our clergymen to finish it
with utmost care and learning for our better
delight, whether of ear or intellect, we must
nectssarily be led to expect much formality
and stateliness in delivery, and think it is not
well if the pulpit have not golden fringe
around it and goodly cushion in front of it;
but we shall at the same time consider the
treatise thus prepared as something to which
it is our duty to listen without restlessness
for half an hour or three quarters, but which,
when that duty has been decorously perform
ed we may dismiss from our minds in happy
confidence of being provided with another
when next it shall be necessary. But if once
we begin to regard the preacher, whatever
his faults, as a man sent with a message to
us, which it is a matter of life or death
whether we hear or refuse; if we look upon
Him as set in charge over many spirits in
danger of ruin, and having allowed to him
but an hour or two in the seven days to speak
of them; if we make some endeavors to con
ceive how precious those hours ought to be
to him in securing a small advantage on the
side of God, after all His flock have been ex
posed for six days together to the world’s
temptations, and he has been forced to watch
the thorn and this'le springing up in their
hearts, and to see what wheat he has scat
tered there snatched from the wayside by
this wild bird and the other; and at last,
when breathless and weary with the week’s
labor, they give him this interval of im
perfect and languid hearing, he has but
thirty minutes to get at the separate hearts
of a thousand men, to convince them ot
all their weakness, shame them for all their
sins, warn them of all their dangers, to try
by this way and that to stir the bars of those
hard fastened doors wnere the Master Him
selt has stood and knocked, yet none open
ed, —thirty iftinutes to raise the dead in,—let
us but once understand and feel this, and we
shall look with changed eyes upon the frip
pery of gay furniture about the place from
which the message of judgment must be de
livered, which eiiher breathes upon the dry
bones that may live, or, if ineffectual, re
mains recorded in condemnation, perhaps
against the utterer and listener alike, but
assuredly against one of them.— Ruskin.
Hereafter every Israelite who can pro
duce a certificate that he has been educated
at any school whatever, is to be accorded the
right to select a domicile anywhere through
out the Russian empire. The old law for
bidding Israelites’ residence outside the limits
prescribed by the Government is thus super
seded.
The strokes of the pen need deliberation
as much as those of the sword need swiftness.