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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.