Newspaper Page Text
TWO DOLLARS AND FIFTY CENTS.
PER.
VOLUME XL., NO. 36.
(Dripal |Uctrn.
TEMPTED.
BY MRS. ELIZABETH O. PANNELLY.
Oh 1 cheer me, my Saviour,
For clouds gather now,
They are shading my heart,
And o’ercasting my brow ;
Come drive them way
With the light from Thine eyes,
Oh ! smile on me Saviour,
And brighten my skies.
I’m tempted, dear Saviour,
The false one is nigh,
He seeks to distress me,
And whispers a lie ;
Oh 1 speak to me sweetly,
And drown with Thy voice
The whisp’rings of Satan,
And bid me rejoice ;
For I'm tempted, dear Saviour,
I’m groping in night.
While above me Thy face.
Like the sun, shineth bright
Oh ! let me gaze on it,
And catch but a ray,
To light up my night.
With the lustre of day.
Baltimore , Mil.
Contributions.
MINISTERIAL APOSTOLIC SUCCES
SION.
HY REV. L. PIERCE, D. I).
My postulate is, there must be a ministe
rial apostolic succession. My negative is,
there is no actual apostolic succession.
Could not be, without their original inspira
tion, and their right and power to work mir
acles in the name of Christ. So well is this
tact attested, that no successionist in his
right mind, has ever attempted to show that
he was an actual successor of Paul or Peter,
by attempting to work a miracle in the name
of .fesns of Nazareth, before the open eyes
of the multitude. And unless these two su
pernatural endowments have been conferred
on special ministers, since the original Apos
tles passed away, then they, as apostles, have
had no successors. And if none in these
signs, then to talk about a line of bishops,
priests, and deacons, as the only divinely au
thorized ministers of Christ, to transmit or
dinations, and administer the sacraments, is
religious arrogance. To see a high church
Episcopalian bishop, ordain a priest, and
laying his hands on his head, say, “receive
the Holy Ghost, for the office and work of a
priest, this day committed to thee by imposi
tion of my hands,” to my feeling, in view of
this succession assumption, is only less than
real sacrilege. There is no sense in it —only
as in its vain conceit, it raises this episcopate
above the grade of an honored instrument
doing work for Christ, through Christ, into
an official doing work for Christ, as if Christ
alone, whose right it is to endue with power
from on high, had delegated the power to a
certain few men among his common minis
ters, by an election to episcopal dignity, and
consecration thereunto by one of these sue
cessors of Paul or Peter. Successor, how
ever, only in this silly sense, that the conse
cration was by one in the regular succession
from the apostles, and the consecrated duly
made a link in the succession line ; for if the
succ ssion is essential, 1 mean the unbroken
succession of episcopates as successors of the
apostles, in order to preserve the Church ,
then it is evident that a Church so construc
ted aB to Plate its descent frour apostolic
ordination, its source of sacramental rights
in the Church, in any way desirable only
through this lipeal law of ministerial author
ity, then it is evident'that, with Christ as head
and Lord of his Church, that literal succession,
through imposition of hands, ordained into
this essential chain by one of its links, was
more essential to its divine transmission to dis
tant days, than any other of alt the preferred
graces of a merely divinely called ministry.
So much so, that while Christ himself could
not transmit anything that could be identi
fied as the Church to distant days and ages,
hy a holy, self-sacrificing ministry, ordained
to their work by disentere from this prelati
cal manufactory of a lawful clergy, he could
do it through a ministry of bishops ordained
to this communicative function, by this apos
tolic succession of bishops, although in their
line it may turn out, every now and then, that
this successional link in this line of apostoli
cal succession, was pseudo to all intents and
purposes, in as far as Paul’s crucifixion of the
world to himself, or of himself to the world, is
concerned. Ha has the key to the inner cham
her—no entrance without his signet. He is
the ecclesiastical aorta—no circulation with
out his impulsion. In a word, if high-church
aucce-ssionism is Christ's ordinance, then it
is certain, Christ cannot have ministers qual
ified to minister in his sinc-tuary, or at his
altars, until an agent from among these com
municating mediums has manipulated the of
ficiary into his functional place. Shame up
on such false lights.
But there must be a gospel, ministerial,
apostolic succession ; or else there is no di
vinely appointed gospel ministry. This or
der of ministers was inaugurated in the cal
ling of the twelve apostles as his first disci
ples, and as hi3 immediate cabinet; and en
larged in his appointment of the seventy itin
erant evangelists, as recorded in the tenth
chapter of Luke. To us it is noteworthy,
thAt in this inauguration of a gospel ministry
iHs observable that in this early and forma
tive age of the Church, Christ so uufolded
his future programme, as it is mentioned in
the twelfth chapter of second Corinthians, as
to show there always will be diversities of
spiritual gifts in the Church, but all of one
spirit. Accordingly, unless we are mislead
in our opinion, while perhaps inspiration
was bestowed on some as on the prophets of
old, the miraculous gift of healing the sick,
was distributed among the seventy appointed
evangelists, as well as among the twelve cal
led disciples. Miraculous deeds done by
some of the original appointees of Christ,
not merely as apostles, but also as ministers
in the ministerial apostolic succession. For
.there must, be a ministerial succession in this
apostolic ministry, or else there is no gospel
ministry dating back to appointment to this
specific work by Christ alone, to whom it
belonged to orgauize this foundation stratum
in Church building. There are but few spe
cialties in Christ’s example in Church organ
ization. First: A ministry divinely called,
divinely qualified, and divinely sent. In all
this simplified economy, we see, as we fully
believe, this great truth, er more properly,
these two things originally provided for, to
wit, that it is Christ’s right to call and to ap
'point his ministers to their work ; and that
for this purpose he has appointed his Church
as‘ the sole guardian of this ministerial ordeal
It being bound to abide this original, divine,
sample, example—namely, the certainty that
Christ will continue as he commenced to do,
to call illiterate as well as learned men to the
work of the ministry, but has committed to
his Church the right of guardianship in this
department. Men are not allowed to throw
themselves, self-called and self controlled,
<§ottii*en . (Kbristian
on the Church, claiming support, and assum
ing rights never acknowledged by the Church,
as one called to the work of the ministry*—a
decision in which he Church, following its
normal spiritual senses, perhaps never errs.
All we wish to secure to the Church as her
inviolate right aud duty, is never to recom
mend any one for the work of the ministry,
because he insists on his call, nor fail to do
it, however poor, obscure, and unclean, he
may have been, when his life, and your sym
pathetic agreement with his anxious soul,
comes into accord, as if by divine affinity.
This calling and sending these first gospel
.ministers, is not an accident, but an exam
pie. There was no such calling and sending,
until the opening of the gospel dispensation.
Then Christ, at the head of his militant
Church, furnished the ministerial instru
ments and agents in this work, as joint fae
tors with himself, by calling, commanding,
and sending out preachers of the gospel into
every place, whither he himself could come.
And the record is that they went out and
preached everywhere, the Lord working with
them, and confirming the word, with signs
following. This is an exegesis, that this gos
pel ministerial machinery was constructed
of, and put into operation, by Christ himself,
not to be tinkered and tampered with, but
run by the Church as Christ's only agency
upon this one fundamental rule. These em
bassadors to go into all the world aB embas
sadors in Christ’s stead, praying the people
to be reconciled to God, and the Church, in
this respect, instead of Christ sending them.
So, as we have already predicated, there
must be a ministerial, apostolic succession.
And here it is not for me to say, that the ec
clesiastical, itinerant, ministerial, economy,
of the Methodist Episcopal Church is the
only organic form of Church polity, that is
exactly adapted to the going into all the
world. It could never have beeu intended
that this commission should depend on the
individual determination of every man pro
fessing a call to preach. Common sense sees
that it must be the result of a system design
ed to effect it; and I, at least, see no way in
which it can be made the result of system,
only in our episcopal itinerant ministry. It
must be done by a sending system, and this
can be worked only by an organic law in the
system, providing for these vacant places.
The power must be in an authorized episco
pacy.
That remarkable passage which inquires
how certain persons are to hear without a
preacher, asks this other question, how the
preacher so indispensable in this hearing,
in order to believing, is to preach, unless he
be sent. This is no new expletive, it is used
as a part of the great missionary whole of go
ing into all the world to preach the gospel.
The missionary must be sent, not hired to
go as a business matter, but sent as a divine
order. Everybody can see that while the
epistles say nothing about apostolic episco
pacy, that St. Paul was an episcopate in one
sense and use of the office. He sent juniors
and inferiors. I mean only in the order of
invested power, when aud where the Church
needed assistance. He did not ask them to
do this, or that, but sent them, yea, ordered
it, as one clothed with the right to do so.
After weighing this great question for so
many years, as one in which I am deeply in
terested, as my ministerial accountability can
interest me, no one will be surprised at my
desire to know, whether ou divine grounds,
I am in this ministerial apostolic succession,
or not. In my view of it, I could not be
brought within its sacred precincts by pre
lafioal imposition of hands ; but can be by
preaching the truth, as it is in Jesus, and ad
hering, because of their inspiration, to apos
tolic doctrines and principles. I will deal
truly with my mistaken friends. My object
is not my defence, but the correction of my
friends’ errors in regard to true ministerial
apostolic succession; by which I mean, not
an ordination in a supposed succession of
bishops, whose ordiuation began, either by
Paul or Peter, but in their Holy Ghost bap
tism for their ministry, and in their ministry,
and in their aggressive missionary spirit.
Because, I believe, if I had obtained my or
dination from the angel Gabriel, my succes
sion in the apostolic ministerial line, would
still for its divine testimony depend on the
old Methodistic attestation, preaching with
the Holy Ghost sent down from heaven. If
my preaching, although it may be in the way
of reproof, of correction, and of instruction
in righteousnes, is ever attended with any
Holy Ghost endorsements, moving my hear
era to a closer walk with God, I am in this
ministerial succession. The Holy Ghost
never endorses anything but the truth as it is
in Jesus. Judge ye.
SOME SUGGESTIONS.
Mr. Editor : 1 desire to present some
thoughts suggested by an article from the
pen of brother S. S. Sweet, which appeared
in the Advocate some time ago, iu whicii he
speaks of the “slowness ot the grovth of
Methodism on the seaboard.” By this I
understand him to mean the cities situated
ou the seaboard ; for, so far as the country
adjacent to the coast is concerned, it appears
to me that our Church thrives as well as it
does in the interior. But it is as he says;
Methodism grows remarkably slowly in the
seaboard cities. My good brother seems to
be quite at a loss to account for this, but 1
think I see some of the reasons for it, al
though I do not suppose that I can account
for it fully. In the first place, the popula
tion of the seaboard cities is altogether dif
ferent in their interests and feelings from
those of the interior. Every city is depend
ent almost exclusively upon its commerce
for its existence, and iu the seaboard cities
a very large proportion of the commercial
men are either wholesale or commission
merchants, between whom and the agricul
tural population of the country there stands,
like a wall, a host of middle men or retail
merchants, occupying the cities and villages
of the interior. Thus the leading element
of power and influence in the seaboard cities
is to a large extent isolated from that class
of people among whom, in America at least,
Methodism had its origin, and to whose
wants and feelings she has, in her growth
and development, so beautifully adapted
herself. This same class of leading mer
cantile men are in their turn largely iuflu
enced by those who are engaged in the car
rying trade of the world, as they are con
stantly brought in close contact with them,
and I think ft must be apparent to every
one that Methodism, in her mode of accom
plishing her work, is far from suiting the
feelings, manners, and mode of life of the
sailors and sea faring classes.
But brother Sweet says the want of suc
cess ‘is not for the want of earnest aud
honest labor, nor for the want of devotion
on the part of the Church.” No ; but is not
a large amount of this labor utterly lost
upon empty pews because it is misdirected ?
He further says, “ nor is it the want of
ability on the part of the ministry, for the
pulpits have often been filled by men who
PUBLISHED BY J. W. BURKE & COMPANY, FOR THE METHODIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH, SOUTH.
measured up to any, and often towered
above the majority in other pulpits in point
of intellect and power.” Now, just here it
appears to me there is often a great mistake
made by the appointing authority of the s
Church. It seems to be taken for granted
that because people live in cities that they
must necessarily be more intellectual. and
much more thoroughly educated, particular
ly in the first principles of the Christian re
ligion, than their country neighbors. This
is, however, far jrom being true. The city
people can command more money than the
country people, and this enables them to
build finer churches, and pay the preach
ers larger salaries. All this tends to the
gratification of denominational pride, but
it also tends to exclude the poor, for
whom the gospel seems to be specially
meant. Then the big preacher must
preach big sermons, to the very great
delight of a select few, while to the remain
der of his congregation they are to a large
extent incomprehensible enigmas. It is like
trying to feed the infant of a few days with
strong meat suitable only for maturer age;
and there is no wonder that these should fail
to attend. Not that preachers who tower
above others cannot preach to suit the com
mon mind, but they do not do it as a general
thing. Brother Sweet hits the nail square
on the head with a heavy hammer when he
says “there seems to be a want of adapt
ability of the methods of Methodism among
this people.” This being the case, it is
plain that a change should be made. Then
comes the momentous question, what change
can be made in our present plans of Opera
tion that will meet the demands of the case?
Now it appears to me that wherever the exi
gencies of the Church are such as to require
special Divine direction, that the Holy Ghost
ever stands ready to indicate the course to
be pursued. But the Church does not always
see the path pointed out her to pursue.
During the course of some years past there
have been a few men brought forward by the
providence of God and placed before the
Church and the world evidently to show
what can be done by ministers of the gospel
and by the Church, and what the blessed Sa
viour will do in the way of saving souls if
Zion will only arise and shake herself and
put forth her strength. Lorenzo Dow,
though by some thought to be crazy, if he
was so, it was to God, for he was instru
mental in bringing many souls to Christ;
James Caughey, moved by the Holy Ghost
to travel as an evangelist, was instrumental
in the course of only six years of winning
thirty thousand souls to Christ. How many
have been saved under the preaching of Mr.
Moody already it is impossible for me to say,
nor can it be known how many more will yet
claim him for their spiritual father before
his commission runs out. I only mention
these by way of illustration. Mr. Wesley
and Mr. Whitfield, as well as a host of
others, stand out in bold relief. Now the
plan that I would propose is this: Let us
have our churches with our stations, Circuits
and missions just as we now have them, and
to these let the Bishop appoint pastors jnst
as they do now, whose duties shall remain
just the same as they are at present, to-wit:
to take care of the sheep as fast as they can
be brought into the fold. Then in addition
to this, at each annua! Conference let the
Bishops call for volunteers to go out and
travel as evangelists, extending the call to
local as well as traveling preachers, and
where volunteers enough do not offer them
selves, let the Bishop appoint them the same
as to any other work. Let there be one
evangelist to every six members of the An
nual Conference. Let them visit as many
places as they can during the year, holding
protracted meetings, particularly in the cities,
and continuing them just as long as there is
any prospect of doing any good. Let them
travel two and two into every city and place
where they have any reason to expect that
Christ himself will come. In the cities, let
them not confine themselves exclusively to
the churches, but let them frequently address
the people in the streets. If they can pro
cure a small printing press, let them learn to
use it, and by this means, by tracts, hand
bills and posters, let them keep the gospel
constantly before the people. In short, let
them lay siege to the devil’s kingdom both
in the country and the city, and whenever
they make a stand and begin a meeting at
any place, let them not do as we preach
era often do, set in to try an experiment,
and just as soon as it is discovered that the
devil is about to make a flank movement by
thinning the congregation, close the meeting;
but let them vary their movements so as to
counteract his tactics, and in the name and
strength of Jesus gain the victory at all
hazards.
Money, did you say ? Well, yes, I expect
it will require some money to do all this
But I am rather sorry you mentioned that
matter, ray brother —[ am sorry on your
own aecouut. I have known some preach
erg who seemed to have more faith in a
board of stewards than in the promises of
the Holy Ghost and the blessed Jesus both
put together. I am afraid you will not do
for an evangelist. For my own part, I would
rather leave the whole of the monetary ar
rangements necessary to carry on this war
fare in the hands of the blessed Master, more
especially as he has undertaken to arrange it
all Himself, as you will see by consulting
Psalms xxxvii. : 3; Matthew, x; Mark vi.:
7-13; Luke ix. : 1-6; also, x.: 1-22; also,
xii.: 22-40; also, xiv.: 15-35. Now, in all
this I see no allowance made for a fine suit
of clothes costing fifty dollars, nor for a
horse and buggy, nor for fine cigars or any
other thing that the world calls fine, and
which I am free to admit would be enjoyable
even by an evangelist. On the contrary, I
think they might sometimes have to put up
with a rusty, thread-bare coat and pants
patched, perhaps by their own hands, a bat
tered, tattered hat, and might be driven by
necessity to introduce the old fashion of
wearing sandals; and sometimes they might
have to do as our dear, good brother J. J.
Ransom has had to do in Brazil—“ Nay, I
have gone out into the streets not knowing
whether I would breakfast or not —but I am
at work.” But what of all this? I am
fully persuaded that the less one enjoys of
this world's good lor Christ’s Hake—that is,
that they may work for him—the more they
will enjoy in heaven. But alas ! “ When
the Son of Man eometh shall he find faith on
the earth?”
I have now given a brief outline of a plan
which, it appears to me, if properly devel
oped would work well, and would obviate
many difficulties with which we now have to
contend, not only in our seaboard cities, but
everywhere. I hope the wise heads of the
Church will accept this humble offering kind
ly, and consider it fully before they throw it
aside, as I offer it in the fear of God, with
an eye single to Hi3 glory, and myself with
it as a volunteer, to be one of the first to
engage in the work. Isaaci A. Towers.
Nf. Augustine Mission, Florida.
MACON, GEORGIA, TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 1877.1
FEWER AND BETTER CHURCHES.
Mr. Editor : There is one item in the
tion of the Rome District Conference, to
which I would call especial attention: It is
that looking to the centralizing, or the re
stricting the organizing of churches.
All over our district, and we hear it is so in
others, we have thickly scattered log huts or
framed huts as places of worship. Every
preacher, traveling or local; every trustee,'
steward, or member, who can get a handful
of members,can have a Church organized and
locate the building wherever he may please,
regardless, often, of the present or future
convenience of the community. Hundreds
of these organizations, or disorganizations
we would better say, ought to be demolished,
and the membership consolidated into re
spectable societies. At any rate, the contin
uation of this evil ought to be guarded against.
As long as it continues our Church organi
zation will be a hash, our buildings will be
small and incomplete, money will be wasted
on many buildings which if put upon a few
would make them comfortable. Our circuits
must be composed of these weak, starving
Churches, and hence the preacher, after,
preaching to a handful at almost every
door the year round is not half paid, and ali
other .collections languish. It is easy to
see that a district composed of such circuits
would feel the support of the presiding elder
to be a great burden, and hence you get the
key to the presiding elder difficulty. In fact,
we may almoßt say that here is the key to
that great, vexed questiou, “ How to work
the finances of the Church.” At any rate,
if we will regulate the organizing and loca
ting of churches we will vastly improve the
finances, to say nothing of the increased effi
ciency in the working force.
I only touch the importance of the subject.
When it is looked at in ali its bearings, the
wisdom of the action of our District Con
ference will be perfectly apparent. The Con
ference atiks that the General Conference
place the organizing and locating of churches
under the advice or control of the District
Conference, or any other restraining power
they may choose. It asks, too, that our An
nual Conference join us in this memorial. j
Fraternally, W. F. Glenn. •
IF WE COULD KNOW.
BY MAY NORTH ROP.-flfcg&jS&*. ■
If we could kufw what would befall
Our future lives of good or ill,
And we could see how through it all
God’s love is in harsh-seeming will,
We would not, then, perhaps, as now,
Question the wisdom of our God,
And with wet eyes and downcast brow,
Go groping o’er the senseless sod.
If we could know how soon from sight
Our best belov’d would look away, • ]
How soon the close shut lips and white
Would have no answering words to say,
W e would not then, as now, give heed
To every thoughtless act or speech,
But by kind word and loving deed,
Strive to be gentle each with each.
If wo could know how little worth
Is all the jeweled store of kings,
An i all the treasures of the earth
When weighed with Wisdom’s precious things,
We would not then to Mammon bring
Our highest thoughts our noblest aims,
And find, too late, our offering
Brought losses dire instead of gain.
—Northern Chriutian Advocate.
From the Nashville Christian Advocate.
LETTER FROM BISHOP MARVIN, j
no. xxxi. m
THE SEA OF GALILEE.
I have said, in a former communication, j
that the plain of Esaraelon is affou! 1,00()J
feet above the level of the Lake of Galilee.
Sweeping round the east side of Mount Tabor,
and stretching out east and northeast, it final-'
ly breaks into ridges as it descends toward
the river and the lake. Near the edge of the;
plain, and perhaps as much as three miles
from the sea, is an elevation of rather singu
lar shape which is distinguished as the tradi-j
tional Mount of Beatitudes, on which the;.
Sermon on the Mount was delivered. Some'
intelligent men are disposed to regard this
tradition with favor. There is nothing in the
sacred narrative to contradict it, and it
seems, upon the whole, to be at least as
likely to have beeu the scene of the great
gathering to which our Lord opened his mis
sion in a formal discourse as any other height
in the neighborhood. It has been remarked
that there is a place on the side of it where a
vast assembly would be conveniently placed
with the speaker elevated somewhat above
them. This hill was a mile to our left, but
as the day was far spent we contented out'-
selves with this distant view, which gave us
a clear notion of its relation to the surround
ing country.
Descending some steep and long breaks,
we came at once upon a full view of the lake,
which seemed almost at our feet. W* had
descended from the plain by a grade so steep
and long that I supposed we must be well
down to the level of the water. Far from it.
Two things strike the visitor instantly upon
his first sight of this remarkable sheet of
water —the depth of the basin in which it
stands, and the smallness of the lake itself
It seems as if this place must have been dug
into the earth for the very purpose it serves.
It is not only a lake in a mountainous region,
but a lake the surface of which is more than
200 feet below that of the ocean. It lies in
the very bowels of the earth.
The smallness of the lake almost startles
you. The shore on the opposite side lies so
near you that you can scarcely think of it &s
the “country of thejGergesenes” and of the
“Gadarenes,” which our Lord took ship'Td
visit. You may be ever so familiar with the
facts of the case, and say to yourself before
hand, “This lake is only six or seven miles
wide,” yet you will not be prepared to see
the very gullies in the shore of the other
side. But so it is.
Our camp was at Tiberias, on the west
shore of the lake, about midway between its
northern and southern extremities. We wete
south of the town, and within thirty or forty
yards o the water’s edge. My companions,
youDg men both of them, were eager for a
bath. Their ardor was, I confess, infectious.
We were all soon laving our bodies in the
clear waters of that sea which had seemed
half divine to us from our childhood, as it
reflected the radiant presence of Him whose
name glorifies every object associated with it-,
We found the shore at this point covered
with water-worn pebbles and small Btones,
and along the edge was a line of small uni
valve shells, thrown up by the ripples. They
are innumerable, and our party gathered a
quart of them in a few minutes.
Upon consultation with our dragoman .we
determined to go by boat the following morn
ing to Tell Hum, the traditioual site of
Capernaum, sending our horses to Kahn
Minyeh where we would meet them. There
are only four or five boats at Tiberias, all of
which are the property of one man. We sent
a message to him to engage his services.
After nightfall he appeared at our tent door,
a well dressed and good looking man, and
was ready to take us to Tell Hum and Kahn
Minyeh for a pound sterling. Our dragoman
protested against it as an exorbitant charge,
j and offered ten shillings whereupon the in
j~dependeut fisherman turned abruptly away
a word, at which indignity the drago
pnan flew into a great rage, followed him out,
and assailed him with hot words, I suppose,
as we heard much loud talk. In the end
we engaged him for a Napoleon, which we
thought reasonable enough.
». In the morning we found our boatman
f prepared and disposed to serve us efficiently,
l having engaged a double set of hands to re
lieve each other, as we desired to make the
run aB rapidly as possible. Rowing up to
i town we stopped to take on a supply of pro
visions for the day, as the boat would pro
bably be out all day; whereupon one of our
party quoted, “Children, have ye any meat?”
-Small as it was, the incident affected me
and deeply, bringing our Lord and
the twelve into vivid expression before my
mind.
Supplies being brought on board we start
ed again, but soon brought up under a stone
: wait which projected out into the water, on
which a net had been spread out to dry.
This was taken down aud stowed in the boat,
very deftly handled, and laid in neat
folds irom which it could be payed out with
out becoming entangled with itself. So here
we were on the Lake of Galilee in a fisher
man's boat! This was more than we had
bargained for—better than we anticipated.
: The proprietor stood behind, managing the
rudder and giving orders. We occupied the
seat just iu front of him, and before us was the
crew, an exceptionally good-looking set of
men, plying the oars with good will, chatting
and laughing in a very pleasant way. I could
almost imagine that our chief was Buch a man
as Peter, for he was a raiher brusk and im
pulsive, but evidently generous-hearted man,
of strong character.
The sun was bright, the water smooth, and
every thing propitious. An infinite peace
seemed to be diffused like a spirit through
out the firmament above, over the hills
around us, and through the waters beneath.
Peace! yes; not a dead repose, but a vital
peace. It was as if the Prince of Peace were
breathing upon us as upon the disciples, im
l parting the benediction that his words ex
pressed. Surely the baptism of his presence
was upon the scene'around us? This" sun,
at ten degrees above the heights of the east
ern shore, flamed forth his radiance with un
common brilliancy.
About eight miles of vigorous rowing in a
straight Ifne brought us to Tell Hum. To.com
plete the experiences of the boat, the sail was
raised to catch a favorable breeze; but it
proved to be but a momentary gust. So we
sailed as well as rowed.
At Tell Hum. looking southward, we had
the entire lake before us. The northern end
is an irregular oval, around which the land
'rises in a grade that is sufficiently easy for
cultivation. We observed a good many
wheat-fields dotting this slope. Indeed, on
the northwest , a plain of about, five miles
square lies upon the shore—the plain of
Gennesaret. Os course it is not an exact
square, but I give the extent of it, proximate
ly. It is elevated hut a very little above the
surface of the water. The fertility of this
small tract lt-something fabulous. Its north
ern extremity is at Ivahti Minyeh, which
Robinson supposes to he the real site of
iCapernaum, instead of Tell Hum, where the
"tradition has placed it. The southern ex
tremity is at, Magdala, the home of her out
of whom seven demons were cast, at which
£hice the lake has its greatest width,) the
shore line bearing up westwardly to this
point, and then curving toward the northeast.
At Magdala the shore becomes precipitous,
and continues so to the southern extremity,
except that it recedes somewhat at Tiberias.
About opposite to Magdala, also on the east
ern aide, the shore becomes precipitous.
Upon the southern extremity the plain of the
Jordan opens. The general contour then
ehows sloping shores around the northern
end of the lake, and precipitous shores oil
both sides along the southern part. Below
Magdala the western shore encroaches upon
the take, so that at the southern extremity it
is only four and a half miles wide, while at
Magdala it is seven and a half. The eastern
shore more nearly approximates a straight
line.
As we stood there at Tell Hum, looking
south, we saw, on the east, side, though we
could not, of course, locate it exactly, the
“steep place” down which the possessed
herd of swine ran violently, and were
choked in the sea. It is literally what the
phrase imports, not a precipice, but a steep
place. To our left the river enters, but we
cannot exactly see the place. To our left,
also, removed a mile or two from the shore,
is Chorazin, which we do not see. Near us,
and in Bight, if we could tell where exactly,
was Bethsaida. Tradition has fixed it on
our light, about a mile, where a spring
branch pours its flush current into the lake
with a sufficient volume and fall to run a lit
tle mill. It would have been a delightfnl
situation for it. A mile farther to our right
Kahn Minyeh, south of west from our stand
point,, which, as I have already said, some
take, and certainly not without reason, to be
the site of Capernaum, instead of this. There
the plain of Gennesarest sets in; and five
miles farther, a litile west of south, is Mag
dala, at the southern extremity of the little
plain, and at the foot of a bold hill which
juts up against the lake. Two or three miles
a little east of south trom it—for the
shore trends eastward here—is Tiberias. A
mile south of that is the hot spring, covered
by a bath house—and south of that, nothing.
On the eastern shore, from one end to the
other there is—nothing.
It is not to be supposed that at all the
points I have named there are towns now■
Far from it. In the summer the hot baths
are much resorted to from all over Syria for
sanitary purposes, and during the season
have quite a stir of life about them. Tiberias
is a dirty, (lea-infested town of 3,000 inhabit
ants, half of whom are Jews, It has no com
merce, and the extent, ot its fisheries may be
inferred from the tact that it has but four lit
tie boats, all owned by one man. 1 imagine
the place gets nearly all its business from the
visitors to the baths. At Magdala there is a
very small village, and, as we saw it from the
boat, it seemed a miserable place, as Bedeker
says it, is. Its present name is Mejdel. At
the traditional sites of Capernaum, Bethsaida,
and Chorazin, there is nothing. The only
signs of life on ail this part of the lake are
the little water mill at the point which our
boatmen called Bethsaida, and a few huts
which the Bedouins occupy wheu they graze
their flocks here, but which are now empty.
What a contrast with the time when Tibe
rias was a flourishing city, and Capernaum
almost rivaled it; when Chorazin, Bethsaida,
and Magdala, were bustling towns; when
there were at least two Roman garrisons, one
at I’iberias and one at Capernaum; and when
hundreds of boats dotted the sea with their
white sails. Death, death, death I “Woe
unto thee, Chorazin! Woe unto thee, Beth
Baida!" You have rejected Him and his
mighty works. The bolt that is to smite yon
is already forged. “And thou, Capernaum—
exalted to heaven—shalt be cast down to
hell.” This is one instance, at least, in which
prophecy has taken effect, not only on per
sons, but on stones. Not one has been left
upon another. All these silent and desolate
shores are under the blight of a curse—the
curse of the rejected Messiah. The most
fearful thing in the universe of being is love
when it flames into jealousy. The wrath
which is the most consuming is the wrath of
the Lamb. “Let it alone this year”—it is
the voice of Incarnate Love—of the Inter
cessor. “I will dig about it and dung it”—
I will exhaust all the resources of cultivation
upon it —it is the labor of Incarnate Love.
“Then, after that," if it remain unfruitful,
“thou shalt cut it down.” Works that would
have brought Tyre and Sidon to repentance
were done here to no avail—and then came
the ax, which was already lying, whetted, at
the root of the tree. “Cut it down.” Ay!
it has been dug up by the roots. Death,
death, death 1 Yes, the doom has fallen, and
Death reigns over the sew and its shores
where the Lord of life came and offered him
self to men, and was despised and rejected.
Thistles six feet high, and as thick as barley
in the field, cover and hide the ruins of Ca
pernaum; and as for Bethsaida, there is no
trace even ot any ruin. Indeed, the same is
true of Capernaum, if Kahn Minyeh be the
true site.
Poor patches of wheat dot the slopes which
once waved with a universal harvest—and
even Gennesaret, that fed its thousands, is
little more than a mass of rankest bramble.
It has been, indeed, more tolerable for Tyre
and Sidon, even in the judgments of time;
for, smitten as they are, they still exist.
Our object in visiting Tell Hum was not
only to get a good stand point from which to
survey the lake aud its shores, but to get a
sight of the locality and ruins as well. The
rim of the lake here is composed of round
stones, some the size of a man’s head, some
larger, some smaller, worn smooth by the
waves, but evidently of volcanic origin. A
very few steps brought us up to the edge of
a level plot of ground of perhaps a hundred
acres, with a rather gentle ascent of the
ground around it ou all aides except 'he front.
This was covered with a mass of weeds and
ehrubs in which the thistle prevailed. The
growth was exceedingly rank. A few tour
ists who had preceded us had broken a nar
row path to the ruins. Some arehceologists
assign a portion of these ruins to the begin
uing of the Christian era. The most massive
are supposed to be the remains of a syna
gogue, and, if this was Capernaum , it may
have been the work of that pious centurion
of whom they said, “He loveth our nation,
and hath built us a synagogue.” They are
very massive, and in a good style of art, but
I cannot undertake any description of them.
There are other temains supposed to be
those r-f a basilica, built on the traditional
site of Simon Peter’s house, in the sixth cen
tury. These I did not examine particularly.
The ruins of a massive public edifice raise
a strong presumption in favor of this as the
site of the principal city on this part of the
lake, and especially as there are no such re
mains at any other place. It would be a
most singular thing that the only building of
such-size and material as to, resist the ravages
of time should be found in a village, and none
such in the only city of the neighborhood.
But whether this ought to outweigh the con
which favor J-iahn Minyeh as the
place where Capernaum stood, or not, I leave"
others to determine.
Tiberias, built by Herod, and named for
the Emperor of Rome, was never, so far as
we know, visited hy our Lord. It was some
eight miles south of Capernaum, on the west
side ot the lake, and was the largest city in
ali that region. Having been built on a
grave-yard, the Jews refused to settle in it,
and so the King had to get strangers to oc
cupy it. It was essentially a heathen city,
and noted for its wickedness. I remember
only one passage of Scripture that speaks of
it, and that in an incidental way. The site
of the old city was nearer to the Baths than
that of the present town. There are some
considerable ruins there, but I had no time
to examine them, though I took a moonlight
walk to them.
It is probable that our Lord was never in
the streets of this city, and that therefore it
never had the opportunity of rejecting him
in any formal way. Does this account for
the fact that it still exists? Who can tell?
Yet even it barely exists. The glory of it is
all gone.
It is one of the very strange facts of history
that the place so abhorred by the Jews at
first should have become a sacred place with
them at a later day. Yet so it was.
There are two places, one on the lake —
Tiberias —aud one perched high upon the
mountains above it to the northwest, and
overlooking it—Safed—which are held by
many Jews now, and have been for many
ages past, in as high regard, or nearly so, as
Jerusalem itself. How it carue about that
the Rabbins connected the Sea of Galilee
with the coming ot Messiah I know not, but
the fatt is certain. Whether this belief led
to the establishment of the great university
of that people in Tiberias in the early part ot
the Christian era, or whether its location here
rose out of that fact, I know not; but for
three centuries that university was the great
center of interest and sacred learning among
the Jews scattered over the whole earth.
Here the great Maimonittes was buried.
Here the most distinguished Rabbins were
trained, and here they taught the Law and
the Targum. Here also was “the seat of the
Patriarch, who exercised an almost papal
sway over the wide extent to which his exiled
countrymen had been scattered.”
It became a received tradition among them
that Messiah would rise out of the Sea of
Galilee, land at Tiberias, and fix the seat of
his kingdom at Safed. Thus tnis sheet of
water became as dear and sacred to them as
to the Christians, and to this day many of
them make their home in Tiberias, and in
Safed, looking for the day when the Deliverer
shall come. They cherish the words of the
Rabbins, “I have created seven seas, saith
the Loid, but out ot them all I have chosen
none but the Sea of Gennesaret.”
After a brief examination of the ruins of
Tell Hum, we returned to the boat, for we
had no time to spare. At the water’s edge
we found a few oleanders, but they were not
so large as I expected to see. Our boatmen
toiled at the oars with hearty good will: we
passed near the mill which they called Beth
saida, and saw our luggage train coming up
through the plain of Gennesaret. Landing
a few rods below Kahn Minyeh, onr good
natured fishermen accompanied us out a
quarter of a mile to the place where our
horses were already awaiting us. Coming to
a brook too wide to step over, one of them
stepped into the water, and putting his stroDg
arm around me lifted me to the other side as
lightly as if I had been a child. We passed
through a jungle, aud then came to a patch
of the rankest wheat I ever saw, though it
had evidently been planted in the most slo
venly way. What land this plain of Genne
saret is I Our horses were now in sight, but
our friendly boatmen did not leave us. They
held onr stirrups when we mounted, and
shook hands with us with an unmistakable
cordiality. It was the only instance of any
attention being paid us in a special way by
the natives, in all Palestine, that did not
seem to contemplate backshish. For one, I
felt gratified that this exceptional instance
should appear in the case of fishermen, on
the Lake of Galilee.
Passing northward, we ascended out of the
plain, and soon reached the summit of the
mountain, where we had the lake in full view
again. We paused upon our horses to look
upon it for the last time. Perhaps it is
natural, if not excusable, in writing about
these hallowed places, after having seen
them, to exaggerate the emotions which were
felt at the moment. But of that one sin I
have not been guilty. Any statements of the
sort that I have made have been well con
sidered, and certainly this last sight of the
waters so often traversed by the Master, and
around which so great a portion of his teach
ing and his mighty works were done, I did
experience the deepest sensibility. Standing
upon the shore, just down there, with the lake
spread ont before him, and the harvest-cov
ered slopes in the background, he had called
Simon, and Andrew, his brother, from among
just such fishermen as we had been with this
morning, to be fishers of men. He had cast
his commanding eye on the sons of Zebedee,
in the boat with their father, mending their
net, saying, “Follow me,” and they “left
their father and the ship and followed him.”
There in Capernaum sat Matthew “at the
receipt of custom,” when the charm of the
Divine voice withdrew him from his money
bags, and he, too, forsook all, and making a
feast at which the friends he was leaving and
the Master he waß going with should meet,
thenceforth followed him whithersoever he
went. But there, in such a boat as we had
beeu in, he was asleep on a pillow in the
hinder part of the ship—much in the same
position as we had seen one of the boatmen
asleep to day—when a fierce storm of wind
swept down from the mountains, and the dis
ciples, affrighted, called him, and hers. rose
to rebuke the wind and the sea. There, in
the dead of night, he had come to his dis
ciples in the boat, walking on the tempestu
ous waters. Overlooking it, probably on the
heights of Hattin, he had delivered the Ser
mon of sermons. In sight of its waters,
whether on Tabor or Hermon, he had been
transfigured. There his gifts of healing were
showered among the people wish a divine
beneficence. All its’ hills and all its ripples
had been made radiant by his presence.
Even after he suffered he had met his heart
broken disciples there, after their night of
fruitless toil, feeding them, with human ten
derness, with fish broiled upon a “fire of
coals,” and with divine compassion restor.
ing the apostate Peter.
For a few hours my eyes had feasted them
selves upon its scenery, lovely—so I think
in itself; unutterably so in its history. I had
bathed in its waters, had gathered pebbles
upon its beach, slept upon its shore, and
sailed upon its surface. At Jerusalem I had
touched upon his sacrificial death, here I had
communed with his all gracious life.
As I sat there on the mountain, on horse
back, gazing upon it for the last time, the
whole scene entered) too deeply into my heart
to be forgotten. I a ( m sure it will never fade.
I turned my horse’s head and left it—or
rather, in a deeper sense, I carried it away,
a rich possession of the soul forever.
E. M. Marvin.
Baalbee, April 27, 1877.
SHALL THE METHODIST MINISTRY
BE LOCALIZE!) I
Methodist ministers have been inclined to
a pardonable pride in the broad claim of the
founder of that church, “ The world is my
parish; ” but we are inclined to think that a
change in its application, at least, must have
passed over the spirit of the dream of many
of its ministers. All admit the beauty of
the sentiment, but its application is not to
be pressed in modern Methodist administra
tion. In certain localities it seems to--ha7g
taken on anew form, and can now only he
applied within Conference boundaries, ft
seems that we are greatly in need of some
system in the matter of ministerial transfer
of Conference relationships.
Recently some of our annual Conferences
have presented “respectful” resolutions to
the Bishops, in which they protest against
“any transfers to our Conference at this
time.” Reason: “Crowded condition of
our work.” By these and other stock
phrases, it is sought to interfese with the
assignment ot a minister from one Confer
ence to another. I hold that, as a pastor in
my own Conference, I have no right to
attempt so to control any appointment in it
by my protest, that a worthy minister from
a neighboring or distant Conference may
not be transferred to work in the territory
included in this Conference. Has it come
to pass that ministers of the Methodist
church are to be hedged in by any imaginary
or political lines, and not allowed to exer
cise their functions outside of certain State
boundaries, indicating the extent of the Con
ference with which they may be for the time
connected ? If this is to any great extent
true, then our boasted, free itinerancy, with
the whole world open to us as a field of
labor, becomes at once the most localized
ministry in Christendom. As ministers in
the Methodist Church, we have no control
over the matter of selection of pastor or au
thority therein, ot personal or collective
right to any church in the connection, except
that to which we are assigned as pastor for
one year. And no length of service within
the bounds of a given Conference can alter
ihe fact and to any minister therein re
siding any right to claim that, in consequence
of such territorial residence, either he or his
brethren of that Conference have the right
to demand that, because there are enough
ministers living within the bounds of that
Conference to supply the pulpits in that re
gion, therefore the churches therein must
not expect a supply from any other Confer
ence, or any other minister have any rights
or claims to the pulpits of that region. Is
there such an anomaly in any other occupa
tion or in any other ministry ? Might not
the school-teachers of Philadelphia, with as
good reason, object to the introduction of
a teacher from Boston ? Might not the law
yers at the Boston bar with equal reason ob
ject to the settlement of anew barrister in
that city? It is said that objection was
made to the coming of Webster to Boston,
when a young man. “The place is full of
barristers. No room I Go West!” But
he determined to stay and make room, say
ing, “There is room enough at the top,”
and to the top of his profession he went.
Inferior men may have been crowded, but
who was to blame for that ?
F. M. KENNEDY, D. D., Editor
J. W. BURKE, Assistant Editor
A. G. HAYGOOD, D. I)., Editorial Correspondent
WHOLE NUMBER 2066
What of other denominations? When was
it ever known that a Baptist, Episcopal, or
Congregational minister, living in the East,
was called by a society in the Middle States
or the West, the diocese, or synod, or Con.
ference within which such church was loca
ted, gravely passed resolutions saying, “We
are full. No room for transfers, We have
more ministers now in this region than we
have churches. We must put up the bars.”
May it not be considered a narrow and sel
fish policy, which attempts by resolutions
and protests to keep out as good or better or
even inferior men, if wanted, and say to the
Churches within that Conference territory,
“ We are already here, and you must accept
our services or none.” Is it possible that
liberal-spirited Methodism is to be the first
ecclesiastical body in such bad eminence I
Shall we localize our ministry, and limit the
supply from which our Churches shall be re
quired to draw their pastors?— New York
Methodist.
PREACHING REPENTANCE.
The usual appliances and efforts of the
Church seem to be insufficient to induce such
men to repent; and the reason is that they
do not meet the case. It is well known that
multitudes who are thoroughly convinced of
the duty and need of repentance, and iheir
liability to sudden death while unprepared,
still prefer to incur dangers which they hope
to evade by ultimate repentance, for the sake
of the gains of Bin, which to them appear
real and certain. To them this course is
only the risk of contingent evils avoidable at
any time by repentance, in exchange for cer
tain pleasures and advantages. It is impos
sible to convince such men that they will lose
anything by continuing in sin for a season,
while we permit them to believe that if they
will only except Christ before they die al
evil consequences (to themselves) of such a
course shall be wiped out and it shall be just
as well with them hereafter as if they were
to begin now and be faithful Christians all
their lives. What is needed is to teach them,
as the gospel warrants, not only that there
are no advantages in sin, but certain injury,
which cannot be evaded by a tardy repent
ance; that “whatsoever a man soweth, that”
(and not something else) “shall he also
reap;” that there is no principleof immunity
or mercy in the gospel, nothing in the atone
ment of Christ or in the pardon of sin, that
can obliterate all its evil consequences, or
prevent the soul from reaping that which he
has sowd; that although a man who repents
at the eleventh hour may be saved, yet it will
be “so as by fire.” He cannot have the
“abundant entrance,” nor the “eternal
weight of glory,” which is the reward of life
long faithful service, but will forever Buffer
irreparable loss for his delay, from the small
ness of his capacity for and experience of
happiness in heaven. What eternal regrets
and even remorse, in view of npportunities
irretrievably lost, and the evil done to man
kind by his protracted sinning, may enter
into the eternal experience of a boul saved
at the last moment of a wicked life, we are
only permitted to conjecture. But this much
is certain, and this alone can meet the cases
now under consideration, of those who per
sist in sin in spite of the usual motives to
repent, in the hope of securing complete
immunity from all the consequences of a sin
ful life by a hssty v repehtance at the end of
it—viz., that the retributions of eternity de
pend upon the characters men form by their
improvement or neglect of their probational
advantages; that they will be just as flippy
hereafter as their characters prepare them to
be, and no more; that other things being
equal, he will have the best preparation for
heaven who devotes the most time to it; and
that it iB simply impossible that he who
spends but few months or years in such pre
paration can ever have as large and rich an
experience in heaven as he might have ob»
tained by life long preparation. Thus, and
thus only can God “render to every man
according to his deeds.”— Northwestern Ad
vocate.
SILENT FORCES.
The grandest forces in this world are si
lent and unperceived. They operate unno
ticed but yet with resistless power. A
child’B tin trumpet makes more noise than
the attraction of gravitation which binds the
whole universe as with chains of adamant,
but works so quietly that it was thousands of
years before mortals discovered its exist
ence. A babbling brook, or a little fountain
throwing its jet into the air, attracts more
attention than the hidden forces of nature
which draw millions of tons of water from
the earth beneath, and spread it out in
herbage and foliage, clothing the fields with
beauty, crowning the forests with green, and
diffusing fertility and life through all the
land. The forces of vegetation are silent.
No lightning flashes to herald the swelling
buds; no thunder peals to tell ns when the
flowers unfold their fragrant beauty; no
trumpets are blown when spring unfolds her
leafy banners to the breeze, but in the sun
shine of the day and in the silence of the
night, the work of nature goes noiselessly
on, until the desert blossoms as the rose,
and the wilderness becomes fair as Eden’s
garden.
God who works thus silently in nature,
also works in quiet in the realms of grace.
Christ, the great worker, did not strive nor
cry, nor cause his voice to be heard in the
streets. Some of the grandest changes that
have revolutionized the character of society
have been the product of secret causes,
working unnoticed and unknown, and bring
ing to pass the most wonderful events imagi
nable. A copy of the Word of God planted
in a benighted neighborhood, or a single text
impressed upon the mind of a child, has
often produced results which no amount of
noisy and tumultuous effort could attain.
The seed must be cast into the ground, and
abide in darkness and in silence there, but
in due time God who giveth the increase
brings it forth in growth, and beauty, and
fruitfulness.
Let us take courage, then, if we be called
to work in silence, unnoticed and unkuown ;
and let us be caretul not to judge others,
whose quiet, unpretending labors, may be
tar more successful in ultimate results than
the works of those whose brawling clamor
makes them the observed of all observers.
Vltst heaps of wood, hay, and stubble, will
perish in the fires of the last day, and he
that buildetb. upon the one fonudation with
gold and silver and precious stones, may
look forward to the day that shall try all
things with fire, and rejoice that his work,
though tried, shall abide the burning ordeal,
and shall ensure to him a great reward. —
The Christian.
Backsliding is generally gradual—like the
ebbing tide, wave after wave breaks upon
the shore at apparently the same point, and
it seems impossible to tell, by any two or
three separate waves, whether it is the ebb
or flow; but watch a few moments, and the
outgoing waters soon tell their own tale.