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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.