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TWO DOLLARS AND FIFTY CENTS.
PER A-NNUU:.
Y'OLUME XL., NO. 37.
Original
FALLEN.
St. James i. 12-15. Ps. cix.
by w. v. n.
Standing whe.e n angel
Well might wish to .*tand,
Preaching Christ’* evangel.
Through the guilty land.
Fallen from hi.- station,
With his shepherd's rod 1
From his high vocation,
O'er tr.e llutk of Hod 1
By sin's subtle power,
mu it ten through the eyes ;
In 'n evil hour,
Virtue falls and dies.
Looking on Lathdheba,
Brave 1-riah's wife,
Jjn il’s lustful fever
Shamed his throne and life.
Lo. the wrecks availing !
Kings and priests cast down 1
Virtue’s temples falling,
:!or >r’ shattered crown !
Lika an Ksau sinning,
\. ■l'-iafU tb/o\vu away 1
,- 0 V
\ufy rciuorseTor aye.
Gone out unto Judas,
Fail hies o the Lord !
Si.. Ist by sin, like Theudas
Failea by the sword I
Lost to reputation.
Cast out from his lot!
j)M 1 in degradation.
Lurid u.rif.rgot!
< mi his house ent diit.g
Her tageefshame!
Cbiidr< n weeping, wailing
oV- a blotted name.
Mercy throned in Heaven!
We. p his guilty tall !
Can he bn forgiven ?
Blood was shed for all.
<.-. -***.* i- -cmaxn > wmmmmmm—mm mmmm—mm
Contributions.
AM 1 IN THE APOSTOLIC LINE ! I
THINK SO.
11Y REV. !,. riKKCK, I). D.
!t will no doua* see n straigs to many of
my d>- :r loving friends that I should show
any c ueern on a question that has been so
long s"tl I by the unquestioning confidence
of all who have known me. Well, it does
look strange, but there is a reason for it
Satan has many devices, and among them
this may be one. If a minister, now and
then, should be preserved in the use of the
Church for three score and ten years as a
watchman, and should retain his mental
soundness and his all the time zeal for his
Church, but becoming more and more im
bued with the original ideal of a spiritual,
heavenly minded Christian experience, and
seeing and knowing the membership of his
Church to have been declining in spiritual
godliness for at least two score or more of
seventy years oversight and intimate watch
care, shoal i make declaration thereof in his
still responsible relation to his immediate
ministerial watehtnanship—does not every
one see, especially every one whose loose style
of livin' made it necessary for him to think,
that the old man believed in more religion
than was indispensable to eternal life, orelse
Tndievi and himself without enough to be an heir
■i thi'jjnherifancr: that ;vith Satan to tempt,
and the world and flesh to please, he or she,
ns the case might be—for both sexes are fear
fully implicated—would be most, likely to con
clude an old minister too religious in his
p lipit views, rather than themselves too ir
religious to pass the final reckoning safely?
it is almost as certain as fate. I tell you,
ith heartfelt solicitude, that while no one
could desire to be deceived in this question,
Have 1 religion enough in kind and quality
to save me at last ? there is not one of all
this doss of nominal Christians, clinging to
the Church and such religions services as can
lie observed without the cultivation of the
spirit of holiness with the hope of getting
to heaven therein, that is not practicing
on himself daily the most absolute sys
tem of self-deception. This is exactly what
St. Paul meant iti Gal. vi., 7,8, 9, when he
*aid : “ !>> not deceived; God is not mock
ed,” etc. It is only self deception that we
are accountable for; therefore, we have the
following reason for not deceiving ourselves :
G and is not mocked —cannot be put off with a
religious life which even we were never able
to realize as such by any divine manifesta
tion of the Holy Spirit’s inhabitation; a pre
tentious mode of Christian living in which
the heart always condemns us because we
never have any evidence of Christ in us the
hope o glory—there being no welling up of
the water of iife in us, which was intended to
be the proof of its presence, else it would not
have been mentioned as the evidence of its
existence.
I have said there is a reason why I should
inquire. Am 1 in the Apostolic line of min
isterial succession ? This is th“ reason : My
ministry for years past has been chiefly di
rected to the two objects of keeping the
Church from leaving the good old way —the
wav ol holiness—and the bringing back of
the multitude in the Church whom I knew
to be off of this only way to heaven ;
piently, I hav" not preached expe
perence, as my disappointed friends call
that sort of preaching which, in spite of
al! prudence, will run into the sensational
whenever it becomes a resort for effect, which
is probably always the case when it is held
in reserve for etfeet. > I discovered a great
while ago that the worst thing a pastor could
do for his charge was to endeavor to arouse
their religious sensibilities into a high reli
gious exci'ement- in the midst of a life of
many irreligious affections and fruits. I was
always in favor o! a religious state that must,
at times, overflow it3 level, must make
us beside ourselves, but only when it was
emphatically unto God—which is never so,
except when the love of Christ constrains it.
If it has to be blown up by the use of this
sensational bellows—by the sensitive stimu
lation of recognition associations in minds
where the law of Christ is comparatively pow
ertess —although it may be genuine in its
ti f it is not the (ruit of the Spirit; it never
es any additional grace ; as soon as the
insiasm of the excitement is over the re
ligions status of the subject is found to be ex
actly the same —there is no evidence of in
creased death unto sin, and more living unto
God, which are the only proofs of growth
in grace, and growth in grace is the only proof
that we are walking in the Spirit. The mi
ser who, in the face of Christ’s absolute com
mand, is laj ing up treasure on earth —paying
his pastor dimes when under the law of God
he owes him dollars (I mean what I say,
owes him dollars)—goes his way after one of
these religions excitements, in which he got
what he called a blessing, better satisfied
with himself than ever that his financial policy
is right— particularly, that his money is worth
whatever he can get for it, and if the times
are bard, and men are sore pressed, his
money increases in its worth until its value
has gone up from ten to twenty per cent. ;
The stewards meet him and tell him how
hard the preacher is run —hardly a cake of
corn bread for his wife and children—and he
will tell them, with what he thinks truth, that
he has not a dollar in hand to save his life—
which will be true, in his sense of true; but
it is only true because he had been able to
let out all of his money at twenty per cent.,
and, although he knew his quarterage was
due, he did not save any of his money for his
pastor, hut let it all go—not so much be
cause the borrower wanted it all as because
his necessity compelled him to borrow at even
twenty per cent., and the lender was more
than willing to let it all go—so that be in truth
could say, when called on for quarterage,
he did riot have a dollar in the world.
This, brethren, is a case of the sort which
Paul had in view when he said, in its mean
ing, Don't deceive yourselves, you can't
mock God. How strange, that such a man
as this should ever wheedle himself into the
dream of being created anew creature in
Christ Jesus without any positive renewal in
the spirit of the mind ! Yet, the Church is
crowded with this sort of mone.veddjiL .erts.
,1 ask, whertj ire the moneyed mfojpl our
'Church in whom there isanj logicalevidence
that in their professed conversion they un
derwent such a renewal in the spirit of their
mind in reference to the inoidinate love of
money, or the too selfish use of it, as to
prove that they were in the spirit of their
mind actually renewed —transformed hy the
renewing of the mind—made over again—so
that, in relation to money, the convert was a
new crea’ure, so much so as to furnish prac
tical proof that beyond his own necessities
he made it to do good with, as one of God's
elect stewards? I ask, where is the proof of
this only type of spiritual regeneration among
our moneyed converts? Ah! me, it is
right here. They are converts to Method
ism as it is—us they found it—not as it wa
and as it always must be, to be Method
ism on its golden pla'form of general
rules compiled from the lively oracles for
developing the truth and sincerity of the
professed desire to flee from the wrath to
come, and to be saved from sin. A state of
mind which, if it really did exist, would de
velop its presence and progress by such
proofs of its righteousness as Mr. Wesley
enunciated in the general rules of religions
affiliation and fellowship in his Societies, and
we think, without his special requisition of
it, accepted and incorporated into the discip
linary law of the Church as the fundamental
law of membership in the Methodist Episco
pal Church, where they have rested undis
turbed for ninety-two years, and passed in
the meantime under the review of thirty
General Conferences without a motion or a
resolution to discard them as a fungus, only
in the way. And now, when to these unmeth
odistic intruders into the Church they are a
Church nuisance, not a man can be found in
America, that regards himself to be a Meth
odist man, that will ever move the oblitera
tion of these rules on the gro ind that they
require a life of religion higher and more
stringent in its morals than is required by the
word and Spirit of God. And yet., unless
my opinions are falsely grounded, and very
unfortunately fed, you can find preachers
among us who, if the issue is made to enforce
them or drop them out of the discipline, like
vua might drop ahvwn ont 7 in the rp®isfo’L.- f |
the hymn book, will jump at this miserable
alternative. If so, all that ever made a
Methodist, or a Methodist Church under i,ts
original denominational name, is going, and
will in its second centennial be gone. Meth
odism as a distinguished system of Christian
consistency cannot over live its raithodica!
rigidness, and nothing but a set of unaltera
hie and enforced rules of moral discipline
will make a Methodist Church.
Suppose, now, the Methodist ministry, un
able to deny the correlation of our general
rules with the word of God and His Holy
Spirit would rather drop them out than en
force them against a brother such as I have
been describing, does not anybody see that
such a course is a course of self deception,
if it is done at all with any reference to bet
tering the Church? And if from reasons
of easiness in Zion —the only reason that
will lead a Methodist to desire the aboli
tion of the general rules, or a Methodist
minister to wink at it—is not. God mocked ? I
stand aghast if it is so. No other Chalmers
will ever feel constrained to say that our
Methodism is “ Christianity in earnest.” We
will be the most depraved of all the evan
gelical Churches in the land if we ever let
go our general rules. Will be, because the
effect of libratiou from a tighter to a slacker
moral obligation always increases libertin
ism. The fashionable women of our Church
are this day the most intemperate devotees
at this shriue of idolatry, because they are,
by default on our part, authorized as Meth
odists to put on as much gold and costly
apparel as they can get, and want.
Bnt it will be expected that I should
show more clearly how the sensational
theory is adduced in vindication of my strin
gent theology. Well, this is my poliev: I
can never damage true disciples of Christ
by putting them through the most severe
examination of their faith and hope—the
closer if the verdict of conscience is not
guilty, the happier will an unmistaken disciple
be. For our rejoicing is this, the testimony
of our conscience that in simplicity and
godly sincerity, without fleshly wisdom (all
things being settled upoD the square of
God’s word), these people do not want,
something said to make them happy, but to
be able to rejoice, from the testimony of
their conscience, that thvy are living, as far
possible, by every word that proceedeth out
of the mouth of the Lord. Bat those sen
sational professors graduate their religious
sta'us by the amount of religious excitement
they can realize uuder sensational discourses
addressed mainly to religious sensibilities
and sympathies, never pinned down closely
on a good conscience in all things. Having
pursued a course of religious generalization
too much, we have allowed our people to
regard religious excitements as revivals cf
religion itself, until it has come to this that
our people don’t like any sort of preaching
except such as promotes this religious revi
val feeling, because with them this religious
feeling is religion, and as this religious feel
ing can be excited into greater warmth and
zeal for sectarian Methodism, and can be
had in greater abundance while walking in
open contempt of Methodist rules as rules of
Christian devotion to Christian morals, it is
not to be wondered at that just as the Church
fills up with these merely sectarian Method
ists the general rules becomes an incubus
upou their Methodism, and the way is regu
larly opening to get rid of them, not be
cause they are are anti-Christian at all, but
because they are too Christian to protect a
corrupt Methodism. Look upon all violators
of them as enemies in the camp.
How small a portion of our lives is that we
truly enjoy 1 In youth we are looking for
ward for things that are to come ; in old age
we look backward to things that are past.
PUBLISHED BY J. W. BURKE & COMPANY, FOR THE METHODIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH, SOUTH.
FORGIVING AM) BEING FORGIVEN.
BY HEY. J. M. BOLANI), A. M.
The original design of our Creator was for
mankind to live in peace and harmony with
each other. But Bin brought in discord, re
crimination, enmity, hatred, revenge, and
malice. These evil passions are ever ready
to run riot: hut circumstances may greatly
increase the provocations that inflame them.
Such a state of things has existed in this
land for the last decade and a half. And
such has been the nature of the provocations
that thousands have yielded to their seduc
tive influence, and have indulged feelings to
wards their fellow creatures wholly antago
nistic to the spirit of our holy Christianity.
This state of things has gone on until some
thing ought and must be done to arrest the
wide-spread evil. We believe that a Bible
view of this subject may be made a blessing
to all who want to serve God and do right.
To this end we call attention to several
facts:
First, The gospel proposes to correct these
evil passions of the depraved heart, and re
store love and harmony among men. The
gospel is a grand system of forgiveness. Just
take the idea of forgiveness out of the gospel
and what would you have left? It contem
plates the forgiveness of all manner of sins,
save the sin against the Holy Ghost. Christ
came to save the lost—to call sinners to re
pentance. The gospel, as announced by the
angels, is “peace on ea’th and good will to
wards men !” No man can he saved unless
he accepts forgiveness for bII his sins as a
gracious gift of God through Christ.
Second, Our forgiveness is suspended upon
our forgiving others. “'For if you forgive
men their tresspasses, your Heavenly Father
will also forgive you: hut if ye forgive -not
men heir tresspasses, neither will your Father
forgive your tresspasses.” Therefore, we
must forgive, or we can never be forgiven.
We must forgive, or our damnation is sealed !
Third, Religion forbids our holding ill will,
hatred, enmity, malice, or revenge towards
any one. “I say unto you love yonr enemies,
and pray for them that persecute you, and
despitefully use you, and say all manner
of evil against you falsely.” “Put off all
these; anger, wrath, malice," etc. “Whoso
hateth his brother is a murderer, and ye know
that no murderer hath eternal life abiding
in him." “Avenge not yourselves, I will
repay aaith the Lord.” Religion is love—
love to God and love to man. No man can
harbor hatred and malice in his heart and
remain a Christian. Hatred is murder, and
“no murderer hath eternal life abiding in
him ” And yet there are Church members
all over this land with hatred and malice in
their hearts, who dream that they are on
their way to heaven, because they once tasted
the joys of pnrdened sin I They may be sail
ing rapidly across the sea of life, but it is a
demon’s breath that fills the sails, and a de
mon s hand is guiding their bark to ruin 1
It matters not what has been the provoca
tion—how severe has been the injury inflict
ed—we dare not give place to hatred or ma
lice; if we do, we forfeit the love of God,
and fall into condemnation, and then we
must forgive or we can never be forgiven.
But you are not bound to put an enemy
into your bosom. A man may have abused
yonr eonfidepce ( and kindness— hiiv.j
enjoyed your hospitality, and then gone out
and slandered yon and yonr family. Now,
while yon dare not treasure up hatred and
revenge against him, yet you are not hound
to extend these courtesies to him again—for
he has violated the sacred laws that environ
the family circle —he has outlawed himsel
from the protection and curtesies of society.
To invite him again into your house, is to
put a viper in your bosom. There is but one
way for him to get back into the social posi
tion which he has forfeited. He must repair
the wrong as far as it can be repaired —he
must repent and bring forth fruits, meet for
repentance. If he does this, then you must
forgive him —put him back in his former
position And upon this condition, Jesus
says, that you must not only forgive him
seven times, but seventy times seven ! Thus
one man may hold another man responsible
at the bar of public opinion for violating
social laws, and yet indulge no hatred to
wards him. In such a case, if the offender
repents and ask forgiveness, it must be grant
ed; but that forgiveness does not imply ha
tred on the part of the forgiving party, but
a simple restoration of the offending party to
his former social relation. Just here so
many people make a fatal mistake. They
confound things that are distinct. Asa
citizen, it may be my duty to hold a man to
an account for what he does and Bays; but
that does not justify me in treasuring up ill
will, or hatred in my heart towards him—no
offence in the catalogue of crime will justify
me in such feelings towards any fellow being;
and the moment I indulge them, I forfeit, my
justified state before God. While religion
does not require me to embrace an avowed
enemy, yet it does forbid my hating him;
and when fie repents —makes the amende
honorable —it requires me to forgive the of
fence by putting him back in the social posi
tion and relation he occupied before. And
this is to be repeated, if need be, “until
seventy times seven 1” To many, this is a
hard saying. There are many who say that
when a man violates their confidence once
they can never have any more confidence in
him. They forget the long catalogue of crimes
and offences Divine justice had against them,
all of which Divine mercy forgave. They
forget, also, how often they have broken
their solemn vows to God, and how often
God has forgiven them, and re-established
them in his favor and confidence. They
have made vows at the sacramental board in
the presence of the emblems of the broken
body and shed blood of tbeir crucified Lord,
and then gone out and broken these solemn
vows 1 And their hope of heaven to-day de
pends upon the fact that they are under a
dispensation of mercy, whereby tbeir future
short comings and sins may be forgiven.
With these facts before us, and the example
of the blessed Saviour praying for his mur
derers on the Cross, who can refuse to for
give his fellow traveler to the bar of judg
ment? The unjust steward who refused to
forgive his tellow servant as his lord had for
given him, had all the debt which had been
lorgiven, replaced to his account 1 And Jesus
added: “So likewise shall my Heavenly
Father do also unto you, if je from your
hearts forgive not every one his brother their
tresspasses.” Mat. xviii: 23-35.
Finally, we call attention to two special
cases:
First, Your duty when your brother hath
aught against you. “If thou bring thy gift
to the altar, and there rememberest that thy
brother hath aught against thee; leave there
thy gift before the altar, and go thy way;
first be reconciled to thy brother, and then
come and offer thy gift.” Mat. v: 23-4.
Second, Your duty when others offend you,
“If thy brother shall trespass against thee
go and tell him his fault between thee and
him alone," etc. Mat. xviii: 15, 16,17,
MACON. GEORGIA, TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 11, 1877.
In these two passages, Christ makes it the
‘.operative duty of both the offender and ihe
offended to go and propose a reconciliation
before any other sfop is taken. The failure
of either party to do his duty does not ex
onerate the other party. If these instruc
tions were carried out to the letter, how few
cases would ever come before the Church!
Tried by the balances of the sanctuary,
how many are found wanting! No wonder
the Church is shorn of her moral power! We
must forgive, or we can never be forgiven!
Talladega, Ala.
Stkta.
From the Nashville Christian Advocate.
LETTER FROM BISHOP MARVIN.
NO. XXXII.
THE SOURCES OK THE JORDAN.
After leaving the Lake of Galilee, we pro
needed northward some miles, over a rocky,
mountainous road, lying parallel with the
river, but three or four miles to the west,
when suddenly before us, and to our right,
a large valley opened, having a lake in the
midst. Of course it was Lake Merom and
the upper Jordan valley. I was quite un
prepared to find this valley so large. The
bottom land must be six or eight miles
wide, and three times as long, or more. It
was as green as the Valley of the Nile, with
the barren mountains of Galilee on the west,
and of the Hauran on the east, the foot hills
of Hermon on the north, and the snow-clad
summit of the great mountain farther back,
a little to the east of north.
The valley was dotted with villages of the
pastoral Bedouins. The Bedouin tents are
usually made of a coarse fabric of woven
goat's hair, and are as black as the “tents
of Kedar.” But those we saw here are
made of a sort of reed matting. A few were
covered with the black gout's-hair cloth.
But generally the covering and all was made
of matting. Their wealth consists almost,
exclusively of cattle, with a few buffalo—
the same ugly creature that, we saw in such
numbers in China, India, and Egypt, but
have seen nowhere in Palestine or Syria,
except in this upper valley of the Jordan.
The Bedouins elsewhere are famous horse
breeders, but here they seem to raise cattle
exclusively. I suppose they find a market
for them in Damascus, which is only three
or four days distant. I presume they subsist
to a great extent upon the flesh and milk of
their herds. The pasturage of this alluvial
region—for this valley is all alluvium—is
exuberant. We saw thousands upon thous
ands of cattle feeding upon it, but nowhere
did it seem to be fed down.
Much of the valley is overflowed in the
winter, and a good deal of it is marshy al
ways. The banks of the.river and the shores
of the lake are very low. Toward the bor
der of the valley the land is higher, and
much of it is in cultivation. The crops gen
erally are very fine. The wheat, just now in
full head, promises a generous harvest.
There are a good many plowmen now a-field,
breaking up the soil to plant dhura, a coarse
sort of grain that is used for feeding stock, and
often also for bread. But what a feeble battle
with theao rank weed.gt.he little above!:plows
do make, drawn by single yoke of oxen,
and they often very small. O for a plow
worthy of the name, and a California team
to draw it! What harvests might then be
gathered 1
At about three o’clock p. m. we camped
in the edge of the valley, on the bank of a
beautiful stream, within two hundred yards
of the point where it issues from the foot of
the mountain. A small part of its waters
run a little mill above our camp. I stepped
from stone to stone across a part of the
stream, which spreads over a wide bed of
pebbles, and went in to inspect the work of
the mill. It is a small, square, stone struc
ture. Two sets of small stones were run
ning, surrounded by a raised platform which
occupies one side of the house. The top of
the lower stone stood a little above the level
of the platform. The upper stone was not
surrounded by any casing. It was grinding
dhura, the meal coming out upon the plat
form all round the stones. As it accumu
lated it was drawn by hand into a box like
receptacle, which was sunk into the plat
form. In one of these boxes which had
been filled, a man was standing in the meal
with his bare feet, scooping it out and put
ting it in a sack. The miller gets about
three cents a bushel, as nearly as I could
understand it, for grinding, and pays a tax
of five Napoleons (twenty dollars) a year for
the privilege. When I left, the miller ac
companied me to the edge of the stream
having noticed that I had stepped from stone
to stone rather totteringly, and offered me a
ride on his back, which I accepted. Having
been comfortably landed, I gave him three
coppers, which, all taken together, were not
quite of the value of one cent of our money.
He accepted it with gratitude, and we parted.
Think of the owner of a water-mill, glad to
carry a man across the creek, not as an act
of hospitality, but fir the fee, and that one
cent! Poor fellow, he was in rags, and I
doubt not that after his tax is paid, and re
pairs of his mill provided for, there remains
hut little for him and hU household. It
grinds amazingly slow ; yet it is a great im
provement over woman power, which is in
v :ry general use from China to Syria.
Nothing would do my two friends but they
must bathe in Lake Merom, which was about
two miles distant. I had little faith in the
en‘erpri?e, for I felt sure, by the look of
things, that the lake shore was a swamp.
Being somewhat fatigued by the day’s ride,
[ at first declined to accompany them, but,
upou reflection, concluded to do so, lest they
might require someone to pull them out of
the mud. Before we were within a quarter
of a mile of the shore, Brother Hendrix’s
horse, which was in advance, began to sink
so deep in the wet soil that Mr. Sampson
and I paused. But Brother Hendrix, in
trepid and eager for the bath, urged hi3
horse on —deeper, deeper, deeper. He had
gone beyond the bounds of prudence, and
soon discovered the fact. There wa3 a fine
expression of solicitude in his eye as he
turned and gazed toward terra firma. The
solicitude must have gone down to his heels,
for they plied the sides of his floundering
steed very vigorously. I did really fear for
a moment that the noble brute would not be
able to get back. What ludicrous associ
ations of ideas will sometimes obtrude them
selves upon a man even in a critical moment.
I thought of the Florida constable’s indorse
ment on the writ: “Ad in swampum et non
comalibus.” Did I smile? I hope that
question will not be pressed.
We were lulled to Bleep that night bv the
musical monotone of the flowing confluent
of the Jordan, on the very bank of which
our tent had been pitched.
The next morning, for some hours, our
road lay along the western edge of the val
ley, just aloug by the foot of the mountains.
ThsASMy^A 0 our right was alive with Be
uoui tfßßd k tnd cattle. Farther on, our
road sd through two or three of these
villages,. As this is the road taken by tour
ists to Damascus, the children have picked
up an English salutation. The little bare
footed and bareheaded crowds, boys and
girls, shouted to us as we passed, “Good
morning 1 ” The demand for backshish,
howevOtywas less clamorous than I expeeti and
to hear Many of the men and women
greeted^s pleasantly. They never failed to
scold the dogs back when they rushed out at
us as they aid constantly, and in a vpry fe
rocious-manner. Two of our party rode up
to tents, to look inside and in
spect the furniture and general arrangement,
when a woman, with eager hospitality, hast
ened to. offer them a drink of buttermilk.
One of them who drank of it pronounced it
very de’irious.
We soon reached the head of the main
valley, an i. turning to the east, crossed some
rocky points, and in an hour or two found
the western branch of these
upper a, which unite a few miles be
low.a nd form the Jordan. We heard the
flow ofilf waters before we saw them, ths
stream being fringed by a line of heavy fo
liage. Here the rosd turned to the left
again, and we ascended the stream through
a rocky gorge a mile or two, and then
crossed it on a stone bridge. Here our
dragom-m stopped to converse with a man
we-met; and we passed on, ascending a steep
hill over as ugly a piece of naked, rugged
rock asst was ever my fortune fo encounter.
Soon dragoman came up in great haste,
and miwh excited. He had just been in
formed 4-hat two days before the Bedouins
had attacked and robbed a party at this very
place.'***"'
It wap our purpose to make a detour from
the road here, in order to see the fountain
in which this stream rises. But the drago
man inijisted that, we should all remain to
gether, and keep close to the luggage train.
In thest war-times the 8.-douins were be
coming Void, and committing many deproda
datioav' We thought it prudent to follow
his !?!*)£:. and so missed seeing this one of
the “ of the Jordan ” —much to onr
regret.
As wh ascended the hill, Azeez was in
front. Azeez was in charge of our lunch,
and always accompanied us. He was an
imperturbable man, though with an under
current of good humor. Reaching the sum
mit, he shouted, “Bedouins! Bedouins I ”
and flonrighed his big pistol. Upon such
an alarti our dragoman, who had fallen to
the rear, felt duty-bound to gallop up. Alas
for chivalry 1 I could not but contrast his
bearing jit this moment with that we had
witnessed in the sham fight at the Dead Sea.
Then he was boiling over with courage, sat
erect, aDd in defiant attitude, flourished his
pistols, and dashed at the foe w’th furious
speed. Now the feeble effort to look brave
wa3 really ludicrous. His very horse gal
loped slc-wly and hesitatingly, as if he were
just ready to turn upon his heels, while he
himself eat in the saddle with a drooped and
pi'iful a pect, which comp’etely dispelled
the illusion of the sham battle. I could
never e/. ,-rward imagine that he had Ihe look
of V*:*tV* : .|-foßdor,MV
in a moment, to the level of ordinary mortals.
All this upon a false alarm ; if the Bedouins
had actually appeared, to what diminutive
ness he might have shriveled I cannot guess.
We were now in the foot hills of Mount
Hermon, but they were only hills, and for the
most part I might say undulations. Bsfore
us were the middle and eastern branches of
the Jordan. Toe sources of the Jordan are
said to he in Mount Hermon, and so they
are; hut that statement, if left unexplained,
will give the reader a false impression. The
three principal streams which come together
above Lake Merom, and form the Jordan,
come out from the ground near the foot of
the mountain, at their full size. They do
not grow by the confluence of rills upon the
surface. On the contrary, the water of the
mountains sinks through fissures in the
rocks, is collected into considerable bodies
underground, and, then flowing through
clefts of the rock, or through beds of gravel,
comes to the surface at the foot of the moun
tain.
These fountains are not so high up in the
mountain as I had imagined. The western
one is fairly up in the foot-hills, bnt the two
others come out, the middle one where the
valley begins to rise into rather hold undula
tions, and the eastern just at the foot of the
fi-st cliffs of the anti Lebanon range, which
are here properly the cliffs of Mount Her
mon. True, they are about 1,200 feet above
Lake Merom, but the approach to them is
over ground that rises so gradually as to be
long rather to the plain than the mountain.
As we looked down upon it from the first
summits, the places where they rise have the
appearance of being in the upper edge of
the valley of Merom.
Our road passed just to the north o F the
head or fountain of the second or middle
branch, and within a few yards of it. We
rode to the very spot. The immediate point
of its egress from the ground was so covered
with shrubbery that it was concealed, but we
saw the water as it emerged from the mass
of foliage and flowed away.
Near by was the site of the old city of
Dan. It stood, not as I had had it pictured
in my nhind, up in the mountains, but on
ratlfer ufalight elevation in the unper reaches
of the great plain. There is but little there
now. The name of the modern village near
by I do not remember. The situation is
rather commanding, and the landscape mag
nificent, and in many parts beautiful. The
whole extent of the valley of Lake Merom
is iu view on the south, the spurs of Mount
Lebanon rise on the west, while the low
ridge which divides Palestine from Coele-
Syria stretches along on the north, and
Hermon —Jebel Es Sheikh, the Prince of
Mountains, as the natives proudly name
him—with masses of snow scattered about
upon his crest, towers up to the north-east.
A goodly place those heroic Danites won
for themselves at the very head of the river.
Oor course lay now about due north east,
crossing a ridge of unusual contour for this
country. It, is a swell, lying north and
south, and is covered with a scrubby growth
of trees. I say covered, but to an American
it will not seem so close set es that word
implies. . Still it is the nearest approach to
it to be found anywhere in this country.
Having crossed this ridge we came upon
the eastern branch of the Jordan, and fol
lowed it a short way up to the base of the
precipitous spurs of Lebanon, to the town
of Banias—the Cesarea Philippi of the New
Testament. The village lies at the base of
the mountain. Springs break out on all
sides, and flow off into the vallry in copious
rivulets. Following the mountain eastward
about a quarter of a mile you come to a
sheer precipice of rock, at the base of which
there ia a strip of level ground a few yards
widoi from which an abrupt descent takes
you down to the point where this branch
ot the Jordau comes into the daylight.
It does not burst out of a fissure in the
rock all in one body, but flows copiously
out of a bed of coarse pebbles. The line
along which it flows out is perhaps fifty
yards long, the first flow being over a wide
space and very shallow. It is soon com
pressed into a narrow channel, and rushes
away headlong over a rapidly descending
bed.
The name of the west branch, the head of
which we did not see, is Deriora—that of
the midde, Little Jordan, and of the east,
Banias. The principal one is the Little
Jordan, and the second in magnitude is the
Banias. But the Derdora comeß down from
a higher point in the mountains than the
two larger streams, which originate, as I
have said, one of them quite in the open
plain at the city of Dan, and the other at
the foot of the mountain at Banias—that is,
Cesarea Philippi
We have no knowledge of our Lord’s hav
ing evpr visited the city of Cesarea Philippi.
Once he was in “the coasts,” that iB, in the
neighborhood, of it—and this was very near
the end of his life. Here Peter made, for
himself and the twelve, the formal confes
sion, “Thou art the Christ,, the Son of the
living God,” receiving the answer “Thou
art Peter, and on this rock will I build my
Church, and the gates of hell shall not pre
vail against it.” This was said, no doubt,
amid the spurs and rocks of Hermon. Only
six days later he wa3 transfigured in a “high
mountain,” perhaps one of the mountains
of this very cluster. At any rate, imme li
ately after that great event he made his last
journey to Jerusalem to be offered up—go
ing down on the east side of the river, which
h recrossed only a few miles above the
Dead Sea, and taking Jericho in the way,
where he healed the blind man, and brought
salvation to the house of Zaccheus. So
that his visit to this extreme northern part
of Galilee was just on the eve of his death,
as was also the great confession of the apos
tles. The question occurred to me : “Was
there any special meaning in this, that the
formal and solemn proclamation oftheMes
siah-ihip of J-sus was made at the very ex
tremity of the Holy Land, and on the bor
ders of the Gentile world?” Why should
he wander up here into this region, on the
great, highway of the nations, for this solemn
transaction ? Was it the yearning of his
heart toward the world? Did he stand hy
'he partition -wall at that supreme moment,
that his word might it down ? Was
he showing his disciples already the way to
Antioch —to Damascus —to the world?
Along the very road bv which our Lord
“came into the coasts of Cesarea Philippi,”
Saul of Tarsus must have gone on his way
toward Damascus, with “letters from the
chief priests,” on the occasion of that, mo
mentous journey, when, having come near
to the end of it, a glory which exceeded that
of the transfiguration smote him blind tha’
his eyes might be opened lo behold the “true
light which lighteth every man that cometh
into the world,” and felled him to the earth
that he might, rise to the dignity of the sons
of God.
Our tent at Cesarea Philippi stood at the
I; jrt nf N-, *, wtjob 'VAvfo.i
of an old castle. There is a circuitons route
hy which they may be reached on horse
back ; but as our guide book informed us
that we could make the ascent in an hour on
foot, Brother Hendrix and I concluded to
let our horses rest, and so we started ou*
with a guide on foot, accompanied by Mr.
Sampson on a little donkey, he having been
lamed by a kick from a horse some days be
fore. We wound our way round and round,
at a painful angle upward all the while, for a
full hour and a half, when, to our dismay,
coming suddenly round a point, the peak on
which the castle stands came in sight, and
we saw it rising like another mountain still
above us. But perseverance, etc.
An inscription points to the thirteenth
century as the date of some of the work done
here. It was probably repaired or enlarged
at that time, but there can be little doubt
that the foundations were laid in the old
Roman times. Portions of the entire wall
are standing, and in some places they are
still very high. The rocks of which it waß
built are very massive ; many of them would
weigh several tons each. Perhaps they
were obtained in fl ittening the summit of the
mountain for the building. It seems almost
impossible that they should have been
brought up this mountain ; but the Cyclopean
labors of the ancients are so numerous and
so stupendous that one comes to be prepared
after a while, to believe almost anything in
this line.
This was a fortification of immense
strength, both on account of the difficulty of
approach, and the impregnable character of
the walls. An amount of stone has fallen
from them sufficient to cumber the whole
brow of the mountain, and yet in some places
they are still twenty five or thirty feet high.
Not only the thickness of the wall, but the
great size of the individual stones, rendered
it exceedingly s’rong. It covers the whole
area of the summit, which was probably cut
down and flattened for it—and from the wall
the angle of descent is so sharp that no en
gines could have been planted within reach
of it so that it was unassailable by ha'tering
ram or catapult. Immense reservoirs of
water are s anding in it, so that it, seem3 to
have been well supplied in that respect.
Nothing hut -tarvation could have overcome
a garrison ojc tpying it.
We clambered to the top of a tower near
the south west corner, which raises its shat
tered head above the rest of the ruins, where
we sat and gaz°d out-for the last time upon
Lake Merom and its beautiful valley, framed
by mountains on all sides. From this ele
vation we saw quite a number of small lakes
in the valley, above Lake Merom. The level
sun was almost ready to disappear beyond
the ridges of the Lebanon, which were al
ready casting their shadow over half the val
ley. The effect of the shading was very fine.
It was one of those scenes in which nature
seems to take on an aspect of beauty beyond
its wont —when the inner secrets of things
come out upon the surface, and God affixes
his sign-manual and seal upon his works.
The moment, too, was auspicious. We
three who sat together on that shattered
throne of the god of war had been for a
month following the footprints of the Pince
of Peace, and were now looking for the last
time upon the regions made memorable by
his presence while he was in the flesh.
No wonder if we were in a subjective condi
tion which made us in a higher degree recipi
ent of divine meanings in nature.
My last look upon Jerusalem from Scopus,
upon the Lake of Galilee from the moun
tains to the northward of it, and upon the
upper valley and the sources of the Jordan
from the ruined castle of Banias, constitute
a series of experiences for which I can never
cease to praise God.
But the visitor of the Holy Land must not
come expecting to find its beauty such as
will answer to his expectations or sentiments.
Much of the country is a mere stretch of bar
ren, rocky hills. There are not wanting
many visitors who see little or no beauty
anywhere. To my eye there are many beau
tiful landscapes; yet many parts of America
afford far richer scenery. We see Palestine
in the light of a religious feeling before we
visit it, and this divine radiance constitutes
a medium through which all appears in an
unreal coloring. The effect of an actual vis
it is diverse in different individuals. In
some the prepossession of religious sentiment
is so strong, and occupies the imagination
so completely, aB to project itself upon all
they see—so that to them the very desert
becomes a paradise of beauty, every moun
tain glows in the light of another transfigur
ation, the poorest and mo3t naked landscape
is transformed, and where there is a leal
beauty—as there often is—it appears a very
para iise, anew Jerusalem coming down from
God out of heaven. In others, less under
the dominion of their prepossessions, there
is a sudden disenchantment. Jerusalem
they have seen a hundred cities more beauti
ful, and with more beautiful surroundings.
Even the Mount of Olives suffers in compar
ison with the hills they rambled over in
childhood. The most beautiful valleys here
are yet not so lovely as those they have seen
in Virginia or Kentucky. The Sea of Gali
lee itself disappoints them. In the revulsion
of feeling which follows they are unable to
preceive the beauties that would otherwise
be apparent.
God did not select this region as the home
of his chosen people on account of its beau
ty. The seats of the tabernacle and of the
temple were not selected upon any grounds
of natural superiority. The local background
of divine manifestations was matter of no
consi qupnee. Perhaps it were better tba f
it should not be in any high degree attrac
tive. The glory of the Shekinah must be
all its own. Revelation must run no risk of
beingoverlooked and disregarded through
the too great interests of its natural setting,
lest the glory of the Creator should be trans
ferred to the creature; nor yet must it be
exposed to the danger of a sensuous degen
eration through a too vital connection with
scenes of physical enchantment.
The true interest of all this country is in
its history, though a man in sympathy with
nature will see much in the aspects of both
the mountains and valleys to admire. Those
who fail to do so are persons of local tastes,
who can appreciate only a given style, and
are quite incapable of a broader interest,
either in art or nature, than that which at
taches to objects conforming to their type.
The man of deep insight and true sympathy
—the genuine lover of nature —who is open
to all that comes to him in its multiform dis
closures, will find a real pleasure here, even
aside irom the main purpose of his visit.
But it is, after all, because Jerusalem was
the city of holy solemnities, and the place
where Jesus suffered ; because the taberna
c!e was in Shiloh, and Samuel judged Israel
there; because onr Lord sailed upon the
waters of the Lake of Galilee, and called his
chief disciples from among its fishermen;
and becausp that in t*“ nasts of Cesarea
PY.'.fofo foJwa: ft Bp) 1 11H ft Led ....
Son of the living God, that we take any
special and deep interest in these places,
and come from the ends of the earth to see
them. E. M. Marvin.
Off Larnaka, Cyprus, May 2, 1877.
PRAY FOR PREACHERS.
Without the special help and blessing of
God their labors are in vain. Paul may
plant, Apollos water, but God alone can
give the increase. The greatest learning,
the most fervid eloquence, the most breath
less zeal, the longest patience, cannot con
vert a soul, or sanctity one that has begun
to seek the heavenly way. In this sphere
of labor the Spirit of God is the workman.
Men may be co workers with God, hut the
praise all belongs to the Holy Spirit. His
influences, the most precious gift that God
has for man, are not bestowed unsought.
Without prayer, therefore, the labor of re
ligious teachers is thrown away. The first
duty of their congregation is to ask God’s
blessing upon their instructions.
Ministers need prayer for their own Bakes.
Their position is a peculiar one, their temp
tations are peculiar. Their lot is indeed the
happiest on earth, and their rewards the
greatest that can be offered lo any. Their
aims are the purest in the world. Yet, withal,
they are exposed to peculiar dangers and
perils, to which no other class is subject.
The very esteem for which they are held for
their work's sake is itself a peril, for there is
no more subtle foe than spiritual pride.
‘ Brethren, pray for us, that the word of God
may have free course and bs glorified.”
GOD MY PEACE.
“It is not one and the same thing, my
friends, to say, ‘God gives me peace,’ and to
say, ‘God is my peace.’ If God gives me
peace the proud waves of my soul subside,
the storm is allayed, the conflagration is ex
tinguished, a still small voice breathes
through my spirit, and the spices diffuse
their precious odors in my garden. But if
the tempest should range in the firmament
of my animal soul; if it should thunder and
lighten in all directions; if conscience ac
cuse, the flesh be rebellious, my thoughts
reproach me, and the firery darts of the
wicked one be hurled through my spirit;
if I am troubled on every side yet not dis
tressed, perplexed but not in despair ; if lift
ed in the chariot of faith above the tumult
I hold fast by the glorious sufferings of my
Lord; if I save myself by the recollection
that He is the God, Yea and Amen, keeping
covenant with a thousand generations; and
if 1 lay up the weather-worn and shattered
bark of my mind in that haven of faith the
free grace of God, casting anchor under the
rocky shelter of the unchangeable promises
—then, yes, then Jehovah is my peace 1” —
Krummac.her.
Doing God’s Wii.i. —When prayer, love,
faith, watching, fasting, and all those other
exercises of virtue which are the proper or
naments and fair fruits of the soul, are join
ed with the communion of the Spirit, they
then send forth a rich and grateful odor,
like frankincense cast into the tire; and then
it becomes easy to walk uniform'y in the
will of God. But, without the Holy Spirit,
it is impossible for any one to comprehend
His will. And as a woman before she is
joined in marriage to a husband, lives ac
cording to her own mind, and follows her
own will; but, when both are made one, she
lives wholly under him as her head, and
ceases to behold all things with reference to
herself alone; in like manner the soul,
though has its own will, its own rules, and
its own actions, yet when it has been ac
counted worthy to be united to Christ, be
comes subjected to the rules of the Bride
groom, and no longer follows its own will,
bat only that ol Christ,
F. M. KENNEDY, D. I)., Editor
J. W. BURKE, Assistant Editor
A. G. HAYGOOI), D. D., Editorial Correspondent
WHOLE NUMBER 2067
MISCEIAAXKA.
—The London Missionary Society has this
vear fallen behind its collections nearly
S2O 000.
—The Tablet estimates the Catholic im
migration to New York during the past thir
ty years at 2 800,000.
—Twenty Baptist churches have been or
ganized among the Creek Indians. Nearly
all have Indian pastors.
—The London Hospital Sunday fund has
reached the sum of £26,300. The amount
received last year was about £I,OOO larger.
—John Wesley’s sermons, in the course of
his mini.-try, amounted to 40,560 ; Mr. White
field’s to 18 000, and Rowland’s Hill’s to
23 000.
—The new Methodist hymn hook, which
will be issued hy the M. E. Church, some
time within the.nextsix months, will contain
1,150 hymns. About one third of these are
new hymns,—the others selected from the
old book.
—We cannot walk in two ways at the same
time. We cannot follow our own will and
the will uf God. We must*choos3 the one
or the other. We must deny God’s will to
follow our own, or we must deny self and
self will to follow the will of God.
—A tourist in search of natural curiosities
in O leida county, coming to a small stream,
looked over his memorandum and a*ked a
Dutchman near hy if “this was Alder Creek?”
“Yaw,” was the reply, “dis vasall dercreek
vas I knows abuut yust round here.”
Havli is no w an open field for every kind
of Christian effort. The Department of
S ate has received from the United States
Minister to Haytia di.patch relative to reli
gious toleration there, which,
has been gradually becoming more and more
deeply rooted in its institutions during the
past few years.
—The University of Tubingen will cele
hrate this year the 400th anniversary ol its
existence. It was founded hy Count Eber
hard im Bart, now best known through Up
land’s poems. Uhland, who was a native of
Tubingen, also occupied a chair at the uni
versity. The University of Upaal will also
celebrate shortly its 4001 h anniversary.
—Among the speakers at the anniversary
of the Church Missionary Society in England
was Bishop Cro wther, of Africa, a man of
pure negro blood. He gave a hopeful ac
count of the progress and prospects of the
West African missions, and made a pleasing
impression. He is visiting E igland to raise
money with which to buy a steamer for use
in visiting the river stations ol his extensive
diocese.
—At the next triennial convention of the
Protestant Episcopal Church, soon to be
held, the subject of a change of the name of
the Church will come up for consideration.
The question has been submitted to the an
uual conventions, some of which have voted
for, and some against a change. The sub
stitutes proposed are “The American Branch
of the Church Catholic,” and “The Church
in America.”
—The Churchman of New York states
that “a zealous hand proposes to open (in
the triennial convention) the whole clothes
business, in all its length and breadth and
branches.” He asks: “What sort, of a col
li.r-t ehpnldV'* tra;.-’'-* to s!.--> *hr --in, ;> t
ot style and color, shape and texture, longi
tude and width of sleeves and skirt, of gown
and snrplice, cope, chasuble, and alb, to say
nothing of scarf and stole?” We cannot an
swer. Perhaps Herr Tuyfolsdroch could tell.
—What progress h ,ve I made in holiness
since I professed to be a Christian? I am
taught that sanctification is a progressive
work. I am taught that Christ’s kingdom
in tha individual sou! has a development.
How much more am 1 like Christ now than
I was years ago? How much better pre
pared am I now for heaven th-n then? A
pilgrim, during the year referred to, surely
should have made a perceptible advance to
ward his journey’s end. I know that I am
nearer the grave, but am I any nearer heav
en? Am I any better prepared for heaven!
Dr. Clark, Secretary of the American
Board, writes in the Observer that with the
exception of the Eaki Sag lira station in Bul
garia, and of Erzsronm, Bittes, and Van,
and their out-stations, the work had not been
influenced to any great extent. In Eastern
Turkey only the Northern part has been dis
turbed, while more interest than usual has
been manifested in other parts of all the mis
sions of the Board in Turkey. The Turkish
authorities have been very careful to do every
thing in their power to protect missionary
families, and have also warned the Moslem
population, through the mosques, to forbear
all violence and ill treatment tovard the
Christians.
—DeWitt Talmage says : “ One of the
greatest trials ot the newspaper profession is
that its members are compelled to see moie
of the shams of the world than any other
profession. Through every newspaper offi je,
day after day, go ah the weaknesses of the
world; ail the vanities that want to be
pulled; ail the revenges that want to be
to be tho ight eloquent; all the meanness
that wants to get its wares noticed gratis
in the editorial columns in order to
save the tax of the advertising columns ;
all the men who want to be set right who
were neverright; all the crack-brained philo
sophers with stories as long as their hair,
and as gloomy as thir finger-nails in mourn
ing because berifc of soap— all the bores who
come to stay five minutes but talk five hours
reaped ; all ihe mistakes that want to be
corrected ; all the dull speakers that want
Through the editorial and reportori .1 rooms,
all the follies and shams of the world are
seen day after day, and the temptation is to
believe in neither God, man nor woman. It
is no surprise to me that in this profession
ihere are some skeptical men; I only wonder
that journalists believe anything.”
—The Famine is Ixiha. —The editor of
the Madras Times, who is a member ot the
relief committee, writes under date of August
1. as follows: The population in Southern
India more or less afflicted by famine, num
bers 24 000 000. lu the most favorable cir
cums'ances at least one-sixth of the popula
tion will die. The (amine is immeasurably
geeater than was that in Bengal. Twenty-three
people, in all, died of starvation in Bengal.
In Madras, no camp of 3 000 rises morning
after morning without leaving thirty corpses.
In the interior the distress is most f earful.
One gnntleman passing down a valley in the
Wynaad district counted twenty-nine dead
bodies on the road. A coffee-planter, seek
ing shelter from the rain, in a hut, found six
decomposing corpses in it. On auy day, and
everyday, mothers may be seen in the streets
of Madras offering their children for sale,
while the foundling portion of the poor house
is full of infants found by the police on the
roads, deserted by their p'arents. Since the
famine commenced 500,000 people have died
of want and distress. Toe first big tragedy
may be expected in Mysore. In that prov
ince, indeed, information has reached me
from Bangalore of two cases of cannibalism
already,