p. 3 | The Sea-fog

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Jun 5, 1866

The Sea-fog.

Did you ever stand upon the shore and watch a heavy, white sea-fog rolling in from the ocean, hiding the water and filling the valleys with its smokelike clouds, while the sky was blue above, and the hill-tops clear and distinct above the mist?

It is a grand and beautiful sight, one of the ever-varying and glorious scenes which the dwellers by the sea enjoy. I remember such a sea-fog one beautiful day last autumn. We stood looking across a small bay to the opposite shore, which was high and rocky. At first we saw the water sparkling at our feet and dashing upon the sandy beach; but the fog rolled rapidly in, hiding the waves and the further shore, till only the houses on the summit of the hill were left to view, standing up in a white cloud against the blue sky, with the sunlight gleaming bright upon them. They reminded me of the pictures of the Celestial City in the Pilgrim's Progress, so beautiful and unearthly did they look. It seemed to me a beautiful emblem of the Christian's life on earth. The future here is hidden like the valley in the mist, while the heavenly mansions beyond are clear and distinct, and the sky above unclouded. We cannot see the path before us through the valley up to that home, but the home itself shines clearly visible above the mist in the sunlight of God's promise. And step by step, as we go onward, the path opens before us; the fog can never hide the one step which we ought to take next, nor the city where our journey is to end, however dark the path between may be. Only let us remember always to look up; for if we do not, we shall miss the glory and the joy of life, and see only the dim and dreary fog.—H. P. A. in Am. Messenger.

Marriage and the Sabbath.

VESTIGES of Eden are rare; yet two institutions have survived the wreck, and have come down to us, witnesses of that happy and perfect condition in which they originated. These are the marriage relation and the Sabbath. As the bunch of grapes from Eshcol was a visible testimony to Israel of the fertility of Canaan, so do these divine appointments remind us of the felicity of Paradise.

The marriage bond lies at the foundation of domestic happiness, is the source of home joys and pure affections, without which the world would be far more blank, and miserable, and wicked than it is. Paradise lingers with us in a measure in the sweet and sacred relations of the family.

The other memorial of Eden is the Sabbath—God's reservation to himself of a share of the time measured out to men by the celestial clock-work—the motions of those heavenly bodies which are for times, and for seasons, and for days, and for years. And while the hallowing of one day in seven was an assertion of God's right and authority, and a memorial of his creative work, it was, at the same time, a rich benefaction conferred upon mankind. With what surpassing loveliness must that first Sabbath have been invested. With what splendor must the sun have issued forth as a bridegroom from the chambers of the east, and how must the primeval earth have rejoiced in his radiance. The rivers and lakes reflect his gladdening beams; the bright-hued flowers open their petals; the birds make the groves echo with their sweet melodies; and the parents of our race, untainted by thought or breath of sin, bow down in loving adoration and glorify their beneficent Parent. No jar or discord mars the full harmony; no sound of strife or wailing; no groan, nor shriek, nor sob, nor curse, vexes the air, but one grand, thrilling, universal chorus of praise and love, ascends to the King eternal, immortal, invisible. And even now, what is so redolent of Paradise, as the calm, bright Sabbath morn, when nature has just put on her robes of vernal beauty, and we enjoy a bright respite from care and toil.—Sel.