Untitled article by MARY J. COTTERELL.

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Third-day, February 18, 1868

FromReview and Herald, Vol. XXXI, No. 10

WHY DON'T YOU WRITE?

By MARY J. COTTERELL.

Readers of the Review, why don't you write for its pages? You can write, and you ought to try to help make our paper one of interest. Why don't you? There are many whose names appear once in six months, once a year, or once in two years, who might write oftener; many who have never written for the Review who might, would they only make an effort, and add greatly to the interest of our paper. I have some five or six in mind now, and I could soon count up as many more, whose pens might be wielded with power. Don't say you have no talent for writing. If all the writers of the Review who think they have no talent, should lay aside their pens, I fear our paper would cease to be ours, and be almost a bundle of selections. Only now and then, would we find anything in regard to our Saviour's soon coming, and very little of the “meat in due season” would the eager ones find as they searched its pages, very little would it contain of the “line upon line, precept upon precept,” so needful to spur us up to diligence in the work of preparation to meet our Lord; and few and far between would be the words of cheer. Seldom would our drooping spirits be revived, as they now are, by the report of some refreshing from the divine presence; and an ingathering to the fold of Christ, of precious souls. Think what a change this no talent for writing would make in our paper if yielded to by all, as you are now yielding. If you could only write as well as Bro. A., or Sr. B., then you would write. Well, perhaps you might, like me, add your little mite; it may do some good, even though it is not of much importance. But there are many who have the talent, and still let it go unimproved. They have the power to illustrate, and set their ideas forth with a clearness of diction to be envied, and ability to combine depth of thought with beauty of expression. They have ideas of their own which might benefit the public, but they are silent, or nearly so. I cannot think that they are careless of the prosperity of the cause our paper advocates. Is it so?

No time to write? Is this the plea? It will not hold good, I fear. It is very seldom that there is not a way where there is a will. Whatever may be the excuse, let it have a faithful examination, before you adopt it as good.

We are sojourners in a strange land, journeying to our home, seeking our Father's house. There are dangers in the way, pitfalls, snares, and many slippery places, where great care is needful that we pass safely. And it is our duty to help each other as we pass along. Sometimes a word of cheer, sometimes one of warning. Between the rough and thorny places, there are smooth, even paths, leading through pleasant bowers, and amid beautiful flowers, and all along the way we meet pleasant, agreeable persons, whose tones, and honied words, are calculated to draw our minds from the journey on which we have started, and make us forget our Father's home. They speak only of the beauties around us, and of the pleasures they enjoy in these delightful bowers; and we are in great danger of pausing to listen to the enchanting music which is wafted on the air, and of sitting down to rest in these tempting places. Perhaps we wonder a little whether there is danger lurking here; it seems almost impossible, and we begin to pluck the flowers, and chant to those delicious strains. But words of warning come to us from some fellow-traveler, and we become aware that we are on dangerous ground; we find to our sorrow that there are thorns concealed beneath these bright flowers, and we fling them down, resolving not to be again allured from our journey, and breathing a prayer for help, start onward.

How grateful we should be for these words of warning. Had it not been for them we should perhaps have lost all desire for seeking that home which we only see by faith, and been lulled to sleep. The very air which floats around us is stupefying, and only by actively, and steadily moving forward can we resist its influence. Then let us give heed to the warnings which come to us, and be ever ready to gently warn others. Sometimes when we come to the rough and slippery places we get discouraged, and begin to think we may as well give up, that our strength is not sufficient, and looking at the difficulties in the way, we lose sight of the promised rest. Suffering our eyes to be thus drawn from the light ahead to contemplate only the roughness of the way, darkness soon closes around us, we forget the precious promises our gracious Father has given us, and with a sigh of despair we are just ready to sink down, when a cheering voice says, Take courage, weary, despondent one, a little longer urge thy way onward, only a little longer, and thou shalt reach the haven of eternal rest. Look upward and thou shalt receive more strength. Do thorns pierce thy feet? remember that thy Saviour's brow was torn and bleeding; bound about by a crown of thorns. And dost thou forget his sufferings? Another gentle voice whispers, The promise is sure. “I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee. Fear thou not; for I am with thee; be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.” Thus we are reminded that 'tis not in our own strength that we are to tread the rugged path. We take fresh courage, fix our eyes upon the light, by faith reach

forth and grasp our Father's outstretched hand, and clinging to this never-failing support, we are enabled to keep our footing. Are we not thankful for these words of cheer? They have inspired our hearts with fresh ardor, brought to mind the glorious hope we had lost sight of, and we again start onward with firmer resolutions, and more determined zeal.

Many of these faithful warnings, and kind words of cheer come to us through the columns of the Review. And shall we not give as well as receive? A bit of our experience may be of use to some one else. Come brother, sister, take your pen, and give our Editor “a variety to select from.”

MARY J. COTTERELL.

Orleans Co., N. Y.