HINDRANCES TO KEEPING THE SABBATH.
By J. Clarke
It seems that one is often tempted on sixth-day to undertake too much; or set out on some enterprise which seems, just then, unusually important; and when the enterprise is undertaken, some unaccountable hindrance is almost sure to make one just late enough to mar the Sabbath hours. Forgetfully I have perhaps sent on sixth-day morning by some friend, who was going that way, for an article, and it is very probable he would get back just late enough to deliver the article at my house about dark; and what could I do but receive it? I had sent for it, and he had politely brought it to my door. At another time, I, sternly determined to give Satan no vantage-ground, have so arranged my work, that I surely would begin the Sabbath at the hour. "Plenty of time," says the enemy, "and here is this little job to be done; this fence to be repaired," &c. The memory seems very prompt to remind one, as the sixth day is closing, of sundry little chores which had been forgotten, and which now seem of unusual importance. Again, after one has been thus thwarted time after time, there often arises a feeling of impatience, that after taking so much pains to be ready for the Sabbath, the enemy should have such power to hinder the work. Again, not only has the enemy thrown his ingenious, artful endeavors, to hinder me from hallowing the Sabbath, but often when tempted and tried as I have left my work and company, and set out for some lone spot where I could get strength by prayer, something occurred to mind on the way to be seen to, and ere I was aware my business had my whole attention; and I seemed hurried from one item of work to another, with such unusual concentration of mind, that my intention of prayer was, at that time, frustrated. So often and continued have such experiences occurred to me, that I have come to the conclusion that a wily enemy is upon the track of Sabbath-keepers, to hinder, to frustrate, to discourage; to cause stupidity, dullness, forgetfulness on spiritual things; and when it will suit the purpose of delusion, temporal affairs are made to assume a deceitful, alluring aspect, a vast importance, a weight, unreal and delusive. Multiform and varied are the plots of the enemy. To us, he magnifies the real faults of the brethren, and attempts the proof of supposed ones; surmises all possible evil, and makes them as hateful as he can to our fancies: at the same time the smiles, compliments, and good offices of unbelievers, are dressed up in rainbow hues. See, says the enemy, how sour, morbid, and melancholy, these brethren are, while the world do so much to please. Then, he, having caused the Christian to get as far as possible out of the way, discourages him—tells him he cannot be forgiven, and that he cannot overcome; makes him as downcast as possible, and gets him to fretting if he can, makes him appear sullen and unlovely, perhaps; then he hardens the heart of the worldling, saying, "Never fear, there is no God," or if there is, he does not notice you; take your comfort while you may; and so the worldling smiles on, and the passer-by says, "See how smiling and pleasant these worldlings are, while these Christians seem so gloomy;" and so Satan triumphs. The careless passer-by is deceived: the weeping saint finds the path to glory; while the gay, smiling worldling, goes down the tide to death.