Pointed Paragraphs

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Dec 22, 1863

Pointed Paragraphs.

WE may set it down as an axiom, that disrespect to others is incompatible with self-respect, and he who is indifferent with their feelings can have none but indifferent feelings of his own. The bitter word is not the strong word. The greatest vigor of thought or act is not violent; it breaks no law of courtesy. The lightning is silent and playful—it is the rent and wounded air that wails in thunder.

OBEDIENCE AND FAITH.—There are some who pretend to believe, but work not; there are others who work, but believe not; but a saint does both; he so obeys the law as if there were no gospel to be believed, and believes the gospel as if there were no law to be obeyed.

IF you want to love God, you must love your brother also, and that, too, even if you happen to know more than he does; or even if by some marvelous chance he should happen to know more than you do! Don't knock his lantern to atoms because it gives more or less light than yours.

THERE is a world of beautiful meaning in the following rather liberal translation from Freeville:

'As the clock strikes the hour, how often we say, Time flies; when 'tis we that are passing away.'

DANGEROUS PLEASURES.—I have sat upon the sea-shore and waited for its gradual approaches, and have

seen its dancing waves and white surf, and admired that he who measured it with his hand had given to it such life and motion; and I have lingered till its gentle waters grew into mighty billows, and had well-nigh swept me from my firmest footing. So have I seen a heedless youth gazing with a too curious spirit upon the sweet motions and gentle approaches of inviting pleasure, till it has detained his eye and imprisoned his feet, and swelled upon his soul, and swept him to a swift destruction.—Basil Montague.

THE ARAB'S PROOF.—Some years ago a Frenchman, who, like many of his countrymen, had won a high rank among men of science, yet who denied the God who is the author of all science, was crossing the great Sahara in company with an Arab guide. He noticed with a sneer, that at certain times his guide, whatever obstacles might arise, put them all aside, and kneeling on the burning sands, called on his God. Day after day passed, and still the Arab never failed, till at last one evening the philosopher, when he rose from his knees, asked him, with a contemptuous smile, “How do you know there is a God?” The guide fixed his burning eye on the scoffer for a moment in wonder, and then said, solemnly, “How do I know there is a God? How did I know that a man, and not a camel, passed my hut last night in the darkness? Was it not by the print of his foot in the sand? Even so,” and he pointed to the sun, whose last rays were flashing over the lonely desert, “THAT footprint is not that of man.”