Earlier text: HELPERSThe Spirit of David and the Spirit of Christ.
In the “Free Parliament,” in the first number of the Golden Age, stands an article from the pen of the editor, Theodore Tilton, entitled “The Two Religions.” It would perhaps be unfair to regard it as a formal confession of faith—or unbelief—made by the editor as he takes his seat in the chair of public instruction, but it is, at least, a significant index of the character which his journal will bear, and of the direction in which its influence will be thrown. The writer congratulates us on the steady amelioration of the moral and religious nature of man. He does not believe with Jean Ingelow in one of her recent poems, that “Still this green world grows worse, the longer that she rolls;” and in this we fully agree with him, but we do not accept his illustrations of the fact. He finds proof of this moral betterment in the contrast which he imagines he has discovered between the “wrathful imprecations of the Hebrew psalmist and the mild maxims of the sermon on the mount—between David and the ‘Son of David.’” He speaks of the imprecatory passage in the book of Psalms as “fiery maledictions, lighted as by a brand from hell,” and declares that the Christian principle of the forgiveness of enemies had not then been discovered in morals. He is willing to admit that the golden rule is of greater antiquity than Christ, and dates back five hundred years before the Christian era, to Confucius, but “it nowhere blossomed,” he avers, “on the thorny stem of the Hebraistic faith.” In farther illustration of their contradictory spirit, he contrasts the death of David with the death of Christ. David in his dying hour remembered two of his enemies, Joab and Shimei, and the spirit of revenge leaped up within him, “like the flame of an expiring candle.” Though “dying in his own palace, lying in a peaceful chamber, surrounded by affectionate weepers, he could not pass out of life in a spirit of charity to all mankind; but heating his heart once more to its old hates, he decreed against two powerless men the pitiless sentence that they should be brought down in hoary age to bloody graves; while on the other hand, the Sufferer of Calvary, hanging on a cross, crowned with thorns, accompanied with malefactors, surrounded with torturing persecutors, looking from his enemies to Heaven, exclaimed, ‘Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.’” Now, we admit a progressive revelation in morals as in truth. The rules of holy living are more fully revealed under the New Testament, even as we know more than Abraham, or David, or Daniel, knew of the character, the purposes, and the works, of God. The morality of the New Testament is more advanced than that of the Old, and the church is a purer and more spiritual body than she was before her Lord visited her on the earth. And as the mercy of God has been chiefly illustrated under the New Testament, so the grace of charity and forgiveness has attained a larger development in the breast of New Testament believers. The ages between the fall of man and the coming of man’s Saviour were mainly a dispensation of law, ruled by the idea of justice, and designed to prepare the world for the full revelation of mercy in the sacrificial death of Christ and the wide proclamation of the gospel. Thus the law was a school-master to bring the world to Christ. But to assert that the Christian idea of forgiveness was unknown to the Old Testament saints is to deny that God was then known to be a merciful God. The writer forgets the voice which Moses heard in Mount Sinai proclaiming the name of the Lord: “The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gracious, long-suffering and abundant in goodness and truth.” He forgets that the New Testament contains no more impressive exhibition of the fatherly character of God than David himself gives us in the 103d Psalm. “The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and plenteous in mercy. . . . He hath not dealt with us after our sins, nor rewarded us according to our iniquities. . . . Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him.” He forgets that the words of Christ, “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself,” are a quotation from one of the earliest books of the Old Testament (Lev. 19:18, 34), and that the command, “Be ye holy, for I, the Lord your God, am holy,” lifted the Jewish as well as the Christian conscience up not only toward the justice, but toward the clemency, of God. Lev. 19:2. He forgets that it is the New Testament which declares in words whose severity no Hebrew prophet surpassed, “Our God is a consuming fire;” “It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God;” and that David uttered no maledictions more terrible than the words of Jesus: “Ye serpents, ye generation of vipers, how can ye escape the damnation of hell?” Perhaps he means to forestall this argument123when he says that not Christ himself was “a Christian, as he meant a Christian to be. He made the standard so high that his own excellence could not reach to the height of it;” and fortifies this declaration by the Saviour’s words: “Why callest thou me good? There is none good but one, that is, God.” His shallow study of the words does not enable him to see that the divine Teacher there addresses one who does not believe in him as God, but who imagines that human teachers can point out, and human hands can accomplish such good deeds as would merit eternal life. The Saviour answers him on the basis of his own assumption as to the mere humanity of Jesus, and with a word which denies the possibility of absolute goodness to any but God, but which neither asserts nor denies his own goodness or his own divinity. His answer does declare, however, that pure goodness is to be ascribed to none but God, and it lends a weighty significance to his other words: “I am the Good Shepherd.” The writer thus expressly denies the moral perfection and, therefore, the divinity of Jesus, and the inspiration of the book of Psalms. Of a very large portion of this book he declares that it is “lighted as with a brand from hell;” not by the Spirit which sat in flaming splendor on the heads of the disciples at Pentecost. It breathes the malice of an unforgiving, human heart; not the grace of a merciful God. And this sweeping conclusion is based on the most superficial view of the passages in question. It is characteristic of nearly all rationalistic criticism that it treats the Scriptures with a haste and shallowness born of its preconceived contempt for them. Compare Renan and Strauss, for painstaking, and thorough investigation with Stier and Hengstenberg, and Tholuck and Alfred! Two knights met at a point where a monumental shield had been set up in commemoration of some former victory. Halting at a proper distance from each other, allusion was made by one to the brazen shield, which was corrected by the other, who saw it to be a shield of iron. When the difference had grown into a dispute, and the dispute had provoked a challenge, and the two knights lay unhorsed and wounded at the foot of the monument, they discovered that the shield was of brass on one side and of iron on the other. With equal rashness the rationalist looks on the Psalms of David and the sermon on the mount, and says, “They contradict each other.” A closer and more sober view perceives that there is an element of justice in the divine character as well as an element of love; that God is a father, and also a judge, and that these aspects of his character, though different, are not contradictory. The one predominates in the Old Testament, the other in the New, but neither to the exclusion of the other. David was a king, a magistrate. In this office he was set to maintain law, to dispense justice, to detect, arraign, and punish, the guilty. Was it wrong for him to pray for success in this work? Yet his success involved the punishment, even by death, of the incorrigible enemies of society. He was the leader of the armies of Israel. Might he not pray for success in battle? Yet victory means death and bereavement to multitudes. These words of David speak of no private quarrel. They breathe no personal hatred. They plead for the cause of Israel and of God, against its violent and implacable assailants. Thus these words pass over into the lips of Christ, earth’s present Ruler, of whom David was a type and who illustrates these prayers by his punishment of sin in men and nations. The spirit of David and the Spirit of Christ are identical. These are the words of Christ. He used these psalms in his devotions. His apostles declare that the Holy Ghost spoke before, in these imprecations, concerning Judas. Acts 1:16–20. Whoever is unable to reconcile these utterances with the sermon on the mount should first eliminate such facts as the recent humiliation of France or the overthrow of American slavery from the same Redeemer’s government of the world. “But why pray against the innocent and helpless wives and children of transgressors? Why say, ‘Let his wife be a widow and his children fatherless?’” There are ever some who speak too lightly and flippantly of God’s judgments, who forget how terrible and how far-reaching are their effects. In these words the Spirit of God instructs us that, under the existing structure of society, judgment on the fathers involves the suffering of their households. The punishment of national sins involves the misery of unborn generations. Not as an intemperate utterance of malice, but in the interest of mercy and compassion, these words are placed in the psalm. They are designed to remind us how fearful are the judgments for which we are warranted to pray, and to act as a restraint on the light and heedless invocation of judicial dispensations. “Let there be none to extend mercy unto him, neither let there be any to favor his fatherless children.” These words do not mean, “Let his children famish for lack of bread which no man will give,” but “let there be none to favor them for their father’s sake or for the sake of the cause in which their fathers perished.” The citizen who does not desire the time when the children of Jefferson Davis and Robt. E. Lee will be ashamed to tell their ancestry, is not loyal to his country. Mr. Tilton desires it as fervently as any one, and shares to the full the spirit of the psalm which he maligns. The State of Pennsylvania has gathered 5,053 soldiers’ orphans into homes and schools which she has provided for them. The expenses of these schools last year were 514,000 dollars. These children are not actually more needy than thousands of others in our State, but we show them favor for the sake of the cause in which their fathers died. We do not care thus for children orphaned in the cause of the rebellion, and no Southern State would be allowed to tax its citizens to show special favor to these representatives of a lost cause. Yet that is not inconsistent with a charity which would gladly gather these and all other orphans into homes established either by private munificence or public bounty. As to Joab and Shimei, they had been guilty of the highest crimes against God and society. Justice, not personal revenge, had ever since demanded their punishment, but David lacked the moral courage, or was scarcely secure enough in his royal seat, to inflict it. “I am weak though anointed king, and these sons of Zeruiah be too hard for me. The Lord shall reward the doer of evil according to his wickedness.” Yet David remembered that there was a God who “makes inquisition for blood,” and who holds “the land” guilty for blood, shed and unavenged. He knew there was guilt on his throne and his kingdom for the unpunished crimes of these men, and that though vengeance might slumber till he was gone, it would not sleep forever. For the safety of Solomon’s throne, and because Solomon, coming to the kingdom under happier auspices, was well able to do that from which he had shrunk, he charged him not to evade this righteous responsibility. No gleam of personal bitterness lights up these solemn passages. They recognize a plain and most certain principle of the divine government, a principle which is in full force and receives abundant illustration at the present day. The presumptuous spirit which condemns the Bible so bitterly on such superficial study of its meaning, deserves to be rebuked by every painstaking scholar, and by every lover of thoroughness and honesty, as mental as well as moral obliquity.—Christian Statesman. Moderate Drinking.
By Sol.
Permit me to illustrate my views of moderate drinking, by relating substantially a thrilling scene which occurred in a neighboring town in a neighboring State, while the people were gathered together to discuss the merits of the license question, and decide informally whether neighbors should any longer be permitted to destroy each other by vending alcoholic poisons. The town had suffered greatly from the sale and use of intoxicating liquors. The leading influences were opposed to total abstinence. At the meeting, the clergyman, a deacon, and the physician, were present, and were all in favor of continuing the custom of license—all in favor of permitting a few men of high moral character to sell alcohol—for they all agreed that alcohol in moderation, when used as a beverage, was a good creature of God, and also to restrict the sale or moderate use, was an unjust interference with human liberty, and a reflection upon the benevolence of the Almighty. They all united in the belief that in the use of alcohol as a beverage, excess alone was to be avoided. The feeling appeared to be all one way, when a single teetotaler, who was present by accident, but who had been a former resident of the town, begged leave to differ from the speakers who had preceded him. He entered into a history of the village from its earliest settlement; he called the attention of the assembly to the desolation moderate drinking had brought upon families and individuals; he pointed to the poor-house, the prison-house, and the grave-yard, for its numerous victims; he urged the people by every consideration of mercy, to let down the flood gates, and prevent, as far as possible, the continued desolation of families, by the moderate use of alcohol. But all would not do. The arguments of the clergyman, the deacon, and the physician, backed by station, learning, and influence, were too much for the single teetotaler. No one arose to continue the discussion or support him, and the president of the meeting was about to put the question when all at once there arose from one corner of the room a miserable female. She was thinly clad, and her appearance indicated the utmost wretchedness, and that her moral career was almost closed. After a moment of silence, and all eyes being fixed upon her, she stretched her attenuated body to its utmost height, then her long arms to their greatest length, and raising her voice to a shrill pitch, she called upon all to look upon her. “Yes!” she said, “look upon me, and then hear me. All that the last speaker has said relative to moderate drinking, as being the father of drunkenness, is true. All practice, all experience, declare its truth. All drinking of alcoholic poison, as a beverage, in health, is excess. Look upon me. You all know me, or once did. You all know that I was once the mistress of the best farm in this town. You all know, too, I once had one of the best—the most devoted, of husbands. You all know I had five noble-hearted, industrious boys. Where are they now? Doctor, where are they now? You all know. You all know they all lay in a row, side by side, in yonder church-yard; all—every one of them—filling the drunkard’s grave! They were all taught that moderate drinking was safe—excess alone ought to be avoided; and they never acknowledged excess. They quoted you, and you, and you, as authority, pointing with her shred of a finger to the priest, deacon, and doctor. They thought themselves safe under such teachers. But I saw the gradual change coming over my family and prospects, with dismay and horror; I felt we were all to be overwhelmed in one common ruin; I tried to ward off the blow; I tried to break the spell—the delusive spell, in which the idea of the benefits of moderate drinking had involved my husband and sons; I begged, I prayed, but the odds were greatly against me. The priest said the poison that was destroying my husband and boys was a good creature of God; the deacon, who sits under the pulpit there, and took our farm to pay his rum bills, sold them the poison; the physician said that a little was good, and excess ought to be avoided. My poor husband and my dear boys fell into the snare, and one after another was conveyed to the dishonored grave of the drunkard. Now look at me again—you probably see me for the last time—my sand is almost run. I have dragged my exhausted frame from my present abode—your poor-house—to warn you all—to warn you, deacon—to warn you, false teacher of God’s word”—and with her arms high flung, and her tall form stretched to its utmost, and her voice raised to an unearthly pitch, she exclaimed, “I shall soon stand before the judgment-seat of God—I shall meet you there, ye false guides, and be a swift witness against you all.” The miserable female vanished, a dead silence pervaded the assembly. The priest, deacon, and physician, hung their heads. The president of the meeting put the question: Shall we have any more licenses to sell alcoholic poisons, to be drunk as a beverage? The response was unanimous—No! Friends of humanity everywhere, what would have been your verdict had you been there?—Sol. The Ark of the Testimony.
By Enoch Pond
The following is the concluding portion of an article by Enoch Pond, D. D., published in the N. Y. Observer of Feb. 22, 1871:— Without dwelling longer on the exegetical part of this subject, I proceed to deduce from it some important truths. In the first place, by means of the ark of the testimony—with its appendages, contents, and place of deposit—God is teaching us, and impressing upon us, the high regard which he has for his law. In illustration of this, let me call attention, for a moment, to the structure of the ancient temple and the place of deposit for the ark. The temple, with its several courts, was surrounded with a high wall 750 feet square, including more than 12 acres. Immediately within this exterior wall was what was called the court of the Gentiles. Passing through this, you come to another wall, inclosing the outer court of the temple. Passing through this and the outer court, you come to the inner court of the temple. Passing through this and the inner court, you come to the gate of the temple itself. Passing through this, you first enter what was called the sanctuary. Here stood the great altar of burnt-offering surrounded by the priests engaged in presenting the sacrifices of the people. Passing through this apartment, you next enter the holy place. Here stood the candlestick, the table of show bread, and the altar of incense, on which was offered the morning and evening sacrifice. Passing through this, you next entered the most holy place. In the temple, this was a spacious room, 30 feet square, and overlaid with pure gold. It was situated in the deepest recess of the temple and protected by its sacred, successive inclosures. It was open to none except the high priest, and to him only once in a year. And what did this splendid, awful apartment contain? Not an individual thing, except the ark of the testimony and the cherubim covering it. And what did the ark of the testimony contain? Nothing originally, except the tables of stone, on which was inscribed the moral law. And now, in this wonderful, awful structure—this vast institution—what a high regard did God manifest for his holy law! How could he have manifested for it a higher regard, or put upon it a greater honor? He laid it down—where it still lies—at the foundation of the whole scheme of mercy. He laid it down in the most sacred recess of the temple and at the foundation of the entire service of his church. Here rested the tables of the law, covered and protected by the wings of mighty cherubim. Here they rested, overshadowed by a visible manifestation of the divine presence and glory, to be approached by no foot but that of the high priest, and by him only once in a year. How could the great Sovereign of the world have said in more intelligible language, “This law is holy and must be maintained. It has been transgressed, but it shall not be dishonored. No scheme of mercy can ever be tolerated which brings the least stain upon the law. Till heaven and earth pass, one jot or one tittle shall in nowise pass from the law till all be fulfilled.” In the ark and its accompaniments, God sets before us not only the honors of his law, but that, in some way, there is mercy for those who have transgressed it. Over the ark there was laid a mercy-seat, and here God was graciously pleased to dwell and to hold communion with his people. Both in the tabernacle and temple, the mercy-seat was the place where the tokens of the divine presence were specially visible; where rested the glorious Shechinah—the pillar of cloud and of fire. Here, too, was the place where God promised to meet his people and hold communion with them. “I will appear in the cloud upon the mercy-seat. There will I meet thee, and there will I hold communion with thee.” To the ancient believers, all this was full of precious, glorious meaning. They saw in it that, in some way, “mercy and truth had met together;” that “righteousness and peace had embraced each other.” They saw in it that a holy and righteous God could yet be merciful; that, in some way, he could be just to himself and his law, and yet justify the penitent, returning transgressor. Nor did the ark, and the services connected with it, leave the ancient worshiper altogether in ignorance as to the method of justification. Once every year, on the great day of atonement, he saw the high priest, attired in his sacred vestments, venture into the holy of holies, to sprinkle the mercy-seat with blood, and to burn incense before it. By this awful service, the priest was instructed to propitiate the God of Heaven and make an atonement for the people. In these symbolical transactions, the believing Israelite saw much of the method of salvation. By these typical atonements, made by the blood of bulls and goats, he looked forward to a greater atonement, consisting in a richer sacrifice, and more precious blood. We learn farther, from the ark and its appendages, the deep and abiding interest which celestial beings feel in the wonderful work of man's redemption. Cherubim were erected on either side of the mercy-seat and extended their wings over it. More lofty cherubim were erected in the most holy place in the temple, under the shadow of whose wings the whole ark was deposited. And, besides these, we are told that Solomon carved the entire wall of this most sacred apartment “round about with carved figures of cherubim.” The faces of all these figures were turned inward on the ark, in a posture of the deepest and most devout attention—that indicating that the ark, with its appendages and contents, furnished matter of the profoundest interest and wonder to the cherubim world. Celestial beings here saw that which they loved and obeyed carefully deposited in the most holy place, and honored with tokens of the highest regard. They knew that this law had been dreadfully violated on the earth, and had reason to expect that its fearful penalty was about to be executed. But, instead of this, they saw the ark covered with a mercy-seat, and saw the Holy One of Israel descend and take up his abode there. They saw him holding communion with apostate creatures and dispensing pardons to guilty men. They saw the curse of the violated law removed and yet its authority sustained and strengthened. They saw it pass away as a foundation of hope for sinners, and yet remain in full force and effect as a rule of life. They saw, in short, that a just God could consistently save the guilty; and not only so, but he was sincerely disposed to do it. They heard him crying from the mercy-seat: “Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters; and he that hath no money, come ye, buy wine and milk, without money and without price;” “Look unto me, and be ye saved, all ye ends of the earth.” Now these things, we have reason to know, are matter of delight and wonder to the celestial world: “Into which things the angels desire to look;” and redeemed souls cannot be less engrossed with them than they. With intense interest they cluster around the mysterious ark. They bend over it, they fasten their eyes upon it in a posture of the most devout attention. They are never wearied or satisfied with this blessed employment. Their mighty energies are engrossed and their eternity occupied in searching into the wonders and pouring forth the praises of redeeming love. Oh, that Christians in this world might imbibe more of their fervor, and more closely imitate, in this respect, their example! Church and State in New York.
The new tax levy bill now before the legislature, was passed to a third reading in the Senate last evening. Senator Kennedy proposed as an amendment an additional section, providing: “That neither the Mayor and Commonalty of New York, nor the Board of Supervisors, nor the Board of Apportionment provided for in the bill, should appropriate any of the public money, or any property or credit of the city or county, to any private or sectarian school, or to any institution under the control of any religious denomination.”
This was opposed by Mr. Tweed as “unnecessary,” the legislature having struck out last year from the tax levy an appropriation for sectarian schools. It was plain, however, that the striking out of the appropriation when the legislature made the levy could not control the action of the Board of Apportionment created by the bill now pending; and Mr. Kennedy made this answer to him at once. But the majority of the Senate had determined not to deprive the New York ring of the power to use men's religious beliefs and passions for their own political ends; and the amendment was rejected, every Republican senator voting for it, and every Democrat against it. Are our future elections to turn upon questions of religious faith? If the whole community is to be taxed to instruct children in a particular creed, what becomes of our religious liberty? The moment this is done, the freedom of belief and of speech, which are the elementary principles of free government, disappears; and the church which can, by political unanimity and intrigue, secure office for its agents, becomes practically the established church of the community. Elections become dangerous by invoking the strongest passions and imperiling the clearest interests of men; and the conflict of religious opinions is degraded into a struggle for official power and favor.—Evening Post. Thank God for His Mercies
In all your prayers forget not to thank God for his mercies. PAUL says that Christians are made a spectacle unto the world, to angels, and to men; 1 Cor. 4: 9; but one branch of the popular church seems to be making itself a very ridiculous spectacle to skeptics and unbelievers generally. It seems that the question has been sprung among Episcopalians, whether it is right for preachers to use their tobacco pipes during Lent! “Forgetting,” says the Tribune, “to raise the more important question whether it is right to use pipes at all, or not.” And this question threatens to provoke a long and angry discussion; in reference to which the Tribune adds: “It is because we heartily wish the differences of the Protestant Episcopal (or ‘Catholic’) Church well adjusted; it is because we are weary of controversy about minor matters of mere ceremonial, that we deplore the introduction of a new element of debate. We believe that the ‘Episcopal’ Church, especially with the greater attention which it is recently paying to good works, might be a most useful and beneficial organization; and it is not, therefore, with much satisfaction that we open from week to week the newspapers calling themselves, or called by others, ‘Episcopalian,’ only to find endless disputes about rubrics, and genuflexions, and triune immersions, and vestments de omnibus rebus, until we have actually got down to tobacco pipes. If these things go on, there must be schism, and that at no distant day.”
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By John Nevins Andrews
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By Geo. F. Butler
This quotation occurs in Micah 6:8. The whole passage reads as follows: “He hath showed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?” Perhaps there is no place in Scripture where the great principles of man’s duty to his Creator are more beautifully summed up. These principles are contrasted in the connection with sacrifices and other outward services of religion, and God’s decided preference shown for them. It seems from several Scriptures that the forms and services connected with God’s worship, are valuable when found in connection with justice and mercy, and valueless when not. How many deceive themselves here. “What doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly?” Justice, Mr. Webster defines, “Rendering or disposed to render to each one his due, conforming or conformable to rectitude, not doing wrong to any, violating no right or obligation, equitable, upright, honest, true.” Justice lies at the very foundation of religion. It is the first step. Indeed, a profession of the service of God, that will not cause one to cease from wronging his fellow-men is not only of no benefit, but a positive injury to all concerned. It will result in deception to the individual, and bring a reproach upon the cause of truth. God requires us to do justly; that is, in all our deal and intercourse with our fellow-men to do that which is equitable and honest. Religion, by which I mean that full service of our Creator that will be in accordance with his will, requires this. God will not accept less. We can never have his favor without this, and consequently can never receive that reward to be given to those who do well. Eternal life with all its consequences hangs upon our doing justly. God would have us see to it that we form a character that will abominate all wrong to our fellow-men. He would have us regard their rights every way equal to our own. “Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you do ye even so to them,” says the Saviour. That is but strict justice. To those who form such a character, God will intrust eternal life, never-ending happiness. At least he requires us to see to it that we form such a character. Who, then, is principally interested in the matter? I claim that we as individuals are the ones to attend to it. A great stake is pending upon125the result—eternal life or the loss of it. It becomes us then to watch ourselves closely. It matters not what may be the exigencies of the moment, the customs of worldlings, whether others are beholding us or will ever find it out, or our brethren will think well of us, as sure as there is a living God, he will “bring every work into judgment with every secret thing, whether it be good or whether it be evil.” The character we really form will be placed where it belongs, among the good or among the bad. What is the present life in comparison to the future? A mere cipher to eternity. A man, then, is a fool who will jeopardize that life for any temporary advantage of a pecuniary nature. I conscientiously believe this is the true ground upon which this matter should be placed. We ourselves are the ones principally interested in being strictly just. God requires it. We far better lose everything we trade with our fellow-man, than to knowingly take a single cent without giving a fair equivalent. The first is a mere temporary loss; the latter would show a character inconsistent with the principle we are considering, and unless repented of might involve us in eternal ruin. Which would we prefer, the place of the rich man or Lazarus, in the future state? The question would be easily answered. If I were to ask which we would prefer in this life, it might be more difficult; and yet they have an intimate connection. Doing justly requires us to give a fair equivalent in buying, and to receive but that in selling, so far of course as we can ascertain what that would be. And if we are at a loss to know, we better err on the safe side. I have indicated above which that is; and doing “justly” looks toward the past, as well as to the present and future. What a beautiful character is that of Zaccheus! Luke 19. He said to the Lord, “If I have taken anything from any man by false accusation, I restore him fourfold.” Jesus said, “This day is salvation come to this house.” What shall we think of a person’s love for justice who knows he has taken wrongfully in trade a certain sum, and refuses to give back even the principal when he professes to have repented? selfishly retaining that which he has no just claim to? keeping for his own use that which belongs to another? Will it not burn his flesh as it were fire when God shall rise up in judgment? A person’s repentance is not worth a straw when he retains the avails of his sins knowingly. It is no repentance. God requires us “to do justly.” We often hear people speak of good trades they have made. And what is a good trade as understood in the common language of the day? A and B have each an article of property. A is a shrewd man with good judgment. He knows the value of property at a glance. Not so with B. They exchange. B’s property passes into A’s hands at twenty dollars say less than it is really worth. A knows this, pockets the sum, and chuckles over it, and tells his neighbors what a good trade he has made. In plain language he has taken twenty dollars from B without giving him any equivalent for it because of his superior judgment. It seems to me like putting one’s better judgment to a very bad use. Will not such “good trades” in the day of the Lord appear to be the most foolish transactions in which a person can engage? Will the God that requires us to “do justly” overlook such transactions as these? In the above transaction I have not supposed any misrepresentation. We all know the wrong is often intensified by that. There would be far less traffic were these principles acted upon. The spirit of traffic almost necessarily leads one to injustice in deal. Human nature is so selfish it can scarcely bear to be subjected to such constant temptation as a mercantile life involves. The grace of God may be sufficient for this, as well as other things; but I am satisfied the cases are rare where men keep themselves from becoming grasping and selfish in that vocation. Making exorbitant profits is another direction in which men fail to “do justly.” Men go into patent rights where they hope to have an exclusive control of a certain article. What use do they make of this control? Place such a high price upon it that they hope to get rich very quickly by the proceeds. I doubt if the principle at the bottom of this is sound. Many would go into this who do not, were not the whole business overdone till there is no great prospect of money-making in it. Some of our brethren, as the saying is, have “got bit” in this business. I believe the frown of God is upon the principle at the bottom of it, the desire to get rich quickly out of the wants of others simply because we have the power to do so. Taking advantage of the necessities of others, to bring them down to the lowest possible limit, is a flagrant violation of this principle often seen. God abhors it. The relation of employer and employee gives occasion for many violations of justice. On the one hand, the duty is plain to give a fair market price for the labor we employ, and on the other, to give the employer that which he has purchased; viz., the labor stipulated to be given. A person who will fool away his time or take it easy because the employer’s eye is not on him, is no better than one who takes money from his employer’s pocket. These principles might be carried out in many directions; but this article is already sufficiently long. We should love justice for its own sake, always realizing that every unjust act leaves its stain upon the character, as well as its record in the book of God’s remembrance. Our sins will find us out, and if unrepented of, sink us to eternal ruin. May God help us to “do justly!”
GEO. F. BUTLER. Woodburn, Iowa, March 22, 1871. Thoughts on Daniel.
By Editor
BRO. WHITE having a large amount of important matters on hand pertaining to the interests of the general work, wishes us to devote to his assistance a portion of the time now spent on the REVIEW. These matters demanding immediate attention, the articles on Daniel will be suspended for a few weeks.