Review and Herald, Vol. 26, No. 15. (9/12/1865)

Review and Herald

Sep 12, 1865

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Sep 12, 1865

What the Scriptures Say Concerning Property.

REV. W. T. HILL, of New York East Methodist Conference, caused to be prepared and circulated in his congregation the following instruction, just prior to making his annual collection for the cause of missions.

WHAT THE SCRIPTURES SAY CONCERNING PROPERTY.

To whom does it belong?

The silver is mine and the gold is mine, saith the Lord of Hosts. Hag. ii, 8.

If property is placed in my hands by the providence of God, is it not then my own, to be used as I please?

The kingdom of heaven is as a man traveling into a far country, who called his servants, and delivered unto them his goods. Matt. xxv, 14.

And said unto them, Occupy until I come. Luke xix, 13.

Is it lawful to possess much property?

The Lord maketh poor and maketh rich. 1 Sam. ii, 7.

Blessed is the man that feareth the Lord, wealth and riches shall be in his house. Ps. cxii, 1–13.

What are its advantages?

I know that there is no good in them, but for a man to rejoice and do good in his life. Eccl. iii, 12.

It is more blessed to give than to receive. Acts xx, 35.

His Lord said unto him, Well done, good and faithful servant; thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things; enter thou into the joy of thy Lord. Matt. xxv, 23.

Many that were rich cast in much. Mark xii, 41.

What are the evils attending the pursuit and possession of property?

Behold, all was vanity and vexation of spirit, and there was no profit. Eccl. ii, 11.

He that loveth silver shall not be satisfied with silver; neither he that loveth abundance with increase. Eccl. v, 10, 11.

They that will be rich fall into temptation and a snare, and into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men in destruction and perdition. For the love of money is the root of all evil; which, while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows. 1 Tim. vi, 9, 10.

He that is greedy of gain troubleth his own house. Prov. xv, 27.

Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth. Matt. vi, 19.

How are we to employ what God intrusts to us?

Honor the Lord with thy substance. Prov. iii, 9.

Charge them that are rich in this world, that they do good, that they be rich in good works, ready to distribute, willing to communicate, laying up in store for themselves a good foundation against the time to come, that they may lay hold on eternal life. 1 Tim. vi, 17, 19.

Is giving, a means of grace?

As ye abound in every thing, in faith, in utterance, and knowledge, and in all diligence, and in your love to us, see that ye abound in this grace also. 2 Cor. viii, 7.

Should the poor use this means?

And there came a certain poor widow, and she threw in two mites, which make a farthing. And he saith unto them, This poor widow hath cast more in than all they which have cast into the treasury. For all they did cast in of their abundance, but she of her want did cast in all she had, even all her living. Mark xii, 42, 44.

Their deep poverty abounded unto the riches of their liberality. For to their power I bear record, yea, and beyond their power, they were willing of themselves. 2 Cor. viii, 2, 3.

Every man shall give as he is able. Deut. xvi, 17.

What is the effect of giving on the prosperity of the giver?

Honor the Lord with thy substance and with the first fruits of all thy increase; so shall thy barns be filled with plenty, and thy presses shall burst out with new wine. Prov. iii, 9, 10.

There is that scattereth and yet increaseth; and there is that withholdeth more than is meet, and it tendeth to poverty. The liberal soul shall be made fat, and he that watereth shall be watered also himself. Prov. xi, 24, 25.

Give, and it shall be given unto you; good measure, pressed down, and shaken together, and running over, shall men (angels) give into your bosom. Luke vi, 38.

He that giveth to the poor shall not lack; but he that hideth his eyes shall have many a curse. Prov. xxviii, 27.

He that hath pity on the poor lendeth to the Lord, and that which he hath given will he repay him. Prov. xix, 17.

Should we regulate His benefactions by a system?

Upon the first day of the week let every one of you lay by him in store, as God hath prospered him, that there be no gatherings when I come. 1 Cor. xvi, 2.

Every man according to his ability. Acts xi, 29.

Of all that thou shalt give me, I will surely give the tenth unto thee. Gen. xxviii, 22.

Bring ye all the tithes (tenths) into the store-house, that there may be meat in my house, and prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of Hosts, if I will not open the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing that there will not be room enough to receive it.—Missionary Methodist Advocate.

Misshapen Christians.

By Cuyler

MR. THEODORE PARKER declared of a great revival in Boston, that a score of such excitements would never close a dram-shop, or liberate a slave. Mr. Parker saw through jaundiced eyes; and yet he caught the shadow of a truth. What was it? Not that Christians have no religion, but that their religion needs to be better distributed over the character. It does not fit them. There is cloth enough, perhaps, in the garment; but here it draws and pinches, and there it bulges out too far to even touch the wearer.

We have in mind, for example, a good brother, who, in some things, is a model. He is orthodox as the Catechism. He is generous in giving. He loves prayer and prayer-meetings; but he has a temper like a bombshell! We have heard it explode in the parlor, and at the dinner-table, to our utter consternation. We remember also a Christian woman, whose good works were carried on night and day at a high pressure. There was hardly a ragged boy in the neighborhood who had not been clothed by her busy fingers. No box went out to any home-missionary personage without its generous contribution from her needle. But her self-will was simply a nuisance to her husband and her friends. Conceited, sour, censorious, squeamish—she seemed to feel that anybody so efficient could afford to be unlovely. What if a machine-shop is a perfect Babel of harsh noises, and a den of ugly Vulcans, all begrimed with oil and dust—provided the establishment turns out good work? She considered herself a sort of spiritual machine-shop.

Now, why do Christians make this sorry figure of mingled beauty and deformity, like statues finished half by a sculptor, and half by a stone-mason; or trees loaded with foliage and fruit on the one side, and gnarled and blasted on the other? If we only were creatures of a normal growth and development, doubtless either good or evil would wholly pervade us. There would be no mixture. When angels ceased to be angels, they became devils. A healthy, vigorous body digests a poison, and sends it with quick pulsations through the arteries, to envenom every limb. A diseased, enfeebled circulation leaves it in the stomach, to gangrene and inflame. So too with the mind. Some men have a logical straight-forwardness that

darts right on from the premises to its conclusion. Their chain of reasoning flashes, like chain-lightning, in an instant through its length. They can hardly imbibe an error without becoming all error. But many a good soul, short-sighted, logically and self-contradictory, will hold a truth and a deadly heresy, lying snugly side by side—the peacefulest bedfellows in the world. "If it were not for the blessed inconsistencies in the logic of our Arminian brethren," Dr. Taylor, of New Haven, used to say, "we should have to give them up as sheer infidels."

But what is the remedy for all the distortion in Christian lives? "More religion," many reply. But more religion, merely, will never answer. The fact is that genuine piety, true love to God, may go on increasing, and yet hardly touch these strange self-contradictions. The Baptist Watchman and Reflector declared, just after the great revivals of 1857, that there were, at that time, more dissensions and bickerings in their churches, than almost ever before. And, worse than that, this mischief was brewing in the very churches which had largely shared in the great awakening. And, worse than that, the ferment began, often, in the very midst of the revival itself! Probably churches of every sect might make the same confession.

Look South for another example. Say what you will, and however truly, of the spuriousness of pro-slavery religion, no candid man will deny that they have genuine churches in the rebel States, and that some of those churches have enjoyed genuine seasons of special grace. But with what effect on the hideous iniquities of slavery? Take that whole Southern horizon, in imagination, into one view; and you have a grand vision, grotesque and horrible—hymn-books and whips, hallelujahs and screams, prayer-meetings and auctions for "niggers," young converts going into the church, and long coffles going into the slave-pen.

The difficulty in all the instances we have cited is not chiefly the want of religion. It is the want of a special application and enforcement of religion on the special sin of the church or individual. We have gone on the false assumption that religion, once received, would apply itself. We have expected that, in its liquid flow, it would diffuse itself through all the channels of the soul; as it would in any warm, generous nature uncursed by depravity. We have forgotten that the coldness of a sinner's nature chills the stream to a sluggish current, that stops while half the channels yet are dry.

The good brother we mentioned, with the explosive temper, apparently never thought of bringing his religion to bear on that infirmity. The redoubtable sister, with her bustling charities and her ugly will, asked God for everything but the ornament of a meek and quiet spirit. The churches, in the great revival, were more anxious to save souls than to temper their zeal with love. Southern Christians trained the guns of their rebuke upon every unpopular sin, shooting clear of the hydra-heads of slavery. Here, too, belonged the shallow sophisms of the New York American Tract Society, that Christianity, carried to the South, would somehow apply itself to slavery, without any unpleasant necessity of running the risk of tar and feathers, or a "hempen necklace," by any more special allusion to that disagreeable subject.

Now there are disciples who, it may be with no more sincerity or self-denial than the one-sided Christians we have alluded to, have a rounded and admirable beauty of character. Take them in any state of fortune or misfortune, turn them upside down and over and over with agitations and calamities; and somehow, like a kaleidoscope, they will come up as orderly and beautiful as ever! The reason is plain. They carry their religion around the whole scope of their character, bringing the whole equally under its power. They "grow up into Him in all things which is the Head, even Christ." . . .

A few years since, a good deacon in a town in Massachusetts offered a tract to a mechanic whom he found strolling about on the Sabbath. The man turned it over, noticed the imprint of the same society to which we have already alluded, and flung it behind him, crying, "Confound the cowardly craft! I won't sail under that flag!" Now the officers of that society were better men than this Sabbath-breaker. But, nevertheless, at the point of contact with him, they were weaker than he. He held to a bold rebuke of a giant evil, in spite of its popularity. He stood, as to that, on higher ground than they, and he knew it. Thank God, they have come to a better wisdom. "Let the dead past bury its dead."

We need more religion in every church and every heart. But if we can learn to make the best use of what religion we already have, the gain will be immeasurable! We want a balanced character, every grace holding every other in counterpoise. We want the circle of virtues complete. A break in it is like a break in the magic circle of the old astrologers, letting in some demon unawares. We want to remember that doing good is a small matter compared with being good.—Cuyler.

The Present.

HEART gazing mournfully Back through past years— Bringing sad memories, Laden with tears— Life's hours wasted, Talents abused, Bright opportunities Blindly refused— Close up the record Fraught with such pain, Years that have vanished Return not again. Grasp thou the Present, Be earnest and bold— Fleeting its moments, More precious than gold.

Watch and fight bravely Against sloth and sin; Pray for the Spirit, The victory to win. Cometh the future Vailed and slow? Go forth to greet her For weal or for woe. Bringeth she gladness? Praise thou the Lord. Bringeth she sadness? Bow to his word. O'er Past and o'er Future Dim shadows recline. Heart, be thou manful; The Present is thine.

The Bible on Tenter-Hooks.

IN a Yorkshire village, I knew one Thomas Walsh. It was a favorite opinion of Walsh that the Bible was "all made up." He could never believe it was written where it professed to be, and by the men said to have written it.

Walsh owned a considerable part of a factory, and one year he set his heart on making a very large and fine piece of cloth. He took great pains with the carding, spinning, dyeing, weaving, and finishing of it.

In the process of manufacture, it was one day stretched out on the tenter-hooks to dry. It made a fine show, and he felt very proud of it. The next morning he arose early to work at it, when, to his amazement, it was gone! It had been stolen during the night! What a fever he was in! What hurrying and skurrying hither and thither, posting advertisements, sending constables, and rousing the community! After weeks of anxiety and expense, a piece of cloth answering the description was stopped at Manchester, awaiting the owner and proof. Away to Manchester went Thomas, as fast as the express train would carry him. There he found many rolls of cloth which had been stolen. They were very much alike. He selected one which he claimed as his. But how could he prove it. In doubt and perplexity he called on his neighbor Stetson.

"Friend Stetson, I have found a piece of cloth which I am sure is the one that was stolen from me. But how to prove it is the question. Can you tell me how?"

"You don't want it unless it is really yours?"

"Certainly not."

"And you want proof that is simple, plain, and such as will satisfy yourself and every body else?"

"Precisely so."

"Well, take Bible proof."

"Bible proof! Pray, what is that?"

"Take your cloth to the tenter-books on which it was stretched, and if it is yours, every hook will just come to the hole through which it passed before being taken down. There will be scores of such hooks, and if the hooks and holes just come together right, no other proof that the cloth is yours will be wanted."

"True, true. Why didn't I think of this before?"

Away he hastened, and, sure enough, every hook came to its little hole, and the cloth was proved to be his, and the thief was convicted, all on the evidence of the tenter-books. Some days after this Thomas again hailed his friend.

"I say, Stetson, what did you mean by calling tenter-books' proof the other day, 'Bible proof?' I am sure, if I had the good evidence for the Bible that I had for my cloth, I would never doubt it again. That's what I call 'circumstantial evidence.' That cannot lie or deceive."

"Yes, but you have the same, only better, for the Bible."

"How so?"

"Put it on the tenter-books! Take the Bible and travel with it—go to the place where it was made. There you find the Red Sea, the Jordan, the lake of Galilee, Mount Lebanon, Hermon, Carmel, Tabor, and Gerizim. There you find the cities Damascus, Hebron, Tyre, Sidon, and Jerusalem. Every mountain, every river, every sheet of water mentioned in the Bible, is there, just in the place where it is located. Sinai, and the Desert, and the Dead Sea are there; so that the best guide-book through the country is the Bible. It must have been written there on the spot, just as your cloth must have been made and stretched on your tenter-books. That land is the mould in which the Bible was cast, and when brought together, we see that they must and do fit together. You might just as well doubt that your cloth was ever fitted to your hooks."

"Well, well, I confess I never thought of this. I'll think it over again. If you are right, why then I'm wrong, that's all."—(English) Bible C. Magazine.

A Timely Reproof.

HuMOR and sharp wit are never put to better use than in answering a fool according to his folly, and we could wish that reproofs like the following were more frequent:

Some five or six years ago, in one of the trains of cars running between Newark and Jersey City, New Jersey, there was a young naval officer, who was constantly intermingling his conversation with the most profane oaths. A young lady was so situated that she could not but hear every time he swore. At first she bore it with perfect equanimity; then, as it continued, and rather increased in the shocking character of his imprecations, she began to grow fidgety,

and her eyes flashed. We knew a bolt would soon be shot, and that it would strike him. It came directly.

“Sir, can you converse in the Hebrew tongue?”

“Yes,” was the answer, in a half unconscious, but slightly sneering tone.

“Then,” was the reply, “if you wish to swear any more, you would greatly oblige me, and probably the rest of the passengers also, if you would do it in Hebrew.”

I watched him. It had hit. His color came and went—now red, now white. He looked at the young lady, then at his boots, then at the ceiling of the cars; but he did not swear any more, either in Hebrew or English, and he probably remembered that young lady.

A Woman on "Waterfalls."

MRS. L. MARIA CHILD writes a letter to the Independent, in the course of which she uses the following language in regard to the latest fashions in hair:

"Thinking of the great and blessed work done during these last four years by women, in the Sanitary Commissions, the hospitals, and the school-houses for the emancipated, I seemed to see a bright light dawning on our future career. But the vision receded in the distance when I looked from my window and saw a bevy of damsels sailing by with hencoops in their skirts, and upon their heads a brimless pan of straw with a feather in it—utterly useless for defense against wind or sun. To make this unbecoming headgear still more ungraceful, there descends from it something called by the flowing name of waterfall, but which in fact looks more like a cabbage in a net, tricked out with beads and wampum. If I had met them in Western forests, I should have taken them for Ojibway squaws, but their dress was a la mode Parisiene. This tyranny of France is, I suppose, one of the things that must be endured, because it cannot be helped, till our brains are better developed. In process of time, I trust the Empress Eugenie will sleep with her illustrious ancestors, and that no other fantastic queen of fashion will come after her, to lead the civilized world such a fool's dance. What a set of monkeys we are, in feathers and furbelows, dancing to the tune of that imperial show-woman."

Advantages of Years.

By Gail Hamilton

You are getting into years. Yes, but the years are getting into you—the ripe, rich years, the genial, mellow years, the lusty, luscious years. One by one the crudities of youth are falling off from you, the vanity, the egotism, the isolation, the bewilderment, the uncertainties. Nearer and nearer you are approaching yourself. You are consolidating your forces. You are becoming master of the situation. Every wrong road into which you have wandered has brought you, by the knowledge of that mistake, so much closer to the truth. You no longer draw your bow at a venture, but shoot straight at the mark. Your possibilities concentrate, and your path is cleared. On the ruins of shattered plans you find your vantage ground. Your broken hopes, your thwarted purposes, your defeated aspirations, become a staff of strength with which you mount to sublime hights. With self possession and self command return the possession and command of all things. The title deed of creation, forfeited, is reclaimed. Earth and sky pour out their largest of love. All the past, crowds down to lay its treasures at your feet.—Gail Hamilton.

The Worst of It.

“Do you want any berries, ma’am?” said a little boy to a lady one day.

The lady told him she would like some; and taking the pail from him she stepped into the house. He did not follow, but remained behind, whistling to some canaries hanging in their cages on the porch.

“Why do you not come in and see if I measure your berries right?” said the lady; “how do you know but what I may cheat you?”

“I am not afraid,” said he, “you would get the worst of it, ma’am.”

“Get the worst of it!” said she, “what do you mean?”

“Why, ma’am, I should only lose my berries, and you would be stealing: don’t you think you would get the worst of it?”

Christ the Central Sun of the Scriptures.

THE wonderful variety of style which pervades the composition of the word of God, is in singular contrast with the unity of design which reveals itself on all the heavenly pages.

The Scriptures of divine truth are not like one blazing point of light, radiating its glory and shining like one great central sun, but rather, they are like the stars which gild the firmament with their golden light, some with fainter, and some with more dazzling splendor, yet all with harmonious brightness, mingling and intermingling their resplendent beauty till it falls in mellow floods upon the earth.

The matter-of-fact histories, and wise statutes of the great Hebrew statesman, have little seeming correspondence with the choral strains of the Psalmist; with the bursting raptures of Isaiah; with the calm moralizing of Solomon; with the sweet simplicity of the Evangelists; with the mighty logic of Paul; with the saintly tenderness of the apostle John. Yet, varied as all these are one from the other, there is one point far up, where, like the sides of the pyramids, they meet and blend together. That point is God, shining out in the world in the face of Jesus Christ.

Around this point, as a fixed and unvarying center, gather all divine laws, precepts, hymns, histories, arguments, entreaties, examples. Christ, the vicarious sufferer, shines forth in the sacrifices of the Old Testament; in the chaste simplicity of the New. As the Saviour of the world he is revealed in visions, chanted in Psalms, foretold in prophecy, proclaimed in the promises of God to the hearts of the faithful.

The diligent student of the word of God cannot fail to observe how thoroughly the sacred writers were imbued with the conception of Christ and his divine work. To him their best praises are ascribed; their loftiest honors freely given; their hearts' love joyfully devoted, while many a place on their pages, veiled for the most part in profoundest mystery, reveals for the moment, as a curtain lifted and suddenly dropped, the Son of God, the Redeemer of Israel.

As Christ is the great central thought of the Scriptures, so should he be of his church in all its vast and blessed labors, in all its sublime attempts to spread through the world the knowledge of his truth. The name of Christ should sound like sweet music, in all the service of his temple; in the humble instruction which breathes the glad tidings from house to house; in all the glow of the believer's consecrated life. It should quicken to unwavering labor and sacrifice on earth, as it kindles to hosannas and endless praises in Heaven.—Boston Recorder.

Woman's Dress,

By Mrs. M. Jones

MAN’S dress is allowed to fit his body; woman’s body is compelled to fit her dress. His chest and waist need no compressing—they were created perfect, and so are allowed to develop naturally, as God designed them; but she—her Maker’s “last best gift to man”—in fashion’s eye, a sad mistake was made in her creation. The beautifully rounded waist, so full, so perfect, with room within for all the vital organs to play their part in the great drama of physical life, is so “very ungenteel, so vulgar!” And so the little girl, whose form up to the age of thirteen or fourteen years has been left to grow as free and as untrammeled as her brother’s, must now begin to pay attention to her figure. The short dress is lengthened down to sweep the floor; the childish waist, so comfortably loose, is laid aside forever; and, encased in whale-bones, if not in corsets, with a dress so tight that an attempt to take a free breath would endanger every hook and eye upon it, but which fashion says fits so neatly, the process of improving God’s handiwork begins. The muscles of the chest, denied development, become enfeebled by disease, and gradually shrink away, causing the waist to diminish in size; the heart labors ineffectually to properly circulate the blood through the arteries, capillaries, and veins; the ribs, forced downward, and inward, press upon the vital organs, often crowding the abdominal viscera out of position; while the poor lungs, crowded, stifled, unable to more than half expand, become the ready seat of fatal disease. And as she grows older, additional stayes are deemed essential, corset strings are drawn tighter, the dress fits still “more neatly,” and by the time she has arrived at womanhood, the goal is won! She has reached the genuine wasp-waist standard, and fashion decides her figure to be “elegant.” An “elegant figure!” Shade of Venus de Medicis, preserve us! Lamented Hiram Powers, what a sad mistake you made when you fashioned the Greek Slave! An “elegant figure;” and what else has she in addition? An aching head, weak back, disordered liver, and shattered lungs. And yet, with effects following as surely in the wake of their causes as the sunshine follows shade, she cannot see her dress has anything to do with her sickness. Not one woman in a thousand will acknowledge that her dress is right. “See how loose it is!” she tells you, as holding her breath, and taking up a fold in front, she deems you have convincing proof; when, if her dress were but unfastened, and she were to breathe naturally, it would barely reach together within three inches. From the crown of her head to the sole of her foot, there is hardly one article of woman’s dress that is really what it should be.—Mrs. M. Jones.

Fifty-six Wants of the Children of Zion.

[Bro. White: The following was written years ago by a young lady, and published in the Christian Secretary. If you deem it worthy, please give it a place in the Review. M. E. Reynolds.]

I want to feed on Jesus' word,
I want communion with the Lord,
I want salvation full and free,
I want my Father's face to see,
I want to prove each promise sweet,
I want to sit at Jesus' feet,
I want his mercy every day,
I want upholding all the way,
I want to live as Jesus' bride,
I want in his dear wounds to hide,
I want to prize his fullness more,
I want his person to adore,
I want to hear his heavenly voice,
I want in Jesus to rejoice,
I want to joy in him by faith,
I want to credit all he saith,
I want to trust him with my all,
I want on his dear name to call,
I want to die to all things here,
I want on him to cast my care,
I want to see his gospel spread,
I want on Satan's power to tread,
I want to see the proud made sad,
I want to see poor mourners glad,
I want to see the hungry fed,
I want by Jesus to be led,
I want him as my guide and friend,
I want him to my journey's end,
I want him as my Priest and King,
I want his precious love to sing,
I want him as my rock and tower,
I want him in each trying hour,
I want him as my brother dear,
I want my Jesus ever near,
I want his eyes, his hands, his heart,
I want with all things else to part,
I want him as my Husband kind,
I want in him my all to find,
I want him as my daily bread,
I want him as my living Head,
I want him as my hiding-place,
I want him as my God of grace,
I want him as my life of peace,
I want him as my righteousness,
I want his great atoning blood,
I want to bathe in that dear flood,
I want his Spirit's voice to hear,
I want the love that casts out fear,
I want him now in Achor's vale,
I want him when all hell assail,
I want him when all flesh gives way,
I want him as my only stay,
I want his smiles, his looks of grace,
I want to see him face to face,
I want his wisdom, strength, and love,
I want to dwell with him above.

Meat in hot Weather.

MEAT is stimulating. The nervous energy of New England people is already too much, rather than too little. We need opiates, rather than stimulates. But in our wide list of articles for the table, there is no need of selecting anything because they possess either of these peculiar qualities. Like Agar’s prayer with regard to poverty and riches, we require neither decided stimulants, nor that food which tends to stupidity and heaviness. Bread in various forms should be the leading article of food for all, in warm weather. With sweet butter and the delicious fruits which follow each other in quick succession all through the summer, there will be no danger of suffering for want of nutritious food. The hardest laboring man can be sustained upon these, and would be much more likely to preserve health, equanimity of temper, and long life, than if using meats and gravies two or three times a day.

In these times of high prices, when a roasting piece for a family of a dozen persons costs hard on to three dollars, it is a good time to cast about and look at the economy of the matter, as well as at it in a hygienic point of view. It is said that four pounds of beef lose, by boiling, one pound; one pound five ounces by roasting, and one pound three ounce by baking. Four pounds of mutton lose fourteen ounces by boiling; one pound six ounces by roasting, and one pound four ounces by baking! We suppose this is not an absolute loss, for a portion of it must be juices of the meat which fall into the dripping pan in roasting or baking. Here, then, is a loss of about one-fourth to start with, in cooking the meat—then comes the cost of butter, seasoning, vegetables, pickles and jellies, to give the meat a relish and make it passable! On the contrary, the flour that we use requires more than its own bulk in water in mixing, and thus increases the volume of the food. All this is favorable, because we need bulk as well as nutriment, in the food that we eat. It is well to think of these things, and especially for us who have lean purses, and study economy rather than the gratification of luxurious tastes. “A penny saved is two pence earned.”

Temperance

By T. P. Hunt

TEMPERANCE.—“Benedict Arnold, the traitor, who attempted to betray his country, was a rumseller and a drunkard. Three of the most important defeats of the American army during the Revolution, were sustained by men who died drunkards. Had a sober crew been on board the Chesapeake, the brave Lawrence would never have had to say to his men, ‘Don’t give up the ship.’”—T. P. Hunt.

A Few Thoughts on Salvation.

By A. S. Hutchins

"I HAVE longed for thy salvation, O Lord; and thy law is my delight." Ps. cxix, 174.

Thus exclaims one greatly beloved of the Lord. How reasonable to long for salvation, while we delight to do the will of God. But how delusive the hope of those who persist in a course of disobedience to him. Do not those who refuse to render obedience to the law of God, neglect salvation?

The apostle asks, "How shall we escape, if we neglect so great salvation?" Let us briefly consider a few reasons why we may regard salvation as being great.

1. We may thus consider it from the boundless love and tender mercy of its author. While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. "In this was manifested the love of God toward us, because that God sent his only begotten Son into the world, that we might live through him." 1 John iv, 9.

2. The deliverance which salvation offers to those who receive it, renders it great. The happy change which the penitent sinner experiences, as he lays down his weapons of rebellion against his Maker, and owns allegiance to his just and righteous government, is represented as passing from "darkness into his marvelous light," from "death unto life."

3. The expense connected with the plan of salvation, renders it great. The bitter tears, the arduous toil, the bloody sweat, the indescribable agony, and the ignominious death, of the dear Son of God, hath purchased it for you and me, dear reader. "Let such as love thy salvation say continually, The Lord be magnified."

4. With wonder and admiration, we survey the glorious plan of salvation, and acknowledge its greatness, when we reflect that no other door of hope opens before a fallen and ruined world. "Neither is there salvation in any other; for there is none other name under Heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved." Acts iv, 12.

5. We consider salvation great, when we remember that Christ gave himself a ransom for all. "For there is one God, and one Mediator between God and man, the man Christ Jesus; who gave himself a ransom for all, to be testified in due time." 1 Tim. ii, 5, 6.

6. Salvation is great, from the fact that it is eternal. "And being made perfect, he became the author of eternal salvation unto all them that obey him." Heb. v, 9. "For the heavens shall vanish away like smoke, and the earth shall wax old like a garment, and they that dwell therein shall die in like manner; but my salvation shall be forever, and my righteousness shall not be abolished."

Angels of God with their higher and more noble intellect, have dwelt for some six thousand years with untold satisfaction and delight, upon the stupendous plan of salvation, as they have come forth to this dark earth, as ministering spirits "for them who shall be heirs of salvation." But its height, its depth, its length, its breadth, can only be known and appreciated by the saved in the endless ages. But great as is this salvation, thousands and millions neglect it. Heedless of the cry of mercy, and all the blessings connected with a life of obedience, thoughtlessly they pass on down the broad road to death. Its doors close upon them, and hide them away till the resurrection. How shall such escape? Will they be able in the judgment to plead any defect or oversight in the plan of salvation? Have the dark counsels of skepticisms and infidelity, found any way of escape here? Or will they presume to meet the Judge with the excuse that they knew not their duty? that they could not understand his requisitions, that his holy commandments were obscure, and that they could not learn and do them?

"This is the love of God, that we keep his commandments; and his commandments are not grievous." 1 John v, 3. "My yoke is easy, and my burden is light," saith the Master.

Or will they carry up before the great white throne the meritorious sufferings of the dear Redeemer, and the mercies of God, and vainly hope to escape, after having spent a life in sin and rebellion, after having slighted all the calls of mercy, and refused the offers of salvation?

"But ye have set at nought all my counsel, and would none of my reproof. I also will laugh at your calamity; I will mock when your fear cometh. For that they hated knowledge, and did not choose the fear of the Lord." Prov. i, 25, 26, 29.

Men may forget for the time being, that "justice and judgment are the habitation of the throne," of Him that ruleth on high, they may suppose mercy will ever prevail, but soon her voice will be heard no more, and justice will assume its right.

How then shall we escape, if we neglect so great salvation? "See," says Paul, "that ye refuse not him that speaketh. For if they escaped not who refused him that spake on earth, much more shall not we escape, if we turn away from him that speaketh from Heaven." Heb. xii, 25.

"Much more shall not we escape, if we turn away from him that speaketh from Heaven." Oh! dreadfully solemn and fearful doom for those who turn away from obedience to the Lord!

But who shall take the alarm, and fear and tremble, and hasten to the outstretched arm of mercy, and find a safe refuge? Is it alone the bold sinner? Is it the vile deceiver, or the hypocritical? Are there not those who hope for salvation in the kingdom of God, who would do well to examine the foundation of that hope? Is it based upon some past experience, without reference to a belief of the whole truth and obedience thereunto to-day, so far as the light shines upon your pathway?

You are chosen to "salvation through sanctification of the Spirit and belief of the truth." How much "truth" is it safe to reject? How much to shut our eyes against, and persistently refuse to obey?

"Lord, I have hoped," says David, "for thy salvation, and done thy commandments." Happy, thrice happy the faithful, self-sacrificing, obedient man of God, who hopes through Jesus for salvation, while doing the will of his divine Master.

While all Heaven approves the word of God, "salvation is far from the wicked; for they seek not thy statutes." Ps. cxix, 155.

Most affectionately then do we urge upon all to obey and live. Live amidst the glories of the better world. Live with the redeemed who sing the victor's song, who wear the robes of white, and bear the palms of victory. Live with God and sit with Christ on his throne. Live with the holy angels and all the blood-washed throng, when the grave gives up its sacred treasure.

Dear reader, we hardly know where or how to lay aside our pen, while speaking on a theme so glorious and transporting. Salvation looks more and more lovely and desirable.

May God, and the Son, and holy angels, the city of gold, the tree of life, and the river of life, and the "far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory," beckon you away, and attract your affections upward, like a holy magnet, and you lay hold of the blessed hope, and gain an hundred fold in this life, and in the world to come "life eternal."

Continue reading: Report from Bro. Snook