International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Jul 2, 1885
General Articles.
By Ellen G. White
The Waldenses.
(Concluded.)
THE church of the Alps, in its purity and simplicity, resembled the church in the first centuries. The shepherds of the flock led their charge to the fountain of living waters,—the word of God. On the grassy slopes of the valleys, or in some sheltered glen among the hills, the people gathered about the servants of Christ to listen to the words of truth.
Here the youth received instruction. The Bible was their text-book. They studied and committed to memory the words of Holy Writ. A considerable portion of their time was spent, also, in reproducing copies of the Scriptures. Some manuscripts contained the whole Bible, others only brief selections, to which some simple explanations of the text were added by those who were able to expound the Scriptures. Thus were brought forth the treasures of truth so long concealed by those who sought to exalt themselves above God.
By patient, untiring labor, sometimes in the deep, dark caverns of the earth, by the light of torches, were the sacred Scriptures written out, verse by verse, chapter by chapter. Thus the work went on, the revealed will of God shining out like pure gold; how much brighter, clearer, and more powerful because of the trials undergone for its sake, only those could realize who were engaged in the work. Angels from Heaven surrounded these faithful workers.
When the Waldensian youth had spent some time in their schools in the mountains, some of them were sent to complete their education in the great cities, where they could have a wider range for thought and observation than in their secluded homes. The youth thus sent forth were exposed to temptation, they witnessed vice, they encountered Satan's wily agents, who urged upon them the most subtle heresies and the most dangerous deceptions. But their education from childhood had been of a character to prepare them for all this.
In the schools whither they went, they were not to make confidants of any. Their garments were so prepared as to conceal their greatest treasure,—the precious manuscripts of the Scriptures. These, the fruit of months and years of toil, they carried with them, and whenever it could be done without exciting suspicion, they cautiously placed some portion in the way of those whose hearts seemed open to receive it. From their mother's knee the Waldensian youth had been trained with this purpose in view; they understood their work, and faithfully performed it. Converts to the true faith were won in these institutions of learning, and frequently its principles were found to be permeating the entire school; yet the papal leaders could not, by the closest inquiry, trace the so-called corrupting heresy to its source.
The Waldenses felt that God required more of them than merely to maintain the truth in their own mountains; that a solemn responsibility rested upon them to let their light shine forth to those who were in darkness; that by the mighty power of God's word, they were to break the bondage which Rome had imposed. It was a law among them that all who entered the ministry should, before taking charge of a church at home, serve three years in the missionary field. As the hands of the men of God were laid upon their heads, the youth saw before them, not the prospect of earthly wealth or glory, but possibly a martyr's fate. The missionaries began their labors in the plains and valleys at the foot of their own mountains, going forth two and two, as Jesus sent out his disciples. These co-laborers were not always together, but often met for prayer and counsel, thus strengthening each other in the faith.
To make known the nature of their mission would have insured its defeat; therefore they concealed their real character under the guise of some secular profession, most commonly that of merchants or peddlers. They offered for sale silks, jewelry, and other valuable articles, and were received as merchants where they would have been repulsed as missionaries. All the while their hearts were uplifted to God for wisdom to present a treasure more precious than gold or gems. They carried about with them portions of the Holy Scriptures concealed in their clothing or merchandise, and whenever they could do so with safety, they called the attention of the inmates of the dwelling to these manuscripts. When they saw that an interest was awakened, they left some portion with them as a gift.
With naked feet and in coarse garments, these missionaries passed through great cities, and traversed provinces far removed from their native valleys. Everywhere they scattered the precious seed. Churches sprung up in their path, and the blood of martyrs witnessed for the truth. The day of God will reveal a rich harvest of souls garnered by the labors of these faithful men. Veiled and silent, the word of God was making its way through Christendom, and meeting a glad reception in the homes and hearts of men.
Eagerly did the Vaudois missionary unfold to the inquiring mind the precious truths of the gospel. Cautiously he produced the carefully written portions of the Scriptures. It was his greatest joy to give hope to the conscientious, sin-stricken soul, who could see only a God of vengeance, waiting to execute justice. With quivering lip and tearful eye did he, often on bended knees, open to his brethren the precious promises that reveal the sinner's only hope.
In secret places the word of God was thus brought forth and read, sometimes to a single soul, sometimes to a little company who were longing for light and truth. Often the entire night was spent in this manner. So great would be the wonder and admiration of the listeners that the messenger of mercy was not infrequently compelled to cease his reading until the understanding could grasp the tidings of salvation. Often would words like these be uttered: "Will God indeed accept my offering? Will he smile upon me? Will he pardon me?" The answer was read, "Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest."
Faith grasps the promise, and the glad response is heard, "No more long pilgrimages to make; no more painful journeys to holy shrines. I may come to Jesus just as I am, sinful and unholy, and he will not spurn the penitential prayer. 'Thy sins be forgiven thee.' Mine, even mine, may be forgiven."
A tide of sacred joy would fill the heart, and the name of Jesus would be magnified by praise and thanksgiving. Those happy souls returned to their homes to diffuse light, to repeat to others, as well as they could, their new experience; that they had found the true and living Way. There was a strange and solemn power in the words of Scripture that spoke directly to the hearts of those who were longing for the truth. It was the voice of God, and it carried conviction to those who heard.
The messenger of truth went on his way; but his appearance of humility, his sincerity, his earnestness and deep fervor, were subjects of frequent remark. In many instances his hearers had not asked him whence he came, or whither he went. They had been so overwhelmed, at first with surprise, and afterward with gratitude and joy, that they had not thought to question him. When they had urged him to accompany them to their homes, he had replied that he must visit the lost sheep of the flock. Could he have been an angel from Heaven? they queried.
In many cases the messenger of truth was seen no more. He had made his way to other lands, he was wearing out his life in some unknown dungeon, or perhaps his bones were whitening on the spot where he had witnessed for the truth. But the words he had left behind could not be destroyed. They were doing their work in the hearts of men; the blessed results will be fully known only in the Judgment.
The very existence of this people, holding the faith of the ancient church, was a constant testimony to Rome's apostasy, and therefore excited the most bitter hatred and persecution.402Their refusal to surrender the Scriptures was also an offense that Rome could not tolerate. She determined to blot them from the earth. Now began the most terrible crusades against God's people in their mountain homes. Inquisitors were put upon their track, and the scene of innocent Abel falling before the murderous Cain was often repeated.
Again and again were their fertile lands laid waste, their dwellings and chapels swept away, so that where once were flourishing fields and the homes of an innocent, industrious people, there remained only a desert. As the ravenous beast is rendered more furious by the taste of blood, so was the rage of the papists kindled to greater intensity by the sufferings of their victims. Many of these witnesses for a pure faith were pursued across the mountains, and hunted down in the valleys where they were hidden, shut in by mighty forests, and pinnacles of rock.
No charge could be brought against the moral character of this proscribed class. Even their enemies declared them to be a peaceable, quiet, pious people. Their grand offense was that they would not worship God according to the will of the pope. For this crime, every humiliation, insult, and torture that men or devils could invent was heaped upon them.
When Rome at one time determined to exterminate the hated sect, a bull was issued by the pope, condemning them as heretics, and delivering them to slaughter. They were not accused as idlers, or dishonest, or disorderly; but it was declared that they had an appearance of piety and sanctity that seduced "the sheep of the true fold." Therefore the pope ordered "that the malicious and abominable sect of malignants," if they refused to abjure "be crushed like venomous snakes."
This bull invited all Catholics to take up the cross against the heretics. In order to stimulate them in this cruel work, it absolved them from all ecclesiastical bans and penalties; it released all who joined the crusade from any oaths they might have taken; it legalized their title to any property which they might have illegally acquired, and promised remission of all their sins to such as should kill any heretic. It annulled all contracts made in favor of the Vaudois, ordered their domestics to abandon them, forbade all persons to give them any aid whatever, and empowered all persons to take possession of their property.
The papal leaders would not conform their characters to the great standard of God's law, but erected a standard to suit themselves, and determined to compel all to conform to this because Rome willed it. The spirit that crucified Christ, and that slew the apostles, the same that moved the blood-thirsty Nero against the faithful in his day, was at work to rid the earth of those who were beloved of God.
The persecutions visited for many centuries upon this God-fearing people were endured by them with a patience and constancy that honored their Redeemer. Notwithstanding the crusades against them, and the inhuman butchery to which they were subjected, they continued to send out their missionaries to scatter the precious truth. They were hunted to the death; yet their blood watered the seed sown, and it failed not of yielding fruit. Thus the Waldenses witnessed for God, centuries before the birth of Luther. Scattered over many lands, they planted the seeds of the Reformation that began in the time of Wycliffe, grew broad and deep in the days of Luther, and is to be carried forward to the close of time by those who also are willing to suffer all things for "the word of God and for the testimony of Jesus Christ."
As HELPLESS as a child who clings
Fast to his father's arm,
And casts his weakness on the strength
That keeps him safe from harm;
So I, my Father, cling to thee,
And thus I every hour
Would link my earthly feebleness
To thine almighty power.
As a trustful child who looks
Up in his mother's face,
And all his little griefs and fears
Forgets in her embrace;
So I, to thee, my Saviour, look,
And in thy face divine
Can read the love that will sustain
As weak a faith as mine.
As loving as a child who sits
Close by his parent's knee.
And knows no want while he can have
That sweetsociety;
So, sitting at thy feet, my heart
Would all its love outpour,
And pray that thou wouldst teach me, Lord,
To love thee more and more.
—J. D. Burns, in Sabbath Reading.
"Duty."
"So likewise ye, when ye shall have done all those things which are commanded you, say, We are unprofitable servants; we have done that which was our duty to do." Luke 17: 10.
My theme for this occasion is Duty. To some ears the word has a harsh sound. It is my ambition to make it musical to your ears. Duty wooes us with substantial charms. It rewards with fadeless crowns and enduring riches.
Perhaps there is occasion that we be at pains to understand this matter. A week ago, walking home from church, a gentleman, wholly devoid of narrow and bigoted notions of conduct, said to me that this is a frivolous age. Of course I think he is right in his view, for he agrees with me. It is also true that we may say good things, some most excellent things of this age. This friend and I are not soured in our sympathies, and do not look at things with refracted vision when we call this age frivolous. We see and freely acknowledge the seriousness, the earnestness, and the devotion which, while quieter and better behaved than frivolity, carry the world onward and upward. On the other hand, while we recognize with much delight the high merits of this age, we are not blind to its follies and its sins. Therefore we see and charge against it that one of its prominent characteristics is frivolousness. It would take much less than an hour to substantiate the charge with convincing proofs. But this is out of the present line of discussion. However it is because of this frivolousness that I think it proper to magnify duty and make it honorable in this educational age. Duty is inevitable. I will not say it is unavoidable, for it is easy to evade it. But evasion of it does not dethrone and remove it from our lives. It abides permanently in most regal authority and makes daily and hourly claim upon both thought and action. Duty is one of the truly heroic words. Every heroic age has been an age of duty-doing.
"Stern daughter of the voice of God," sings Wordsworth of duty, which is not any idle poetic fancy, but the everlasting truth. So Mazzini understood it when, struggling for the liberty of his country, he wrote that "every mission constitutes a pledge of duty. Every man is bound to consecrate his every faculty to its fulfillment. He will derive his rule of action from the profound conviction of that duty." In the vocabulary of duty belong such words as ought and ought not, obligation, responsibility, accountability, law, morals, right and wrong and conscience. Duty is only another term for moral science which floods and pervades the whole of life as the atmosphere covers the world, filling every void, bearing with steady pressure downward, outward, upward, at every point of every object, great and small alike. This pressure of atmosphere over the world exactly figures the pressure of duty in human life. In the world nothing is too small or too large to escape the atmosphere. So in life, every thought, every action, is within the kingdom of duty.
The tide of duty pervades the secrecies and privacies no less than the more social and public interests and activities. Duty floods our life. James Anthony Froude states it in this way: "In common things the law of sacrifice takes the form of positive duty." In these words the historian and essayist carries the thought to a higher plane than the preacher—he not only affirms duty in common things, but presses it to the pitch of sacrifice even in our least affairs. With such voluntary and unprofessional sanction you will not be so ready to accuse me of extravagance in asserting that duty is as all-embracing and all-pervading as atmosphere and tide. Let none of us draw back as if it were a hard saying. Duty is not hard. If it seems so there is danger. For we can easily reject its commands, but duty never forgets the violation.
I have read over and over this sentence till it lives in my memory: "He who is false to present duty breaks a thread in the loom, and will find the flaw when he may have forgotten its cause." That sentence is my key to many and many a failure. People want to succeed, but do not, and cannot understand it. They may whine and complain bitterly, or be angry and blame somebody severely, and only make matters worse. Few misfortunes are more melancholy and pathetic than failure on account of violated duty, when the offense has gone out of mind. Disappointment mingles gall in their cup of expected delight, and they wonder why it is so. It is violated duty's penalty. Transgressors have short memories, but because they forget is no sign that the deed disappears from the faithful record of their life. They may weave away, but the broken threads will show, and certainly discount the fabric in this market, where sooner or later duty determines value.
But it does not help matters when the transgressor does not forget the offense to duty that blights the after years. Of the many things I see as I go about, some one scene here and there impresses itself with peculiar distinctness. One of these scenes recurs to me in this connection. It was on the streets of our State capital. Because it is a sample of a not uncommon experience, I recite it. It was a young wife in company with an intoxicated husband. Her sensitiveness to the shame and degradation was probably what so vividly burned the scene into my memory. How she shrank from the beastly companionship! Her silent agony she could not conceal. There was no hiding of her deep humiliation. Her very heartache expressed itself in every feature and every action. Manifestly she was unused to such things. And at that time she had not seen it often enough to harden her nature into helpless and hopeless endurance. Though she had the heartache she was not as yet heart-broken. I do not know what has happened since. Since then heartache may have broken her heart altogether. She may now be in her grave, or worse, the living victim of a sot. But then she was proud-spirited and angry, and my hope has been that she got him home and flogged him sober, and made him sign the pledge under the lash.
But there is a far better article in my creed than that. I believe in a girl's queenly right not to fool with and marry a fast young man. She is false to her womanly duty in such associations—she breaks not single threads, but the very woof of her life, so that the loom yields only shreds and tatters. Yes; but the young man is gay and stylish, and such good company. There's nothing poky about the fast young man—he just suits. Well, then, take him. I am not sure that ladies who think so deserve anything better. It's the best fortune that ever befalls the slow young man that he does not have much to do with the ladies who incline to the fast young man. If the latter just suits, then take him, but take with him any amount of neglect, shame, sorrow, misery, and ruin. For I know that duty denounces judgment with authority. And duty declares that women of character who associate with men without strict requirement as to character in them, are tripping gaily along in by-paths that hurry them out upon wide wastes of wretchedness from which I insist upon wholly divesting it of every syllable of law as applied to methods and processes in nature. We are to think now of law as prescribing and regulating intelligent, voluntary conduct.403And in this sense I desire to affirm that duty is the sole adequate ground of all rightful constitutional, enacted, and common law in the world. If there be no duty then all civil law is usurpation and has no right to be. Law is enacted and enforced on the grounded presumption of duty, and without duty there is not a valid law in any constitution, or statute-book, or code in existence. And beyond this, if there is not duty, there is no right and wrong. Moral distinctions fail. Evil is good—good is evil. Things and actions and persons are all alike. We act the fool when we blame or praise. And just this confounding of good and evil has been going on, and is sweeping onward now with floodlike violence, because we have been increasingly false to duty. And in this line of thinking I am bringing you to a position where we can stand and touch the most appalling themes of time and destiny. Treachery and treason to duty are what make the coming judgment and perdition of ungodly men appear vague or improbable. In heroic eras when moral earnestness exalts and enthrones duty, men do not doubt or question the fearful visitation of retribution upon sin, and sinning, and sinners. If there is duty then there is right and wrong, and the difference between them is utterly infinite, and the gulf between is bridgeless and absolutely impassable in the nature of things which Almighty God could not change if he would.
It is not what anybody thinks to be right that is right. That only is right which is right independently of any man's thinking. It is our imperative business to find out what the right is, and the surest way is to do duty. As George Eliot says in "Daniel Deronda:" "The reward of one duty is the power to fulfill another." Faithfulness to duty is the path that thus grows brighter and brighter unto the perfect sunrise of God's eternal day of reward.—From a Baccalaureate Sermon, by President Ellis, of the Pacific University, Oregon.
Truth Versus Iniquity
"Truth and righteousness may be found and practiced with half the pains that are often employed to 'search out iniquity' and establish error."
Ideal Young Men.
THEIR TEMPTATIONS AT THE POPULAR COLLEGES AND UNIVERSITIES.
THE following discussion by the Congregational Club of San Francisco, we clip entire from the Chronicle of that city. It is a practical discussion of an eminently practical subject.
"The attendance at the Congregational Club was not as large as usual yesterday, some of the ministers being away on vacation, but the meeting was one of more than average interest. Rev. Dr. Dwinell presided and called upon Rev. Aaron Williams to open the discussion, which was upon the sort of young men needed and how to get them. Mr. Williams described a very high ideal of manliness and godliness combined, and expressed the opinion that pastors and teachers should take special pains to cultivate the moral virtues in young men. As it is now, few comparatively remain under their care and influence.
"Dr. Mooar took no exception to the high standard set up for our young men by Mr. Williams, nor did Rev. John Kimball, who followed, but the latter expressed the opinion that the young men of San Francisco are somewhat fast and pleasure-loving and do not look on living as so serious a matter as they ought.
"Rev. George Morris observed that in order to have such high-minded, moral, and religious young men as had been described it was highly important that they should be surrounded by good influences. From reports which had come to him, and which he believed to be true, young men who were sent to our State University were not so surrounded. A case had come to his knowledge where a widow lady's three sons had graduated there, and while students had become gamblers and drunkards. Though there was a law of the State against it, liquor was sold in close proximity to the University, and even on the University grounds wine was made and stored up in cellars under the supervision of the University authorities. Under such circumstances he would not consider it morally safe to send a young man to Berkeley.
"Rev. Charles Savage, of Berkeley, replied that he hardly knew where Mr. Morris could send his son and have him perfectly free from temptation. It was true that students at Berkeley sometimes learned to drink and gamble, and so they did at some of the best of the New England colleges, but these were only exceptional cases. He did not think morals were worse or temptations to immorality greater at Berkeley than at other universities.
"In reply to a question of Rev. Mr. Morris whether liquor manufacturing was carried on in connection with any of the Eastern colleges or universities, Mr. Savage said he did not know that it was; and in answer to the inquiry whether the university professors were personal abstainers, Mr. Savage answered that he had never seen any of them drink wine or have it upon their tables.
"Dr. Mooar observed that if they abstained altogether from wine they went further than some of the San Francisco ministers.
"Dr. Dwinell liked the high ideal of the young man we need, drawn by the opening speaker, and, though few would reach that standard, it was not too high to aim at. He was not disposed to be discouraged with regard to our educated young men. Some that were a little fast now would probably turn out well. The percentage of first-class men in our colleges and universities was increasing.
"Rev. Mr. Williams claimed his right to close the discussion. He wished to say that it was because he wanted to save young men from demoralizing influences that he had opposed the Young Men's Christian Association gymnasium when it was under the management of that notorious sport, Harry Maynard. He was gone, to be sure, but the bowling alley remained, and young men went, he knew, from bowling there to bowling in the dives and gambling dens of this city. He considered it a great shame that such temptations should be thrown in the way of young men in connection with a professed Christian institution."
Outside Religion.
SOME persons pretend to a high degree of inward illumination. They claim a degree of internal spiritual light far beyond what is usually enjoyed by Christian believers. Internal illumination is very well, provided it is accompanied by a corresponding external illumination. Without this it amounts to very little. In ordinary life, persons do not light a candle or a lamp and put it in a place of concealment, but where it will shed its rays abroad, and give light to those around. A light-house that retains all the light within, is of no service to guide the poor tempest-tossed mariner in his course. Its light must be shed out on the troubled waves to do him any good. So God enlightens the minds of men by his Spirit, not that they may indulge in rhapsodies, but that they may let their light shine, and by their lives, conformed to the requirements of his word, glorify him, and bless humanity. Internal light and grace are necessary, but where they are really possessed, they will work to the surface, and demonstrate their presence by their effects on the life. Inside religion is a very necessary and enjoyable thing, but outside religion is no less important. Where the one really exists, the other is sure to be found. All true heart-religion is accompanied by real life-religion. The good tree brings forth good fruit, and “by their fruits ye shall know them.”—Methodist Recorder.
Christianity’s Foes
THE opponents of Paul were nominally the people of God. And so it will be found that those who call themselves Christians are often the servants of Satan, the tempters to evil, the very foes against whom we must fight, and who, in the name of Christianity, will promote worldliness and formality—to yield to whom is to crucify the Son of God again and to put him to an open shame. Our position is not with all that calls itself Christian, but only with Christ himself.—Sel.
Loyalty to Truth
No MAN who cannot, in his loyalty to truth, deliberately put all chance of promotion behind his back, will ever make a strong impression on the world as a moral teacher.—Sel.
Reserve Force in Character.
By William Mackergo Taylor
IN the house of a well-known citizen of Boston there is an exquisite statue in marble representing the wise and foolish virgins. The wise is kneeling, in the act of trimming her lamp; and the foolish, with a face full of the most pathetic entreaty, seems begging from her a share of the oil which she is pouring in to feed the flame; but her sister, with a look of inexpressible sadness, and her hand uplifted, as if to guard her treasure, is as if she were saying, "Not so!" It is a touching rendering of the wonderful parable, and we were not surprised that as a well-known New England essayist looked at it, he said, "She should have given her the oil."
Who has not often sympathized with that feeling as he has read the parable? We are apt to think that the five sisters were a little stingy, and that their selfishness was not at all in keeping with the benevolence which the gospel enjoins. But to such an objection the answer made by the owner of the group to the man of genius is conclusive: "If," said he, "you and your neighbor have each signed a bill for a certain sum, to fall due on a certain date, and you by dint of energy, and perseverance, and economy, have been able to lay by just enough to meet your own obligation, while your neighbor, wasting his hours on trifles, has made no provision for the day of settlement; and if, on the morning on which the bills fall due, he should come beseeching you to give him some of your money to help pay his debt, would you give it him?" That is a pecuniary illustration, and there is no evading the force of the argument, even when it is so put.
But the parable treats of character, and the very pith and marrow of its teaching is that character is not transferable. You cannot give to another that reserve force which you have accumulated in yourself through God's grace in a long experience of holy living; neither can you receive from him any quality which days of trial and obedience have wrought out in him. As a thoughtful writer has said, "Every person represents something, stands for something; as was said of Bias, the wise Greek, 'Himself is the treasure that a whole life has gathered.' He stands for the wealth of being that a thousand struggles have contributed to form." Now, he cannot, if he would, give that away. He cannot, if he would, share that with another. Each one must make character for himself. How important, therefore, that we should make it after the pattern and on the principle of the Lord Jesus. Here is the plan: "Add to your faith, virtue; and to virtue, knowledge; and to knowledge, temperance; and to temperance, patience; and to patience, godliness; and to godliness, brotherly-kindness; and to brotherly-kindness, charity."
Thus the faith is the first, and the love is the copestone. But the faith must itself rest on Christ. Let us begin with that, and go on after this plan; and let us be careful also to take the vessel of reserve. Let us draw deep out of the Scriptures; let us be habitual in our application to the mercy-seat; let us meet Christ as he comes to us in the events of every day. Thus, curiously enough, the longer our lamps burn, the larger too will our reserve of oil become, and in the end an entrance shall be ministered unto us abundantly into the everlasting kingdom of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.—Rev. W. M. Taylor, in the Quiver.