Review and Herald, Vol. 53, No. 14. (4/3/1879)

Review and Herald

Apr 3, 1879

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Apr 3, 1879

EVIL EFFECTS OF THE PLATONIC PHILOSOPHY.

By Dudley Marvin Canright

ELD. D. M. CANRIGHT.

HERMITS.

As soon as Plato's doctrine of the soul's immortality was accepted by the church, its baleful fruits began to appear in the wildest forms of fanaticism. The body was held in the greatest contempt, and everything was done to weaken and emaciate it, that the immortal spirit, the spark of divinity within, might be exalted. A great crop of hermits, monks, anchorites, and the like, was the first evil resulting from this teaching. Says the historian: “This new species of philosophy . . . produced that gloomy set of men called mystics; whose system, if divested of its Platonic notions respecting the origin and nature of the soul, will be a lifeless and senseless corpse. It laid a foundation, too, for that indolent mode of life which was afterward adopted by many, and particularly by numerous tribes of monks.”

Enfield, in his “History of Philosophy,” shows the same thing at some length. He says: “Another principal cause of the corruption of the Christian doctrine of morality was, that it was very early tinctured with the enthusiastic spirit of the Alexandrian philosophy. * This corruption chiefly discovered itself in a peculiar species of fanaticism, consisting in a certain mystical notion of perfection which originated from a principle common to Platonists, Orientalists, and Gnostics: that the soul of man is imprisoned and deluded in its corporeal habitation, and in proportion as it becomes disengaged from the incumbrance, and purged from the dregs of matter, it is prepared for its return to the divine nature.”

Then he relates how this led them to retire into deserts and afflict their bodies, in order to purify the soul. “For it is well known,” again writes Mosheim, “that the true and genuine mystics adopted, as the very basis and ground-work of their discipline, those principles respecting the Deity, the world, the soul, and the nature of man, which the Christians had borrowed from the Egyptian and modern Platonic philosophy, and were accustomed from this century downward to communicate merely to a select number of auditors. . . . Upon the introduction of the Egyptian and Platonic philosophy, this simple mode of life was reduced to the form of an art, and interwoven with such maxims respecting the Deity, the human soul, and the nature of man, as were thought most consonant to reason. . . . Hither, also, may we refer the origin of monks, hermits, and cenobites, whose rules and institutions are uniformly grounded upon the principle of delivering THE IMMORTAL SPIRIT from the oppression under which it groans in being connected with the body, of purifying it from the corruptions of sense, and of rendering it fit to be admitted into the presence of the Deity in the realms of everlasting light and life.”

Again, when Christians adopted “the philosophical doctrines respecting the nature of the soul, and of bodies, when Ascetics adopted the belief that every endeavor was to be used to set free the divine spark that lay imprisoned within the body, . . . it was but natural for them to renounce the society of men, and devote themselves to a life of seclusion and solitude.” Hence, he says, originated monasteries, abbeys, hermits, and anchorites. Can any one fail to see here from whence the Christians obtained the doctrine of an immortal spirit in man? The monks and hermits spoken of, were the most wild, fanatical, and miserable set of men that have ever disgraced humanity. They left the society of men; went into the mountains and deserts; lived on grass like beasts; stood on the tops of pillars for years; emaciated their bodies in all possible ways, by hunger, thirst, nakedness, and filthiness. They wore their clothes till they literally rotted off, and acted like wild beasts.

Milman, in his history of Christianity, says: “Human invention was exhausted in self-inflicted torments. The Indian faquir was rivaled in the variety of distorted postures and of agonizing exercises. Some lived in clefts and caves; some in huts into which the light of day could not penetrate; some hung huge weights to their arms, necks, or loins; some confined themselves in cages; some, on the tops of mountains, exposed to the sun and weather. The most celebrated hermit, at length, for life condemned himself to stand in a fiery climate, on the narrow top of a pillar.”

For further description of these miserable fanatics, see Gibbon, Bower, or any history of the church. All this was done to weaken and wear out the sinful body, and free the immortal soul within!

CELIBACY.

The celibacy of the Romish priests, which has been such a scandal to Christianity, also grew out of the same idea. The most lewd and shameful practices sprang from this fanatical heathen notion that the immortal soul was everything and the material body nothing.

Of the celibacy of the priests, which grew out of this idea, the historian says: “And this many of the clergy, especially in Africa, endeavored to accomplish with the least violence to their inclinations; for they received into their houses, and even to their beds, some of those females who had vowed perpetual chastity, affirming, however, most solemnly, that they had no criminal intercourse with them.” “Such connections were considered as a marriage of souls without the marriage of bodies.”

Such was the fruit which naturally grew out of this Platonic doctrine of the pure, immortal spirit within the prison of a corrupt material body. All this was but a repetition of what the same doctrine had previously produced among the pagans. Porphyry assures us that the “ancient Pythagoreans were distinguished for their attachment to this mode of life.” Indeed, large numbers of the heathen Platonists had retired into deserts and solitary places, and there lived just as these hermits did after them. The latter only copied the former.

WORSHIP OF SAINTS AND RELICS.

Another appalling evil which immediately sprang up from the belief in the doctrine that death is only the freeing of the real man, the immortal soul, from its prison; that saints after the death of the body are more active and powerful than they were before; and that they have free access to Heaven and to the presence of God, was the worship of saints and their relics. Bower says that Tertullian was the first who spoke of praying for the dead. Says the historian: “The Roman Catholic ceremony of beatification and canonization of saints, offering them incense and prayers thereafter, means exactly what was meant by the ancient apotheosis; namely, that while the multitudes of the dead abide below, in the intermediate state, these favored souls have been advanced into Heaven. The papal functionaries borrowed this rite, with most of its details, from their immediate pagan predecessors.”

These martyrs, hermits, and noted saints, who had gained a great reputation for sanctity by their austere lives, were supposed to go directly to Heaven and have great favor and influence with the Lord. As these were their own relatives, special friends, and brethren, it was a natural thought that they would intercede with God for their friends on earth, who were still in the flesh. What more reasonable than that a sainted mother should plead for her children who were still exposed to peril, or that a faithful pastor should pray for his beloved flock now left on earth without his aid? Hence offerings at the tombs of these dead saints began to be made. Immediately miracles were said to be wrought in answer to these, and this encouraged the pious thought. Next, churches were built in honor of these saints, and dedicated to them. Here their bones were sacredly deposited and rich offerings made to them, which went to the clergy. Now miracles and answers to these petitions became frequent.

The great question was settled; the dead were alive, and had power with God. It was better to pray to these than directly to God himself, or even to Christ, as they were more like us, and would sympathize with us more readily. Hence patron saints rapidly multiplied, till every town and almost every household had its special saint to whom all prayers were offered. God and Christ were left out, and the Virgin Mary, St. Peter, and a host of dead men, took their places. Images to these saints were erected everywhere, and their votaries bowed before them in supplication. Behold paganism re-established through the devil's lie of the soul's immortality!

PURGATORY INTRODUCED.

Another of the most baneful doctrines of the Roman church with which the world was ever cursed, grew directly out of the Platonic theory of the soul's immortality; viz., the popish doctrine of purgatory. The case is thus stated by Dr. Knapp in his excellent book on “Christian Theology:” “The foundation for the doctrine of purgatory is found even in the second and third centuries. Its origin may be traced back to the Pythagorean or Platonic philosophy. Souls, according to Plato, are a part of the divine nature, which, however, are confined in the body as in a prison. Now, even after the soul of man is disembodied, there still cleaves to it much sin and impurity acquired from its contact with the body; and this impurity is regarded by Plato as a natural sickness. It cannot, therefore, immediately on leaving the body, return again to its original source. With some the disorder is incurable, and these are the lost, who go at once to Tartarus; with others it is curable, and these are purged and purified in Hades. * This, with many other Platonic doctrines and fables, was early transferred to Christianity.”

The cunning priests soon saw in this an opportunity to benefit themselves. So they diligently inculcated it as an undoubted fact, supported by the word of God, that while a few of the most holy went directly to Heaven at death, the large majority of Christians had to pass through purgatory, in order to be cleansed from sins committed since conversion or baptism. But their sufferings there could be shortened and greatly lessened by the prayers of saints on earth and in Heaven, especially by masses and prayers of the priest. But for every mass, so much money must be paid; for every prayer of the priest, so much more. If it was the case of a very wicked person, it would take a great deal of praying, and hence a great deal of money. But if only money enough were given, the hardest case could be freed from purgatory. Specially had the pope power to let them out; hence the notorious plan of indulgences. For such and such considerations, the pope would pardon out offenders of different kinds.

Hence came the poor and the rich, with their money, to buy their suffering friends out of purgatory! What untold millions have flowed into the popish coffers through this pagan lie! It was this wicked imposition on the credulity of the people that stirred the soul of Luther, and started the Reformation. The Catholic Tetzel came along with his indulgences from the pope, which he was selling at a rapid rate. For money he pardoned all sorts of sins, and relieved many souls from purgatory. He said that the moment the money touched the bottom of the box, the soul was let out of purgatory. The business becoming a little dull, he feigned to have heard terrible groans and cries one night near a graveyard. On inquiry he found that it was from a poor soul in purgatory whose friends on earth were neglecting to buy it out. As soon as he told this to the people, large numbers more came with their money for their dead friends!

What was the foundation of all these terrible deceptions? It was the assumption that the dead are not really dead; that the soul can live separate from the body, and is immortal. Had they believed the Lord, that the dead are asleep and know nothing, it would have shielded them from all this delusion.

CAUSE AND EFFECT.

By J. O. Corliss

The query sometimes arises how Eph. 4:30 can be harmonized with the view that the seal of God, mentioned in Rev. 7:2 and kindred texts, has reference to the Sabbath of the fourth commandment. The only difficulty in this case seems to be the failure to discern the difference between cause and effect.

To illustrate the point: If a United States official would put his seal of office to any document, he must have a seal; yet the seal would not impress its mark upon the paper without the application of some motive power. In this case the official could be truthfully said to be the sealer, since he uses the seal to cause the effect.

So it is with the seal of God's law,—the Sabbath of the fourth commandment. The Holy Spirit is the agent which impresses that law, with its seal, upon the heart. Among the events mentioned in the seventh chapter of Revelation, this seal, or sign of God's authority—which has virtually been dropped from his law, and to a certain extent lost

sight of—is restored, and imprinted upon the people. This is the effect produced by accepting the law entire, and carrying it out in the life. As in the illustration the seal could not accomplish its work without the aid of an agent, so in Eph. 4:30 the Holy Spirit is represented as the power that causes impressions by which men become subject to God's authority, thus stamping the seal of God upon them. The Sabbath, then, is the seal, and the Holy Spirit the sealer.

J. O. CORLISS.

BEAUTIFUL HOME.

Far away in the land of the pure and bright Is the city of God, with its golden light; Oh, there is my home, and forever to stand With the shining ones of that better land!

CHORUS.—Oh, beautiful home! Oh, beautiful home! Where beautiful saints surround the white throne; How I long to be there, and forever to stand With the shining ones of that better land!

Oh, that beautiful home we are nearing now, Where a crown of bright glory encircles each brow; Where the tree of life grows on that beautiful shore; Where flowers shall blossom to fade no more!

Cho.—Oh, beautiful home, etc.

With palms, and bright crowns, and robes of light, We shall roam the fair fields with eternal delight; We shall join in the song of the purified band, With the shining ones of that better land.

Cho.—Oh, beautiful home, etc.

Then come, brother pilgrim, let love freely flow As unto that beautiful home we shall go; For Jesus hath said we must join hand in hand, If ever we enter that better land.

Cho.—Oh, beautiful home, etc.

My soul is now weary of living below, To the home of the purified saints I will go, With Jesus my Saviour forever to stand With the shining ones of that better land.

Cho.—Oh, beautiful home, etc.

—Selected.

SINGING GOD'S PRAISE.

By G. V. Kilgore

It is often said that singing is an essential part of worship, and so it is. God commanded it in olden times: “This was a statute for Israel, and a law of the God of Jacob.” Ps. 81:1–4. But a blessing may be turned into a curse. Sometimes God's people have paid more attention to secondary matters in religion than they have to the weightier matters. Such was the case with the Pharisees. Matt. 23:23.

While it is essential to have good singing, it is not good to make more of that part of the worship than of the prayers and preaching; and when we do sing we should, like Paul, sing with the spirit and with the understanding. 1 Cor. 14:15. When hymns of praise are sung by those whose hearts are full of the love of God, there is an inspiration in the music that lifts the hearts of the people, and makes them joyful in the house of the Lord. Sweet songs of praise to God remind us of the beautiful strains of music that redeemed ones will make before the throne of God, when they “touch the heavenly strings, and vie with Gabriel while he sings, in notes almost divine.”

We are then made to love the music of Heaven, and we long to be there. Oh, the rapturous songs of joyful praise to the Lamb of God! Shall we yet join in singing them! Shall we stand on the sea of glass with harps of gold in our hands, and sing the song of Moses and the song of the Lamb? When those beautiful mansions ring with the glad voices of the saved ones, shall we hear it? and shall we be numbered in the choir? Yes; we shall if we live for it. But if we are ever to join in those glad anthems, we must learn to love God in this life, and learn to worship according to his word. We must speak, and sing, and pray to the glory and honor of Him who created us. We must do all things for the sake of Him who died for us. And what a privilege this is! What a glorious calling, to work for the highest ruler in the universe! Should we not worship him in sincerity and in truth? What a pleasant thing it would be if all professors of religion were real possessors, and would worship God together in union and harmony! The prospects of the world's conversion would then be more flattering than they are now. But sad it is that now, instead of the humble confessions of sin and the earnest prayers that ought to be heard, the person with a light heart and the most musical voice has a prominent place in the churches. Beautiful songs are sung; but where are the hearts that are sorry for sin? Where are the tears that are shed in the worshiping assemblies of to-day? There are some, but they are few.

The prophet Isaiah has described our day quite accurately. In the twenty-fourth chapter he speaks of the great day of God, when the earth is to be made empty,—when it shall reel to and fro like a drunkard, and be dissolved. He warns the people who live near that day in these words: “Fear, and the pit, and the snare, are upon thee, O inhabitant of the earth.” Verse 17. In the verse just before this he describes the songs of our day, and the manner of singing them. Hear him: “From the uttermost part of the earth have we heard songs, even glory to the righteous. But I said, My leanness, my leanness, woe unto me! [Leanness to me, margin, from the Hebrew] the treacherous dealers have dealt treacherously; yea, the treacherous dealers have dealt very treacherously.”

What is the trouble with these songs which ascribe glory to the righteous? Isaiah says they are leanness to him. Is it wrong to sing glory to the righteous? No; but this is the trouble: They are not sung with the spirit and with the understanding. There is too much of light and chaffy air, and not enough of the love of God, in those who sing them. They sing just for the sound, and not for the glory of God. And then the songs of this time ascribe glories to the righteous that are false. They sing,— “Many loved ones have I in yon heavenly throng; They are safe now in glory, and this is their song,” etc.; and “All the blessed ones who've gone to the land of life and song. We with shoutings shall rejoin by-and-by,” etc.

The Bible says: “The dead praise not the Lord” (Ps. 115:17); “the dead know not anything” (Eccl. 9:5); “for in death there is no remembrance of Thee” (Ps. 6:5); and it says that in the place where the dead go, “There is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom.” Eccl. 9:10. Yet men have made songs which declare that the dead do praise the Lord; that they know more than all the living; and that they have knowledge and wisdom in the world of light above. How can men so contradict the plain word of God? How could they ever get people to believe and sing these songs that are so contrary to the Bible? Isaiah has told the way they have done it exactly. He says they have dealt very treacherously in this. That is it. Treacherous dealers have dealt treacherously in teaching the people. They have not preached the word, but have divined out of their own hearts. And they have made songs to suit their own stories. Therefore Isaiah says their songs were “leanness” to him. And how lean they are!

To sing God's praises acceptably we must sing the truth, and sing with the right spirit and true motive. The psalmist says, “I will praise thee with the psaltery, even thy truth, O my God; unto thee will I sing.” Ps. 71:22. It is just as bad to sing a lie as to tell one, and if we sing songs which ascribe glory to the righteous between death and the resurrection, we sing what God denies in his word. Can God be praised with such singing? No; God wants his people to “worship him in spirit and in truth,” and not to speak or sing falsehoods in his name.

G. V. KILGORE.

IS IT GOOD TO BE HERE?

By E. H. Whitney

We often hear the expression in social meetings where there is a degree of the Spirit of the Lord manifest, “I feel that it is good to be here.”

Two brethren in the church were once riding together over a drifted track, when the sleigh overturned, and they were both thrown into the snow. Gathering himself up and shaking off the snow, one of them turned to the other, saying, “Well, Bro. A., is it good to be here?”

The answer is not recorded, but the question seemed a very pertinent one. When we are in the company of Christians, away from the cares and perplexities of daily life, and enjoying the presence of the Lord in a special manner, it is easy to say, “It is good to be here;” but how is it under less favorable circumstances, when trials press, and discouragements arise, and perplexities thicken around us?

And when afflictions come upon us, and all else seems to fail, can faith look triumphantly through the darkness, and say with the psalmist, “It is good for me that I have been afflicted”? It has been said that many hearts will bear heavy trials and sorrows with resignation that will chafe and fret under the wear and tear of every-day perplexities and annoyances. This may often be true; for it is not always easy to realize that God permits many little things to annoy us, in order to try us, and to show us the weak places in our character, and to give us opportunity to overcome them. We too often act as though we thought God took no note of such trifles.

It is just such common, every-day experiences that I have particularly in mind.

It is one of the hardest lessons to learn, but one of the sweetest and most helpful when learned, that the little perplexing, irritating things that we often meet, are a part of the discipline which a wise and loving Father sees that we need, provided, of course, that they are not trials of our own making; and one who has learned to flee to God daily and hourly for strength to meet daily and hourly duties and trials, will not be at a loss to know where to hide when deeper trouble comes.

There is something beautiful and very precious in the psalmist’s idea of dwelling “in the secret place of the Most High,” not simply resorting to it occasionally under severe affliction; but dwelling there, finding a constant shelter, keeping close to Him, and having a living connection with Him, even as a branch with the vine. And the promise is, that such “shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.”

Then note the “exceeding great and precious promises” that follow,—promises that will be more precious to God’s people in the future, as we shall pass through the fearful time just before us, and into which we are soon now entering.

Yes; it is good for us to be just where God wants us to be. It is good to see his hand in his dealings with us, by faith when we cannot by sight. It is good to look, in all circumstances in which we may be placed, to see what lessons of faith, or patience, or self-control we may learn, or what other of the Christian graces we may add to our character. We are too apt to think that if we were differently situated, we could develop more rapidly, or do more for God; forgetting that he knew, when he placed us, just what we needed, and just what we would meet; and that by seeking to work in harmony with him we are growing spiritually, while chafing and fretting at our surroundings surely retards our growth, and hinders the work of God in our hearts. God has work for us all to do, and it is worse than folly to hinder the process by which he would fit us for his service.

“For we know that all things work together for good to them that love God,” and by his help we may use even things that the enemy may place in our way as stumbling-blocks to overthrow us, as stepping-stones in our upward journey.

Let us seek such a submission to God’s will, and such a willingness to have it wrought in us, as will enable us to feel, even while pressed by cares and perplexities, that it is good for us to pass through just such experiences. We have the sweet assurance that our Saviour knows just what they are, and that there are no temptations so small that his sympathizing heart cannot feel for us, and his ready ear be open to our call for aid. And though, if we gain victories, the struggles through which they are obtained may be known only to our own hearts and the heavenly watchers, they strengthen us for further conflicts, and they are registered in Heaven.

It is a precious thought that Infinite Love—yes, Infinite Love—can we ever realize or appreciate it?—stoops to pity and help us who are even less than the small dust of the balance. If we could realize this, I believe it would awaken a gratitude in our hearts that would not only help us to bear trials patiently, but would enable us to welcome them as at least needed discipline, bringing blessings with them.

May God help us so to profit by the experiences he is giving us that at the last we may be found perfect and entire, wanting nothing.

E. H. WHITNEY.

The Love of God.

By Milton C. Wilcox

The love of God has been likened to a “golden cord reaching from Heaven to earth.” But few there are that have a firm hold of this wonderful cord. Professed Christianity of the present day has lost its hold upon it, and has drifted far out of the course marked out in God’s word, and has failed to fulfill the conditions that would secure that love. “This is the love of God, that we keep his commandments,” says the beloved John. He had a firm hold of that cord of wonderful strength, composed of ten golden strands, let down from Heaven by the Lord. Wonderfully bright is this golden cord when kept in constant use. It is bright always to the sincere child of God; for “his commandments are not grievous.” But it is ever a dull and repulsive yoke to the unregenerate heart: for “the carnal mind is enmity against God; for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be.” Rom. 8:7.

To please this “carnal mind,” Satan has counterfeited this golden cord in many ways. Sometimes much of the same material (truth) of which it is composed is woven into the counterfeit, just to make it pass. Some of the strands may be of pure material, but the others are cords of sand; and if one only of these strands is false, it endangers our eternal salvation. “For whosoever shall keep the whole law, and yet offend in one point, he is guilty of all.” Jas. 2:10, 11. Satan, through the Papal church, has manufactured a cord in which the second strand has been torn out and the tenth divided, and the fourth is spurious. Yet false and misshapen as it is with the fourth strand thus counterfeited, ministers in the name of the Lord call on you to grasp it. If the wrecked mariner should question its genuineness and authority, its adherents would point to a few garbled texts of Scripture and a long list of spurious authors, and ask, in tones of thunder, “Do you dare to question these?” Should the seeker after truth still continue his investigation, and expose the fraud which the “father of lies” has given to the world as truth, their hands are raised in holy (?) horror, and “legislative enactments” are called for to compel people to believe “shining sand” is “gold tried in the fire.”

Those who cling to the counterfeits have their affections placed on the earth; not so with those who clasp the true. It raises them above all earthly things, and connects them with Heaven. Oh, how much better to have God’s love! Burdens are lighter, trials are purifying, everything is bright and glorious, and we “delight in the law of God after the inward man.”

MILTON C. WILCOX.

ETERNAL DESOLATION.

In the north-west corner of San Bernardino county, Cal., lying partly in Inyo county, and partly also in the State of Nevada, is a region paralleled by few spots on the face of the earth. We say the world is instinct with life. Here, if the phraseology may be pardoned, is a place instinct with death. A huge basin, whose rim is the ancient hills stricken with the barrenness of eternal desolation, whose bosom is the blasted waste of the desert—treeless, shrubless, and waterless, save a few bitter pools like the lye of potash water; surrounded by mountains that tower thousands of feet above the sea-level, itself lying three hundred feet below the sea. It is a very “Gehenna,”—a place of death and bones. Birds do not fly over it. Animals do not enter it. Vegetation cannot exist in it. The broad sands absorb the heat, the bare mountains reflect it, the unclouded sun daily adds to it. Ninety degrees in the shade (artificial shade, there is no other) means winter. One hundred and thirty and one hundred and forty degrees, that is summer.

The hot air grows hotter, wavers, trembles with heat, until nature, goaded to madness, can endure no more; and then the burning blast rouses itself—rouses in its might,—rouses as an angry beast, with a hoarse, ominous roar, sweeps mile after mile, on, ever on, over the broad reach of the desert, bearing on its black, whirling bosom—black as midnight—dust, sand, alkali, and death. Sometimes a murky cloud gathers upon the

mountains above; then there is a rush, a warning sigh on the winds, a low rumbling in the air; the hills quiver, the earth trembles, and a torrent, half water, half mud, bounds from the hills, leaps into the desert, plowing chasms like river-beds in the loose sand. The clouds scatter, the sun comes again, the eternal thirst of the desert is not quenched. The raging river was only a dream.

In the year 1849 a party of emigrants entered the basin. Day after day they toiled on, thirsting, dying. The pitiless mountains walled them in; no escape. One by one they dropped and died. A few, abandoning everything, scaled the mountains and escaped. The others lie as they fell, dried to mummies—no birds even to devour their flesh; no beasts to prey upon them; the wagon-tires unrusted, gun-barrels bright, untarnished. Such is the place. Mile after mile silence reigns; silence—and death.—Selected.

“TOBACCO LOSING FAVOR.”

A FEW weeks ago I read with much interest an article taken from the Sunday School Times, with the above heading. Having just returned from one of our religious gatherings, it reminded me of what I saw on my way home. While waiting at one of the railroad stations for the coming of the train, I saw two of our prominent brethren walking up and down the platform amid a cloud of smoke. Said another brother near me: “See brother—puffing away at his cigar. How is that for a D. D.?” The brother was one I had long known and respected, yet somehow or other I found my good opinion of him lessened by what I saw.

Soon after, speaking of this scene to another brother, he said, “I heard a most excellent sermon at the Vineyard Camp-meeting, but soon after, seeing the brother who preached it passing along smoking his cigar, I felt grieved, and could not think of him and the sermon as I did before.”

How many there are who are thus shorn of their power for good. Members in our churches are complaining of “hard times,” and giving but little to benevolent purposes, while continuing the use of this expensive habit. They are spending more money for tobacco than for all church purposes. Is this right? Brother, if the habit is fastened upon you, ask God to give you strength and grace to triumph over it.—Selected.

PURE AIR.

WHATEVER renders the blood impure, tends to originate consumption. Whatever makes the air impure, makes the blood impure. It is the air we breathe which purifies the blood. And as, if the water we use to wash our clothing is dirty, it is impossible to wash the clothing clean, so, if the air we breathe is impure, it is impossible for it to abstract the impurities from the blood. What, then, are some of the more prominent things which render the air impure? It is the nature of still air to become impure. Running water purifies itself. Air in motion, drafts of air, are self-purifiers. Thus it is that the air of a close room becomes impure invariably.

It is the close rooms that bring consumption to countless thousands. Hence all rooms should be so constructed as to have a constant draft of air passing through them. The neglect of it murders myriads. A man of ordinary size renders a hogshead of air unfit for breathing, consumes its blood-purifying qualities, every hour; and so perfectly is this done that if a man could re-breathe a full breath of his own the next instant after its expiration, he would be instantly suffocated. Hence sleeping in close rooms, even though alone; or sitting for a short time in a crowded vehicle, or among a large assembly, is perfectly corrupting to the blood. Close bedrooms make the graves of multitudes.—Selected.

A PRAYER-MEETING WITH A NUB TO IT.

It was Friday-evening union meeting in the week of prayer, and a very good meeting it was. Every one present, men and women, especially the women, I think, felt the importance of the subject of our supplications,—that the sources and channels of the influence of the press might be purified. There had been some things to set us thinking on the subject.

An awful outbreak of crime in our part of the State, that was not to be traced to drink, nor to avarice, nor to lust, nor to ignorance, nor to false religious teaching, nor to immigration, had made many people wonder whether illustrated journals of crime, depicting in full detail the methods used by eminent and successful criminals to accomplish and conceal their work, might not perhaps have had an unfavorable influence on the public morals. And some remarks of a brother connected with the School Board, to the effect that the moral tone, and even the scholarship of the public schools, was suffering from the circulation of a certain class of “boys’ papers,” were listened to with a hushed attention, as if there were great searchings of heart in many a father’s and mother’s bosom in the meeting. But there was not much speech-making, and there was a good deal of very serious, earnest praying to God to interfere and set this matter right.

It was not till toward the end of the hour—about the time when the brother who presides generally remarks, “Brethren, we have only a few minutes more; do not let the time be wasted”—that the new minister, who has just come to preach at the church over on the North side, rose and made one of the strangest prayer-meeting addresses I have ever heard.

“My friends, I am a new-comer in Littletown, and I confess that I do not understand you. You do seem to be very much in earnest, to feel the greatness of this evil, and to be praying sincerely to the Lord to remove it. The question that puzzles me is why you don’t remove it yourselves. I have observed that these papers that you so justly complain of are openly exhibited and sold on your best business street at shops where you all have dealings, and which pass for respectable shops. The trade only exists by your tolerance. If you will stand by one another and agree to shun any shop that refuses to pledge itself to conform to reasonable demands in this matter, you can have your own way about it. At least, you can put a mark on any place where papers confessedly pernicious are openly sold, as a disreputable place, to be shunned by decent people as they shun a common dram-shop. But there won’t be any such place; for this town is not large enough to support a news-office from which the support of respectable people is withdrawn. I merely suggest that if you really are in earnest you do something about the matter, and do it now!”

And when he said “now,” the new minister brought his hand down on the seat in front of him with a thump that made us all start. Well, I assure you that there was no need that evening to exhort the brethren to “occupy the time.” Col. Harkins (he is a deacon now, but we call him colonel still) jumped up and said, “That’s right! I am ready for action.” And Elder Wilson shouted “Amen!” from the back seat, and the teacher of our high school—But I need not try to tell you what we said; what we did was more to the purpose.

The minister of the old stone church, who presided, asked that after the benediction the men who were willing to take hold and do something should stay just long enough to appoint a committee. And then he was just lifting up his hands to give the benediction, when the new minister came skurrying up to the platform and said:—

“Wait a minute, brother. This committee won’t know what they can do unless they know how much they are to be backed up. How many of these people will stand by one another and by us in pledging themselves to have no dealings with a shop at which criminal and corrupting papers are sold? I would like to know.”

And when the chairman put the question, it would have done your heart good to see how all the great roomful, men and women, came up to their feet. Well, they appointed a committee in three minutes, and then these appointed a sub-committee to go around and call on the news-dealers; and I was put on this sub-committee, though I confess I did not want to be. But the gallant colonel was going to lead, and I did not see how I could refuse to follow.

We were fortunate—rather, we were providentially guided—in our first call. For the head of the firm met us like a man and a gentleman, let me say like a Christian. For, though he did not deny that he had felt annoyed at some things that had been reported to him as said in our meeting, he said frankly, “You are right. The abuses you complain of ought to cease. But where will you draw the line? What rule do you propose to lay down, gentlemen?”

For my part, I was perplexed what answer to make to this very obvious question. So I stood in the background, and let the colonel speak. And he said just the right thing. Said he: “Mr. Jenkins, you have met us like a gentleman in this matter, and we cannot do better than refer the question back to you. You understand it better than we do. What do you say?”

“Well,” said Mr. Jenkins, “you will find some difficult questions about this business before you get through with it. But I will give you a start. Just look over that counter, and I will hand you six or seven papers from it that are not fit for anybody to sell or read. I had as lief have a rattlesnake come into my house as one of those papers.” And he made up a bundle of them,—the majority were “boys’ papers,”—and said, “You have my promise that these shall not be sold here in future. There are some others about which I am willing to talk to you another time.”

“You shall not be a loser by your honorable and straightforward conduct,” said we in reply. “We will undertake that if your competitors attempt to get an advantage by picking up what you frankly abandon, they shall lose more than they gain by it.”

And so we broke the line that morning. You will easily understand that when we went around to the other news-stands, and told them of the handsome proposal of Jenkins and Jobson, all the rest had to fall into the same arrangement, and even to show a little advance in public virtue over their competitors.

And now we propose to hold an adjourned prayer-meeting to hear the committee’s report, and clinch the matter so that it will hold. I suspect that the church will be pretty full, and I should not wonder if it should turn out to be a praise-meeting. And we do not feel as though we had been working instead of praying, but as though the action to which we were inspired at that week-of-prayer meeting had been God’s own answer to our prayers.—Christian Weekly.

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