This quiet, peaceful day we love;
Its sacred hours may we improve.
And as we journey, let us strive
For that "enduring rest" above.
Assembled in the house of prayer—
God's word to hear, his praise to sing—
Oh, may we feel his presence there,
And there our cheerful offerings bring!
God bless to us this Sabbath day,
A day of rest and worship too.
Help us thy precepts to obey,
And give us grace thy will to do.
Then shall our life be peace and joy;
And when our cares and labors cease,
Oh, like the righteous may we die,
And may our last end be like his!
—Christian at Work.
True Conviction Is Personal
"A TRUE conviction, anything thoroughly believed, is personal. It becomes a part of the believer's character as well as a possession of his brain; it makes him another and a deeper man."
JANE'S MORAL COWARDICE.
By Maud Rittenhouse
BY MAUD RITTENHOUSE.
SHE was a very little girl, though the drawn lines in her sensitive face told of the years of suffering that had left her so thin, so wan, so like some tender blossom blighted before full blown. And all about her in that quiet lecture room were bright, earnest girls and boys, rising one after another to tell of the Master's love, of his watchfulness and care, of the service gladly given, and the little burdens borne in his dear name.
Janie listened to it all with glowing eyes, and cheeks in which the color faintly crept. Oh, to dare to speak as these spoke, for Him whom she loved and whom she longed to serve! . . .
"I must say it! I must!" she said, trying to rise, and sinking back again, with her heart beats almost choking her. How many eyes there were in the little room! How they swam before her, until she felt fairly dizzy with the silly fright that made her despise herself and her cowardly weakness! The only clear thing about her was the book held open on her knee. There, shining before her, were the words of the beautiful old hymn, "Abide with Me."
"He will help me. I must try," she urged herself, painfully drawing her dwarfed figure to its full stature. And then, as she stood with all those eyes upon her, instead of that glad testimony she had meant to give, she could only stammer, "No.—No. 20," and, dropping down, cover her hot face with her hands.
"Sing No. 20," the leader's voice repeated kindly, and in another minute the clear voices rang out upon the twilight air.
Janie hardly heard. Her heart ached with the thought that the painful shyness labored against so long had gained another victory over that word for the Master which she, so longed to speak. Would she never, never be the true disciple who could feel no fear? Would she ever do any real good in the world, or be able to speak the helpful, heartfelt word that would point some other to the light she tried to follow?
"I need Thy presence every passing hour," again the voices rose, and across the intervening lots and alleys the sound was carried to an upper window, where, in a turmoil of dust and flying lint, a busy woman worked.
Mrs. Crooker, who took "select lodgers," at 317 Rutger Row, had little time to think of the days of the week as other than "wash day, ironing day, bake day, scrub day," and so on through the list, Sunday coming in as "mend day," and a day when all the odds and ends of extra work must be gathered up and finished, ready for a fresh start on "wash day" again.
Hardened by constant work and worry, the ceaseless struggle to earn and to save, Mrs. Crooker's spiritual life had long since ceased to be, and that part of her which plied the broom with such resistless fury, and sent the litter flying, was merely the flesh machine which some strange momentum seemed to keep forever going, going, going. . . .
"If that plaguey Jones only slept like other folks o' nighttimes, I wouldn't have such a bother," she ejaculated, while the broom scraped over the colorless carpet. "What with him in the room all day, and Bob Porter all night, seems like I never can get to touch it till it's knee deep in dirt. I'm just all beat out. There's no rest day or night."
Stooping wearily over the dustpan, she scooped the heap of dust and trash into its battered depths, and, lifting it, stood suddenly motionless. Clear and sweet over the summer stillness came the tender words:—
"Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide."
She sat down at the window, heedless of the ugly dustpan in her lap, and listened and looked. The darkness was indeed deepening. Over in the west the last glow of sunset faded from the sky. So had the last glow faded from her own dreary life, and there was left about it none of the tender softness settling down upon this quiet twilight time. Drudge, drudge, drudge! How cheerless it all was, how blank and comfortless!
"When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me!"
A slow, unbidden tear rose to the eye of that quietly swaying form at the window. How familiar began to seem the words so long unheard! How they brought back to her summer nights in the dear old country home, when, at close of meeting, she had sung them beside her sturdy father in the old country church, where the scent of primroses came through, and outside sleepy birds twittered in their nests! How different her rushing life from the sweet and peaceful ideals she had then!
She looked over to where, at the rear of the church, lights streamed through the windows. A sudden thought came to her. Then she shook her head. "What's the use. Religion's a tale that is told for me. I'm too busy to belong to the Lord, or to think of anything else but getting my daily bread."
"I need thy presence every passing hour."
The words came clear and firm. A moment the woman sat irresolute, then she rose hastily, fled with her dustpan, returned with brush and cloth, and hurriedly dusted the room. In her heart the words were singing:—
"Through cloud and sunshine, oh, abide with me!"
And while she dressed, and while she tied her bonnet strings, she hardly knew whether the words were most a song or a prayer.
Coming home from church that night, Janie was hurrying along, her heart still heavy with the weight all the beautiful service had not been able to lift. "I'm not fit to be a Christian," was her bitter mental cry. "Nobody's worthy to be that that isn't brave enough to stand up and bless His dear name before everybody. I only called for a hymn—only that; and I'm a miserable, useless coward."
"Janie," a voice said at her elbow, "I'm going your way," and, looking up, Janie saw tall Mrs. Crooker, who kept the Rutger Lodging House, and of whom she felt half afraid.
"Have you been to church?" Janie asked, not knowing what else to say.
"Yes, I have, for the first time in ten long years."
Janie stopped aghast, and Mrs. Crooker stopped a minute too, until by the flickering street lamp the little cripple saw the happy light in the older woman's face.
"I'm—I'm so glad," the child said, and she reached a timid hand to the hard gloved one beside her.
"And so'm I," said Mrs. Crooker with emotion. "I don't know how it happened hardly—but I believe I'll have time for a little religion after this. And, do you know, it was just that old, old hymn that did it, coming across lots from young people's meeting. You'd never guess how straight that sweet 'Abide with Me,' went through my calloused old body, till, down in the only soft spot my heart had left, it found an abiding place, and made me want to cry from the bottom of my soul, 'Help of the helpless, oh, abide with me!' I'm going after this twice a day, Janie, and I've faith to believe I can keep all my lodgers, and do my sweeping, and get along somehow too."
They had reached the lodging house door, and Janie had a few steps further to go. She only said again, "I'm so glad, Mrs. Crooker, so glad." But the weight had gone from her heart, and she knew that, with God to watch over it, the most disheartened little word might grow the wings of an angel and fly away strong and bright to bear the Master's message and his blessing.—Advance.
HOME TRAINING.
Of first importance in the education of a young lady is proper home training. The young woman who has acquired all the culture and accomplishments which can be secured in the schools, but has no knowledge of the simple arts so necessary to the making of a home and the proper training of the family, has neglected the most important part of her education. The general prevalence of this defect is becoming alarming. The girls of the present generation are as a rule far less skillful in bread making, house cleaning, and other household arts, than in piano playing, elocution, and similar accomplishments. This condition of affairs is becoming more and more common in this country. The poor mother who has become worn out with arduous toil in the rearing of her family and in providing them with comforts and luxuries, seldom has a daughter who is able to take her place in the kitchen, at the washtub, or at the ironing table.
Unfortunate as is this state of things for the broken-down mother, as well as for the imperfectly educated daughter, mothers are themselves generally responsible for it. Mothers who have been brought up to a life of usefulness and labor, often become infected with the popular notion that physical labor is ungenteel and unladylike, and determine that their daughters shall be brought up differently from what they were. Imagining they are going to make their daughters something more than women, and prepare them for a sphere something above that of true womanhood, these silly mothers toil and slave in the kitchen, while their daughters sing and thrum the piano in the parlor, or simper and drawl nonsense in the parlor with some shallow-pated fop. The mother rises at early dawn to prepare the breakfast, while her useless daughters are sleeping off the effects of their298midnight dissipation in the ballroom. Reared in idleness to habits of uselessness, the hard earnings of father and mother are spent in lavishing upon them accomplishments which can be of no service to them in after life. Such daughters are unfit to meet the realities of life, and are utterly devoid of the real accomplishments which go to make up womanly character, and which would fit them for performing the duties of wife and mother in mature years.
The fact is that the average young woman is accomplished to the point of actual uselessness. What women need is more solid education. We do not object to accomplishments if they are not acquired at the expense of that thorough training which lies at the very foundation of real refinement and usefulness. How many young women fritter away their time and waste away their lives in devotion to nothings. A young lady who is able to sing and play the piano skillfully, to dance gracefully, to talk "small talk" fluently, to dress "to kill," to sketch a landscape passably, to embroider, to knit lace collars, to jabber a little French and German, may be able to satisfy the demands of society, but may be utterly wanting in that kind of culture which contributes to the real happiness of life. Such a person, as a quaint writer once said, is "all ruffle and no garment." Nothing contributes more to the formation of a sound character than a knowledge of the humble industries which go so far to make a happy home.
A mother cannot do her daughter greater injury than to allow her to grow up ignorant of household duties and unaccustomed to useful labor, yet mothers are so utterly blind to their duties in this respect that it is not to be wondered at that the rising generation of girls are vastly inferior to their predecessors. An omen for good is the establishment in many large cities of cooking schools and schools for training nurses, in which girls can learn a variety of useful employments and receive training in domestic duties.—Good Health.
ALL OURS.
By F. A. Reynolds
BY F. A. REYNOLDS.
"The earth is the Lord's, and the fullness thereof,
The world, and they that dwell therein."
If the Lord is our Father, and we are his heirs,
Why trouble ourselves o'er what others win?
"The earth is the Lord's." Its riches are ours.
Our everyday needs are supplied by his hands.
Then why use our powers in a chase after wealth,
Mere possessions of money and houses and lands?
We prize not the blessings we have every day,
Our food and our drink, pure air and good health,
Forgetting how the loss of one may be felt.
Remember, "Contentment is better than wealth."
Beyond what we need to nourish our life,
Our Father has given us beauties most rare,
A green velvet carpet of grass for our feet,
A lovely blue dome and cloud pictures in air.
The ripple of rivers, the song of the birds,
The delicate beauty and fragrance of flowers,
The grandeur and grace of the noble old trees,
The magnificent mountains and valleys are ours.
But better than all is the knowledge we have
That Christ is our brother and Saviour from sin.
"The earth is the Lord's, and the fullness thereof,
The world, and they that dwell therein."
THE FERRIS WHEEL.
The Review of Reviews for September publishes an exceedingly interesting article on "Engineer Ferris and His Wheel," descriptive of that singular exhibition of American ingenuity and progress. The writer says:—
Given the circumstances, in no other country than America would the wheel have ever been built. It took three years to complete Eiffel tower. Even here it took two years to build the St. Louis bridge. Both were comparatively simple work. The builder of the Ferris wheel had not only to construct a work equaling these, but in such a way that it would move, and, moreover, move perfectly—a far greater problem.
On December 28 every scrap of iron and steel used in the wheel was "pig." On June 21, less than six months later, 2,200 tons of this "pig," converted into a revolving mechanism as perfect as the pinion wheel of an Elgin watch, began to turn on its 70-ton axis, and has been turning, without let or hindrance, without creak or crack, ever since.
It is not easy for the mind to grasp the stupendous nature of this undertaking. The wheel itself is 250 feet in diameter; at its highest point it is 268 feet above the earth. That is to say, if Bunker Hill monument were used as a yardstick to measure it, the towering monolith would fall short 50 feet. If the wheel were set in Broadway, by the side of Trinity spire, it would lift the passengers of its cars to a level with the apex of that soaring steeple. The obelisk of Luxor, or Trajan's pillar, at Rome, would not be long enough to serve for a radial spoke.
Then, again, as to its enormous weight. The Niagara cantilever, just below the falls, was looked upon as an engineering wonder when it was built. Its construction required three years. The Ferris wheel was built in five months, and its weight is four times that of the Niagara bridge. The St. Louis bridge was another wonder, and its weight is about equal to that of the big wheel complete. The Cincinnati cantilever is another huge bridge; it is 1,300 feet, a quarter of a mile long, and it would about balance the scales with Mr. Ferris' big toy. And the one is set immovable, resting on two supports, while the wheel is swung upon an axle lifted 140 feet in the air. It has 36 cars, and in these two regiments of soldiers could be seated and swept with an almost imperceptible motion high above the White Wonder.
I said, "Precisely what does the great wheel represent in mechanics?"
"Well," Mr. Ferris replied, "I suppose you might consider it as typifying the present progress, the latest development, of mechanical engineering. You know there are really two wheels, one built thirty feet within the other. These are joined by truss work, such as is used in our finest bridge construction. Beyond all that, the wheel develops, to a degree hitherto never realized, the capacities of a tension spoke. You know that the wheel is not only a perfect pinion wheel, but a tension wheel as well, and these, I suppose, may be regarded as its chief points. I do not know whether you have stopped to consider, but it is as perfect a pinion wheel as the little wheel that goes flicking back and forth in your watch. In all that immense diameter there is less deflection proportionately from a true circle than from the pinion wheel of the most perfect watch made. This is due to the fact that it has, instead of stiff spokes, the tension or jointed spokes. When I first proposed to build a tension wheel of this diameter, the feat was regarded as impossible. It was held that the spoke rods on the upper side of the wheel at any given moment, instead of sustaining the weight of the upper part of the wheel, would, from their own weight, as they hung vertically, pull down the arc of the wheel which they bore upon, and thus cause the wheel to become elliptic. As a matter of fact, they do nothing of the kind. There is absolutely no deflection from the perfect circle.
"Considering some of the mechanical difficulties in the construction of the wheel, you will note that it stands directly east and west; thus the southern side of the wheel receives the entire brunt of the sun's rays, whereas the northern side is not only shaded by the southern but by the cars as well, causing a difference in expansion, varying, from the heat to which it is subjected, of from three to six inches. All these little problems had, of course, to be met, for even this slight variation of five or six inches in the total diameter of 250 feet would be sufficient, unless properly dealt with, to cause a disturbance in the working gear."
KEEP OUT.
ONE man escaped the dangers of strong drink, and reached manhood sober and prosperous, by keeping a promise which his mother exacted, never to take off his hat in a public house, and never to sit down in a place where strong drink was sold. His tarrying in such places was short and the shorter the better.
A reformed saloon keeper, who signed the pledge and closed his house, gives this testimony: "I sold liquor for eleven years, and have seen a man take his first glass in my place, and afterwards fill the grave of a suicide. I have seen man after man, wealthy and educated, come into my saloon, who cannot now buy a dinner. I can count twenty customers once worth more than a thousand pounds who are now without a penny, and without hope, and without a friend in the world."
He specially warns boys against entering drinking saloons on any pretext, and says he has seen many a young fellow, member of a temperance society, come in with a friend and wait while he drank. "No, no," he would say, "I never touch it. Thanks all the same." Presently, rather than seem churlish, he would take a glass of cider or harmless lemonade. "The lemonade was nothing," says the publican, "but I knew how it would end. The only safety, boys, for any man, no matter how strong his resolution, is outside the doors of the saloon."—Christian Advocate.
WHAT SMALL MISTAKES SOMETIMES SHOW.
SMALL mistakes sometimes tell large tales. That which to the ignorant appears like learning, easily shows itself as ignorance to the learned. "If I did not pronounce Rio Grande in the Spanish way," said a sciolist, "my friends would think I did not know any better." "Well," answered the scholar who was advocating the Anglicized pronunciation for Americans, "you don't know any better."
And so with a very large proportion of those who would seem sufficiently literate and cultivated to write for the press. They would impress the editors with their facility in the marks of professional accomplishment. They would not send "a manuscript," but an MMS, or an M.S.S., or an MS.S., or an MM.S., or Mms. It is almost as rare to find such writers sending an MS. as "a manuscript."
And, again, it is not uncommon to find handsomely printed books, pamphlets, circulars, etc., by or about an L.L.D. One "S" or one "M" too many, or one surplus period, is a small mistake with a large significance. Upon what principle are such abbreviations constructed? How much is there to know about such symbols? Evidently they are dangerous tools in the hands of the inexpert. No one can expect to use them safely, and to carve a writer's fortune with them, unless he is willing to study out what such signs stand for, and how success is not to be attained in literature or scholarship, any more than in any other walk of life, by relying upon seeming to know what one does not know.—S. S. Times.
TANSY FOR ANTS.
A SURE remedy for these summer pests is here outlined. Big, fat, black ant-mires and little, lean, scurrying red ants have put in their early appearance at our house for the past few summers, taking possession of every pantry and cellar shelf where food is kept, and persistently remaining until frost comes. I have tried washing the shelves in alum water, and circling the sugar bucket and cake box with chalk marks, thick and broad, to strand the foraging, and sifted sponges full of sugar, and, when filled with victims, have plunged them into hot water. I have put sulphur bags and borax lumps and cedar chips and tarred paper strips in my cupboards and ice chest, but with no other result than to see both black and red ants scampering as lively as ever over the supposed exterminator.
"Why don't you try tansy?" the new girl said one morning last spring. "Mother always drives them off by putting tansy leaves on her shelves." I had little faith in the bundle of green-leaved stalks she picked that day and laid on every food shelf in cupboard, pantry, and cellar—less faith, even, than I had in my plump little sulphur bags and wobbly chalk marks. But the tansy did it; for there was a stampede of ants, big and little, black and red, presently from my shelves—a thorough routing; for from that day to this, six weeks, not one ant have we seen, though we leave the sirup can unsealed and the sugar bucket on the shelf.—Household.
THE OPEN DOOR IN BENGAL.
By Mrs. Ada Lee
THE province of Bengal, in India, is beautiful for situation, rich in tropical trees and plants, and, on account of the moisture of its climate, abundant in all kinds of vegetable growth. This province, though no larger than the State of California, contains eighty millions of people. Forty millions of these speak the Bengali language, and constitute one of the most important races in India. They are bright and intelligent, most eager to learn, and very aggressive, although considered by some not remarkable for courage or activity. But I have found among their women the bravest persons I ever knew. Many of the Bengali are writers. For this reason they follow the railway and telegraph lines all over India. The educated Babu fill the public and government offices everywhere as clerks and accountants.
My first home among them was in the great city of Calcutta, a city, including its suburbs, of one million souls, given up for the most part to idolatry, as its name indicates, for Calcutta in the Bengali language is Kalighaut, the bathing place of the black goddess Kali.
In this city we are met by most striking contrasts. Here, where hundreds of thousands live in ignorance, superstition, and sin, and endure the most abject poverty, there are fifteen thousand young men attending college, —young men who, if they were led to Jesus, would be a power in the evangelization of India. Therefore, when we think of the Bengali people, with all their idolatry, sin, and ignorance, let us remember also that some of the brightest orators of this century belonged to this race, among them Keshub Chunder Sen, the leader of the Brahmo Somaj, and that at the present time there are a number of brilliant Bengali preachers, teachers, and authors, the fruit of Christian teaching.
We can never know a people without some knowledge of their home life, but this is what a traveler seldom gets in Bengal. I have read with no little indignation the disparaging remarks about the Bengalese made by persons who have been sight-seeing in India. You can get no conception of the Bengali home by what you see of the Bengali Babu in the street, and the women of the higher classes are never seen there. You look inside their houses and find what to me is the most interesting class in the world, the Bengali zenana women.
Of all the cruel systems this world has ever known Hinduism is the most Satanic, and those who suffer most from its curse are women. From the hour of her birth until the day of her death woman is the victim of its cruel practices. Whether she lives in a mud hut, sleeps on the ground and subsists on the cheapest and least quantities of food possible, as the masses of the people do, or is a member of the highest and wealthiest families, her condition is practically the same.
The ordinary Bengali house is constructed with a courtyard in the center, the rooms built around the four sides of it. From the outside we pass through a narrow, dark passageway into the courtyard. In these back apartments, without ventilation or anything attractive to sight or smell, are shut up for life millions of these women. Whatever may be said about "woman's rights," or whatever may be her position in the opinion of men, God has given her a place no power can change. Man is the head of the nation and of the home, but the heart of the nation and the home is woman. In India, where it is a disgrace to be a woman, man is not only the head, but, by himself considered, the only important being. Still there, as here, woman is the heart of the home, and, consequently, of the nation, and her silent influence rules the destiny of that people. If the women of India could be led to Jesus to-day, the deathblow would be dealt to idolatry, and it would soon become a sad story of the past.
I remember once, in company with Bishop Thoburn, in the city of Calcutta, visiting a meeting of the Bengali Literary Club. There were present over two hundred Bengali gentlemen. Myself and a young Bengali attendant were the only women in the audience. The paper of the evening was presented by Professor Banerjee, a Bengali Christian gentleman. The subject was "The Young Man of Bengal." I remember of this eloquent address but little else than the title. During the debate Bishop Thoburn spoke in his usual telling way, but I cannot remember a word he said. There was one in that meeting whose words I can never forget. He was a young Bengali gentleman, in his native dress, who arose in the back part of the audience, and said:
"Gentlemen, there is no hope for the young men of Bengal until you give them pure, educated, noble wives and mothers. I have finished my course in school, and am now studying in the medical college, but no amount of education can eradicate the superstitions taught me by my mother; they haunt me continually. There is no hope for Bengal until we can have pure, elevated homes."
The beautiful word "home" is not in all their language, neither will we find in their abodes, be they large or small, the healthful atmosphere of home life.
Go with me to a Bengali house at the birth of a child. Standing outside the door is a servant woman with a conch shell in her hand —the conch is a symbol of rejoicing used in their temples and at festivals. The woman is awaiting news from within; if it be announced, "A boy is born," she takes up the conch and blows loud and long. A band of musicians had for the occasion catch the strain, and, marching up and down the street, playing on their rude instruments, proclaim to their neighbors and friends what a blessing has come to this family, and there is universal rejoicing.
But if the word from within should be, "A girl is born," the woman drops the conch shell, and, tearing her hair, begins to weep and mourn. The musicians, leaving their instruments, with crying and wailing announce the sad news, telling to all the calamity that has befallen this unfortunate family,—a girl baby has been born. A few years ago the little unfortunate would have been drowned in a vessel of water or smothered to death, thus ending its short existence; and, although prohibited by law, even now in the out-of-the-way places, judging from the comparative absence of female children, this terrible crime of infanticide is still practiced.
What shall be the life of the little Bengali girl? Many things are in the way of her education and usefulness. Custom is against educating women, and favors child marriage. At an early age she is taught to worship idols, and her bright mind and tender heart are steeped in superstition by the teaching and the evil practices of Hinduism. While a child she is married to one much older than she, and in whose choice she had no voice, and is shut up in the zenana, in whose close seclusion she spends her life. She lives in constant dread of widowhood, a description of the heartlessness of which I have not space here to give. It is enough to know that "the widows of India would outnumber four cities like London, England. One in every six of the females of India is doomed to a desolate and degraded life." From my observation among the Bengali people perpetual widowhood with them means perpetual infamy. With this state of things among the women who have the training of children, who at first are just as pure and innocent as our own beautiful babes, what can we expect for the future of such a people?
And yet a more eager class of women to learn I have never met. Their sad, aching hearts are waiting to be led to Jesus, and there are few to carry the glad tidings of salvation to this people. I have seen a city of 350,000 inhabitants without a preacher or teacher in it. All over Bengal there are great districts where no missionary ever goes, and millions have never heard the blessed name of Jesus. —Gospel in All Lands.
WE SHALL REAP WITH JOY.
God of the prophet's power!
God of the gospel's sound!
Move glorious on; send out thy voice
To all the nations round.
With hearts and lips unfeigned,
We bless thee for thy word;
We praise thee for the joyful news
Which our glad ears have heard.
Oh, may we treasure well
The counsels that we hear,
Till righteousness and holy joy
In all our hearts appear!
Water the sacred seed,
And give it large increase;
May neither storms, nor rocks, nor thorns
Prevent the fruit of peace.
And though we sow in tears,
Yet we at last shall come,
And gather in our sheaves with joy
At heaven's great harvest home.
—Selected.
STUNDISTS.
The Stundists sprang up among the South Russian peasantry about the year 1860. The name "Stundist" is derived from the German word stunde, "hour," applied to them because they met at regular hours for the purpose of singing hymns, offering up prayers, and reading the Holy Scriptures and explaining them. In almost every particular they comply with the teachings of Christ, and even the police authorities, who are called upon both by the State and the clergy to persecute them or compel them by force to attend the worship of the Orthodox Greek Church, recognize the superiority of their morality over the rest of the population. Yet on account of their religion they are treated as if they were criminals. But evidently God's blessing is upon them, as they constantly increase in number.—Sel.
Historical Sketches
OF THE
FOREIGN MISSIONS
Of Seventh-day Adventists.
This work comprises Reports of the European Missionary Councils of 1883, 1884 and 1885, and a narrative, by Mrs. E. G. White, of her visit and labors in these missions. 296 large pages; paper covers.
Price Reduced to 60 Cents, Postpaid.
Combined with the SIGNS OF THE TIMES, one year, $2.00.
Address, PACIFIC PRESS PUB. CO., Oakland, Cal.
"This Rock, or the Foundation of the Church." (Spanish.) Showing that the Rock of Matt. 16: 18 is Christ, and not Peter; 4 pp.; 50 cents per 100. Address, PACIFIC PRESS PUBLISHING Co., Oakland, Cal.
EVERY follower of Christ should daily examine himself, that he may become perfectly acquainted with his own conduct. There is with nearly all a neglect of self-examination. This neglect is positively dangerous in one who professes to be a mouthpiece for God, occupying the fearful, responsible position of receiving the words from God to give to his people. The daily conduct of such a person has great influence upon others. If he has any success in labor, he brings his converts to his own low standard, and it is seldom that they rise higher.
There is much in the conduct of a minister that he can improve. Many see and feel their lack, yet they seem to be ignorant of the influence they exert. They are conscious of their actions as they perform them, but suffer them to pass from their memory, and therefore do not reform. If ministers would make the actions of each day a subject of careful thought and deliberate review, with the object to become acquainted with their own habits of life, they would better know themselves. By a close scrutiny of their daily life under all circumstances, they would know their own motives, the principles which actuate them. This daily review of our acts, to see whether conscience approves or condemns, is necessary for all who wish to arrive at the perfection of Christian character. Many acts which pass for good works, even deeds of benevolence, will, when closely investigated, be found to be prompted by wrong motives. Many receive applause for virtues which they do not possess. The Searcher of hearts inspects motives, and often the deeds which are highly applauded by men are recorded by him as springing from selfish motives and base hypocrisy. Every act of our lives, whether excellent and praiseworthy or deserving of censure, is judged by the Searcher of hearts according to the motives which prompted it.
Even some ministers who are advocating the law of God, have but little knowledge of themselves. They do not meditate, and investigate their motives. They do not see their errors and sins, because they do not, in sincerity and earnestness, take a view of their life, their acts, and their character, separate and as a whole, and compare them with the sacred and holy law of God. The claims of God's law are not really understood by them, and they are daily living in transgression of the spirit of that law which they profess to revere. "By the law," says Paul, "is the knowledge of sin." "I had not known sin but by the law; for I had not known lust, except the law had said, Thou shalt not covet." Some who labor in word and doctrine have not a practical understanding of the law of God and its holy claims, or of the atonement of Christ. They themselves need to be converted before they can convert sinners.
The faithful mirror which would reveal the defects in the character is neglected; therefore deformity and sin exist, and are apparent to others, if not understood by those who are in fault. The hateful sin of selfishness exists to a great degree, even in some who profess to be devoted to the work of God. If they would compare their character with his requirements, especially with the great standard, his holy, just, and good law, they would ascertain, if earnest, honest searchers, that they are fearfully wanting.—Testimony for the Church No. 19.
FIELD NOTES.
By Editor
ELDER H. A. ST. JOHN reports nine accessions to the San Francisco church within two weeks.
THE secretary of the California Sabbath School Association reports 128 schools in the Conference.
ELDER W. W. PRESCOTT, wife and child arrived in this city from the North on the 28th ult., and went on to Healdsburg on the 2d inst.
INCIDENTAL reports of the good work of the institute recently held at Atlanta, Ga., continue to reach us from different sources. It seems to have given a wonderful impetus to the work in the Southern field.
IN the Workers' Bulletin of February 27 is a statement that eight persons were baptized at Des Moines, Iowa, on the previous Sabbath, seven of whom were attendants at the canvassers' school being held in that place.
ELDER J. W. WATT reports the work in Helena, Mont., steadily growing. "About forty persons are now keeping the Sabbath, thirty-five of whom have their names on the covenant." He is now laboring in Butte City.
A LETTER to the Review from Jamaica Island notes the fact that a minister (formerly Baptist, now independent) and his flock of twenty members have made application to unite with our people. The writer, Sister A. J. Haysmer, adds that "the call for reading matter is simply astonishing."
ELDER A. J. STONE, a Swedish laborer from Chicago, has been called to Iowa, to look after the people of his nationality in that State. He is at present conducting meetings in Des Moines. A previous meeting at Village Creek, Allamakee County, resulted in nine accessions to the faith.
THE General Conference Bible School at Battle Creek, Mich., keeps growing in interest and importance. In response to demands for more teachers, Elder A. F. Ballenger was called to that work, and prevented from filling appointments in the Iowa Conference. However, it is expected that the school will shortly turn out a host of qualified field laborers.
OF the Japanese mission in Portland, Oregon, Elder S. N. Haskell writes: "Nineteen have already embraced the Sabbath, six of whom are studying for the ministry. These have received very little instruction outside of what they have found in the Scriptures, and there is no one thing that awakens in them a greater interest than to hear of the saving power of their Redeemer, and of his second coming to this earth."
IN the Oakland church, on the 3d inst., Elder M. H. Brown preached a very important discourse on the general topic of miracles and signs and wonders, showing how Satan will use such manifestations to deceive all who are not sufficiently rooted and grounded in the word to recognize the true and to detect the false. It is the "wicked and adulterous" who seek after signs. Our trust must be in the word; we must prove the miracles by the word, and not test the truth by the miracles.
"LAUNCH OUT."
By John M'Carthy
BY JOHN M'CARTHY.
"LAUNCH out" into the deep,
Nor ever hug the shore,
But keep
At distance great from land;
Near not as heretofore
The strand.
By launching out to seas profound,
The ship fears not to run aground.
"Launch out" into the sea,
Since winds arise so fast.
To be
Secure 'tis best to steer
To sea, beyond land's blast,
Nor fear
To set your sails both high and wide
Upon the ocean's waves to ride.
"Launch out," but watch the light
That tells of rocks ahead
So white,
Which near the shore abound.
To sailors they cause dread,
Till found
And placed upon the chart, then they
Courageously to sea essay.
"Launch out" into God's sea
Of love profound, divine,
That we
May catch the Spirit's breeze
While sailing o'er the brine.
His peace
We know shall sure be ours if we
Sail not upon life's shallow sea.
"Launch out," and cast the net
Into the sea below,
Nor wait
Till calmer seas prevail,
Nor stay to better know,
But sail,
Relying on our God to guide
Our bark to where the fish abide.
"Launch out;" the Lord will steer;
To him e'er trust our all,
Nor fear,
Since he can overwhelm
All danger, and the squall
He'll stem.
And when the storms of life are past
To heaven he'll guide us home at last.
KEEP FILLED WITH THE WORD.
THE famous old Dr. Bellamy once said to a young minister who asked him how he should always have material for his sermon: "Young man, fill up the cask, fill up the cask, and then if you tap it anywhere, you will get a full stream; but if you put in very little, it will dribble, dribble, dribble, and you may tap and tap, and get precious little after all."—Theodore L. Cuyler, D.D.