Earlier text: Emotion and PrincipleWhen Are they Punished?
By E. R. Jones
Who? The wicked. That the wicked will be punished for their sins is an emphatic declaration of the Word of God. “Though hand join in hand, the wicked shall not be unpunished.” “I will punish the world for their evil, and the wicked for their iniquity.” “Is not destruction to the wicked, and a strange punishment to the workers of iniquity?” “Upon the wicked he shall rain snares, fire and brimstone, and an horrible tempest: this shall be the portion of their cup.” In the most startling terms has the Lord pronounced his vengeance against those who trample under foot his law, and set at naught his grace. In the fiery indignation of the Lord they shall reap the just reward of their doings. When is this to be? To what source shall we look for a truthful answer to this great question? Shall we not with reverent ear listen to those who profess to teach the way of life, and to deter the sinner from his sins by the fierce denunciations of treasured wrath? And what do such teach us with reference to the time when this shall be? In civil governments, when a criminal is to be punished, the condemning power plainly states a definite time when the sentence is to be executed. This is but reasonable and just; and so from those teachers who stand to declare the judgments of God against all unrighteousness, we hear the alarming utterance, that when death shall carry the wicked beyond this mortal state so full of sorrow and pain, they shall be thrust into a fire of fiercest heat to suffer to all eternity the most indescribable pain and anguish, and unspeakable woe. The vast majority of the human family have died, subjects of the wrath of the Lord. Can it be true that these millions upon millions are now in the place of torment sending up their shrieks of anguish in the hopeless endeavor to reach, by these cries, the ear of a compassionate God? Terrible thought! We cannot believe it. We turn from this teaching to the Bible which we believe to be the only source of light and truth upon this great subject. Does this teach that death is the time when this punishment shall begin? We will read for ourselves. One of the plain doctrines of this book is: that there will be a great judgment day. We read, “Because he hath appointed a day, in the which he will judge the world in righteousness, by that man whom he hath ordained.” Acts 17: 31. “As many as have sinned in the law shall be judged by the law, in the day when God shall judge the secrets of men by Jesus Christ according to my gospel.” Rom. 2: 12, 16. “And the sea gave up the dead which were in it; and death and hell (the grave) delivered up the dead which were in them: and they were judged every man according to their works.” Rev. 20: 13. Before Felix, Paul reasoned of a judgment to come. That great day was in the future when the apostle thus preached to him; and it had not yet come, for Peter says, “But the heavens and the earth which are now, by the same word are kept in store, reserved unto fire against the day of judgment.” When this time comes, the elements and the earth will be melted, and the works that are in the earth will be burned up. To this great burning day the earth is reserved, and not only it, but the wicked also, and then they shall be rewarded. “The Lord knoweth how to deliver the godly out of temptation, and to reserve the unjust unto the day of judgment to be punished.” 2 Pet. 2: 9. Now let us hear Jesus on this question. “Then began he to upbraid the cities wherein most of his mighty works were done, because they repented not: Woe unto thee, Chorazin! woe unto thee, Bethsaida! for if the mighty works which were done in you, had been done in Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented long ago in sack-cloth and ashes. But I say unto you, it shall be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon at the day of judgment than for you. And thou, Capernaum, which art exalted unto heaven, shalt be brought down to hell: for if the mighty works which have been done in thee had been done in Sodom, it would have remained until this day. But I say unto you, That it shall be more tolerable for the land of Sodom in the day of judgment than for thee.” Matt. 11: 20–24. The wicked men of Sodom, Tyre and Sidon, will be punished for their sins, as will those also who rejected Christ; but the former will not have so severe a punishment as the latter, because they did not sin against so much light. It shall be more tolerable, that is, less severe. When? At the day of judgment. How clearly these words of the great Teacher show when the wicked receive the reward of their deeds. Let us hear Paul: “But after thy hardness and impenitent heart thou treasurest up unto thyself, wrath against the day of wrath and revelation of the righteous judgment of God.” Rom. 2: 5. And when this day of wrath is come, then he will render to all who have laid up such a fearful treasure, “indignation and wrath.” Job says: “That the wicked is reserved to the day of destruction. They shall be brought forth to the day of wrath.” The day of destruction is the day of wrath, and to it the wicked are reserved. Now hear Peter: “and to reserve the unjust unto the day of judgment to be punished.” This shows that the day of wrath spoken of by Paul, is the day of judgment spoken of by Peter. Now hear Peter again: “But the heavens and the earth which are now, . . . are reserved unto fire against the day of judgment and perdition of ungodly men.” 2 Pet. 3: 7. Another evidence as to the time when they receive their reward is found in 2 Pet. 2: 6. “And turning the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah into ashes, condemned them with an overthrow, making them an example to those that after should live ungodly.” In the destruction of the cities of the plain, God has given us a thrilling illustration of the visitation of his wrath upon the wicked at last. We read, “The Lord rained upon Sodom and Gomorrah brimstone and fire from the Lord out of heaven.” Gen. 19: 24. “Upon the wicked he shall rain snares, fire and brimstone and an horrible tempest: this shall be the portion of their cup.” Psa. 11: 6. “And they went up on the breadth of the earth and compassed the camp of the saints about, and fire came down from God out of heaven and devoured them.” Rev. 20: 9. So shall it be at the end of the world: the angels shall come forth and sever the wicked from among the just, and shall cast them into a furnace of fire: there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth. And Jesus saith unto them, Have ye understood all these things? They say unto him, Yea, Lord.” Matt. 13: 49–51. The religion of the day (with a few noble exceptions) is an easy-minded religion, without conflict and wrestling, without self-denial and sacrifice; a religion which knows nothing of the pangs of the new birth as its commencement, and nothing of the desperate struggle with the flesh and with the devil, day by day making us long for resurrection deliverance, for the binding of the adversary, and for the Lord's return. It is a second-rate religion, a religion in which there is no largeness, no grandeur, no potency, no noblemindedness, no elevation, no self-devotedness, no all-constraining love. It is a hollow religion, with a fair exterior but an aching heart, a heart unsatisfied, a soul not at rest, a soul not at peace with God; a religion marked, it may be, by activity and excitement, but betraying all the while the consciousness of a wound hidden and unhealed within, and hence unable to animate to lofty doings, or supply the strength needed for such doings. It is a feeble religion, lacking the sinews and bones of hardier times, very different from the indomitable, much-enduring, storm-braving religion, not merely of apostolic days, but even of the Reformation. There is a speaking for God, but it is with a faltering tongue; there is a laboring for God, but it is with fettered hands; there is a moving in the way of His commandments, but it is with a heavy drag upon our limbs. Hence the inefficient, uninfluential character of our religion. It does not tell on others, for it has not yet fully told upon ourselves. It falls short of its mark, for the arm that drew the bow is paralyzed. God Accepts Our First Attempts
God will accept your first attempts to serve him, not as a perfect work, but as a beginning. The first little blades of wheat are as pleasant to the farmer's eye as the whole field waving with grain. The New Benevolent Society.
By Charles
In the snug, cosy bar-room of the “Farmers’ Inn,” at Madisonville, sat six young men. It was a cold, bleak evening in December; and the wind that howled and drove without, drifting the snow and rattling the shutters, gave to the blazing fire and steaming kettle additional charms and comforts. There was Peter Hobbs, a youth of five and twenty, who seemed to be the leader, par excellence, of the party. He was a good-natured, intelligent, frank-looking man, and was really a noble-hearted citizen. Then there was John Fulton, a youth of the same age, who worked with Hobbs, both being journeymen carpenters. Samuel Green was a machinist; Walter Mason, a tin worker; Lyman Drake, a cabinet maker; and William Robinson, a clerk. They ranged, in age, from twenty-three to twenty-eight, and were really industrious youths, receiving good wages, and maintaining good characters for honesty, sobriety and general good behavior. Yet they were looked upon by some as ungodly youths, and given over to perdition. True, they belonged to no church; and, amid the various conflicting creeds by which they were surrounded, they had not yet settled down upon any one in particular, believing that there was good in all of them, and evil among the members of each. On the present occasion, they were all of them smoking, and the empty mugs which stood upon the table near them, showed pretty conclusively that they had been drinking something besides water. The subject of the cold winter had been disposed of; the quality of the warm ale and cigars had been thoroughly discussed, and at length the conversation turned upon the missionary meeting, which had been held in the town on the previous Sabbath. “I don’t know but this missionary business is all right,” said Sam Green, knocking the ashes from his cigar with his little finger, “but, at the same time, I don’t believe in it. Them Hindoos and South Sea Islanders may be savage and ignorant, by our scale of measuring folks; but that is no reason why we should send all our money off there, while our own folks are starving at home.” “Did you put anything into the box?” asked Lyman Drake. “No, I didn’t. When they shoved it into my face, I told ’em I’d left all my money at home—and so I had.” “You’re about right, Sam,” said Bill Robinson. “But I did more than you did. When the box was handed to me, I spoke right out, so that everybody around me heard. I told the old deacon if he’d take up a subscription to help the poor in our town, I’d put in something.” “What did he say to that?” “Why—he said, ‘Souls are of more consequence than bodies.’ So I just said back that I guessed he’d find it hard work to save a soul out of a starving body. But you see that aren’t the thing. They won’t try to save the souls, nor the bodies either, of their own townsfolks. Now when Squire Truman came here to settle, they tried quick enough to save his soul. Ye see his body was already salted down with ten thousand dollars, so his soul was worth something to ’em. Why don’t they try to save poor old Israel Trask’s soul, and his wife’s too?” “Wasn’t there a committee of the church that visited old Israel last month?” queried Drake. “Yes—there was,” answered Sam, giving his cigar an indignant shake; “and what did they do? They went there—four on ’em—and found the old folks suffering for want of food and clothing. They tried to make the old man believe their religion was the only true one in the world, but he would not. So they gave him three tracts and a little cheap book, and then went away. That’s what they did. Afore I’d give a cent to such chaps to send off to feed their missionaries in Baugwang and Slaffam Islands, I’d throw it into the fire.” “But these missionaries are honest people, and do some good,” remarked Peter Hobbs, who had not before spoken on the subject. “Of course, they do,” responded Sam. “But wouldn’t it look better of ’em to begin some of their charities at home? I judge of a man’s order by the way his own shop looks, and not by the way he may fuss around on another man’s premises. And just so with those philanthropists. I’d rather see how much their religion does toward keeping the Gentiles of their own town, than to go away off to the other end of the earth to look for the fruits of their Christianity. Them’s my sentiments.” “And mine too,” uttered Walter Mason, who had just thrown away the stump of one cigar, and was about lighting another. “Just think; they collected, last Sunday, to send off to the Hindoos, over two hundred dollars. Now, that would have made half the poor families in this town—and I don’t know but all—comfortable for the winter. There was Mr. Netherly—worth forty thousand dollars—he put in a ten dollar bill. It was a great, new bill, and he opened it, and held it up, and even turned it round, so’t everybody could see it before he let it drop. Then at the end, when the box was carried up into the pulpit, the deacon whispered to the minister; and the minister got up, and, said he, taking hold of the corner of the rich man’s bill: ‘Here is ten dollars from one brother. Let that brother be assured that his deed is remembered of him in Heaven.’ Yes, that’s what was said; and Mr. Netherly held up his head, bowed very low, and then looked round at the rest of the congregation, as much as to say, that’s me. Now I know of another thing that I guess’ll be remembered in Heaven, alongside of this one. Last week, poor old Trask—Uncle Israel—called at Netherly’s with some baskets. You know the old man gets out stuff in the summer, and then in the winter makes it up. Well, he went there, and asked Netherly if he wouldn’t buy a basket. No; he didn’t want one. Then the old man told him how he and his poor old wife were suffering, and he asked him if he couldn’t help him in some way; and what do you think Netherly said? Why, he said that he had to pay taxes to help support a poor-house, and told Uncle Israel that he’d find help there, if he’d only apply to the select men! Now what d’ye think of that, eh?” “Why,” returned Sam, “I think if he’s got an account in Heaven, he’ll find a balance against him, when he comes to settle up.” “So he will,” responded three or four of the others. For some moments after this, the party smoked in silence. Peter Hobbs had been pondering very deeply upon something, and at length he spoke: “Now look here, boys,” he said, throwing his half-smoked cigar into the fire, “there’s a good deal of truth in what’s been said—in fact, it’s all true; but, before we blame others, we ought to do something ourselves. Now I’m ready to form a regular benevolent society. Let us six go at the work, and see what we can do toward alleviating some of the distress about us. What say you?” The other five looked on in wonder. “But,” said Sam, “how are we to do it? We aren’t among the favored ones. We wasn’t born with silver spoons in our mouths.” “I should like to do it,” added Drake, “But what’s the use? We couldn’t do much any way—not enough to amount to anything.” And so the others expressed their opinions in like manner. They all “would like,” but “where was the money to come from?” “Listen,” said Peter; and they all turned toward him with real deference, for they knew he never wore a cloak over his heart, and that when he spoke in earnest, his meaning had depth to it. “Now I have formed a plan. There is old Uncle Israel and his wife; then there is the widow Manley, with four little children, suffering for want of the actual necessaries of life; and then there is Mrs. Williams—she is very poor. Her son Philip, who is her main stay, was sick all the summer and fall, and is sick now; so the woman got nothing from her little patch of land, and is now absolutely reduced to beggary, with herself and sick son to support. Now let us take these three cases in hand, and support them.” “But how?” asked three or four voices, anxiously, for they really and fully sympathized with the noble plan. “I’ll tell you,” resumed Peter. “Here, Tim,” he called, turning to the bar-keeper, “what’s our bill?” “Let’s see,” responded the worthy, coming up. “There’s two cigars apiece, three cents each—that’s thirty-six. Then the ale—three pints—eighteen cents; and wine—three gills—that’s eighteen more—makes just thirty-six more; and twice thirty-six is—is—seventy-two—seventy-two cents is all.” “Come, boys,” said Peter, “let’s pay an equal share to-night. Let’s give him nine pence apiece.” So the “boys” paid up, and after Tim had gone, Peter resumed: “Now see what we’ve spent to-night for nothing. I’ll begin with you, Sam. How much do you suppose you spend each day for cigars and ale? Now reckon fairly.” “Let’s see,” was Sam’s response, after gazing into the face of his interlocutor until he had fairly got hold of the idea. “I certainly average four—no, five cigars a day, and I suppose they average three cents apiece. Then comes my ale—but I could not tell how much that amounts to, for I don’t drink it regularly, but perhaps six cents a day.” “That’s just twenty-one cents per day, utterly wasted,” said Peter; “and I’ll own up to wasting twenty-five per day. How is it with you, John?” “Now look at it. Here we are, a little worse than wasting about a dollar and a half per day. But let us put our loss at a shilling each—” “No, no,” cried Sam, who saw thro’ the whole plan. “Let’s give honest measure. I’ll own up to the twenty-five. Let’s go the whole, if any.” “Very well,” returned Peter; “then let us commence and pledge ourselves not to smoke, or drink ale, for one month from this date. Every night we will lay away a quarter of a dollar, and at the end of the week we’ll put our savings all together, and then go on our mission. What say you?” With one voice the other five joined in the plan. The novelty of the thing may have pleased them; but the real incentives lay deeper down in the natural goodness of their hearts. There was no written pledge, but they took a more speedy method. Peter laid his hand upon the table, and said: “Here’s my hand, pledged to the work.” “And mine too,” cried Sam, laying his broad palm a-top of Peter’s. “And mine,” “and mine,” “and mine,” chimed the rest, placing their hands one a-top of the other until the six right hands lay upon the table in a pyramid. “This is Tuesday,” resumed Peter. “Will we meet next Saturday?” “Yes,” answered Sam, “and call it a week. Let’s throw in two days.” And so the week was begun. On the next day, as Sam Green sat a-top of his bench after dinner, he felt rather lost without his cigar, and for awhile he argued the question with himself, whether ’twouldn’t be just as well for him to put an extra quarter into his box and have his cigars as usual. But he remembered his pledge. He looked forward to Saturday, when he should find himself an ambassador of mercy to the sick and needy—and his resolution grew strong again. That was his last real hesitation, though it must be confessed he had some trials and hankerings. And so with the rest, they had some moments of doubt and mental warfare with appetite and habit, but conquered, and were true. Saturday came, and the six youths left their work at noon, having done more than over-work enough to make up for the loss of the half-day. “Must have a time once in awhile, eh?” said Sam’s boss, as the young man pointed to the work he had done, and informed him that he should not work the rest of the day. “Some sort of a time,” replied Sam. “Very well, but you’re too good a fellow to go very deep into dissipation.” “I’ll be up bright in the morning, sir;” and with this he left. The new Benevolent Society met at Walter Mason’s tin-shop. Each took out his money and they had in all nine dollars, it being in thirty-six silver quarters. “Now,” says Peter, “let’s visit the three families we have taken under our charge. We’ll go together, and expend the money as we see it is most needed. Let us go to Uncle Israel’s first.” So off they went to Uncle Israel Trask’s. The old couple lived in a small hut at the edge of the village, which was reached by a narrow lane, and here the six philanthropists found the old lady, who was now in her eightieth year, suffering with a severe attack of the rheumatism, while the old man sat crouched over the fire, shivering with cold. “Good day, good day, Uncle Israel.” “Aha, good day, boys, good day,” cried the old man, trying to smile. “Can ye find seats? Sit down somewhere and make yourselves at home. But ye see it’s a poor home that old Israel can offer ye to-day.” “But how are you getting along?” asked Peter, after the party had found seats. “Ah, God ’a’ mercy, I won’t complain, for he is taking meself and Molly home fast. Only cold and hunger are not kind helpmates, Mr. Hobbs, ye ken that, eh?” “Right well, Uncle Israel. And we have come to help you. Do you want any medicine?” “Nay, nay, the old ’oman’s got a’ the medicine laid up we want. It’s only the food and I an’ heat we need. I can’t wade through the drifting snow as I could once.” “Suppose we send you a dollar’s worth of other things, such as tea, coffee, sugar, butter, and the like—could you live a week on it?” “Ah, God a mercy, boys, meself and Molly’d live a long, long while on that. But ye’ll not do it for us.” “No no,” cried Sam, “we’ve got to do it, Uncle Israel, for we six have sworn to help you through the winter. So spunk up.” “D’ye mean that?” Uttered the old man, clasping his thin, tremulous hands. “We do,” they all six answered, and then Sam added, “and while one of us lives, you shall not suffer the want of what we can give.” A moment the old man bowed his snow-white head, and then while the big tears streamed down his face, he raised his eyes and murmured:— “Oh! God’s blessin’ be on ye, ye noble boys. If me heart was gold, an’ I could take it out an’ give it ye—for it’s yours all, all your own!” In a little while the six went away, promising to send or come back soon, and even after they had reached the yard they could hear the voices of Israel and his wife, both raised to God in blessings upon their heads. “I say Sam,” said Peter, “this is better than cigars and ale.” “Don’t say a word now,” replied Sam, “for my heart’s full, and I can’t bear any more.” Next, they drove through the biting wind and snow to the humble cot of the widow Manley. They found her in the only habitable room of her dwelling, sitting by a fire of chips and fagots, with a babe asleep in her lap, and engaged in sewing a coarse frock. Three other children were crouched by the fire, the oldest not yet eight years old. Mr. Manley had been one of the many unfortunates who are swept off by rum, and in the prime of early manhood he had gone, leaving a young wife with four children in absolute penury. “Ah, good day, Mrs. Manley.” The woman would have arisen, but Sam Green placed his hand upon her shoulders to keep her down. “We have come,” said Peter, seeing that she was anxious and fearful, “to see how you get along, and see if we can help you.” “Help me, sir?” uttered the widow with amazement. “Yes; now tell us plainly how you are situated.” The woman was silent for a few moments, but at length she seemed to regain her self-control, and replied:— “Ah, gentlemen, it is all comprised in three short words: Hunger, cold, and nakedness.” “And if we will supply you with food and fuel for a week, can you manage to get along until that time without more clothing?” “Oh—h—yes—sirs. But what is it? Who can help us? Who can care for the—” “We can, we will,” cried the energetic Sam, not so good to plan as Peter, but good at execution. “We six have pledged ourselves to see you safe through the winter. So cheer up and take hope, for neither you nor your children shall suffer while we can help it.” The widow’s hands were clasped and her eyes wandered vacantly from one to the other of her strange visitors. She saw tears of goodness in their eyes, and her own soul’s flood burst forth. “O God bless—bless you always.” “And shall we have something good to eat, mamma, and something to make us warm?” asked the eldest girl, clasping her mother’s knees. “Yes, yes, you shall,” exclaimed Drake, catching the child and kissing her clean, pale face. “You shall have it before supper time, too.” The widow gradually realized the whole object of her visitors, and she tried to express her gratitude in words, but they failed her, and streaming tears had to tell the tale of thanks. After this our society went to the Widow Williams. Her’s was a neat cot, but they found suffering painful enough inside. Philip, a youth of about their own age, sat in a large stuffed chair, looking pale, and thin, and wasted away almost to a skeleton, and his great blue eyes peered at them wonderingly as they entered. The mother too looked careworn and sick, and the dry, hacking cough that sounded in her throat told how much she needed proper food and care. The youths made their business known as before, and with about the same result. The widow and her son could hardly realize that such a blessing had dawned upon them, but279when they did realize it, their joy and gratitude knew no bounds. “Look here,” said Sam Green, as soon as they had reached the road, “it strikes me that we are just about a week behind hand. We ought to have commenced this work just one week earlier than we did, for our nine dollars won’t quite bring matters all up square to the present time. But if they were square now they’d keep so with our weekly allowance.” “You’re right, Sam,” said Fulton, gleefully. “Then let’s commence back two weeks—eh?” “I think so,” said Peter. And all the rest said so, too. So they had eighteen dollars instead of nine. First, our party went and bought three half cords of wood, which they sent at once to their respective destinations, and they agreed that when the other matters were attended to they would go and work it up. Then they went to the stores and purchased such articles of provisions and comfort as they could agree were best adapted to meet the wants of their charges, and, having done this, they separated into three parties of two each, so as to have each family provided for with as little delay as possible. Besides carrying provisions enough to last a week, they left with each about a dollar in change. When the poor people saw the promised blessings—when they thus met the fruition of their newly raised hopes, their joy was almost painful. The noble youths were blessed over and over again. The wood was sawed and split, and put under cover, and then the society returned to the village, as happy as happy could be. On the next day, they went to the church and heard how many heathen had been converted to the peculiar isms of the preachers; and on the day following that, they commenced another week of their newly found Christianity. “Sam,” said the owner of the machine shop, “what were you and the rest of your party doing last Saturday afternoon?” “Converting the heathens,” answered Sam. His employer was a church member, and in for foreign missions, and moreover had often tried to induce Sam into the mysteries. It was some time before Sam would tell the secret, but his boss became so earnest that he at length told the whole story. For a while the employer gazed upon his journeyman with wonder, but gradually, as a sense of the fact came over him, he hung his head. “Sam,” he said at length, earnestly, and with a tear in his eye, “let me join your society.” “But how’ll you raise the money?” inquired Sam. “Money?” echoed the boss. “Look at my bank-book.” “Ah, but that won’t answer. You must save the money by depriving yourself of some superfluity, or luxury you now enjoy.” “It is most rigidly. Our cigars and ale furnish us.” “And won’t you smoke again?” “Never, while within the reach of my influence there’s a human being in want!” “Then I’ll throw away my tobacco and beer, may I join at that?” And the master machinist was proposed and admitted. Another week passed away, and the new Christians went again on their mission, and there were more tears of joy, more prayers, and more blessings. Mr. Boothby, the machinist, had gained a new ray of light on the subject of Christian missions. At length it became known that the poor heathen of Madisonville had found friends. People were wonder-struck when they discovered how happy and joyous these once miserable wretches had become; and more still when, one Sabbath they saw Uncle Israel and his wife, and Mrs. Manley with her two older children, enter the church. Of course the truth leaked out, and we can imagine where the public eye of sympathy and appreciation was turned. Before a month was out, more than fifty people had engaged indirectly in the work, by placing money, food, and clothing in the hands of the original six, for them to distribute as they deemed proper. But there was one rule to which the “society” adhered. They would not receive a cent in money which was not the result of a cutting off of some superfluity, and thus they showed to the people how simple and easy in its work is true charity, and also how many professed Christians not only lose sight of duty, but really lose the greatest joy of Christian life. It was a glorious day for Madisonville when those six young mechanics met in the village bar-room and concocted the plan for their society. And the good has worked in two ways. The members find themselves happier, healthier, and stronger, for having given up their pipes and cups; and the poor unfortunate ones of the town are once again basking in the sunlight of peace, content, and plenty. How very many professed Christian churches there are in our land which would be benefitted by following the example of the six noble youths who still stand at the head of the Madisonville Benevolent Society.—Charles. RELIGIOUS NEWS AND NOTES.
—A monument to Luther will be erected at Eisleben, his birthplace. The Emperor of Germany has given 3,000 marks to help defray the cost. —Still they come. Sixty-one more families of Mennonites, numbering 300 persons, arrived in New York city, August 3. They were to leave for Kansas the evening of the same day. —One of the founders of Mormonism, Sidney Rigdon, died not long since at his home in Friendship, N. Y. He was a leader among the Saints up to the time Brigham Young was elected President of the sect over him. During his last years he took to the more worldly occupation of lecturing on geology, and became highly respected by his neighbors. —Thus says a leading Baptist paper:—“A movement is in progress in France and Switzerland favorable to a stricter observance of the Lord’s day (Sunday). In Paris a society has been organized for promoting this object on both religious and social grounds. In Germany also, an effort is making to secure a better observance of the day of rest.” We wish success to all such associations who are advocating “a stricter observance of the Lord’s day,” in Switzerland, France and Germany. And by this we mean a stricter observance of the only day that the Lord has ever claimed as his, viz.: the seventh day of the week. —Within five years 4,600 out of 6,000 square miles of Palestine have been surveyed by British surveyors; nearly 4,000 heights have been measured; the position of three-fourths of the Biblical towns has been set at rest; and the true sites of the cave of Abdullam, and the ford of baptism of the Jordan have been ascertained. —In the by-laws of the First Congregational church, Cleveland, Ohio, is this article: “No person shall be deemed eligible to membership in the church who will USE, or FURNISH TO OTHERS, LIQUORS as a BEVERAGE.” It met with some opposition when it was put in, but it has been a rock of strength and purity. We would like to see another clause added to this church article, “or who will rent any buildings where such liquors are made or sold.”—The Morning. —A call has been issued for a meeting of the bishops of the Protestant Episcopal Church in the United States, at Philadelphia, October 13, 1876, for the following purposes: (1) to elect a missionary bishop for Cape Palmas, Africa, and a missionary bishop for China; (2) to receive the resignation of the Rev. Dr. William F. Adams, missionary bishop of New Mexico and Arizona; (3) to receive and act upon Commissions of the House of Bishops, having charge of its relations with churches abroad; (4) to consider the circular of the Archbishop of Canterbury in respect to a second Pan-Anglican Synod. —Mr. Atkinson, the American missionary to Japan, recently received a call from two men in Shikoken, one of the four large islands of Japan, asking some one to come and teach them and others the Christian religion. He complied with the request and was accompanied by two others. Of the meetings held he thus speaks:— “Fifteen people were gathered the first time. I spoke to them of the difference between Protestantism and Romanism. Twenty-four were present at the next meeting, with others on the sly out of sight. At the next meeting a hand-bill was found over the door, which read, ‘A teacher from America will lecture on the Bible every day at two o’clock. Any one who will, may come and hear.’ Who put the notice there I do not know. During the whole ten days the house, holding some 350 persons, was literally packed. On the last day at least 400 were present. There was no disturbance. The Governor was friendly and requested that the officials should render what assistance they could.” This unprecedented interest to hear the gospel is a cause of great rejoicing.