Review and Herald, Vol. 39, No. 23. (5/21/1872)

Review and Herald

May 21, 1872

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · May 21, 1872

The New Heaven and the New Earth.

By Rev. Stephen Bowers

A sermon preached in Grace Methodist Episcopal Church, Newport, Kentucky, by Rev. Stephen Bowers.

TEXT.—“Nevertheless we, according to his promise, look for new heavens and a new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness.” 2 Pet. 3:13.

This is a wonderful planet. It measures two hundred and fifty-six thousand millions of cubic miles, upon which live more than a thousand millions of human beings, and an inferior order of animal life more numerous than the leaves of its forests. As motion is the first condition of vitality, everything connected with our earth is moving. Our globe is continually describing five or six independent kinds of motions—its rotary, from west to east; its annular, in which it follows the line of an ellipse around the sun; its rhythmical swayings, as a top turns round and bends over successively in every direction, describing with its axis an ideal cone; its mutations, or more rapid swayings, caused by the attraction of the moon and the vicinity of certain planets; and its translatory motion, by which it is dragged through endless space in the train of the sun at the rate of about 44 miles per second, describing, it would seem, an ellipse around some great center. Besides these motions the continents themselves are slowly moving round the globe, while some portions of the earth’s crust are gradually rising and other portions subsiding. But nature brings about the most wonderful events without even the knowledge of the beings she nourishes. Time is the earth’s attribute, and mountains are raised until their summits kiss the clouds and broad seas are dried up without so much as “disturbing the flight of an insect.”

Compared with other worlds ours is but as the small dust of the balance, lost in the midst of the Milky Way, with great worlds glowing above us, around us, and beneath us. But though in magnitude our earth may be lowest in rank among the heavenly bodies, yet in the variety of its details it may surpass them all. It may have the grandest mountains, the broadest seas, the most beautiful rivers, the loveliest forests, and the purest skies. It may be the only world where Deity veiled himself in humanity. It must be an attractive and interesting world where all these are found. Can we be censured for desiring to live here as long as it is God’s will?

But this earth with all its loveliness is not a fallen planet. From the time it was first peopled with human beings, it has been a theater for strife and crime. It has been so drenched with human blood that it is necessary that the purifying fires of the Almighty should pass over it and purify it from the effects of crime, and fit it, as we believe, for a higher order of life than it now possesses. That fire is to be the agent in this renovation is clearly indicated in the Scriptures: “For a fire is kindled in mine anger, and shall burn unto the lowest hell, and shall consume the earth with her increase, and shall set on fire the foundations of the mountains.” Deut. 32:22. “For, behold, the Lord will come with fire, and with his chariots like a whirlwind, to render his anger with fury, and his rebuke with flames of fire.” Isa. 66:15. “But the day of the Lord will come as a thief in the night; in the which the heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat; the earth also and the works that are therein shall be burned up.” 2 Pet. 3:10.

There is no conflict between science and the Scriptures on this subject. It is evident that portions of the interior of our globe are liquid with intense heat. In many places heat increases at the rate of one degree to fifty feet as we go downward. In seventy miles this would give us more than 7,000 degrees of heat, which would be sufficient to melt any substance known to the chemist. It is also known that volcanoes exist in every portion of our globe. They seem to be great safety valves for the escape of steam and heat within. Here is material close at hand for the final conflagration. As electricity had much to do in the formation of our globe, and especially in its development during the long ages of geology, it will also aid in its purification. God may employ it as the agent for destroying the equilibrium of nature, and for changing the organic laws of combination. Thus water, which covers three fourths of our globe, may have its gases, oxygen and hydrogen, dissolved by this agent. At the command of God, it may dart out through earth, and sea, and air, and wrap the globe in a vast sheet of fire. Science shows us that there is not a substance known in nature but in some form is a supporter of combustion; therefore it nowhere contradicts the inspired word in regard to the purification of the earth by fire.

The renovation is to take place at the end of the present dispensation, and is to be preceded by the resurrection and the Judgment. Paul says, “The Lord himself shall descend from Heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God, and the dead in Christ shall rise first.” They shall rise before the living are changed. John says, “And the sea gave up the dead which were in it; and death and hell delivered up the dead which were in them; and they were judged every man according to their works.” Immediately after this the apostle informs us that he saw the new heavens and the new earth. Peter declares that “the heavens and the earth which are now, by the same word, are kept in store reserved unto fire against the day of Judgment and perdition of ungodly men.”

But what will become of the righteous during the final conflagration? We may be able to show you, before the close of this sermon, that they may possess bodies which cannot be affected by any conceivable condition. While we do not propose to get over hard places by appealing to miracles, as we believe a miracle is never resorted to when natural means will do, yet we must remember that the time of which we are speaking is a time of miracles. The resurrection of the dead and the change to be wrought in the bodies of the living, appeals to the miraculous. Paul says, “We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump.” . . . . “Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air.” Isaiah, after referring to the resurrection, says, “Come, my people, enter thou into thy chambers, and shut thy door about thee; hide thyself, as it were for a little moment, until the indignation be overpast. For behold the Lord cometh out of his place to punish the inhabitants of the earth for their iniquity.” We infer from this that the righteous are to be caught up into celestial chambers until the “indignation be overpast.” His fires purify the earth, when the new Jerusalem shall descend, adorned as a bride for her husband. With these remarks, we are ready to enter upon the more central idea of our text.

Shall we have new heavens and a new earth? Peter says, “We, according to his promise, look for new heavens and a new earth.” By turning to the Old Testament we have the promise to which the apostle refers: “For, behold, I create new heavens and a new earth; and the former shall not be remembered, nor come into mind.” Isa. 65:17. This language may be figurative, but it seems to be emblematic of those real new heavens and new earth described by Peter. I also understand the prophet to refer to the spiritual seed of Abraham as the legitimate inhabitants of the renovated earth: “For as the new heavens and the new earth, which I shall make, shall remain before me, saith the Lord, so shall your seed and your name remain.”

Paul refers to this, doubtless, in the eighth chapter of Romans: “For we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain until now.” This seems to be a description of the present bound and fettered condition of nature, and the deliverance will take place when the curse of sin is removed. Does not the apostle in this chapter contrast the condition of the sinner with that of the adopted child of God, and the earth cursed by sin with the earth regenerated? As the sinner throws off the shackles of his fallen nature and emerges into the liberty of the sons of God, so this earth shall be delivered from the effects of the fall, and in its regenerated state be prepared for a higher order of life than has yet graced it. Will its regeneration be more remarkable than the regeneration of the sinner? Will it be more difficult than the calling up and remolding of the human body?

The apostle John says, “I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth were passed away; and there was no more sea. And I John saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down from God out of Heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a great voice out of Heaven saying, Behold the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God.” Rev. 21:1–3. This whole chapter relates to scenes beyond the Judgment, and it is a description of the glorious state of God’s church to be located on this earth. The change that most forcibly impressed the mind of the apostle was that there was no more sea. The seas now occupy about three-fourths of the earth’s surface, leaving but a small portion of the globe for the habitation of man; but then the whole earth, as God’s holy mountain, shall be inhabited. In the fifth verse the apostle says, “And he that sat upon the throne said, Behold, I make all things new.” He has just assured us that there is to be a new heaven and a new earth, and here declares that there is to be a new order of things to correspond with this new creation.

He who created and then called together the particles which compose this earth could reduce it to its original gases and annihilate it; but will he do it? There is no evidence that a single particle of matter was ever annihilated, or that it ever will be. God’s will makes fire the agent in the earth’s destruction, and fire only changes the form of matter, never annihilates it. The greater part of the earth’s crust has already been oxydized, or burnt; most of its rocks are metamorphic, but though once liquid with intense heat, they were not annihilated, nor will they be in the final baptism of fire. True, Peter represents the atmosphere as passing away with a great noise, but this is nothing more than a chemist would predict in the liberation of the earth’s gases by the intense heat. The new heavens of which the text speaks is the transparent expanse around this material globe, and does not refer to the heavenly bodies, as some flaming poets and prose writers imagine. . . . . . . . .

The truths I am developing to-night may conflict with the preconceived notions of some in this large audience. You may say, “We are hearing strange doctrine to-night.” Nay, brother, this is not strange doctrine; it is as old as the Bible, but you are the stranger. I court your fullest inquiry into the basis upon which these truths rest, and I cheerfully submit them to the most crucial tests. But what have been the views of theologians on this subject? Dr. Chalmers says: “Out of the ruins of this second chaos may another heaven and another earth be made to rise, . . . and the whole world be peopled with material loveliness.” Tholuck says: “According to Peter and John, the kingdom of God is placed upon the earth. . . . This exposition has been adopted and defended by most of the oldest commentators, as Chrysostom, Theodoret, Hieronymus, Augustine, Luther, Koppe, and others.” Dr. Griffin says: “It is a most animating thought that this visible creation, which sin has marred, which the polluted breath of men and devils has defiled, and which by sin will be reduced to utter ruin, will be restored by our Jesus, will arise from its ruins in tenfold splendor, and shine with more illustrious glory than before it was defaced by sin.” Dr. Edward Hitchcock says: “The resurrection of the body, as well as the language of Peter, most clearly shows us that the future world will be a solid, material world, purified indeed, and beautified, but retaining its materialism. . . . . The change is no other than the conversion of this world into Heaven.” So we understand Wesley, Adam Clarke, Barnes, Scott, John Pye Smith, Lange, Bengel, Alford, and others, to interpret most of the scriptures we have quoted.

We think we have clearly demonstrated from God’s word that this earth is to be purified by fire, and “rise,” Mr. Wesley says, “as it were out of its ashes;” and the scriptural fact is also indicated by science. Now, is there clear proof from the Bible that it is to be the future abode of the saints? We think there is. Our text declares it a place where righteousness dwells. It would be hard to separate this from the idea of sinless beings. But the Apostle John leaves us no place for doubt. He says of the new heaven and the new earth, “And there shall in no wise enter into it anything that defileth, neither whatsoever worketh abomination, or maketh a lie; but they which are written in the Lamb’s book of life.” This clearly points to the fact that those redeemed by the blood of Christ, who have had their names written in the book of life, are to inherit the earth in its purified state.

But what will be the composition of the resurrected body which is to inherit the new earth? That is not so easily answered. But this we do know, that it will not be spirit, but matter, unless there be in the universe a third substance distinct from both mind and matter. Paul assures us that the future body will be as much unlike the present as the stalk of wheat is different from the grain from whence it sprang. There is a substance or form of matter

which remains the same under all circumstances. It is that “attenuated medium by which light and heat and electricity are transmitted from one part of the universe to another,” and is called luminiferous ether. It exists and acts wherever we find light, heat, or electricity, and they are found everywhere. We do not say that the body will be composed of this substance; we only state that it is within the range of possibility. Then it would be unaffected by heat or cold, or any circumstances we can conceive, and it could communicate its thoughts and receive knowledge from distances inconceivably great, and with the speed of lightning. When the wires were completed to San Francisco, they were attached to the pendulum of a clock in Massachusetts, and its tick flew over the wires and registered itself in San Francisco and returned before the clock could tick a second time! Now, if we have control of a substance which communicates our thoughts to a friend four thousand miles distant, and then returns to us, traveling eight thousand miles in perhaps one sixteenth of a second, what might our power of communication and locomotion be if our bodies were composed of this material? Might we not visit other worlds and other systems God has stretched out into infinity, with the velocity of thought itself?

But we will not speculate concerning the substance that shall compose our bodies in the future state. It is enough for us to know that we shall walk embodied under the festooned bowers of our second Paradise; and with bodies as effulgent as the body of Christ on the mount of transfiguration, we shall stand in the presence of God our King.

Just what dress nature will put on after the renovation of this globe, we know not, only that it will far excel in splendor the drapery she now wears. When God laid the foundations of the earth, “all the sons of God shouted for joy.” And when this grand fabric is rebuilt by that same hand that first launched it into space, we shall join our voices with theirs; and the earth upon which we shall walk, and the air that shall be resonant with our songs of joy, will be as material as the first. The river of life will flow there; trees of eternal verdure will grow along its banks, while birds of the softest melody will sing in their branches; flowers, such as mortal eyes have never seen, will bloom there, and the whole earth will be filled with the music of unfettered tongues, and of harps not made with human hands. I suppose the luminous atmosphere of the sun shall cease, as the light of the sun will not be needed by day, nor the moon by night, “for there shall be no night there;” but Heaven’s concave arches shall be lighted up with a brilliancy which no human imagination can now conceive. Jerusalem, that metropolitan city God hath built and adorned, arrayed in Heaven’s gorgeous canopy, shall descend to earth, and from her lofty temples shall shine forth; starry, resplendent, the Godhead rays of Christ our King, and his glory shall light up the abodes of blessedness.

THE NEW JERUSALEM.

JERUSALEM! fair city, Land of my hopes and dreams! How near my longing spirit Thy golden gateway seems; How near thy walls and towers Rise on my ravished sight, Undimmed by cloud or shadow, Bathed in eternal light.

O city of my longing, Thy streets resound with song, And not one voice grows weary In all that countless throng, And every robe is stainless, And every heart is pure; Forever and forever Their pleasures shall endure.

O Jesus, brighter, fairer Than all who dwell therein, O Jesus, purer, sweeter Than all thou diedst to win; When shall I see thy glory? When shall I dwell with thee In that fair, wondrous city That now by faith I see?

O golden, golden city That never grows less fair! O blessed, beauteous angels, That always worship there! O home of saints and Saviour! O land of praise and psalm! When shall I join thy angels With crown, and robe, and palm? —Sel.

Beecher on Authority for Sunday-keeping.

By A. Weeks

Henry Ward Beecher, in an address advocating the opening of public libraries on Sunday, as reported in the New York Sun of April 24, says some things that should open the eyes of those that think Sunday is sacred time. He speaks as follows:—

“I do not think we have received our Lord’s day on the ground of absolute command.”

The natural inquiry, after reading the above, is, Has God never absolutely commanded his people to keep a day holy? The answer we find in Ex. 20: 8–11. The next inquiry is, Has the command of God to keep the seventh day holy ever been revoked? This is answered by our Saviour thus: “Till heaven and earth pass, one jot or one tittle shall in no wise pass from the law.”

Then it is no wonder that Mr. B. cannot find an “absolute command” for keeping the first day of the week which he is pleased to style the Lord’s day.

Mr. Beecher further says: “There is no command in the Testament as to how the Christian Sabbath shall be observed. One thing we know. Among the early Christians it was a day of religious joyfulness—a day of triumph. We have our Lord’s day strained through our Puritan ancestors. They made the day so exclusively one of moral training and self-restraint that it comes down to us with bars and bolts.”

H. W. Beecher knows there is no scriptural authority for the change of the Sabbath. Does he think we will all accept the statement that the religious joyfulness of the early Christians upon the first day of the week is sufficient to constitute that day a Sabbath, setting aside the plain command of God? We cannot accept it. We shall try to be thoroughly furnished unto all good works by the word of God; for in that only is there safety.

In the light of the above statements, the question should not be, How shall Sunday be observed? but, Which day should we keep? and why should we keep it?

A. WEEKS.

Smith’s Creek, Mich.

Come Quickly.

By J. Sawyer

A CHILD strayed from its home along a steep bank, down the side of which were briers and thorns. As it ran along and plucked the flowers that grew on the edge of the precipice, there was a beautiful one which it much desired. Again and again it reached its tiny hand forth to obtain it, but failed. A greater effort was made, and the flower was reached; but the balance of the child was lost, and it fell far below among the briers and thorns. It screamed. The heart-stricken mother on hearing the cries ran instantly to the place, where she beheld her darling child suffering from the sharp thorns and prickly briers. She could not get to the child. And as she stood thinking what to do, it cried out, O mother, come quickly! The mother had to leave the child there to go away for help. She went quickly. Nevertheless all the time the burden of the child's heart was, Mother, come quickly!

A youth, unwilling to heed advice of parents, left his home. He wandered from place to place. He hired to a man who rebuked him for doing wrong. This was offensive to him, and he went to another place. Here he found trouble. He reduced himself to want trying to have his own way. His clothes became shabby, and beggary stared him in the face. Being tempted, he stole. The thief was found out. The trial for his crime came on, sentence passed, and to prison he must go. Sorrow seized upon the young man, and he wrote to his father to come to him, for he was soon to be put in a cell for two long years. Said he, Father, come quickly! for may be you can do some good, if you come while the governor is here. The burden of this young man's mind was, Come quickly! Unless the father came quickly, his source of pardon might be gone, and then to prison he must certainly go.

Another youth with appetite for dainties, seeking constantly the ways of ease and fun, indulging in the use of tobacco and liquors, thought he was having a fine time of it. To steady, daily employment he was averse. He had learned to think that labor was degrading. He was supplied with spending money when he wanted it, for his parents were wealthy. He was witty and pert. His voice often caused shouts of laughter, and his scorn added reproach to slander. But the day of retribution came. Overtaxed mental powers gave out. The moral organs yielded to the animal propensities, and he could no longer control his appetite. He now found himself a slave to his appetite. But it was too late. Horror fills his mind after his revelries. He wishes he never was born, and rushes madly for the poisoned bowl to drown his thoughts. Delirium seizes him. So constantly unhappy he often thinks of destroying his own life. He lives a maniac. Death to him is more preferable than life. In a fit of frenzy, he exclaims, Oh, for some hand to rid me of my life! O Death, come quickly, and relieve me of this torment!

The wrecked mariner, as he finds himself clinging to a plank in the midst of the sea, spies a vessel in the distance, and as his life-pulses fast give out, in anguish he exclaims, Oh! that some kind angel would turn that ship's course this way! Unless it is done quickly, I shall sink in these waters. It is quick relief we need in the hour of peril.

We are living in perilous times. Dangers thicken on every hand. The very elements are at war with each other. Pestilence, earthquakes, violence, and fire, are warning men of the awful future before us.

Do we realize any of the feelings of the apostle in his lonely banishment on Patmos as he there viewed these terrible plagues upon the wicked in the last days? At times his soul was overwhelmed at the consequences. Once we find him weeping because no one was able to open the book of seven seals. Again, in closing up the testimony to the seven churches, he saw the trouble of the righteous, and the hopeless state of the wicked—the unjust to remain unjust and the filthy to remain filthy—and the feeling which the remnant people will have, was his feeling then.

Six times before had Jesus told the evangelist, “I come quickly.” As he there reiterates the consequence of adding to, or detracting from, his testimony, he again exclaims with emphasis, “Surely, I come quickly.” No doubt with feelings of gratitude John exclaims, “Even so, come, Lord Jesus.” Come quickly, was the beloved apostle’s last request. Come quickly, is the wish of the remnant people of God.

Is that the language of my heart? Do I long for a sight of the holy retinue, the choir of angels, the sea of glass, the freedom of my brethren whose blood has been so long crying from the ground? Do I long for a crown of righteousness which the Lord will give to them who love his appearing? The Lord owns the harvest. He will gather his wheat into the garner. Where have I gleaned to-day, will be his reckoning with me to-night. To-day must be labor, and to-morrow, and so on, till the harvest is ended. The Master is coming quickly. Let the real wish of my heart be, “Even so, come, Lord Jesus.”

J. SAWYER.

Christ's Love Illustrated.

It is said that at a village called Ragenbach, in Germany, a great number of people were one day met for worship in a large upper room. There was only one door to the room, and that stood open. The village blacksmith, a pious, brave-hearted man, sat by the door. All at once, near the close of the meeting, a large dog came and stood in the doorway. Fears of hydrophobia had already spread a terror through the neighborhood, and now all eyes were turned intently on the dog. He was a great, ugly beast, with blood-shot eyes, and a red, drooling tongue hanging out of his mouth.

Persons near the door shouted to the people, “Back, keep back; for the dog is mad.” Great confusion, and even shrieks of horror, followed. No one could pass out without being bitten, and it would be but a moment more before his burning fangs must settle into some one’s flesh—“Stand back, my friends,” cried the brave smith, “while I seize the dog and hold him, while you hurry out. Better one perish than many.” He seized the dog each side of his head and held him with an iron grasp. The dog, in spite of all, bit furiously on every side, and tore the arms and legs of the heroic man, while he still held on, and the terror-stricken people hastened out. When the last one had passed the threshold, with a giant’s effort he hurled the howling beast over a high seat, sprang through the door and fastened it, and the dog was soon shot. But what became of the blacksmith? He went home; the friends he had saved came and wept over him and dressed his wounds. He said, “Be quiet, my friends, as soon as I feel madness coming on I shall fasten myself to my anvil, where you must leave me till I die. And when I am dead, remember me with love. And now pray that I may not suffer long. I know I shall become mad; but I will take care that no harm comes to you through me.” A few hours later he went to his shop. He riveted one end of a chain to his anvil and fastened the other end in like manner around his body. His madness came on him. Hundreds gathered to administer to his wants, by day and by night. In nine days he died—died heroically for his friends; but Christ died for his enemies.

The climax of human love is reached in dying for a friend. And when, during the world’s history of the past six thousand years, some heroic husband has actually died for his wife, or some devoted wife has sacrificed her life for the love she has borne for her husband; or some Damon takes the place of his friend Pythias; and Pythias by the appointed time, through floods and untold impediments, rushes back to take the place of his friend who soon must die; they, every one, become historic characters, and their names are a watchword for heroism throughout the ages. “Greater love hath no man than this; that a man lay down his life for his friend.” “But God commendeth his love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us.” The stories that have come down to us of the triumphs of human love, and the achievements of human affection, bear no comparison to the love of Christ. Profane history bears no record of any man dying for his enemies. But the deepest love of Christ was not displayed for his lovers and friends, but for his adversaries and enemies.

And who can repel this love? Who can fail to respect this love? Who can be so hard of heart as to reject and spurn this blessed Christ? What Christian can let these passing seasons of prayer for sinners and the backslidden go without making an effort to show by his works an appreciation of the love of Christ? What minister, as he approaches the end of his year of toil, but should make one last, earnest effort to get souls to the arms of the loving Christ? Can we be faithful, and fail in this? Let us answer love with love.—Am. Wesleyan.

Vesuvius.

PHYSICISTS have held a theory that the hidden forces of nature, which shake the earth with great convulsions, have long been gradually losing strength, and there is constantly less and less danger of the recurrence of such catastrophes as the earthquake that destroyed Lisbon, or the volcanic outburst which buried Herculaneum and Pompeii. Recent events must have imperiled their faith in their comfortable belief. Antioch has just been laid in ruins by one of the severest earthquakes of the century. A whole island in the Pacific was depopulated a few months ago by a similar catastrophe. And now Vesuvius bursts forth with extraordinary violence, and the people are flying in dismay from the villages along its foot. It is eighteen hundred years since the first recorded eruption of scoriæ and ashes from this mountain overwhelmed Herculaneum and Pompeii, and eight hundred years since the flow of lava began which has continued at intervals ever since. Long before there was any written or traditional account of the phenomena, however, Vesuvius must have been vomiting forth the product of the central fires, for its own substance is of a volcanic character. The quantity of ashes thrown out by it in A. D. 79 exceeded its own bulk. In 1538 a volcanic cone called Monte Nuovo, a mile and a half in circumference, and 440 feet high, was raised by it in two days in the Bay of Baiæ. In 1631 it threw out torrents of lava and boiling water over the villages at its base. In 1779 it poured forth huge masses of thick, white, sulphurous smoke, three miles in height, and shot into them showers of stones, scoriæ and ashes, at least 2,000 feet high, and sheets of flame which ascended almost two and a half miles. When the town of Torre del Greco was destroyed, in 1794, it was calculated that a single stream of lava contained more than forty-six million cubic feet. When the same unfortunate place was ruined again, in 1861, fissures opened at various places in the side of the mountain, and the lava issuing from numerous craters united in a stream no less than twenty-five feet deep, reaching to the very roofs of the houses. One can hardly understand the indifference to danger which draws the wretched inhabitants back, time after time, to the villages which have repeatedly been swept by the burning torrent, and where the mutterings of the earth, the fissures emitting smoke and gas, and the scars of former catastrophes are such eloquent reminders of ever-present danger. Yet in the accounts of the present eruption, we find the names of the same towns and villages figure in the story of former devastations. The activity of the volcano began to attract crowds of tourists as early as the beginning of April, but it seems to have been only a few days ago that the phenomena became especially alarming. The most terrible features of such eruptions are all present. The violent explosions, the columns of flame shooting upward to an immense height, the showers of stones and ashes, new craters opening suddenly at unexpected places, the burning gases breaking out of the earth in the very midst of the villages, and worst of all, the dreadful flow of lava pouring down all sides of the mountains—such are details of the scene depicted in dispatches. The people are camping in fields, and Government is feeding them. Torre del Greco is deserted and once more in imminent danger. San Sebastiano and Massa di Somma have been ruined, and the deadly stream is advancing toward Portici, Cercola, San Giorgio and Ponticelli. The opening of new craters continues, but, fortunately,

with each of these outbreaks comes a perceptible diminution in the force of the of the whole eruption. Though the strong winds now threaten many towns hitherto considered sufficiently remote from danger, the general impression is that the worst is over. The extent of the destruction is, so far, much below that of some former years, and, unless the eruption shall largely increase, it will not compare with some of the greater catastrophes of history.—N. Y. Tribune.

EVERY BIT OF IT.—

One evening at a prayer-meeting, many newly converted persons, both old and young, arose to tell what God had done for their souls, and their determination to love and serve him. Among the rest, a little girl about seven years old jumped up, her face beaming with happiness, and, straining her childish voice to speak as loud as she could, she said “I have given my heart to Jesus, every bit of it.”

Was not that a beautiful little-speech? I wonder if all the older people who had risen before could say what she did—“I have given my heart to Jesus, every bit of it.”

And is not this what Jesus wants? “My son, give me thine heart,” is the command of the Bible. And will he be satisfied with having only a part of it? No, indeed; he must have the whole—“every bit of it.”—Sel.

A Most Alarming Evil.

A poor little lad once received a bit of sugar-coated tobacco from an older youth, who told him to eat it, as he was doing. The little fellow, supposing it some sort of confection, quickly swallowed it. But in a very few minutes he grew deathly sick, and hastened to his home. He grew ill so fast that a physician was called, and everything was done that could be to aid him; but in spite of all, the poor little victim died in a few hours' time. The poison had taken such a powerful hold on an empty stomach that it was carried rapidly through the whole system. Is it not strange that any can risk putting such a poison into the mouth, even though they do not intend to eat it? How surprising that any lad can be so foolish as to wish to acquire a taste for anything so loathsome. Yet how common the practice has become! When the excellent Dr. Goodell had come back from a foreign land, and spent some time in visiting various places in this country, he said, “I see nothing in America so alarming as the increasing use of tobacco among the young men and boys.” He very well knew that tobacco and the pure religion of Jesus have no relationship—that tobacco and strong drink are twin brothers. Every boy who has learned to smoke and chew has started on the fair road to a drunkard's career. I hope that every reader will set his face like a flint against this loathsome vice, no matter though even a father's or a minister's example may point the other way. What would the Lord Jesus approve? should be the question, rather than what others practice.

Power of Tracts.

It is my conviction, says the editor of Howett's Journal, that more will have to be done through the press than by any other means. Lecturing and preaching are great things, but they are not alone great. They can do something which the press cannot do; but the press can do much which they cannot do. Tracts can go everywhere.—Tracts never blush. Tracts know no fear. Tracts never stammer. Tracts never stick fast. Tracts never tire. Tracts never die. Tracts can be multiplied without end by the press. Tracts can travel at little expense. They want nothing to eat. They require no lodgings. They run up and down like the angels of God, blessing all, giving to all, and asking no gift in return. You can print tracts of all sizes, on all subjects, in all places, and at all hours. And they can talk to one as well as a multitude, and to a multitude as well as one. They require no public room to tell their story in. They can tell it in the kitchen or the shop, the parlor or the closet, the railway carriage or in the omnibus, on the broad highway or in the footpath through the field; and they dread no noisy or tumultuous interruption.

Building for Eternity.

By H. W. Beecher

You think that one hour buries another; but it is not so. You think that you have parted forever from the things which have passed by you. No, you have not. There is much in your life that you think has gone which you never shall part from. It has stepped behind you; and there it waits. That which you have done is with you to-day; and that which you are doing will be with you to-morrow. When the mason carries up the wall, the course of brick which he laid yesterday is the foundation on which he is laying another course to-day. And all that you do to-day on the structure which you are building will remain as a basis for that which you do to-morrow. The work proceeds without intermission; and all that has been done is the under-structure for that which is to be done.

Young man and maiden, take heed how you build. That which you are doing, the work which you are performing, you do not leave behind you because you forget it. It passes away from you apparently, but it does not pass away from you in reality. Every stroke, every single element, abides. And there is nothing that grows as fast as character. There is nothing that is so enduring as character. There is nothing that men think so little of as character, although there is nothing that so belongs to their immortality, and that is so incomparable in importance, as character.—H. W. Beecher.

The Bible Record not Disproved.

It is said that so many men of science are eager to seize any fact that appears to discredit the Mosaic account of creation; but many as have been the discoveries which have been expected to overthrow the Scripture record, they have miserably failed and its integrity is unimpeached. A large number of human and seemingly very ancient relics which were found, some time ago, near Natchez in Mississippi, were pronounced by certain scientific men, to belong to an age of extreme antiquity; but on being examined carefully, a hog's tooth was found among them, which brings the date of their history a long way this side of the deluge, as that animal was brought to this country by the Spaniards.

A True Estimate.

A MAN once said, “I never get along and I never expect to;” and “I believe it is because my father never had any faith in me. He always talked as if I had n't sense, and we are pretty near what our friends expect us to be.” That is so. Certain temperaments are made worthless by a simple lack of encouragement.

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