Publishing Committee · Battle Creek, Mich. · Oct 15, 1857
SELECTIONS.
By Am. Messenger
"The Joy of thy Lord."
This expression occurs in one of our Saviour's descriptions of the judgment-day. It alludes to the rendering unto Christ a blissful recompense for his self-sacrificing work in the redemption of man. "He shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied"—satisfied at seeing his work completed, not one jot or tittle of his plan unfulfilled—satisfied in beholding the countless numbers of his redeemed; in contemplating his own image perfected in each heart; in seeing every eye gazing upon him with unutterable thankfulness and love, while each thinks of the way in which he himself was plucked from the fire and brought to glory; and in hearing their united song, "Worthy is the Lamb that was slain, to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honor, and glory, and blessing."
The revelations of that day will give infinite glory to the Saviour. Not the redeemed alone will extol him, but every creature in heaven will cry, "Blessing, and honor, and glory, and power, be unto the Lamb, for ever and ever." Never before has there been such joy as that "joy of thy Lord!" Heaven itself knows no higher bliss; only the heart of "the mighty God" could contain the Saviour's joy on that day of days. Every humble contrite soul shall be partaker of that joy. To one and another he will say, "Well done, good and faithful servant; thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things. Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." We cannot conceive of a Paul, an Isaiah, or a John who will not at hearing such a greeting, shrink back with an astonished, "When, Lord?" and lay down the proffered honor at his feet. But his love will not be thwarted; some must enter into his joy. Who will not accept the heavenly boon, and be one of those "faithful in a few things."
The Tract Society.
By N. Y. Tribune
The American Tract Society—as represented by its standing committees—has succumbed to the slaveholders. Placing its hand on its mouth and its mouth in the dust, it has eaten its timid and apologetic resolve of last Spring and returned to the policy of absolute silence with regard not only to slaveholding per se, but even to the evils and sins which—as the Society itself resolved last Spring—are connected with or deducible therefrom. And the reason given is simply the unwillingness of the slaveholders to receive, listen to, or read anything that the Society may see fit to offer on the subject.
This is certainly very extraordinary ground. We cannot remember that Noah, or Lot, or Isaiah, or John the Baptist, ever planted himself upon it. If it is to be settled that prophets and evangelists are only to reprove those sins which the sinners already condemn and are ready to repudiate, we can imagine no cause for which an apostle should be stoned or beheaded hereafter. It might be prudent, perhaps, for a preacher of righteousness, in entering upon a new field of labor, to make proclamation to this effect: "Good people! I come to you with a message from God, commanding you to repent and forsake your sins; but, as indiscreet and headlong denunciations of iniquity might give personal offense, and subject me to unpleasant odium and peril, I will thank you to make out a list of the sins which you are unwilling to give up, so that I may take care to omit them in my diatribes against sin in general and other people's sins in particular." We can see how this precaution might be convenient for the Rev. Cream Cheese; but how is it likely to be relished by his Divine Master—supposing him to have one?
The Tract Society, at its last Annual Meeting, decided to publish a tract or tracts on the moral evils connected with or resulting from Human Slavery—the "acknowledged evils," we believe the phrase was. The standing committees say that this was to be done "without trenching on the political relations of slavery," so as only to set forth "certain moral duties growing out of its existence, or moral evils and practical immoralities deplored by all evangelical Christians." The direction of the Society was unconditional—the standing committees were not instructed to enter upon this field of labor if they should think proper, nor to consider the propriety of doing it, but to do it. The publishing committee, it seems, had already in preparation a tract on the "duties of masters," made up of articles written by Southern Christians of various evangelical denominations. But the South remonstrated—the South revolted—the South exclaimed like the demons of old, "Let us alone!" and the committees' hearts became like water. The work which the Society unqualifiedly directed them to do, they have not only intermitted—they have deliberately determined not to do it. Their apology for this lapse we print in another column. Can it be possible that the clerical gentlemen who mainly compose these committees have never pondered the book of Jonah? What right have they to retain the stations conferred on them by the Society for the purpose of obstructing the work which the Society ordered them to do, instead of doing it?
The committees say that the South will only receive or listen to their publications on condition of their refraining from putting forth anything with respect to Slavery. It is not enough that they expressly ignore any consideration of "the political relations of Slavery"—that they propose to consider only the duties of masters as masters, without discussing their duty to cease being masters—it is not enough that they proposed to quote only from Southern divines the gentle rebukes of the shortcomings of masters which they had decided to publish—the South will permit no publication whatever relative to Slavery by this eminently "National" Society. It refuses not merely to hear the Tract Society on this subject. If the subject be discussed in any of the Society's publications, the South will not hear the Society on any subject whatever. And it is to such menaces that men like the Rev. Dr. Williams would seem to have succumbed! We regret it, and think they will live to share this sentiment. It seems to us that it would be unfair for these committees to distribute tracts against rum-selling in Cherry Street, or those condemning harlotry at the Five Points, after this decision.
The committees tell us in conclusion that they are "seeking the things that make for peace," and "aiming to secure the fruit of righteousness sown in peace," by the course they have resolved on. It seems to us that the Bible estimate of peace, and the Bible method of obtaining peace, are antagonist to the committees'. "First pure, THEN peaceable," is the well-known scriptural rule. To seek peace through subserviency to wrong seems the last way to secure that peace which the world can neither give nor take away.
Slavery is either one of the very greatest wrongs, and the fruitful parent of other wrongs, with all manner of vices and evils, or it is a just and proper relation which Christians may blamelessly maintain and uphold. Its rightfulness is evidently a question of ethics, of morals, and of Christian theology. Good men may be honestly mistaken with regard to its true character; but woe to them who, perceiving the right, conceal or dissemble it. How can they read without a twinge of conscience the great Apostle's declaration, "I have not shunned to declare the whole counsel of God."—N. Y. Tribune.
"The Atlantic Cable is Broken,
Was the sad exclamation of many. But, what if it is?—It only prevents the instantaneous communications between two continents. Vastly important and desirable such communications may be, but not absolutely necessary, as there are other channels of intercourse; which, though more tardy, are equally186reliable, and cheaper. But great were the anticipations, and deep the interest felt in having a telegraphic cable through the bosom of the mighty Atlantic, by which thousands of miles could be passed, annihilating both time and space, while England and America could talk together as if London and New York were consolidated in one vast city.
The grand enterprise was commenced—the proud vessels, loaded with the precious treasure to connect the two worlds, set out on their voyage, and many hearts beat high with hope and fear. All appeared progressing well, and a sort of confidence was inspired that success was certain. Almost breathless, England and America wait and watch for intelligence from the enterprise. At length the sad echo comes rolling to their shores—“The Atlantic Cable is broken!"
What deep and unfeigned regret is felt and expressed by multitudes at the sad news. What disappointment and sorrow. But we have good news to tell them all—“The Cable uniting heaven and earth is not broken. It was a mighty work to stretch it through the almost shoreless ocean of sin and death. Sorrows and sufferings were to be endured; and treasures, which no man could estimate, were to be brought into requisition to accomplish the object. Had any thing less than infinite wisdom, infinite resources and power, been employed, this “Cable” would never have been laid. Finite minds were all too feeble to have explored the horrid ocean through which it must be extended, or to have comprehended the necessary strength of a Cable that could endure the terrible friction, and support itself amidst the awful weight of the dead waters of the poisonous sea through which it must pass to open communication between earth and heaven; and no finite resources could have endured the expenditure.
Infinite wisdom found out a way, notwithstanding the mighty obstacles and difficulties that opposed. The purpose is announced from high heaven—the preliminary steps are taken, and preparations go steadily on for four thousand years, till the “fullness of time” came for the Cable to be laid. An anxious world looked for the event—at least, that portion of it which had heard of the design—the time arrives, and the Cable is exhibited in the sight of men. A few said, it is a “good” one; but most pronounced it a deception—utterly unworthy to be trusted—said, it could never be laid, and would surely break in the attempt; and finally, the multitude were so enraged by the meanness of its appearance that they set themselves to break it to pieces, and cried out, “away with” it. Thus determined, they took it outside their city, and laying on it all the dead waters of their ocean of sin and death, they shouted, “The Cable is broken.” The instigators of the deed rejoiced in the feat they had performed: a few only—who had hoped that this was it, which was to unite earth with heaven—“went and mourned” at the deed done: to them the Cable soon reappears, and in their sight—while they beheld—it was carried up into heaven, [Luke xxiv, 51, with Acts i, 9–11] and fastened “on the right hand of God.” Mark xvi, 19. The Cable was laid without a break—it was not broken—it has not been broken, though it has been in constant use these hundreds, yea, thousands of years. It cannot be broken by any created power, for such have already done their worst, and labored in vain. God devised the plan of it; and He saw to it, that it should be laid without a failure; and “it was done,” the awful ocean of sin and death is compelled to yield a passage for it through its bosom, and the lightning Spirit, or electric fire passes and repasses continually, bringing messages of love from heaven to earth, and affording a constant medium of communication to and from the poorest soul of Adam’s race. No “dollar a word” is charged here—no delay in transmissions, waiting for some one else to be served; all may send and receive messages at one and the same moment; and all this free of cost to poverty-stricken men.
Wonderful arrangement truly! Worthy of its Author, and demanding the highest gratitude of men, as it was the joy of the angelic hosts, who sang, “Glory to God in the highest; and on earth, peace and good will to men,” when they saw the first “running off” of the Cable, as the work commenced at Bethlehem in Judea. Glorious hour: blessed work. How should it have waked up earth with its inhabitants? The work progressed until it was finished: and though such as hated the enterprise cried, “The Cable is broken,” God demonstrated, the third day after, that the cry was a false one, and that His work was not frustrated. Fifty days more and there came such a flash of the electric fire from heaven, that not only “three thousand” at Jerusalem felt its power, and received the glorious message of the remission of their sins, but the Parthians, Medes, Elamites, dwellers in Mesopotamia, in Judea, Capadocia, in Pontus, and Asia, Phrygia, Pamphylia, Egypt, Lybia, strangers from Rome, Jews, Cretes and Arabians, saw and heard “the wonderful works of God,” by means of this first grand display of the magnetic power, as it came pouring through the heavenly Cable!
From that day to this, the Telegraph has never been out of order, and never fails of making prompt and accurate indications of the will and wishes of the communicating parties. Those who use it, know its benefit, and cannot but prize it more than any of earth’s inventions. While it keeps up an intercourse with heaven—to all who avail themselves of it—its grand excellency is, that it will, ultimately, utterly destroy the ocean of sin and death, to all who “take stock” in “the line,” and make constant use of it. While those who strive to break this Cable, or wish it broken, or seek to make communication “in some other way” [John x, 1.] or will not come by this medium, will utterly and eternally perish in the miasmatic waters of sin and death, and be found no more at all; Rev. xviii, 21. Many poor deceived children of men have attempted to find some other medium from earth to heaven, or through the ocean of sin and death, but all have miserably failed; and such must fall henceforth and forever; “for, there is none other name under heaven, given among men, whereby” communication can be had with heaven, or the destroying ocean be crossed, except this one Cable, the name of which is, Jesus Christ; who was crucified, but “whom God raised from the dead, [Acts iv, 10–13.] and who liveth for ever-more, and will surely achieve a complete and eternal victory over sin and death, to all that “come unto God by him.”
To an ancient Patriarch this Cable was exhibited in vision, as a ladder, the foot on earth and the top reaching to heaven, Gen. xxviii, 12. To an “Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile,” it was declared to be the Son of God—the Son of man; [John i, 47–51:] to the astonished disciples, it was manifested, on the day of Pentecost, to be their risen and ascended Lord; then exalted, after having emerged from the dark sea of death, “and having received of the Father the promise of the Holy Ghost, which he shed forth” in glorious power on such as were waiting on earth, at the terminus of the connecting Cable, for heavenly messages.
O, that men were wise to use this blessed medium; then of what small value would the most mighty of earth’s enterprises appear, compared with the boundless treasure of holiness, life, immortality, and incorruptibility, which is the sure and certain reward of all such as trade with heaven, through the medium that never breaks, and never disappoints. Let none be bewildered, or drawn away from this source, by the vain show of worldly grandeur, or any of those deceivers, of whatever name or class, who would make them believe, that there are other mediums by which they can escape the certain ruin of the sea of sin and death, or pass safely through or over it. Remember, there is one pass, and only one, by which any of Adam’s race can reach the shore on heaven’s side—Jesus Christ: without him, all sink in the dismal ocean, and disappear forever.—Bible Examiner.
THE FUTURE REST.
'Mid this desert's dreariness—
'Mid its watchings, weariness—
Lord we pray thy people bless;
Exiles on a foreign strand,
Strangers in a stranger's land,
Guide them by thy own right hand.
Thou who ancient Israel led,
And in Syria's desert fed,
Still impart the blessed bread;
And amid this moral waste,
Bid the "remnant" onward haste,
To the anti-type of rest.
Travel-stained and toil-worn they,
Like their leader in the way,
Still they go, they cannot stay;
Patiently the cross they bear,
And the Saviour's sufferings share,
Heaven's diadems to wear.
Soon the desert and its woes,
Shall give place to that repose
Which no dream of sorrow knows;
Soon the "kingdom" will be here,
Soon the "lily" will appear,
And the "King" the "bride" to cheer.
Land of blessedness and light!
Home of all that's fair and bright!
Scenes surpassing mortal sight!
There the seraph sweetly sings,
And the Alleluia rings
Borne on balmy zephyr's wings.
But amid such sights so fair,
One, doth most attractions wear—
Israel's great Redeemer there;
He the soul and centre is,
To be near him is their bliss,
This their highest happiness
[Ad. Herald.
Signs of Declension in Piety
EVERY faithful minister who watches with a proper anxiety the spiritual state of his church, will see many things to grieve his heart. The most painfully discouraging, is unmistakable signs of declension in piety. These he can easily discover, and their influence upon his mind and feelings is the greatest trial that he has to endure. The opposition and indifference of the world, the most trying perils of this kind, but nerves him to greater efforts: but to see Christians losing their spirituality and fervency in the service of God, is a trial to his heart that far outweighs them all. To see those to whom he is ministering and for whom he is daily praying, approaching that lukewarm state which was so peculiarly offensive to Christ in the Laodiceans, is inexpressibly painful to his heart. It is not our purpose to mention all the symptoms of this fearful declension. There are four only that we will now name: and
1. Is a complaining of the coldness of the church. Persons are apt to judge of others by their own feelings, and when they are indifferent and neglectful, they imagine others feel and act in the same way. It is a fact that we have long noticed, that Christians who complain most, are in a cold and lifeless state themselves. And the practice of complaining has a deadening influence upon their own heart.
2. The practice of coming later and later to the weekly prayer-meeting, as if it was becoming a task. This practice when once commenced, soon grows into a habit. And then the interest felt, and the enjoyment had, becomes less. And when this is the case, they almost, without being conscious of it, take the 3d step, which is to sit near the door—far off from the minister. When they enjoyed the meeting, and felt a spiritual interest, they occupied a different seat, but now they prefer, for some reason, they can hardly tell why, to sit away back. This may be in itself considered a little thing, but it is an index to the state of the heart—and it has an influence upon the heart. We have marked it for years, and the Christian who will examine faithfully his heart, will find it true.
The 4th, is an irregular attendance. As the heart grows cold, excuses for neglecting the prayer-meeting multiply, and finally they can stay at home without an excuse, simply because they feel like it. This is evidence of a fearful state of spiritual indifference, that fills the mind with fears and doubts, and destroys all religious enjoyment. Such Christians are then apt to try the world, and are often driven home through the deep waters of affliction. And in nine cases out of ten, they lay all the blame on their minister. He has become to them so uninteresting that they do not enjoy the meeting, and forgetting that the real cause is in their own heart, they throw the blame of their coldness upon him who is daily laboring and praying for them. These are hastily written thoughts, but solemn truths.—True Witness.
A False Hope.
The heart repels the thought of being without hope. It will cling to an unreal, imaginary thing, rather than give up in despair. From this tenacity to cling to some ground of confidence, no doubt many persons satisfy themselves with a false hope. They may have professed religion, and enjoyed some marked experiences, but now are destitute of any valid evidence that they are the children of God: yet they cling to their old hope, not from any rational conviction that it is of any value, but from sheer recoil from the thought of being without hope. They fear to examine their cases carefully, thoroughly, for they have an indefinable conviction that such an examination would drive them to despair, and they choose rather to rest upon a false, a treacherous foundation, than face the danger, grapple with its worst form, and effect a remedy. Then pride often comes in to aid this reluctance, for having professed religion, their reputation for discretion, sincerity, intelligence is at stake, and they are unwilling to endure the humiliation of confessing that they were deceived, or that they have departed from God. So they hang on to a spurious hope, lull themselves to sleep, dreaming of security, when nought but ruin and desolation is before them. Their danger is all the more imminent, because they instinctively shy off from the truth, refuse to gauge their lives, motives, daily experience by it, and hence it does them little good. They are bound to a false hope by a three-fold cord that is not easily187broken, and it is more than probable never will be broken at all.
After persons get into the habit of treating danger with indifference, they become more and more heedless, and are more certain to fall into the danger which vigilance might have avoided. Habit is a powerful tyrant to bind by the cords of sin. And woe to the man who imbibes the habit of treating the question of the validity of his hope for eternity with neglect. His damnation is even then nearly as certain, as if he were already in the caverns of despair.
How awful is the peril of professors who are cherishing a false hope! Better far that they were now in despair, then they might hear the voice of mercy. But these things are hidden from their eyes. Every Christian should often examine his hope, compare it with the truth, see if it will stand the test of the Judgment. It is better to be often in trouble about our hope, though it is a good one, than to be content with one that is good for nothing. Moreover, we want present evidence that our hope is good. Because we concluded years ago that we were Christians, it by no means follows that we are now such. If we are now unwilling to obey God, if we neglect duty, find the service of Christ irksome, and the world more inviting, we should be alarmed. It is more likely that our hope is on the sand, if such symptoms are manifested. God grant that we may all be honest, examine our hopes, and have a true one at the last.—Sel.
A Slave to Appetite
In alluding to those who are slaves to appetite, George Trask speaks thus:
My Brother! I wish to show you that your habit is at war with religion, name and thing.
1. Religion bids you be cleanly and gentlemanly in demeanor.
But, tell me, is the common use of Tobacco a cleanly and becoming practice? Snuff it, and it makes your nose a mere dust-pan; chew it, and it soils your lips and teeth, and makes your mouth a nauseous distillery; smoke it, and it pollutes flesh and breath, earth and air; makes the chest a sort of volcano, and the mouth a crater venting smoke and fire. Is this gentlemanly or decent? When Gouverneur Morris returned from France, a Doctor of Divinity, notorious as a smoker, said to him:— "Mr. Morris, do gentlemen smoke in Paris?"—"Gentlemen," said Mr. Morris, "Gentlemen, Doctor, smoke nowhere."
2. Religion bids you crucify fleshly lusts, and exercise self-denial.
Is not this a hurtful lust, a vile appetite, an unreasonable self-indulgence, totally at war with purity and self-denial? Says Dr. Harris, "Tobacco is a lust of the flesh, an agent of Satan, by which he is now destroying more bodies and souls than by any other agent." Said a good man, "My Tobacco is a lust, which is getting the mastery of me; I will drop it, if it takes the flesh from my bones." He did so. Brother, I pray you do likewise.
3. Religion bids you, as a steward of God, to make a proper use of money.
Your habit is expensive, and worse than useless. If you are well, this poison can do you no good; hence every cent you spend for it is waste which dishonors God; it is "money for that which is not bread." If you have used it for some time, a child can show you that you have squandered an enormous amount of money—money needed to raise drooping hearts, and fill the world with light and love.
4. Religion bids you to use time, strength, and life to the best purpose.
The Earl of Stanhope maintains that the victims of this narcotic spend one twentieth part of their time—two years of forty—in its indulgence. What right have you, my brother, to waste years or months in this manner? Is this "redeeming the time?" What right have you to enfeeble your body by this emasculating drug, when its energies, in full force, should be given to God, and the good of a perishing race? What right have you to use a drug whose tendency is completely anti-vital, and which may cut short your life ten years or twenty?
5. Religion bids you give the world a good example. It has been said that ninety-nine victims in a hundred acquire this habit from infectious example.
Growing in Grace.
By Bishop Hopkins
THE light of the righteous is as the dawn that waxeth brighter and brighter unto the perfect day. Declining Christians have great reason to suspect themselves, and if they quickly repent not, and recover themselves to their pristine state, and do their first works with their first zeal and alacrity, they may sadly suspect that their graces are not true; for growth in grace is the best evidence of the truth of grace. Indeed, in young converts there must be a great deal of heat and fervor, which afterwards, when they are more established Christians, may abate; and they may think this is a decay in their graces, when indeed it is not.
For we must distinguish between a passionate love of God, and a sedate, serene, love of God. Our passions do in our first conversion, mingle more with our graces than afterwards; and then we are like a torrent, very swift and rapid, but neither so deep nor so strong.
And as little brooks and torrents, though they run very fiercely, yet stop and purl and murmur at every small pebble that lies in their way; but great rivers which seem to move with a slow and grave pace, yet bear down all mounds and dams, and whatsoever is in their way to oppose their passage, so it is here. Grave and settled Christians may seem to move more slowly, without any noise or tumult, but they have a great depth and strength in them, and are able to bear down before them those temptations and oppositions at which young novices who are more fierce and noisy, are forced to stop, complain and murmur. And we must estimate the growth in grace, not only, nor indeed so much, by the violence of its efforts, as its prevalency and effectualness, which proceeds from its being more radical and habitual in us.—Bishop Hopkins.
Last Things.
The last words of the Old Testament are a fearful threatening: "Lest I come and smite the earth with a curse."
The last words of the New Testament are a benediction: "The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all. Amen."
The last words of Christ before his ascension are a glorious promise: "Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world. Amen."
Often the wicked despise the last offer of mercy made them, more than any preaching they ever heard. When I have seen friends wiping away the clammy sweat from the brow of a dying man who had long rejected salvation, or moistening his lips with a little water, I have often trembled lest it should be the last mercy he should ever receive.
It seldom happens that the last thing done by one who has led a wicked life, is to repent and turn to God.
The last words of sinners often teach the very lesson which they have ever refused to learn.—Banner & Advocate.
"A Religion for all Weathers."
THERE is a fishing village on the coast of Cornwall, where the people are very poor, but pious and intelligent. Last year they were sorely tried. The winds were contrary, and for nearly a month they could not put to sea. At last one Sabbath morning the wind changed, and some of the men whose faith was weak went out towards the beach, the woman and children looking on sadly, many of them saying with sighs, "I'm sorry it's Sunday, but—" "If we were not so poor—"
"But if," said a sturdy fisherman, starting up and speaking aloud, "surely, neighbors, you're not going with your buts and ifs to break God's law?"
The people gathered around him, and he added, "Mine's a religion for all weathers, fair wind and foul. 'This is the love of God that ye keep his law.' 'Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy;' that's the law. True, we are poor; but what of that? Better poor, and have God's smile, than rich, and have his frown. Go, you that dare; but I never knew any good come of a religion that changed with the wind."
These words in season stayed the purpose of the rest. They went home and made ready for the house of God, and spent the day in praise and prayer. In the evening just when they would have been returning, a sudden storm sprang up, that raged terribly for two days. After the tempest came settled weather, and the pilchard fishery was so rich and abundant, that there was no complaining in the village. Here was a religion for all weathers. Remember the words, "Trust in the Lord, and do good, and verily thou shalt be fed."
The Resting Day.
THIS weekly suspension of our toils, this weekly undoing of the burden of our labors from our back, reconciles us to the sentence of our labor, and we bend to our tasks as sons of Adam with more willing minds. All our life is not toil; it is not one unceasing round of work; we can refresh our wearied bodies or our jaded minds; we can put off the yoke from our neck, and, as it were, stretch our limbs. O, how great the blessings of the Lord's day! O, happy thing for us that we can have some reprieve from work! It is not all work—work—work. We can put down spade and plough; we can get rid of buying and selling; we can close shops and leave bales of goods; we can let the fire go out in the forge; we can let the cattle rest in their stalls and not drive the team; we can get rid of clients and consultations, and disputes; we can escape factories and looms, and the hot air of workshops; we can put down the needle and give rest to the weary finger and aching eye; we can fly from the counter and wearying customers, from the desk and dry accounts; we can escape all the din, and clatter, and noise of the busy working world, and have one day out of seven a day of peace.
Baptism.
By Baptista
"Words are articulate sounds, used by common consent, as signs of our ideas."—L. Murray.
IN all languages, there are words which severally signify, to dip, to pour, and to sprinkle.
In no language can a word be found which signifies to dip, and also to pour, and to sprinkle.
Baptizo, is the most appropriate word in the Greek language, to express the act of dipping; and as it unquestionably signifies to dip, it cannot, from the known principles of philology, in any case, signify to pour, or to sprinkle.
Taval, the synonym of Baptizo, signifies to dip, but it never signifies to pour, or to sprinkle.
It is as easy to prove that the English word dip, means, also to pour, or to sprinkle, as that Baptizo does.
In every known language, there is a phrase signifying "into the water."
"Eis to hudor," is the only Greek phrase signifying "into the water." "To the water," is "Epi to hudor," or "pros to hudor."
In every language, there is a phrase signifying "in water;" but if "en hudati" does not express it, it cannot be expressed in Greek.
If these positions are tenable, it is proved that the Holy Spirit has chosen the best phraseology the Greek language affords, to teach us that baptism is dipping or immersion. BAPTISTA.
Taking up the Cross.
A good old lady, who has lived past her three-score years and ten, said to me a few days since: "The reason why professing Christians cannot take up their daily cross, is, because they do not deny themselves. If they would first deny themselves, then they would be ready to take up their every cross, and perform every known duty. We must attend to all our duties in the order in which they are placed in the Bible. 'If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me.'" Luke ix, 32.
CHRIST'S PRAYER FOR HIS PEOPLE.
"I PRAY NOT." Said the Saviour, as he petitioned the Father for his humble followers. "I pray not that thou shouldst take them out of the world, but that thou shouldst keep them from the evil." John xvii, 15.
The Christian's way-book, the Bible, abounds in descriptions of the character he is to sustain while here, the hardships he is to endure on his earthly pilgrimage, and the treatment he is to receive at the worldling's hand. The world is a world of evil; it is under the influence of a dark prince who hates righteousness and its followers; in it we are to be pilgrims and strangers; we are to covet none of its treasures, seek none of its applause, renounce its honors, turn a deaf ear to its fair promises and syren songs, shut our eyes to its charms and allurements, separate ourselves from those who are wedded to its spirit, provide no certain abiding place in its territory, but lay up our treasures in, place our affections upon, and ever look forward to, a future and a heavenly country, where we are to find our citizenship and our home. What, then, are you ready to ask, is the necessity of our remaining here? Why are we not, as soon as we enlist under the Redeemer's banner and espouse his cause, released from our wearisome exile, and taken to a clime, and admitted to society more congenial to the Redeemer's servants? We answer, Christ did not pray for his people that they might be taken out of the world.
Here we are exposed to the buffetings and temptations of the adversary, the scoffs and hatred of the world, the thorns and roughness of the way, the trials of life and the pains of death; but yet the Saviour did not pray for us that we might be taken out of the world.
We must be purified, and he would not have us released from the process of purification. In this world we are to pass through the furnace; and from this he prays not that we may be taken.
"In the world," he has announced to us, "ye shall have tribulation;" but not from tribulation would he have us released. Here we are to suffer persecution; but not from persecution would he have us free. In the world we are to wage a continual warfare against the powers of darkness; it is not from this warfare that he prays to have us discharged. In the world we are to breast the storms and tempests that sweep our pathway; it is not from these that he prays to have us sheltered.
For what then does he pray? What blessing does he implore upon his weak disciples? That they may be kept from the evil. Ah, that is it; "that thou shouldst keep them from the evil." Not that we be freed from tribulation but that by it we be not cast down; not that we have no persecution, but that we let it drive us to the shelter of his wings for protection; not that we meet no foes and wage no warfare, but that we achieve a victory; not that we meet no storms in our pathway, but that we acquire the strength and sinews of full grown men by bravely breasting them; not that we be taken out of the world, but that we be kept from the evil.
What a lesson of patience, humility and endurance should this teach us. Think of this, you who are wading through deep waters of affliction, temptation and trial. The compassionate Redeemer does not intercede for you that you have any less of these, but he does pray that you be kept from the evil; that you be not by them cast down, overcome, or destroyed. Remember this. He, our great High Priest, he who can be touched with a feeling of our infirmities, the glorious Son of God, has prayed, he has prayed to his Father, that we might be kept from the evil. Is it then presumption in us, in every time of need, to approach his throne and likewise pray; yea, and claim the blessing also? Never. Then we may be kept from the evil; there is one who can keep us; and the evil which the enemy designs, may be warded off, and good only result to us from all things.
And when we shall have been sufficiently purified; when tribulation shall have purged the chaff from the wheat; when the dross shall have been consumed, and the gold brightened; when we shall have proved ourselves unflinching soldiers in our Master's cause, and shall have triumphed over all those foes that erect their barracks in our own hearts; the time will come when we shall triumph gloriously over our outward foes, death, demons and the Devil, when we shall indeed be taken out of the world, until it shall be refitted for the theater of a righteous government, and the habitation a holy people. When we are tried, (that is, sufficiently tried, purified and made white,) says the Apostle [Jas. i, 12] we shall receive the crown of life, which the Lord hath promised to them that love him. That crown we are to receive when the chief Shepherd shall appear. 1 Pet. v, 4. Till then we may not be taken out of the world; but till then we may claim that other blessing for which also the Saviour has prayed for us, that we may be kept from the evil.
THE TREE OF LIFE.
It has been a question of perplexity to many minds how the tree of life could be on either side of the river and yet be but one tree. This need be no question of perplexity. We have an example among the trees still growing on our earth, which illustrates perfectly how it can be, and probably is. It is found in the following account of the "Banyan Tree," from—"Train's Am. Messenger Abroad."
"Yesterday I visited the Botanical Gardens, where for many years large sums of money have been expended to make it worthy of the Bengal public. Here I saw the great Banyan tree, which I at once recognized; for I had seen it in my primitive school-book in miniature, when I went to a woman's school. It is an imposing spectacle with its 110 trunks, covering more than an acre of ground, and is one of the great objects of interest in Bengal. It is a noble work of God, standing proudly by itself, giving shade to a hecatomb of cattle or a regiment of soldiers—the proud monarch of the Indian forest, who lives to grow old—a type of man, with sons and daughters, grand children and great-great-grand-children growing up around and about the parent trunk with an affection and solicitude more than human; for the marriages and intermarriages never break up the household, but only strengthen the links that bind them together. Wherever there is a weak point in the extended arm of the parent tree, out shoots a sprout forthwith, and fastening in the ground afresh, another support and new life is thrown into the mammoth trunk; and no storm, however terrible, no convulsion save an earthquake, can shake its center, or injure a single member of the family, when each gives strength and support to the other."