International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Mar 4, 1886
General Articles.
By Mrs. E. G. White
The Sin of Presumption.
BY MRS. E. G. WHITE.
WHEN the Christian worker is pressed by the adversaries of God and his truth, and is thus brought into difficult places, he should remember the example of Christ, and learn from it not to be presumptuous. Instead of rashly attempting to make a providence for himself, he should patiently wait for God to deliver him. And none should feel that they have a right to ask for an interposition of divine power in their behalf, simply that they may be saved from personal annoyance, or that they may not suffer humiliation and anxiety. The great inquiry should be, How can God be glorified, and his truth vindicated?
In their encounters with the enemies of the truth, Christians should move in the strength and fear of God, as did David when he met Goliath. There were assembled the armies of Israel and Philistia, and before them stood the giant, his massive form towering high above other men. He was armed with a spear like a weaver's beam; upon his brow was a helmet of brass; his body was inclosed in a coat of mail; greaves of brass were upon his limbs; and a target was between his shoulders. And listen! From this mighty giant, this trained man of war, comes the challenge, ringing out on the still air, “I defy the armies of Israel this day; give me a man, that we may fight together.”
The proud boaster struck terror to the hearts of the men of Israel. But David asked, “Who is this uncircumcised Philistine, that he should defy the armies of the living God?” And David said to Saul, “Let no man's heart fail because of him; thy servant will go and fight with this Philistine.”
Was it presumption that led David to think that he might be a match for Goliath? Was it a spirit of pride and self-sufficiency that made him dare to meet this mighty warrior who was defying the Israel of God? David had none of this spirit. Modest and unassuming, he did not make this declaration trusting in his own wisdom, skill, or power, but in the strength of God, who had delivered him out of the paw of the lion and the bear when he was watching his father's flocks in the wilderness.
In obedience to the royal command, the king's armor was placed upon David; the heavy helmet of brass was set on his head, and the sword of Saul was girded upon his thigh. But David could not go out with these; he had not tried the king's armor, and was unaccustomed to the use of the sword. With a staff in his hand, and a sling for his only weapon, he went to meet the boastful champion of the Philistine host. When the proud giant saw his antagonist, he scornfully and indignantly asked, “Am I a dog, that thou comest to me with staves?” And he cursed David by his gods. After this outburst of passion, he exclaimed with lofty disdain to the youthful shepherd who had accepted his challenge, “Come to me, and I will give thy flesh unto the fowls of the air and to the beasts of the field.”
David's heart was not in the least intimidated; for he knew in whom was his trust. “Thou comest to me,” he said, “with a sword, and with a spear, and with a shield; but I come to thee in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom thou hast defied. This day will the Lord deliver thee into mine hand,” “that all the earth may know that there is a God in Israel. And all this assembly shall know that the Lord saveth not with sword and spear; for the battle is the Lord's, and he will give you into our hands.”
With what anxious interest do both armies watch the unequal combat. The Philistines and many of the Israelites think David fool-hardy; but this is but for a moment. As he runs to meet Goliath, he adjusts a stone in the sling, and presently it has sped to its mark, and is imbedded in the forehead of the giant. A dimness comes over his sight; he reels, and falls heavily to the ground, like some mighty oak overthrown by a lightning stroke. Consternation seizes upon the Philistines, and they make a confused and hasty retreat. The warriors of Israel, with a shout of triumph, follow the flying hosts, and the victory is complete.
Here we have an example of lofty courage, of a humble, but living faith. David's trust was not in himself, neither was his motive a selfish one. But he was ready, in the strength of God, to meet Israel's foe, to test Jehovah's might against a heathen giant, that he might “take away the reproach from Israel.” This was the divine plan for distinguishing David, Israel's future king, and for humbling the adversaries of the true God.
Those who are loyal to God, keeping all of his commandments, will meet a spirit of opposition similar to that which David encountered. Learned men, proud and boastful in their supposed superiority, will feel, as did Goliath, to despise the little band who are loyal to God. Many of these never graduated from a college; but, with the Bible in their hands, they stand in defense of the truth of God, and vindicate his Sabbath, which has been trodden beneath lawless feet. But the Lord can make his strength perfect in man's weakness. If, like David, men will forget self, and seek to honor God and to vindicate his name and his truth, he will work mightily with them, and crown their efforts with success. But there are many who take the glory to themselves if the work of God is prospered in their hands. They become proud and self-sufficient, and flatter themselves that their success is owing to their own superior abilities. Prosperity would often prove the ruin of the one thus honored of the Lord. Our compassionate Father in Heaven pities the weakness of our nature, and bears long with our follies. If this were not the case, he would not have given his Son to come to a fallen world and bear the buffetings and temptations of Satan, that he might show men how to overcome.
The enemies of the truth will grow stronger and more bitter in their opposition to the law of God. They will resort to ridicule and insult; they will wrest and misinterpret the Scriptures, and will sustain their positions by human opinions and arguments. They will present things in a false light, and thus pervert even honest minds. They will glory in their strength, as did the Philistine giant, and for a time they may appear to prosper. But their triumph will not always last; they will themselves fall into the pit which they have digged for others.
When, in the providence of God, we are brought in contact with these revilers, and find ourselves in positions of peculiar trial, we should not allow ourselves to become irritated at their provoking taunts and insulting words, which are calculated to throw us off our guard, and lead us to reply in our own spirit. Neither should we make rash moves to free ourselves from these unpleasant positions, where we must suffer humiliation and defeat.
In the presence of opposers of the truth, and while in conversation with them, Christians should be careful not to exalt self or to utter a word to provoke or irritate. Let them taunt and sneer if they will; but go straight forward as though you heard them not. Ofttimes the greatest victories are gained through silence. Self may clamor for vindication; but silence gives time for reflection and prayer, and for God to speak to the soul. Silence is an evidence, not of weakness, but of strength, and is often more powerful than the strongest arguments.
The people of Christ are his representatives upon the earth. They are to labor for the salvation of souls. This is the purpose for which our Saviour made his advent into the world, and he was steadfast in carrying out that purpose. He did not allow himself to be diverted in the least from his great work. He was not swerved from his course by the opposition of his enemies, or the flattery and persuasions of his friends. In this, as in all things, Christ is our example. We must be diligent and faithful in the work that has been committed to our hands. We must reach the people, not through the strength of argument merely, but through the mighty power of God working through our efforts.
Especially should ministers feel their responsibility in this matter. They are dealing with minds, and it is necessary that they should be as wise as serpents and as harmless as doves. They should be ever ready to give a “reason of the hope that is in them,” but “with meekness and fear,” lest the words they utter shall be of a character to make an unfavorable impression, and balance minds in the wrong direction. The honor of God and the salvation of souls should be their ruling motive; then they will not mar the work by a rash, presumptuous spirit.
A PRAYER OF TRUST.
By Robert J. Holloway
FATHER, I thank thee that I cannot trace
The path thou hast in love marked out for me;
For every day I bless the wondrous grace
That keeps my soul in sweet security.
Resting in thee, there is no room for care;
I know thy grace sufficient is, and free;
I know thy love is with me everywhere,
Thy strength alone supports my frailty.
Though led in devious paths, all strange, unknown,
Trusting I walk, nor fear though trials come;
Since 'tis thy hand that guides me, thine alone,
I know, whate'er betides, it leads me home.
—Robert J. Holloway.
Examination of a Famous Falsehood.
By John Nevins Andrews
CERTAIN doctors of divinity have made a special effort to show that the "stated day" of Pliny's epistle is the first day of the week. For this purpose, they adduce a fabulous narrative which the more reliable historians of the church have not deemed worthy of record. The argument is this: That in Pliny's time and afterward—that is, from the close of the first century onward, whenever the Christians were brought before their persecutors for examination, they were asked whether they had kept the Lord's day, this term being used to designate the first day of the week. And hence three facts are asserted to be established: 1. That when Pliny says that the Christians who were examined by him were accustomed to meet on a stated day, that day was undoubtedly the first day of the week; 2. That the observance of the first day of the week was the grand test by which Christians were known to their heathen persecutors; 3. That Lord's day was the name by which the first day of the week was known in the time of Pliny, a few years after the death of John. To prove these points, Dr. Edwards makes the following statement:—
"Hence the fact that their persecutors, when they wished to know whether men were Christians, were accustomed to put to them this question, viz., 'Dominicum servasti?'—'Hast thou kept the Lord's day?' If they had, they were Christians. This was the badge of their Christianity, in distinction from Jews and pagans. And if they said they had, and would not recant, they must be put to death. And what, when they continued steadfast, was their answer? 'Christianus sum; intermittere non possum;' 'I am a Christian; I cannot omit it.' It is a badge of my religion, and the man who assumes it must of course keep the Lord's day, because it is the will of his Lord; and should he abandon it, he would be an apostate from his religion."
Mr. Gurney, an English first-day writer of some note, uses the same argument and for the same purpose. The importance attached to this statement, and the prominence given to it by the advocates of first-day sacredness, render it proper that its merits should be examined. Dr. Edwards gives no authority for his statement; but Mr. Gurney traces the story to Dr. Andrews, Bishop of Winchester, who claimed to have taken it from the Acta Martyrum, an ancient collection of the acts of the martyrs. It was in the early part of the seventeenth century that Bishop Andrews first brought this forward in his speech in the court of Star Chamber, against Thraske, who was accused before that arbitrary tribunal of maintaining the heretical opinion that Christians are bound to keep the seventh day as the Sabbath of the Lord. The story was first produced, therefore, for the purpose of confounding an observer of the Sabbath when on trial by his enemies for keeping that day. Sir Wm. Domville, an able anti-Sabbatarian writer, thus traces out the matter:—
"The bishop, as we have seen, refers to the Acta of the martyrs as justifying his assertion respecting the question, Dominicum servasti? but he does not cite a single instance from them in which that question was put. We are left therefore to hunt out the instances for ourselves, wherever, if anywhere, they are to be found. The most complete collection of the memoirs and legends still extant, relative to the lives and sufferings of the Christian martyrs, is that by Ruinart, entitled, 'Acta primorum Martyrum sincera et selecta.' I have carefully consulted that work, and I take upon myself to affirm that among the questions there stated to have been put to the martyrs in and before the time of Pliny, and for nearly two hundred years afterwards, the question, Dominicum servasti? does not once occur, nor any equivalent question."
This shows at once that no proof can be obtained from this quarter, either that the "stated day" of Pliny was the first day of the week, or that the martyrs of the early church were tested by the question whether they had observed it or not. It also shows the statement to be false that the martyrs of Pliny's time called Sunday the Lord's day and kept it as such. After quoting all the questions put to martyrs in and before Pliny's time, and thus proving that no such question as is alleged was put to them, Domville says:—
"This much may suffice to show that Dominicum servasti? was no question in Pliny's time, as Mr. Gurney intends us to believe it was. I have, however, still other proof of Mr. Gurney's unfair dealing with the subject; but I defer stating it for the present, that I may proceed in the inquiry. What may have been the authority on which Bishop Andrews relied when stating that Dominicum servasti? was ever a usual question put by the heathen persecutors? I shall with this view pass over the martyrdoms which intervened between Pliny's time and the fourth century, as they contain nothing to the purpose, and shall come at once to that martyrdom the narrative of which was, I have no doubt, the source from which Bishop Andrews derived his question, Dominicum servasti? 'Hold you the Lord's day?' This martyrdom happened A. D. 304. The sufferers were Saturninus and his four sons, and several other persons. They were taken to Carthage, and brought before the proconsul Amulinus. In the account given of their examinations by him, the phrases, 'CELEBRARE Dominicum,' and 'AGERE Dominicum' frequently occur; but in no instance is the verb 'servare' used in reference to Dominicum. I mention this chiefly to show that when Bishop Andrews, alluding, as no doubt he does, to the narrative of this martyrdom, says the question was, Dominicum servasti? it is very clear he had not his author at hand, and that in trusting to his memory, he coined a phrase of his own."
Domville quotes at length the conversation between the proconsul and the martyrs, which is quite similar in most respects to Gurney's and Edward's quotation from Andrews. He then adds:—
"The narrative of the martyrdom of Saturninus being the only one which has the appearance of supporting the assertion of Bishop Andrews that, 'Hold you the Lord's day?' was the usual question to the martyrs, what if I should prove that even this narrative affords no support to that assertion? Yet nothing is more easy than this proof; for Bishop Andrews has quite mistaken the meaning of the word Dominicum in translating it 'the Lord's day.' It has no such meaning. It was a barbarous word, in use among some of the ecclesiastical writers in, and subsequent to, the fourth century, to express sometimes a church, and at other times the Lord's supper, but NEVER the Lord's day. My authorities on this point are:—
"1. Ruinart, who, upon the word Dominicum in the narrative of the martyrdom of Saturninus, has a note, in which he says it is a word signifying the Lord's supper ('Dominicum vero desinet exero mysteria'), and he quotes Tertullian and Cyprian in support of this interpretation."
"2. The editors of the Benedictine edition of St. Augustine's works. They state that the word Dominicum has the two meanings of a church and the Lord's supper. For the former they quote, among other authorities, a canon of the council of Neo Cesarea. For the latter meaning they quote Cyprian, and refer also to St. Augustine's account of his conference with the Donatists, in which allusion is made to the narrative of the martyrdom of Saturninus."
"3. Gesner, who, in his Latin Thesaurus, published in 1749, gives both meanings to the word Dominicum. For that of the Lord's supper he quotes Cyprian; for that of a church he quotes Cyprian and also Hillary."
Domville states other facts of interest bearing on this point, and then pays his respects to Mr. Gurney as follows:—
"It thus appearing that the reference made by Bishop Andrews to the 'Acts of Martyrs' completely fails to establish his dictum respecting the question alleged to have been put to the martyrs, and it also appearing that there existed strong and obvious reasons for not placing implicit reliance upon that dictum, what are we to think of Mr. Gurney's regard for truth, when we find he does not scruple to tell his readers that the 'stated day' mentioned in Pliny's letter as that on which the Christians held their religious assemblies, was 'clearly the first day of the week,' is proved by the very question which it was customary for the Roman persecutors to address to the martyrs, Dominicum servasti?—'Hast thou kept the Lord's day?' For this unqualified assertion, prefixed as it is by the word 'clearly,' in order to make it the more impressive, Mr. Gurney is without any excuse."
The justice of Domville's language cannot be questioned when he characterizes this favorite first-day argument as—
"One of those daring misstatements of facts so frequent in theological writings, and which, from the confident tone so generally assumed by the writers on such occasions, are usually received without examination, and allowed, in consequence, to pass current for truth."—History of the Sabbath, by J. N. Andrews.
(To be continued.)
Putting Money in a Hole.
By The Baptist Teacher
IN the time of Jehoash, king of Judah, when money was needed for the Lord's house, he didn't arrange for a fair, or a concert, or an oyster supper, or some other ingenious subterfuge in the nature of a pleasure-bait for a pious hook. He simply had it announced that they wanted money, and what they wanted it for; and he put a chest right by the door—a chest with a hole in the top,—so that this was the very first thing that a worshiper encountered when he entered the house of God. He never came without being appealed to for money—not, indeed, by an expert agent, with his stereotyped stock of begging stories, but by the silent eloquence of that ever-present chest. To give to the Lord was as much a part of worship as the offering of praise; and, presently, the chest was full, and provision was fully made for the long-neglected work. There was no ostentatious parade of names and amounts, to the glorification of some and the mortification of others; but each one gave what his piety prompted and his ability allowed; and thus quietly and quickly all the money needed was deposited in the treasury. Oh, for radical reform in our methods of benevolence! While it is immeasurably important that the children be brought to know the will of God, it is still more important that they be trained to do the will of God; and no doing is of greater consequence to the glory of God's cause than thoughtful, prayerful, self-sacrificing giving for its furtherance.—The Baptist Teacher.
The Use and Function of Man
By John Ruskin
MAN'S use and function is to be the witness of the glory of God, and to advance that glory by his reasonable obedience and resultant happiness. Whatever enables us to fulfill this function is in the pure and first sense of the word useful to us; pre-eminently, therefore, whatever sets the glory of God more brightly before us. But things that only help us to exist are in a secondary and mean sense useful, or, rather, if they be looked for alone, they are useless and worse; for it would be better that we should not exist than that we should guiltily disappoint the purposes of existence.—Ruskin.
Treat Insults Like Mud
This very sage advice was given by an aged priest: "Always treat an insult like mud from a passing vehicle—never brush it off until it is dry."—Sel.
Victory of Silence.
To BE silenced is not always to have the worst of an argument. When Hananiah, in the name of Jehovah, by eloquent speech and no less eloquent symbol, demonstrated that Jeremiah's prophecies were all wrong, we read that the prophet Jeremiah quietly "went his way," leaving his opponent to exult as a victor among the priests and the people who thronged the temple. A man who knew that he was on the Lord's side, and that he had spoken the truth of the Lord, could afford to do that. The bitter sequel showed whether Hananiah or Jeremiah was right. There are occasions when it is the part of a wise man to follow this precedent of Jeremiah. When one is in the midst of scoffers who have demonstrated to their own satisfaction that there is no God, that the Bible is a fiction, and that immortality is a dream, it is sometimes better, having once delivered one's testimony, quietly to go one's way, rather than to spend precious time in fruitless parleying. What does it matter if the enemies of God's truth enjoy an occasional cheap triumph? The truth itself is sure, beyond the reach of arguments however brilliant, of sneers however cutting, of gibes however witty. Knowing that, the Christian can afford to go upon his way, even though, for a time, it seems as if he were silenced, and to wait quietly for the time which will justify all truth, and put to shame all falsehood.—Sel.
Convenience and Worldly Favor.
By E. R. Jones
WHEN the duty to observe the fourth commandment is pressed home upon the consideration of the people, many say that if the seventh day was generally regarded, they certainly would keep it; for they are fully persuaded that it alone is the day the Scriptures enjoin. But the great majority do not keep it, and look with disfavor on those that do. It is evident at once that those who make such a plea, regard their own convenience and the good opinion of their fellow-men as of more importance than obedience to God. Many would serve him if it involved no sacrifice of worldly goods and comforts and of the favor of others.
What vast multitudes would follow Christ if there were no cross to bear in so doing! Few indeed have had an ear to hear from him, "And whosoever doth not bear his cross, and come after me, cannot be my disciple." Worldly convenience and favor are to them superior to all other claims; and, like some in the days of old, they love the praise of men more than the praise of God. "Thou shalt not follow a multitude to do evil," is the positive word of the Lord. And yet how many look to the course of the multitude as the highest authority by which they are to be governed, in utter forgetfulness or neglect of the Scripture declaration that the way to destruction is broad and many walk therein; while the way to life is narrow, and few find it.
The ancient worthies did not so lightly regard their duty to obey God. The world mocked and scourged them. They were bound and cast into prison; they were stoned, and slain with the sword; they wandered in deserts and in mountains, in dens and caves of the earth; they wandered about in sheep-skins and goat-skins, and were destitute, afflicted, tormented; "of whom the world was not worthy." These looked not to the world for their example, nor chose its paths of ease. They sought not its favors nor their own convenience and comfort. By so doing, they could have escaped all this affliction and sorrow; for the world will love its own. Choosing rather to suffer the loss of home and friends, and all that this world holds dear, that they might gain the better and enduring substance, they walked in the narrow path, with its little company and many trials, because they knew it was the way of God's own choosing.
The apostles, too, were few in number, and were also reviled and persecuted and shamefully handled; they learned, alas, too well! that all who would live godly in Christ Jesus should suffer persecution. They braved the wrath of their enemies because they had been taught by the Master that whosoever would be the friend of the world was the enemy of God. They were not of the world, and therefore the world hated them. Their persecutors were met with the potent inquiry, "Whether it be right in the sight of God to hearken unto you more than unto God, judge ye." To bear the cross of the Saviour and do his bidding was their only thought. In the way the masses went they could not go, for it was the way of disobedience and death. Their example is for us to follow; and these things are written for our learning that we may shun the way where the many go, and be among the little flock who choose the narrow way because it leads unto life. E. R. JONES.
Romanism at Home.
By Henry M. Bissell
IN Mexico, where the Roman Catholic system has long borne fruit, one is impressed with the depth of ignorance respecting the word of God. The masses know nothing of it. One will stumble over its title as a name unknown, another will ask about it half fearfully, as if it were an instrument of divination; another is incredulous on being assured that the volume contains letters from Peter and Paul. Last week, a man from a distant pueblo, being here on business, called, saying his brother wished him to come to me and get—a—book, but—what was it? He had utterly forgotten, nor could he give any idea of its subject. By questioning and suggesting, I found that he wanted a testament.
The idea of an upright, holy life as a necessary evidence of saving faith is not found. Sin and pardon are light matters; the one easily condoned, the other as easily obtained. Rome counts nearly the entire population as of her communion, and certainly they very nearly all count themselves there, and saved thereby. There are those who have so lost faith in the church that they would not call a priest at the hour of death, but they are few. No matter what a man's habits of life are, he observes certain forms, and calls himself a good Christian. In such a state of things, how could there be any vivid sense of the need of a Saviour, though all know something of God, and readily admit that Christ died for them. They admit it too easily, in fact; they have no idea of that resistance to sin which his death implies. Their assurance of final acceptance is universal, but it is not based upon confidence in Christ. They are the earnest devotees of one who is, to them, no less than a deity: "Mary, the Most Holy;" "Daughter of God the Father, Mother of God the Son, Spouse of God the Holy Spirit;" "the Queen of Heaven;" "the Morning Star." She is their "Advocate," "Refuge," "Saviour." She is all-compassionate. She has revealed herself especially to them—so they are taught and most firmly believe—and to her they come. They are earnest to defend the dogma of her utter sinlessness, and would make it their battle-cry; but that dogma works no desire for personal holiness in themselves. They believe her to be their mother in a special sense, and, practically, if not in theory, they attribute to her both the disposition and the power to save them in their sins. In the worship of the creature, the Creator is well-nigh lost sight of. His infinite love, his holy will and redeeming sacrifice, are hidden by the forms of a system that appeals strongly to the natural man, and so completely hidden that exceedingly few discover them.—Henry M. Bissell, in Advance.
THE DIVINE EXPURGATOR.
"And He that sat upon the throne said, Behold, I make all things new." Rev. 21 : 5.
The day of true celestial liberty,
The era of a liberated world,
Of chains forever broken, has not come.
The sword of truth with its mute edge hews down
The falsehoods of the ages everywhere;
Yet still they rise again. The old soil, still
Fruitful in ill, retains its poison-roots,
And yields a harvest of yet deadlier growth.
And yet I know that ill shall have an end,
And time's disorder into order rise.
The deluge that has covered this fair globe
With its disastrous waters shall ere long
Be dried, rolled back from off a suffering soil,
And pent up in the caverns whence it came.
These sifting winds of earth shall sink in calm;
The strife of nature shall at length be still,
The storm-song sink into a dying fall,
And the chafed air breathe only summer-peace,
All life's entangled knots unraveled then;
The inky stains, in millions dropped upon
The once fair page of this unblemished earth,
Wiped out by Him who made it fair at first!
—Dr. Bonar, in "My Old Letters."
John Knox's Preaching.
HE began his discourse most commonly with Biblical exposition, and spent a little time in calmly, clearly, and fully explaining the meaning of the passage on which he was engaged. In this portion of his sermon, if we may judge from the published tracts which were apparently founded on pulpit utterances, he was clear, simple, convincing; not making a parade of learning, yet bringing out, withal, the true significance of the sacred text. Then having cleared away all doubt from that, he made it the foundation of a battery, whereon he erected a swivel gun, and with that he swept the whole horizon, firing at every evil which came within his view. Nor were the shots mere random things. They were deliberately aimed, and they commonly did most effective work. No matter who might be the evil-doer, the exposure was sure to be made, and the expostulation, usually ending in denunciation unless the sinner should repent, was sure to follow. Whatever he might do elsewhere, he could neither shut his eyes nor keep back his utterance when he was, as he called it, "in public place." He was "set as a watchman" to the people of Scotland, and he would watch with wakeful vigilance, and give honest warning of everything which he saw wrong; for the wrong with him was always fraught with danger, and the wrongness was enough to evoke his earnest protest.
He used no soft words. He was no maker of polite phrases. He spoke in order to be understood, and therefore he "called a fig a fig, and a spade a spade." He went into the pulpit, not because he had to say something, but because there was something in him which was compelling itself to be said. He spoke because he "could not but" speak. That irrepressibility gave volcanic energy to his manner and fiery force to his words, so that the effects produced by his sermons were not merely superficial. Like those modern missiles which burst in the wounds which they have made, his words exploded within the hearts of those who had received them, and set them on fire with convictions that flamed forth in their conduct. It was apparently impossible for any one to listen to him without being deeply moved, either to antagonism, or to enthusiastic agreement, or—for he could be tender also—to tears.
It may be said indeed that he allowed himself too great liberty in commenting on public men and national affairs; and we readily admit that in ordinary times, and especially in our altered circumstances, it would be unwise in most preachers to use the pulpit precisely as he did. But we have to bear in mind that the crisis through which his country was passing at the time was as much political as religious, and that the pulpit was the only organ at his command.—Taylor's Life of Knox.