Seventh-day Adventist Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Jul 15, 1880
General Articles.
By Ellen G. White
SACRIFICIAL OFFERINGS.
BY MRS. E. G. WHITE.
IN addition to the tables of testimony which were given to Moses in the mount, he there received the ritual or ceremonial law, and full instructions in regard to the building of the tabernacle. When this tabernacle was finally completed, the unsurpassed glory of the Lord so rested down upon it that Moses was unable at first to enter. But an audible voice from the divine glory above the mercy-seat spake to him, and bade him come nigh. And there the Lord gave him still further directions in regard to the forms of worship to be carried on in the sanctuary.
It is this law of ceremonies, which was to find its fulfillment in the death of Christ, when type should meet antitype, that is so frequently in our day confounded with the moral law of ten commandments, which was engraven by the finger of God upon stone, and which is as enduring as the throne of Jehovah.
Some speak of the Jewish age as a Christless period, without mercy or grace. To such are applicable the words of Christ to the Sadducees, "Ye know not the Scriptures, neither the power of God." The period of the Jewish economy was one of wonderful manifestations of divine power. So glorious was the revealing of his presence that it could not be borne by mortal man. Moses, who was so highly favored of God, exclaimed, "I do exceedingly fear and quake." But God strengthened him to endure this excellent glory, and to bring from the mount a reflection of it upon his face so that the people could not look steadfastly upon it, but were obliged to withdraw from him. Jesus brought his gospel to Adam in the promise of a Redeemer which should bruise the serpent's head. His gospel was preached to Abraham, to Jacob, and to Moses.
The very system of sacrifices was devised by Christ, and given to Adam as typifying a Saviour to come, who would bear the sins of the world, and die for its redemption. Through Moses, Christ gave definite directions to the children of Israel in regard to the sacrificial offerings. This was to impress the minds of the worshipers that something of vastly more importance than the mere outward act was signified by these ordinances. How solemn the thought that Christ was here giving directions in regard to a religious service, which, although it may seem to some as a meaningless and exacting round of forms, was designed to represent his own ministry and death.
Only clean and precious animals, those which would best symbolize Christ, were accepted as offerings to God. The filthy swine, the devouring lion, and beasts of like character which subsist on animal food, were not to be brought. Every offering was to be without spot or blemish, the very best of the kind. From this, those who follow Christ now should learn that he will accept of no meager offering or service. The most perfect and valuable treasure of Heaven was given for man's salvation, and God will receive only the dearest and most precious gift from him in return. The Father in giving his Son poured out in one gift all the excellence of Heaven for man, and those who prize this gift will make their offerings of the things they most value, and withhold nothing which God has bestowed upon them wherewith to honor and glorify his name.
By the act of bringing the offering to the sanctuary, the individual confessed himself a sinner, deserving the wrath of God, and signified his repentance and faith in Jesus Christ, whose blood would remove the guilt of the transgressor. By placing his hands upon the head of the victim the sin of the individual was transferred to the victim, and in his suffering the sinner saw Christ typified, when he should give himself as a sacrifice for our sins. The Lord signified his acceptance of the offering by causing it to be consumed upon the altar.
The system of sacrifices and offerings was a most expensive one to ancient Israel. Continual offerings were to be made. But God required nothing less of them, and they did it willingly. Men in our day, who profess to be followers of Jesus Christ, and yet who choose to gratify self and increase their possessions rather than render to God that which he requires of them in tithes, in offerings, and in gifts, and in giving themselves to his service, are inexcusable. The more we do with, and the greater will be our willingness and pleasure in doing.
The Lord left it with his people anciently to decide for themselves what they would give to his service. It was expressly stated that the poor could give less valuable offerings, such as a dove, or pigeon; but the same care and exactness in preparation were needed as for the more expensive offerings. Here is a lesson to all, that the poor are as precious in the sight of God as the most wealthy, if they are only willing and obedient. The parents of our Saviour were poor. The only offering they could bring for the priceless gift of the Son of God, was a pair of turtle doves, or two young pigeons. But the most humble offering is accepted if it is all that the poor can bring. It is for the encouragement of such that this instance in the history of Jesus is placed on record.
In many cases the poor give more freely, and make more of a sacrifice in their simple, dove offerings, than do the more wealthy who give of their abundance, and feel no personal inconvenience. These freewill, cheerful gifts, simple as they may be, are far more acceptable and fragrant in the sight of God than thousands of gold and silver coming from those who grudgingly bestow the gift.
The Israelites were forbidden to eat the fat or the blood. "It shall be a perpetual statute for your generations throughout all your dwellings, that ye eat neither fat nor blood." This law not only related to beasts for sacrifice, but to all cattle which were used for food. This law was to impress upon them the important fact that if there had been no sin there would have been no shedding of blood. The blood flowing from the victim in idolatrous sacrifices was frequently eagerly drank by the people, and confused ideas was the result.
The blood of the Son of God was symbolized by the blood of the slain victim, and God would have clear and definite ideas preserved between the sacred and the common. Blood was sacred, inasmuch as through the shedding of the blood of the Son of God alone could there be atonement for sin. Blood was also used to cleanse the sanctuary from the sins of the people, thus typifying the blood of Christ which alone can cleanse from sin. The fat was to be used in sacrificial offerings with the beasts, but in no case was it a suitable article of food. If used, disease would be the sure result.
The offerings brought to the sanctuary were to be without spot or blemish. Had one stain of sin rested upon our Redeemer, his sacrifice would not have secured the salvation of man. Christ was under no obligation to become man's sacrifice. He was above law. But he took upon him the form of a servant, and went without the camp, bearing our reproach. He suffered without the gates of Jerusalem, thereby signifying that he died not only for Israel, but for all the world. Himself sinless, and upon him were laid all our iniquities. But when he came to the nation whom he came to save, they received him not, but crucified him. Here type met antitype. The ceremonies of the Jewish worship were then no longer needed; for the great Sacrifice to whom all other sacrifices pointed had now been offered. The middle wall of partition between Jew and Gentile was broken down, and all nations, tongues, and people, were invited to partake of the salvation purchased at so great a cost.
While the death of Christ, as we have seen, brought the law of types and shadows, or the ceremonial law, to an end, it did not in the least detract from the dignity of the moral law, or make it void. On the contrary, the very fact that Christ died to satisfy the claims of that law, shows the immutability of its character.
AWAKE, THOU CARELESS WORLD.
By John Rist
Behold the fig-tree, and all the trees. When they now shoot forth, ye see and know of your own selves that summer is nigh at hand. So likewise, when ye see these things come to pass, know ye that the kingdom of God is nigh at hand. Luke 21:29, 30, 31.
AWAKE, thou careless world, awake!
The final day shall surely come;
What Heaven hath fixed Time cannot shake,
It cannot sweep away thy doom.
Know, what the Lord himself hath spoken
Shall come at last and not delay,
Though heaven and earth shall pass away
His steadfast word can ne'er be broken.
Awake! He comes to judgment, wake!
Sinners behold His countenance
In beauty terrible, and quake
Condemn'd beneath His piercing glance.
Lo, He to whom all power is given,
Who sits at God's right hand on high,
In fire and thunder draweth nigh
To judge all nations under Heaven.
Awake, thou careless world, awake!
Who knows how soon our God shall please
That suddenly that day should break,—
We fathom not such depths as these.
Oh, guard thee well from lust and greed,
For as the bird is in the snare,
Or ever of its foe aware,
So comes that day with silent speed.
The Lord in love delayeth long
The final day, and grants us space
To turn away from sin and wrong,
And mourning seek his help and grace.
He holdeth back that best of days,
Until the righteous shall approve
Their faith and hope, their constant love;
So gentle us-ward are His ways!
But ye, O faithful souls, shall see
That morning rise in love and joy;
Your Saviour comes to set you free,
Your Judge shall all your bonds destroy:
He, the true Joshua, then shall bring
His people with a mighty hand,
Into their promised father-land,
Where songs of victory they shall sing.
Rejoice! the fig-tree shows her green,
The springing year is in its prime,
The little flowers afresh are seen,
We gather strength in this great time.
The glorious summer draweth near,
When all this body's earthly load,
In light that morning sheds abroad
Shall wax as sunshine pure and clear.
Arise, and let us, day and night,
Pray in the Spirit ceaselessly,
That we may heed our Lord aright,
And ever in His presence be.
Arise, and let us haste to meet
The Bridegroom standing at the door,
That with the angels evermore
We too may worship at His feet.
—John Rist, 1651.
Strength Through Trial
Do you wish to live without a trial. Then you wish to die but half a man—at the best but half a man. Without trial you cannot guess at your own strength. Men do not learn to swim on a table. They must go into the water and buffet the waves.
CHRIST'S CRITERION.
IN the Plaza of Indecision, at the forking of two roads, whence one trends invitingly downward, broad and social, while the other rises steep and unfrequented, the only direction of the divine finger is toward the heart of the questioning pilgrim. Which direction shall I take? in-decisively asks the traveler. The only answer is a whisper from the still, small voice, "Whither art thou bound?" The soul instinctively replies, "I want to go heavenward!" But to this there comes no reply—and why? The index finger points silently within. The way is plain enough, pilgrim—but what of thy will?
It is thus with all the cross-purposes of life. From out the true path there are constantly leading short cuts into the false. These are filled with multitudes, who, insisting at every turn upon a sign, have none given them save that of the prophet Jonas. They know as well as he knew that it is impossible to reach Nineveh by traveling toward Tarshish. Common sense determines us, if we desire to reach the summit, not to take a left or right hand divergence down a hill. Is it not plain, therefore, that moral hesitation is due more to want of definite motive than to lack of guidance? Men indulge doubt when dawning conscience should send them forth about their Father's business. Forgetful of the courage of the Child in the temple, they hastily rejoin the first returning company.
How often we hear men say, "I want to be a Christian." That may be; but if so, and if the want be not satisfied, it is a confession of imbecility. The true criterion by which to judge the genuineness of such an avowal is the answer to the pointed query, "Then why, if you have decision enough of character to know your own mind, do you not will to become a follower of Christ?"
This direct personal appeal to common sense ought in all cases to be sufficient in determining the honesty of such a declaration, and would be, were it not for the fact that right here on the very Plaza of Indecision, whence fork the eternal ways, theologians have succeeded after centuries of metaphysical miasm in raising a fog dense enough to hide the Divine index, and damp enough to chill the most enthusiastic soul. In answer to the oft-repeated question, "What is conversion?" there is no necessary obscurity, although obscurity has been thrown around it. The word means simply con-verto—about-face! A man is converted from intemperance when he turns his back upon alcohol and becomes a constant abstainer. He may or may not take the step under the influence of emotion. The question of fact alone is whether he really gives up the bad.
Exactly so with the Christian life. There are two roads, call them what we may; right or left, good or evil, Heaven or hell. It makes no difference with the fact. There are but two possible paths for the human soul to choose between, and it can contemporaneously travel but one. Herein comes Christ's criterion. What is your motive in life? Apply this test. Am I living for self, or for what good I can do in the world? There is no evasion in our secret answer to this question. Serve you this day God or mammon? Conscience will answer like a flash of lightning—and we know it.
The young lawyer came to Christ, saying, "What shall I do?" Did the Master inquire about his "feelings" or "experience"? Not a syllable of theology blunted that single divinely-pointed command: "Sell all that thou hast, and distribute unto the poor." It struck straight at the man's motive in life. While outwardly all the moral law required, he was secretly serving mammon. The result verified Christ's diagnosis, since he went away sorrowful. What! give up wealth? Wealth means position, power, the admiration, and, above all else, culture.
Are we then required to sacrifice these, the climacteric advantages of civilization? Yes, and no. Yes, if we are living for any of them; if our motive is self-aggrandizement. No, if we are using opportunity, influence, intellect, for the advancement of God's kingdom on earth. Suppose a scholar had come to Christ with the lawyer's query, think you he would have been told to give up his books and all intellectual pursuits? Certainly not, unless he was living for culture—for the pride of intellect. The question at the last great day will be: "I gave thee ten talents, now for the accounting!" Suppose the soul thus confronted says: "I have written many learned volumes." They are produced. The thoughts are beautiful, the sentences exquisitely rounded. But, alas! from between the lines there flashes the fact that all was written for a selfish purpose—for the worship paid authorship. But the good they have incidentally accomplished is pleaded in extenuation. Alas, soul, what now is that to thee? You lived for self, your thoughts were of self, you wrote for self; there, to the left, is self's eternity. In the light of so crucial a test who, then, can be saved?
In this, as in all of God's dealings, the promise is as broad as the curse. "Whosoever shall give to drink unto one of these little ones a cup of cold water only, in the name of a disciple, verily I say unto you, he shall in no wise lose his reward." What! Heaven for a cup of water, and Gehenna for its refusal! Even so; and why? Because there is all the difference between good and bad, love and selfishness, the Saviour and the serpent, in the two simple operations of giving or withholding. The deed is but an exponent—back of that is the motive that prompts it. Either I love my neighbor as myself, or I do not; and it matters little what the temporary outcome is.
It is thus that between the extended palm and the closed fist there is space for an eternity of infinite joy or woe.
And men know it!—Christian Union.
THE EARTH WILL BE EMPTIED OF ITS INHABITANTS AT THE SECOND ADVENT
By R. F. Cottrell
DAY OF THE LORD. NO. 4.
THE EARTH WILL BE EMPTIED OF ITS INHABITANTS AT THE SECOND ADVENT.
The saints will go to the Father's house in Heaven. That they will be "caught up to meet the Lord in the air" will not be disputed by believers in the word; but some think that they will go no farther in that direction than the atmosphere of our earth—that they have no promise of going to Heaven. Let us hear the word on this point.
Our Saviour said to his disciples, "Great is your reward in Heaven." Matt. 5:12. But some one will say, "They have a reward in Heaven, but it will be brought to them, when the holy city descends to earth: they will not go to it."
Let us inquire. Enoch and Elijah have never died; they are living somewhere at present. Where are they? In Heaven, is the reply; the time came that "the Lord would take up Elijah into Heaven by a whirlwind," and it was done: "Elijah went up by a whirlwind into Heaven." 2 Kings 2:1,11. "Enoch was translated that he should not see death;" he could not be found on earth, "for God took him." Heb. 11:5; Gen. 5:24. It is reasonable to infer from these examples, that all the saints, when made immortal, will enjoy the same privilege.
But we have something better than inferences. We have positive testimony on this point. When the Lord Jesus was about to leave his disciples and "go to the Father," he said to them, as he had before said to the Jews, "Whither I go, ye cannot come." John 13:33. "Simon Peter said unto him, Lord, whither goest thou? Jesus answered him, Whither I go, thou canst not follow me now; but thou shalt follow me afterward." Verse 36. Here is a positive promise to Peter that he should, at some future time, follow him to the place where he was then going; and verse 1 informs us that the time "was come that he should depart out of this world unto the Father." He said himself, "I go to the Father." Chap. 14: 12, 28; 16: 10, 17, 28. The word whither means "to what place." Then the question of Peter, and the Lord's answer, are equivalent to this: Lord, to what place goest thou? To what place, or, to the place where I go, thou canst not follow me now; but thou shalt follow me (there) afterward.
Peter has the promise of following Jesus to the Father's house; but is his case to be an exception to a general rule? Is he, in this, to be favored above the rest of the disciples? Not at all. Our Lord continues: "Let not your heart be troubled; ye believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father's house are many mansions; if it were not so I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also." Chap. 14: 1-3.
This is addressed not to Peter alone, but to all the disciples. The Father's house is capacious. It has many mansions. There is room there for all the saints of all ages. Jesus has gone to prepare the place for their reception. He is coming to earth again. What for? to remain here with his disciples? for them to receive him to themselves? No. Said he. "I will come again, and receive you unto myself." Or, as Campbell renders it, I will return and "take you with me," that where I am, ye may be also.
Thus it is proved by positive testimony, not only that the saints will be caught up from the earth at the second advent, but, that they will be taken to those mansions in Heaven which Jesus said were in his Father's house, the place to which he went when he left the earth.
More testimony might be brought to prove this proposition, such as that of the saints' standing on the sea of glass, which is before the throne of God in Heaven, Rev. 15: 2; 4: 1, 2, 6; and that of the "voice of much people in Heaven," Rev. 19: 1, rejoicing at the overthrow of Babylon recorded in the preceding chapter, etc., but the testimony adduced is amply sufficient for those who are satisfied with positive declarations of the word, and therefore I will not pursue the subject further. The saints of God leave the earth and go to Heaven, at the second advent and first resurrection; and at this point of time commences their reign with Christ a thousand years.
R. F. COTTRELL.
Meekness
MEEKNESS is a grace which Jesus Christ alone inculcated, and which no ancient philosopher seems to have understood or recommended.
The Radiance of True Goodness
When Moses wore a heavenly radiance "he wist not that his face shone." The best people are those who have the least to say about their own goodness.
HEART-CONSECRATION.
By Rev. J. P. Wilson
THE Israelites were prone to backsliding. It seems strange that they should so soon and so often depart from God when he was so good to them, and provided so well for them. In their backslidden state they offered polluted bread upon his altar, and the blind and sick and lame, for sacrifice to him. They said, "The table of the Lord is polluted; will a man rob God?" They further said, "Every one that doeth evil is good in the sight of the Lord, and he delighteth in them." For these things they were cursed with a curse, even the whole nation. As a remedy for these things, God's messenger proposed a reconsecration of all that belonged to God, to his service, "Bring ye all the tithes into the store-house, that there may be meat in mine house, and prove me now herewith, said the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of Heaven, and pour you out a blessing that there shall not be room enough to receive it." Men are not naturally better now than they were in the time of Malachi. They did not do so badly because they knew no better; they had line upon line, precept upon precept. They indulged the wayward tendencies of their fallen nature, hoping, perhaps, and presuming that God would not visit them for their offenses.
The sacrifice God demands now of every one to whom the gospel comes, is the heart. The sacrifice God asks is a broken spirit. A broken and contrite heart he will not despise. "Set your affections on things above, not on things on the earth." "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, with all thy soul, and with all thy might." This is the first and great commandment. Try the church to-day by this high standard, and see what a demand for reconsecration. The church should be holy. Alas how many in the church are, in spirit, altogether worldly. The riches, honors, pleasures, and laudations of the world have a greater charm for them than the church, the Bible, Christ and Heaven. Is it not a fearful thought that so many in the church are on their way to perdition? Try them by what rule you will, and they are found wanting. Now, my wayward, disconsolate brethren, would you enter the valley of blessing again? Would you make your calling and election sure, and know you are saved? Reconsecrate yourself to God. Begin with the heart. Cast pride and worldliness out by repentance and turning to God. Then bring all the tithes into the store-house, and you will be blessed. Your money, your time, your talents, should all be given up to God, to be used only to his glory. Remember that whosoever looketh into the perfect law of liberty, and continueth therein, he being not a forgetful hearer, but a doer of the work, this man shall be blessed in his deeds—Rev. J. P. Wilson, in Telescope.
THOUGHTS FOR SILENT HOURS.
By Rev. Ray Palmer, D. D.
THE CHRISTIAN PARADOX.
"As having nothing, and yet possessing all things." 2 Cor. 6:10.
I AM a creature of many wants. Whenever I withdraw myself from the occupations and excitements of the active world and begin to commune with my own thoughts, I become intensely conscious of it. I have, it is true, many inestimable blessings in my possession. God has not only given me existence and marvelously endowed me, but has also daily met me with rich gifts. If I would count up these, they are more in number than the sands upon the shore. I accept these mercies as from him, and enjoy them, recognizing, not without thankfulness, I trust, the goodness that has bestowed them. It is essential to my well-being that this goodness should be continued. No wisdom or power of mine can secure to myself even the most ordinary things on which my comfort and happiness depend. My wants for this outward, earthly life, however, are numerous and are perpetually returning.
But then, beyond all this, I have a world of inward needs that are distinctly and deeply felt. With all the intellectual and moral faculties on which I am naturally disposed to pride myself, I cannot shut my eyes against the fact that, in many respects, I am weak and helpless and dependent. I perceive myself to be a creature of yesterday, frail, mortal, a traveler through a world of illusions from which I am soon to pass to the great realities of the eternal future. In these circumstances a thousand questions are ever pressing on my mind. Apprehensions and anxieties arise. Hopes, fears, wishes, longings, continually fill my heart. Often with the dearest and tenderest friends about me I feel a certain loneliness of soul, an indefinable homesickness—like what one feels in a foreign land. It is something that no earthly companionships nor pleasurable conditions can remove. The world about me is full of interesting objects. I see and admire its order and beauty and its grand and imposing scenes; but neither these nor all the pursuits in which mankind naturally most delight, avail to satisfy my desires, so restless, so intense. On the contrary, they serve rather to suggest ever anew conceptions of things more pure and perfect, more exalted and sublime, and to awaken earnest aspirations towards them.
With this ever-recurring and painful sense of my pressing wants, I open the Bible and learn that I may pray. Yes, for me, a creature—and yet more, a sinful creature—there is free access to the infinite and eternal Father of the universe. I am allowed to come to him without embarrassment and to speak to him without fear. I need not feel that he is immeasurably removed from me by the grandeur of his being. The little child that seeks him is just as truly embosomed in his love as the first archangel. It is a part of his inconceivable perfection that he feels himself as nigh the least as the greatest of his creatures, and finds it as easy to attend to the one as to the other.
In Christ, moreover, I find him brought within my reach even after a human manner. God, in Christ and through his redeeming work, has become to me indeed a Father, accessible, tender, and ever ready to bless. Placing himself thus as if upon a level, he calls me to him, and I may speak with him as a man speaketh with his friend. He knows how to make me conscious of his presence, and to enable me to see love beaming in his eyes, and, as it were, to feel the beating of his heart. With this unlimited freedom of approach he grants permission to tell him all my wants, and even all my wishes—every secret thought and emotion of my soul; and binds himself, by the most explicit pledges, to grant me the richest blessings in answer to my requests. It is wonderful—this free access to God! It is just the thing I need. It would seem impossible for me to live with any degree of comfort if my heart might not effectually unburden itself in some way—if I must carry ever unrelieved the consciousness of my necessities. Yet I cannot open the inmost chambers of my soul to any, even to the dearest of fellow creatures. They can neither comprehend nor help me; but the Ever-blessed can do both. He can enter perfectly into all my circumstances, and appreciate every impulse of desire, every affection that arises or struggles for expression in my breast. He knoweth me altogether. It is the certainty of this that makes it easy to approach him in all my conscious need.
Yes, O Jesus, Lord! Thou hast at once infinite knowledge, power and love, and human experience and sensibility. Thou art the brightness of the Father's glory, and the express image of his person. Thou hast said: "Whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name he will give it you; ask and ye shall receive, that your joy may be full!" Thou, thyself, in thy days of humiliation and mortal weakness, didst habitually pray. All thy faithful ones in every period of the world have prayed. It is permitted me to pray! I may speak to thee daily—hourly—as I will. Inestimable privilege! Without it the burden of my wants, my infirmities, my cares, were more than I could bear. Since thou hast said, Seek ye my face, my heart saith unto thee, Thy face, Lord, will I seek!—Rev. Ray Palmer, D. D.
SPEAK SLOW AND LOW.
"A SOFT answer turneth away wrath, but grievous words stir up anger."
One of the most successful commanders ever connected with the American Merchant Marine, one who had had a wide experience in many waters, as well as of many years, often said, "Carelessness is the cause of all the shipwrecks and accidents on the ocean." That some one has failed to "speak slow and low," would probably be found to be the cause of a large majority of the quarrels in the world. That difficulty which grew into a lawsuit, costing thousands of dollars, would have been prevented if either of the contending parties, especially the one most aggrieved, had so in patience possessed his or her soul as to speak slowly and in gentle tones. Another trouble which resulted in bloodshed would have left those involved resting under the blessing promised to "the peacemakers," instead of the curse on the murderer, if some one had learned to "speak slow and low."
We could give many cases in point illustrative of this subject, which are among either our experiences or our observations; some of them thrilling ones. Among the latter is the following:—
A young German professor of languages and mathematics, who had been an officer in the Prussian and also in the American army, had been thrown out of employment for political reasons. There was nothing against his ability, character, or faithfulness. By acting as security for another, he had lost his slender accumulation of money. Chiefly because he or his wife had not practiced speaking "slow and low," in times when there was danger of misunderstanding, the troubles above recited, together with meddlesomeness on the part of others, had resulted in their separation. Their babe was in a public nursery, and neither father nor mother had means to care for it; as he sat beside us in our office, he told us he had been compelled to fast the last two days. He further told us plainly that he had decided to get out of it all by committing suicide! He said it very quietly, but there was a look in his eye that showed he was thoroughly in earnest.
Rationalistic principles, of which his mind was full, prevented the highest reasons we could present from being effective, but after accepting our invitation to dinner, he returned in better spirits. He then opened his heart in relation to his early history. His father had been a Protestant clergyman in Germany, as likewise four of his maternal uncles, one of the latter a missionary to South America. He also read us a portion of a letter recently received from his widowed mother, living in Pomerania, near the shores of the Baltic. The letter showed him to be the son of a Christian lady of a high order of mind and culture.
We induced him to write a kind note to his wife, inviting an interview there the next day. She accepted the invitation, but unwisely added terms of reproach for their trouble, which decided him not to meet her. We succeeded in overruling the decision, and that eventide had the pleasure of giving up our place of business to them for a conference alone, with the earnest injunction—aside to him—that "no matter what she said, he should 'speak slow, and speak low.'"
We allowed the half hour promised them to treble; and when we returned they were seated close to each other. They were speaking in the language of la belle France, her native tongue, and we could not understand a word they said; but the tones were such as those to which the angels love to listen, and the looks on their faces such as spoke of the happiness found only in the bowers of the Prince of Peace.
The following day we received a letter from him saying, "I am saved. I am reconciled to my wife. God bless you."
He and she had learned to "speak slow and low"—learned to use one of the keys to the treasures of "peace on earth, good will to men."
—Pres. Journal.
INDWELLING OF THE SPIRIT.
By E. B. Saunders
The Spirit of God does not dwell in a heart that loves sin; and the reason that so many are almost entirely unacquainted with the movings of the Spirit of God, is because sin, which God hates, is cherished. Such is the deceitfulness of the human heart that we think all we possess is devoted to the service of God, when this world and its pleasures are first in all our thoughts. Even our worship, both public and private, is marred with meditations of a worldly nature; our means is often squandered to gratify self. We ask God to bless us with health and strength only to consume it upon our lusts.
There must be an entire willingness to give up our darling sin, whatever it may be, before Christ will dwell in us by his Spirit. And when the Spirit of Christ is received into the heart, you will need no one to tell you of it; the sweet harmony between the heart and the word of God, the sacredness of his law, sweeter than honey and the honeycomb, will make it evident to yourself that God accepts you. Others will judge you by the fruits, "Love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance." These fruits may be counterfeited, but they always seem unnatural, stunted, and irregular, when connected with a corrupt heart.
One who is acquainted with the Spirit of God need not be deceived by them. These graces, in the one case, will seem forced and put on for appearance sake; while in the other, they will spring spontaneously from a good heart.
Unless we have the Holy Spirit in our hearts, we shall be lost. We can never truly get the victory without it; but when it dwells in us we are virtually victors. Oh! how easy then to keep the commandments; and God does not then seem to be a hard master. His law will seem "sweeter than honey and the honeycomb," and we shall feel it to be a privilege to improve the talent entrusted to our care. The service of God will be a pleasure, and this world will seem to us small indeed.
My brethren, will you seek this conversion, this consecration, this Spirit? If you feel like waiting awhile, till you have enjoyed the pleasures of sin a little longer, it is evident that you are unacquainted with its sweetness, and your heart is not right before God. I entreat you, as a servant of God, to make no delay, but seek the Lord by confessing and forsaking sin, and by earnest prayer to God for pardon, till the Spirit of Christ returns to you again, and you can say from the heart, Jesus is mine, and I am his.
E. B. SAUNDERS.
A LADY'S OPINION OF WHITTAKER.
A woman's idea of true manly courage was imparted to a West Point cadet during commencement a week ago, under circumstances which make her words worth recalling at this time when West Point is posing, as it were, for manly courage. A lady was chatting with a spruce cadet during the evening review, and inquired who the cadet might be who carried himself in a manner so straight and soldierly. She had unwittingly picked out the weak spot in the corps. It was Whittaker, the colored cadet, who, in addition to his "highly scented hair-oil," had the effrontery to look as white as his "superiors" at a distance of a few rods.
The cadet did not conceal the general disgust which the presence of the octoroon inspired among the members of the corps, and being questioned, explained the kind of treatment Whittaker received. "You pretend to be a gentleman," said the lady, "why don't you, of yourself, treat him with civility, at least?" The cadet replied that he wasn't going to endanger his position among his fellows for the sake of a negro. "Oh, I see!" replied the lady in tones of indignation, "when a West Point soldier faces the enemy it is mere physical courage; you haven't any moral courage!"—Cleveland Leader.
The Difference Between Manners and Character
It is one thing to behave like a gentleman and quite another to be a gentleman and not need to try.