Review and Herald, Vol. 36, No. 25. (12/6/1870)

Review and Herald

Dec 6, 1870

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Dec 6, 1870

Prevalence of Crime.

Had newspapers been published in the days before the flood, of which holy Scripture says, “The earth was filled with violence,” they could scarcely have contained a more appalling list of crimes than do now the columns of our daily journals. The eye everywhere meets reports of thefts, robberies, homicides, suicides, and murders, to say nothing of adultery, rape, and incest. These crimes are not confined to any section of the country, nor to any one class of people. They are, in proportion to the population, as frequent in the rural districts as in the large cities, and the educated and the wealthy furnish their full share of criminals.

It is sometimes said that crime is not really increasing, but that now, through the newspapers, all is gathered up and thus brought to our notice. Making all due allowance for this increased publicity, we cannot regard the explanation as satisfactory. Had we statistics accurately kept, this might determine the matter; but without them we must rely on those general impressions which find utterance through the public press, and from these we infer that at no time in this land has wickedness of every kind so abounded as now, and certainly never has it taken more bold and atrocious forms.

But it is not with the question of comparative amount that we are now interested. The fact we wish to notice is that these crimes so abound in Christian communities, in a country filled with churches, among a people educated in the principles of Christian morality, and having the Bible in almost every dwelling. That heathendom should be filled with violence ought not perhaps to surprise us. When men worship idols, we may not look for any higher standard of morality, or any strict control over lusts and passions. Always, in heathenism, human life has been held of little account. But in Christendom is worshiped the one holy God; in his laws human life is made most sacred, exact justice and love to all are solemnly inculcated, and in his Son, made flesh, we have a perfect example. How, then, is it that Christendom is as full, perhaps more full, of grievous wickedness than heathendom? Can there be found in any part of the earth, even in the most savage wilds of Africa, or the South Seas, crimes more abhorrent to God and to man than are daily committed in the great Christian capitals of the world? Has Pekin, has Jeddo, like New York, seen the corpses of 600 murdered men in her streets within the past dozen years?

What does this teach us? Has the salt lost its savor? Is Christianity a dead doctrine, embalmed in the creeds and powerless in the life? Is it losing its control over society, and becoming unable to bring, as at the first, fierce and lawless men under the rule of its pure and peaceful principles?

We will not stop to answer these questions, but the facts before us may not be put out of sight. Christendom to-day is full of violence. The blood of His children, poured out by the hand of the murderer, crieth unto God from almost every village. Legislation does what it can, and the courts do what they can, but with little effect. Fear of the law and its penalty seems to have passed away. It is this growing indifference to the threatenings of the law and its severest punishments, that presents the most significant and dangerous symptom. If the State cannot protect the lives of its citizens, a terrible abyss is yawning before us. Already multitudes of people keep loaded pistols in their houses, or carry them on their persons and sleep with them under their pillows. It is a poignant sign, if we read it aright, of a decaying State, of a State whose moral power is gone, and whose most imperative commands cannot enforce obedience, but need to be carried into effect by the armed hand of the individual citizen.

Every now and then we hear a cry of alarm, and a spasmodic effort is made to check the evil, and there are loud calls for good and just government. But good and just government is not a thing to be called for at pleasure, like a garment to be worn one day and thrown aside the next. It is the product of the natural life, and can be great and vigorous only when the moral force of a people is healthy and strong. What we now want is not increased severity of legislation, but that pure source of might and energy that will not confound them, and which calls crime crime, and guilt guilt. When a community believes that murder ought to be punished because it is murder, then will human life begin to be safe. Christianity carried out on its principles of justice, as well as of love, would make real the picture of the age when every man shall dwell in peace, with none to molest or make him afraid.

But these rose-water interpretations of Christianity, which throw out the element of justice, and make sin an imperfection, and crime a misfortune, are fast turning Christendom into the likeness of the world before the flood.—The Churchman.

Doubts as to the Lubbock Theory.

By C. E. Stowe

The theory of Sir John Lubbock I understand to be this; to wit, that all the races of men, even the earliest and those who have made the greatest advances, were originally savages of the lowest grade, like the Digger Indians, and scarcely, not perceptibly, superior to baboons and gorillas. How does this theory correspond with the well-known facts of history?

The old Egyptians were one of the original races, and became one of the most civilized and most highly cultivated. The remains and proofs of their civilization, being constructed of materials in their own nature almost imperishable, continue in great abundance and perfection to this day, in the shape of temples and obelisks, sphinxes, pyramids, hieroglyphics, etc., etc.

Now, if the Egyptians began as Digger Indians, and worked up to their ultimate civilization by the slow process of natural development, always inhabiting the same country and having the same material to work upon, how happens it that we find no traces of this gradual development in their works of art? Why do we not find a rude, imperfect sphinx, rudely cut hieroglyphics, ill-proportioned and shapeless obelisks, clumsy stone structures like the stonehenge in England; and thence progressive, gradual improvement to the highest perfection of their art? Why do not the remains of their civilization indicate a progressive history of civilization? This certainly is what we should naturally expect if the Lubbock theory be true; and it is certain that there are no traces of a progress from the lowest to the highest in what we now find in Egypt.

Again, we always find that a low, savage race, where it comes in contact with a superior civilization, even if it accepts the imported civilization, and lives for a while under its influence, shows no capacity for permanent progressiveness, but gradually dies out, till no trace of it is left. Were the original savages of so different a nature from the savages of modern times, that they had a susceptibility to indefinite improvement, while these have no such susceptibility? If so, then the ancient savages were not savages at all, as we understand savagedom.

The Bible theory is the reverse of Sir John Lubbock's. It represents the original races as beginning with civilization. The first pair were horticulturists, and observers of nature. They gave names to the inferior animals; they had a spiritual religion, and talked with God. Their children and grandchildren set up the worship of God; they were farmers and shepherds; they were miners—they smelted iron and copper, and wrought them into useful implements; they even cultivated the fine arts, invented instruments of music, both stringed instruments and wind instruments, and were never Digger Indians, nor anything of the kind.

Read the fourth chapter of Genesis, and then take a verse of Dryden:

“When Jubal struck the corded shell, His listening brethren stood around; And, wondering, on their faces fell, To worship that celestial sound. Less than a God, they thought, there could not dwell Within the hollow of that shell, That spoke so sweetly and so well.”

Noah could build an immense ship that could float

in safety, heavily laden, for twelve months, on a shoreless ocean. His immediate neighbors could burn brick and turn bitumen into mortar, and construct a tower, imperishable as the primitive rocks, and the remains of which are still to be seen, the materials of which will never be decomposed.

I cannot help thinking that the Bible theory of the origin of civilization is much more agreeable than Sir John Lubbock's, and in much better accordance with the actual facts of history, so far as we know them.

I have no objection whatever to the most thorough scientific investigation; I would not attempt to disturb any man in his studies, by throwing the Bible at his head; but let us have well-ascertained and clearly defined facts, and let us remember, everywhere and always, that a hypothesis in science is no more authoritative than a speculation in theology. Scientific men must be willing to submit to as rigid tests as those which they apply to theologians; and when this is thoroughly done, I think it will be found that this generation is very much such an era in science, as the middle ages were in theology, and that the theology of the schoolmen, and the science of the nineteenth century, will be found to stand on very much the same footing; that is to say, it will be found that the conclusions have generally run far beyond the premises, and that the alleged facts, in all their length and breadth, have oftener been discarded by the imagination than by the perceptive faculties.

I would not be impatient of investigation in any direction. Let every man have full swing, and say out, unhindered, all that he has got to say; for that is the dispensation of the present time, just as much as ecclesiasticism was of the middle ages. It is a phase of history through which the human race must pass in its onward march—and let it pass. If God is not disturbed about it, we need not be. It is all in the right way—in the way which has been ordained of God himself.

The attainments of science in our day have been worthy of all praise and admiration; and yet I believe when the torches of future scientific generations have been applied to the big heap which we now see before us, and the wood, hay, and stubble, have all been burned out, the gold, silver, and precious stones, which survive the incineration, will be found, after all, to make only a very moderate-sized pile. This is especially true when the speculations of science apparently come in conflict with the truths of religion. There can be really no conflict between the two. Whatever appears to be such must be the result of misunderstanding, and not of accurate knowledge.

I heard some men, the other day, who were going to a horse race, discussing the discrepancies between science and the Bible; and one of them exclaimed, “Well, I'll bet my money on the Bible, anyhow.” So will I, when all is well understood.

That discussion much enlivened my idea of the extent to which freedom of thought, or at least freedom of talk, has grown among us. Very well, let us meet it just here, where is it?—PROV. C. E. STOWE, D. D., in Christian Union.

WHO SHALL DWELL THERE?

By J. U. Cottrell

Oh! who shall inhabit that pure land of light, Where joys, hopes, and pleasures, shall never know blight; Where the fair tree of life, too, forever shall stand, To nourish the dwellers in that happy land?

Oh! who shall recline 'neath the evergreen tree, And talk of the river of life which they see; And gaze on its banks as it passes along, And there join in singing a beautiful song?

All they who are patient while dwelling below, In sickness, in sorrow, in pain, and in woe; All they that are faithful and true every time, Shall inherit that beautiful country sublime.

Yes, they that in meekness here follow the Lord, Obeying each precept of his holy word; Those, these are the ones that shall ever enjoy That bright land of bliss without any alloy. J. U. COTTRELL.

The Roman Sentinel.

By Dr. Guthrie

THERE was nothing in Pompeii that invested it with a deeper interest to me than the spot where a soldier of old Rome displayed a most heroic fidelity. That fatal day on which Vesuvius, at whose feet the city stood, burst out into an eruption that shook the earth, poured torrents of lava from its riven sides, and discharged, amidst the noise of a hundred thunders, such clouds of ashes as filled the air, produced a darkness deeper than midnight, and struck such terror into all hearts that men thought not only that the end of the world had come, and all must die, but that the gods themselves were expiring—on that night a sentinel kept watch by the gate which looked to the burning mountain. Amid unimaginable confusion and shrieks of terror, mingled with the roar of the volcano, and cries of mothers who had lost their children in the darkness, the inhabitants fled the fatal town, while falling ashes, loading the darkened air, and penetrating every place, rose in the streets till they covered the house-roofs, nor left a vestige of the city, but a vast, silent mound, beneath which it lay unknown, dead, and buried, for nearly one thousand seven hundred years.

Amid this fearful disorder, the sentinel at the gate had been forgotten; and as Rome required her sentinels, happen what might, to hold their posts till relieved by the guard or set at liberty by their officers, he had to choose between death and dishonor. A pattern of fidelity, he stood by his post. Slowly, but surely, the ashes rise on his manly form; now they reach his breast; and now covering his lips they choke his breathing. He also was “faithful unto death.” After seventeen centuries, they found his skeleton standing erect in a marble niche, clad in its rusty armor—the helmet on his empty skull, and his bony fingers still closed upon his spear. And next almost to the interest I felt in placing myself on the spot where Paul, true to his colors, when all men deserted him, plead before the Roman tyrant, was the interest I felt in the niche by the city gate where they found the skeleton of one who, in his fidelity to the cause of Caesar, sets us an example of faithfulness to the cause of Christ—an example it were for the honor of their Master that all his servants followed.—Dr. Guthrie.

Plans of Usefulness.

By M. G. McMahan

Putting books in circulation is an important means of usefulness.

Placing religious books in rooms occupied by visitors, or where they will be found, especially on the Sabbath, will often result in much good. Rev. Richard Cecil was heard to say that “his mother used to put things in his way, which he could not get rid of.”

The distribution of religious tracts in various ways, has often been attended with astonishing results. The following is related by Rev. J. Cross, in his “Gospel Workers”: “A gentleman who was ticket agent at an important railroad station for five years, spent fifty dollars annually in the purchase of tracts for distribution. He made it a rule to give a tract with each ticket sold. He afterward received letters from twenty-two persons who had received tracts from him, stating that they had been the means of their conversion.”

A servant was once anxiously reading a tract, when her mistress entered the kitchen unperceived, and wishing to ascertain what could so engross her attention, read the word “ETERNITY” in large letters at the commencement of the tract. Reflection was aroused, and she was saved—saved by one word.

A boy who had early embraced the Saviour, was once employed as clerk in a bookstore. Wishing to be useful, he procured a supply of tracts, which he distributed in various ways; chiefly by inclosing them in books which he sold.

It is sometimes well to write on a book or tract a request that it be read, and then circulated among others.

Distributing tracts among passengers on steamboats and railroads would seldom be in vain, as they would often be carried into remote localities, which could not be reached by ordinary means.

Inclosing tracts in letters has often been attended by beneficial results. Thousands of tracts might be sent through the land in this way.

Books and papers which will be likely to do good should often be recommended to others. A recommendation of this character, received several years ago from a devoted Christian laborer of St. Louis, will ever be remembered with gratitude by the writer.

Teachers have it in their power to wield a mighty influence for good. A young lady once took charge of a public school in a neighborhood of extreme depravity, hoping by example and precept to be instrumental in their reformation. The spirit of persecution was soon aroused because she read the Bible and prayed in her school. With the meekness of a martyr she patiently endured the “fiery trials” through which she was called to pass, and the result was an extensive and powerful revival of religion.

An excellent teacher, during a course of several years, was in the habit of lending suitable religious books to the pupils of his school, which were returned and exchanged at specified times. Subsequent results were highly satisfactory.

A young lady received and read the Memoir of Martha T. Sharp. The perusal was blessed to her conversion, and she is now a very active and useful Christian.

Teachers, will you try this method of usefulness?

Books suitable for this purpose are numerous and easily obtained.

The power exerted by a consistent Christian example is immense. A skeptical young man, who afterward became a Christian, was often heard to remark that there was one argument which he could never gainsay or resist: the godly, consistent example of his own father.

Christians are watched; every word and action is scrutinized; and it is impossible for them to live, even for a single day, without exerting much silent influence for good or evil.

Vigorous effort in behalf of the young is the manifest duty of every Christian. Who can estimate, until it is revealed in eternity, the amount of good accomplished by faithful spiritual labors among children? The sympathies of children should be early enlisted in simple methods of doing good. When sufficiently interested, they are noble workers.

Some years ago a little girl, apparently not over six

years of age, was noticed every Sabbath morning for several months, passing from house to house, distributing religious tracts. Such unusual labors, in one so young, elicited attention and sympathy, and her efforts were much blessed.

Gathering neglected children into mission Sabbath-schools is beginning to receive that appreciation which its importance demands. Are there no unhappy outcasts in your own vicinity, whom you might reclaim by means of a little labor and self-denial? In view of the amazing worth of souls, will you make an effort? Numerous instances, illustrating the usefulness of such labors, have been widely published.

Sow beside all waters. The most unlikely efforts often result in much good.

A young lady was once induced, after much persuasion, to attend church. Arriving early, she took up an American Messenger which she found in the pew, intending to pass the interval previous to the commencement of the services in reading. The first words read resulted in overwhelming conviction, and she found no peace until she found it at the “foot of the cross.” Numerous instances of conversion, resulting from the distribution of the Messenger, have been published.

A word in season will seldom prove ineffectual. Lady Huntington was once urging upon a workman the importance of preparation for death and eternity. The words designed for the laborer took effect upon another man who happened to be on the outside of the garden wall. The few words overheard resulted eventually in his conversion.

An invitation to church has been the means of salvation to many. An encouraging instance of this character is recorded in the American Messenger for August, 1863.

Lending a book, giving a tract, an earnest entreaty, a silent tear, an affectionate letter, singing a song, visiting the sick, a consistent example, or a convincing argument, may appear of little consequence; but feeble as such instrumentalities seem, they have resulted in the salvation of thousands.

Christian reader, have you ever done anything to promote the cause of God? Have you done all that you could do?

Look upon that vast throng of perishing souls by whom you are surrounded, and, in view of a coming eternity, ask yourself if there is not something more that you can do. Watch for opportunities. Be instant in season, out of season; and by the blessing of God, you may be instrumental in saving many souls from death.—M. G. McMahan.

Ignorance and Conceit

THERE is only one thing worse than ignorance, and that is conceit. Of all intractable fools, an overwise man is the worst.

Hammering Cold Iron.

“That preacher uses a big hammer—a very big hammer,” said a quaintly speaking man, as he came out of a chapel in B—, where the word of God had been proclaimed with power and blessing; and his conception was not far from correct.

The man who wields the word of God handles a hammer, and a heavy one too; a hammer which has broken idols, and broken hearts; which has smitten tyrants, and shattered prison doors; which has dashed nations in pieces, and molded and shaped the destinies of the human race.

But God’s word is more than a hammer, and “hammering” is not always preaching the gospel. The word of God is as a fire, and as a hammer. Not a hammer first, and then a fire,—a hammer to crush, and a fire to consume,—but a fire first, and then a hammer,—a fire to soften and subdue; and then a hammer to break, and mould, and fashion, the mass which has already yielded to the influence of the fire.

Good blacksmiths do not waste many blows on cold iron; they first heat, and then hammer; and the man who, when preaching God’s word, uses all hammer and no fire, will have a noisy, weary, fruitless task. Cold iron can neither be wrought nor welded; hot iron yields to the force of the blacksmith’s sturdy stroke.

Preacher of the gospel, with your theories, and opinions, and your doctrines, and disputations, do you wonder that your labors are so tedious and unprofitable? Perhaps you hammer cold iron too much. That may be the reason why your blows recoil with such a clatter. That may be the reason why there is so little unity and fellowship among your hearers. You may preach truth, but is it the whole truth? You may have the hammer, but have you not forgotten the fire?

Change your plan. Try the warming, heating, melting, burning power of God’s truth. Heat first, then hammer; soften, then weld; melt, then mold. And as you use more fire, you will need less hammer, and every blow you strike will help to fashion things aright. The stubborn iron yields to the fire and the hammer, and even the flinty rock, calcined by intense heat, crumbles to sand beneath the hammer’s stroke. Let us follow the divine plan, first the fire, then the hammer, that we may be blessed in our work, and our labors crowned with success.

“The prophet that hath a dream, let him tell a dream; and he that hath my word, let him speak my word faithfully. What is the chaff to the wheat? saith the Lord. Is not my word like as a fire? saith the Lord; and like a hammer that breaketh the rock in pieces?” Jer. 23: 28, 29.—The Christian.

The Mystery of Editing.

By Henry Ward Beecher

THE world at large do not understand the mystery of a newspaper; and as in a watch, the hands that are seen are but the passive instruments of the spring which is never seen; so in a newspaper, the most worthy cause of its prospering is often least observed and known. Who suspects the benefit which a paper derives from the enterprise, vigilance and watchful care, of the publishers? Who pauses to think how much of the pleasure of reading is derived from the care and skill of the printer? We feel the blemishes of printing, if they exist, but seldom observe the excellencies. We eat a hearty dinner, but do not think of the farmer who raises the materials thereof, or the cook that prepares them with infinite pains and skill. But a cook of vegetables, meats, pastries, and bones, has a paradisiacal office in comparison with the editor! Before him passes in review all their exchange newspapers. He is to know all their contents—to mark for others the matter that requires attention. His scissors are to be alert, and clip with incessant industry all the little items that together form so large an interest in the news department. He passes in review each week every section of his country through the newspaper lens; he looks across the ocean and sees strange lands; and following the sun, he searches over all the world for material.

It will require but one moment's time for the readers to take in what two hours produce. By him are read the manuscripts that swarm the office like flies in July. It is his frown that dooms them; his hand that condenses a whole page into a line. It is his discreet sternness that resists sentimental obituaries, and gives our young poets a twig on which to sit and sing their first lays.

The power behind the throne, in newspapers, as in higher places, is sometimes as important as the throne. Correspondents, occasional and regular, stand in awe at that silent power which has the last chance at an article, and who sends it forth in glory, or condemns it to oblivion. In short, as the body depends upon good digestion, so the health of a paper depends upon the vigorous digestion which goes on by means of the editor.—Henry Ward Beecher.

Illustrations from Nature.

The Drop of Water, the Brook, the River, and the Ocean.

A drop of water, that sparkled like a jewel in the sun, once fell from the clouds into a little mountain stream, and, ere it lost its identity, exclaimed in all its anguish of desolation, “Alas! what a catastrophe—I am swallowed up in immensity.” The little stream laughed, as it leaped down the mountain side, at the lamentation of such an insignificant thing as a drop of water, and, vain of its consequence, continued brawling its crystal way, in all the pride of conscious superiority, until at length, with a sudden plunge, it fell headlong into a mighty river, and, like the drop of water, was lost in a moment, crying out in its last agonies, “Oh, fate! who would have thought a brook of my size could be swallowed up so easily?” The river murmured its contempt for the little foolish stream, and continued its course, gathering strength and pride, breaking through mountains, tearing the rocks from their seats, and coursing in a thousand graceful meanders through flowery meadows, until it found its way to the vast and melancholy ocean, in whose boundless waste it lost its being, like the drop of water and the little mountain stream. “Is it possible,” exclaimed the mighty river, “that I have been thus collecting tribute from half the world, only to become nothing at last?”

“’Tis thus with thee, O man! Thou beginnest in insignificance, like the drop of water; thou becomest a laughing, leaping, brawling thing like the brook; thou waxest proud and great like the mighty river; and ere thou canst say, in the vanity of thy heart, ‘What an illustrious mortal I am,’ thou art lost in eternity.”—Sel.

“The Mother's Faith.”

A FACT.

“I SHOULD like to know what mother thinks of the Lord, now!” exclaimed a little boy of ten years, as a group of half-starved brothers and sisters were preparing for school without a breakfast, one bitter cold morning.

Well knew each member of that hungry band of little ones, that through all the trying scenes of poverty, in their father's long illness, a firm and unwavering faith upheld their praying mother. But now, when the last fire had been made, and the last frugal meal of baked potatoes eaten, and her own frail form was sinking beneath its burden of work and sorrow, the climax seemed reached. “What does mother think of the Lord, now?” fell upon the ears of one of the loveliest women I ever met. It was from the lips of her first-born, her darling, for whose submission to God she had ever been hoping and striving. The words fell upon her heart like lead. It was a new test of her sorely tried faith, a new drop added to their bitter cup.

A long and severe sickness of her husband had reduced them to extreme poverty, and with no resource but the needle, it had been difficult to meet the demands of a large family, and perform sick-room duties at the same time. When this eventful morning dawned, there was no more food in the house, and just wood enough to build one more fire. A slice of borrowed bread was toasted for the sick man, and his chair, drawn before the last fire. He knew not the destitution, the toil, the self-sacrifice, that oppressed his wife; he only saw the smiles, the industry, the neatness, and the patient waiting for brighter days.

When the daring words of the hungry boy fell upon that Christian mother's ears, she just lifted up her heart, in the silent eloquence and fervor of ejaculatory prayer, known only to the burdened and toil-worn disciple. The answer came, “The Lord is good, his mercy endureth forever.” Her heart responded, and as she raised her eyes to the window, two good loads of wood standing there testified that she had not thought too much of her Heavenly Father, or trusted in his promises too long. The sun shone again upon that household, and never more did Henry say, “I wonder what mother thinks of the Lord, now.”—Sel.

Kindness Most Effective.

When Isaac T. Hopper lived in Philadelphia, his attention was drawn to a colored waiter, called Cain, who was remarkable for profanity. Neither persuasion nor rebuke had any effect to change this bad habit. One day Hopper encountered him in the street quarreling and pouring volleys of oaths that made one shudder. Having faith in fines and constables, Hopper took him before a magistrate, who fined him for blasphemy. Twenty years after, Isaac met Cain, whom he had not seen for a very long time. His outward appearance was much changed for the worse; his garments were tattered, and his person emaciated. This touched the Friend's heart. He stepped up, spoke kindly, and shook hands with the forlorn being.

“Dost thou remember me,” said the Quaker, “how I had thee fined for swearing?”

“Yea, indeed I do; I remember what I paid as well as yesterday.”

“Well, did it do thee any good?”

“No, never a bit; it made me mad to have my money taken from me.”

Hopper invited Cain to reckon up the interest on the fine, and paid him principal and interest. “I meant it for thy good, Cain, and I am sorry I did thee any harm.” Cain's countenance changed; the tears rolled down his cheeks; he took the money with many thanks; became a quiet man, and was not heard to swear again.—Sel.

God's Plan of Your Life.

NEVER complain of your birth, your employment, your hardships; never fancy that you could be something, if you only had a different lot and sphere assigned you. God understands his own plan, and he knows what you want a great deal better than you do. The very things you most depreciate as fatal limitations or obstructions, are probably what you most want. What you call hindrances, obstacles, discouragements, are probably God's opportunities; and it's nothing new that the patient should dislike his medicines, or any proof that they are poisons. No! a truce to all such impatience. Choke that envy which gnaws at your heart because you are not in the same lot with others; bring down your soul, or bring it up to God's will, and do his work, in your lot, in your sphere, under your cloak of obscurity, against your temptations, and then you shall find that your condition is never opposed to your good, but consistent with it.—Sel.

SCARLET MADE WHITE

We have some little difficulty, said a scientific lecturer, who was explaining the process of paper-making, with the iron dyes, but the most troublesome of all are the Turkey-red rags. You see I have dipped this rag into my solution; its red is paler, but it is still strong. If I continue to steep it, the fiber is destroyed before the color is effaced.

As I went home I thought that it must have been the Spirit of God that led the prophet Isaiah to write—not though your sins be as blue as the sky, or as green as the olive leaf, or as black as night, but “though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool”—he chose the very color which modern science, with all its appliances, finds to be indestructible.

The Age to Come.

By Joseph H. Waggoner

Since the publication, at the Review Office, of the pamphlet on “The Kingdom of God,” there has not been much published by the professed advocates of the Age to Come. A pamphlet of 36 pages, by H. V. Reed, I have seen and read. It is not possible that it should have any influence with the candid reader, its strongest points being very strong assertions, all in the bombastic style peculiar to the writer. It is hardly possible to ascribe all its errors to the proof reader. As instances, Abassas, Eclesia, and Basisteia, and Basalies, are given as the Greek of the bottomless pit, church, and kingdom. And the English fares little better. As to its pretended argument, it does not notice the positions of opposers, nor attempt to remove the weighty objections urged against the Age to Come. On the present position of Christ on the throne of his Father in Heaven, he quoted no text but Rev. 3: 21. The others are cited to only. Is it because those texts so clearly define the place of his priesthood as to overthrow his theory, that he keeps them out of sight? So I am inclined to believe. The locality of the priesthood of Christ is as clearly revealed as any fact or truth of Scripture, and an argument on that subject is worthless, unless these texts are considered. On the priesthood of Christ, he makes the following singular statement:

“‘David shall never want a man on his throne,’ etc. Neither shall the Levites want a priest,’ etc. Why, is this? We answer, because this branch which grows up unto David, is to do ample justice in the earth, and execute true judgment in the land. He will fill both positions upon the throne of David.”

According to that, Christ is to be a Levitical priest on the throne of David! Compare it with Heb. 7, and 8: 1-5.

He follows Joseph Marsh in placing Dan. 7: 13, 14, at the second advent; but it is noticeable that though he quotes the passage twice, in neither case does he give it in full. The text says that this coming was to the Ancient of Days, brought near before him. This fact he excludes from his quotation, and then says the text shows that “when the Messiah comes to earth,” etc. On such a course, no comment is necessary.

On the subject of the breaking to pieces the nations, Dan. 2, he says:

“All precedences going before show that when Christ comes to earth, instead of the nations being annihilated and the subjects destroyed, they will pass under the rule of Jesus in the Age to Come. We believe that the nations will be broken in their rule, when the Lord reigns in Zion, but that they will become subject to his holy law, which goes forth from Zion. Mal. 4. Hence there is an age of glory awaiting the nations of the earth.”

We have never supposed that the order of Christ’s rule of the nations was to be established by any “precedence going before?” but by the “sure word of prophecy.” According to Dan. 2, the order is this: 1. The stone smites the image, i. e., the nations. 2. No place is found for them; they pass away. 3. The stone becomes a great mountain, and fills the whole earth. But according to Mr. Reed’s theory, the order is this: 1. The stone smites the image. 2. The nations are ushered into an age of glory! 3. The stone fills the earth. He reasons analogically thus:

“When Babylon was destroyed as a kingdom, its subjects passed under the rule of the Medo-Persians; and when Greece was overthrown as a nation, her subjects passed under the iron rule of the Romans.”

If the Scriptures taught or allowed any such analogy in respect to the nations’ passing submissively under the sway of Christ, no one would object. But where is it taught? Not in Dan. 2, nor in Jer. 25, nor in 2 Thess. 1, nor in any other scripture. The cry of “peace and safety,” when “sudden destruction” is coming, belongs to them who are in darkness. 1 Thess. 5: 1-5.

As an illustration of his use, or abuse, of language, see the following on Matt. 21: 43:

“The word given may throw a little obscurity upon the text. The word offered is better: ‘The kingdom of God shall be taken from you and offered to a nation bringing forth the fruits thereof.’”

Why better? Is it not a fact that the kingdom will be given to those bringing forth its required fruits? Or if only offered to those who bring forth its fruits, on what condition will it be given them? There is not a shadow of a reason for his statement; it is made in recklessness.

Because that among professed Adventists there had been nothing worthy of notice published for the last ten or fifteen years, many of our brethren have thought that the conflict on this subject was ended. But I find that a class of larger books, from a different class of writers, is becoming quite prevalent. Very many of the books on prophecy, now being extensively published and read, have a theory akin to that of the Age to Come, but not called by that name. Sometimes it is incorporated into dissertations on the millennium: sometimes on the kingdom; in various ways and forms it is presented. And the consequence is, that many minds are becoming tinctured with the error; and when the truth concerning the advent is presented, we find these perversions of the prophecies occupying the ground where the name of the “Age to Come” has never been heard. Without closely examining their bearings and relations, many accept them as an improvement on the old theory of the millennium. Though many Advent believers consider those views erroneous, there is no concise method of exposing the error, except as found in the system of truth connected with the third angel’s message of Rev. 14: 9-12.

J. H. WAGGONER.

Manchester, N. H., Nov. 16, 1870.

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