It was a powerful and thorough sermon, from the lips of a man naturally gifted in speech, and speaking, besides, under the inspiration and guidance of the omnipotent Spirit of God. What was the effect produced? The record is in Acts 24. Felix trembled,—was excessively frightened, as it might properly be rendered. He felt, then, it appears, the force and aim of the apostle's preaching. He indeed acknowledged and proclaimed, by his change of countenance and tremor of body, that he had an apprehension of the truth, and of the importance and the individual applicability of what he heard. So sudden and surprising and overwhelming was his conviction of guilt, and so vivid and awful the momentary glimpse that he caught, as by a short, sharp lightning-flash, of the judgment-throne of Christ and the retributions of the eternal state, that he could not control his agitation. Ashamed, as he must have been, of betraying his weakness in the presence of his queen, and doubly ashamed to confess the influence which the words of a prisoner and a barbarian and a Jew had brought upon him, he nevertheless lost command of himself, and visibly trembled.
Prodigious effect! We should say that it could, by no possibility, have terminated there. A conscience so thoroughly aroused, it cannot be will lapse back into slumber and security again. That awakened and terrified sinner will surely repent, and cry out like the jailer, “What must I do to be saved?” He saw that he was a lost soul; it was revealed to him unmistakably in that hour. He will shout aloud for mercy; it will be a moment of victory for God and of joy in Heaven. Not so. Quickly recovering his self-control, and endeavoring to restore his features to their natural expression, he interrupts the speaker. Doubtless his voice faltered a little, but he said: “Go thy way for this time; when I have a convenient season, I will call for thee.”
Well, convenient seasons came frequently, after that, during the two years that Felix resided at Cæsarea. The narrative of Luke recounts that Paul and Felix met repeatedly in mutual conference. The circumstances and incidents of these subsequent interviews are left by the historian wholly to conjecture. In the absence, however, of any hint tending in that direction, we are not at liberty to suppose that Felix was ever again moved, to any remarkable degree, by the arguments and appeals of Paul. It is altogether probable that he listened to him, after that day in the judgment hall, with perfect self-possession, and a calm and intelligent curiosity. That, no doubt, had been the crisis of his eternal destiny. His decision was final, irreversible, eternal. He was not visited with any wish or thought of changing it. He was reprobate. Paul's gospel was hid—hid to one that was lost. Satan had chosen Felix long before, and now Felix chose Satan. The Holy Spirit gave him up. Alas, Felix!
The case of the text is frequently quoted and alluded to as representing the conduct of the impenitent man who puts aside the importunities of the Holy Spirit, and afterward dies suddenly, thus suddenly ending his earthly probation. But to my mind, there is something inexpressibly more mournful in the thought of one who, like Felix, delays submission to God, and then week after week, month after month, year after year, comes to the place of worship, as Felix entered into conversation with Paul, and hears and sees as if he heard and saw not; the convenient season constantly recurring, Sabbaths dawning and setting, the weeks and months and years moving him steadily onward towards eternity, but no voice breaking the frightful silence of his soul, no light discovering to his view the scenes that hide in the eternal darkness before him.
Is there such a soul in the circle of our acquaintances and friends? We start at the very thought. Is he who touches your side, as you sit together in the house of God, such a one? Is your pupil, your partner in business, your brother, your sister, your parent, your husband, your wife, your child? Vain questions! We cannot answer them, we would not answer them; but they will be answered at the judgment seat of Christ.
The lessons which are to be learned from the subject that we have been considering, are so obvious that they scarcely need to be formally presented. But they are, at the same time, so important that they cannot be omitted.
In the first place, we see that preaching, no matter how pungent and powerful, will not save a soul. The place might be dark, almost, with the shadow of the hovering Spirit; the preacher's words might fall upon a silence like the silence of the grave; the hearers might tremble with the eternal fear,—and still, and still no soul be saved. It is not by might nor by power. Not apostolic, not Pauline eloquence can do it. Sinners must not, therefore, hear the preaching of the gospel with the idea in their minds that preaching will finally save them. No sermon, however convincing, from any text, however appropriate, will effect the work. If such an impression is forming itself in the thought of any person that reads these words, let me warn you, dear, dear friend, it is false. It is one of Satan's lies. There is no hope for you but in resisting him at every point. His wiles are innumerable and inconceivably dangerous. The watchword is “Resist.”
In the second place, we may learn, from the consideration of this subject, that a state of anxiety about the condition of the soul is not a state of safety. There is sometimes a vague, half-formed conviction in the mind of an awakened sinner, that his feelings of distress and anxiety are an assurance of his security. The example of Felix teaches to the contrary. Here were emotions of terror and solicitude poignant in the extreme. But Felix was lost. In truth, the right consideration of the subject teaches that the period during which a convicted sinner is full of mental anguish and fearful forebodings, instead of being a period of safety, is one of the most imminent peril. If ever they that watch for souls as those that must give account, may lie sleepless at night, and wonder and agonize and pray with wasting anxiety, it is when there are awakened sinners in their congregations. Oh, the terrible, the infernal, energy and cunning with which Satan besets them! How shall his malignity be baffled? Let none, then, derive any sense of security from the fact that they are anxious about their souls. The moment of the greatest anxiety is precisely the moment of the greatest danger.
How clearly, now that the occasion is so remote in time, do we perceive the folly of the decision of Felix and Drusilla! The little motives, the trifling considerations, which intervened to influence them,—these are all of them dismissed from our minds, and we think only of the dreadful folly of their choice. It cost Paul a struggle to be faithful that day; but the struggle was brief, and the reward is endless. It took only a moment for Felix to say, “Go thy way for this time;” but it will take him long to be sorry that he said it.—Professor William C. Wilkinson, D. D., LL. D., in Sunday School Times.
Suppressing Anger Prevents Sorrow
He who can suppress a moment’s anger may prevent a day of sorrow.
The Coming of a Literal Christ.
By Editor
WE love the holy Scriptures; we love their truths and their promises. All are very precious to our hearts. We love to vindicate them because they are the words given in mercy by our heavenly Father, and because they are our only hope—the only hope of the world. We have staked all on their integrity, on the certainty of their promises. If these fail, then our hope is lost; then we could look forward to nothing but endless darkness. We have relinquished the hopes, the treasures, the ambitions of this world, and rested all on the Bible. If it disappoints our faith and hopes, then are we truly miserable.
But many will consent to these words, and assert their confidence in the Scriptures in terms equally strong, whose faith and hope are essentially different from ours. Do the Scriptures teach different faiths, and lay different foundations for different hopes? They do not. The apostle says there is "one faith," and "one hope of your calling." Eph. 4:4, 5. Also that the word he preached was not yea and nay, but all the promises of God are yea and amen. Yet with the same profession of faith in the Bible, these diversities of faith exist. This being so, the question of our Saviour seems always pertinent,—
"HOW READEST THOU?"
It is a truth which cannot be disputed that a person can read his feelings into anything in which he takes a deep interest. Could we go back forty years, and submit the Constitution of the United States to two able jurists, one raised and educated in Massachusetts and the other in South Carolina, they would come to widely different conclusions in regard to its teaching and its intention. This is not the fault of the Constitution; it does not read one way in Massachusetts and another way in South Carolina. The difference in their conclusions is owing entirely to the difference in their education and their surroundings. They read with their prepossessions all alive to discover something there which they wish to find there. They are ready to magnify every intimation in their favor, and to depreciate every proof which may stand against them. In a word, they make the document reflect their own feelings and prepossessions. And it is just so with the Bible. It was a shrewd remark of Gerret Smith that he had noticed that people seldom read the Bible to learn what they ought to do; they first make up their minds what they wish to do, and then read the Bible to find something to justify them in doing it. In this spirit they can easily read their feelings into the Bible, and then persuade themselves that they are acting conscientiously and religiously. This is a very wrong, yet a very common method of reading the Scriptures.
Again, many people read the Bible without any just regard to the laws of evidence, and then rest with great complacency on their conclusions, which, they imagine, are as certain as that the Bible is true. They will ignore a positive statement, and accept the merest inference as good and sufficient proof, because the inference favors their feelings or their prejudices, and the positive proof does not. And when such come together and compare their faiths, they really imagine that you can prove anything by the Bible,—as you certainly can by their rule of evidence, or rather according to their accepted violations of all the laws of evidence. The Bible is not singular in this respect. Any other book or document can be used the same way with the same result, as we have instanced in the case of the United States Constitution.
A believer in Spiritualism, with whom we were conversing on the state of the dead, and of their ability or inability to "communicate" with us, said: "Anything can be proved by the Bible; you can prove your theory, and I can prove mine." Of course we dissented from this, and at once offered to test the matter. We proposed that each should give his proof, quoting only those texts which contain plain, positive statements, passing those from which only inferences can be drawn. And we began, quoting this text: "The living know that they shall die; but the dead know not anything." Although we could have given other positive proofs, the contest ended right there; for the opposite side had no plain, positive statement to offer. We refused to admit texts from which it was inferred that the opposite was true until the positive proof was exhausted. Inferences may be highly satisfactory under certain circumstances, but never when they conflict with positive statements on the same subject. Yet many, as before said, draw inferences in direct contradiction of positive statements, and then consider their faith both strong and good as long as they tenaciously cling to their conclusions. Were such a rule of evidence admitted in our courts, there would be no courts of justice. Criminal trials would be a farce. Yet many risk their cases in the Court of Heaven—the Court of infinite justice—on this false rule. This is a very bad method of reading the Scriptures. It perverts everything which it touches.
Another wrong method of reading the Bible is to give the words a mystical signification, which is called spiritualizing the Scriptures. In this method the meaning of words as given in the lexicons is not admitted, but in their stead every conceivable imaginary meaning is accepted. All that is necessary to expound the Scriptures according to this method is a lively imagination; or, if "great spirituality" is desired, a wild fancy. There is no system to this method, unless it be comprised in this one rule—never believe that the Bible means just what it says. It is reckless in method and results.
Akin to the above, though not necessarily so fanciful, is the adopting of a false method of interpreting the prophecies. This method has an overshadowing influence on the whole system of theology of him who adopts it. We say it is akin to the method just previously mentioned; for, as that does, it discards what is (properly) called "the literal interpretation" of the prophecies and the prophetic symbols, and of all parables and figures in the Scriptures. But we insist that there is no other interpretation but the literal. Any other is no interpretation in fact. To prove this we will examine what we will call a representative statement of an advocate of this method of reading the Scriptures. We call it thus for good reasons: (1) It was made by a man who writes D. D. after his name; (2) It was published in the Interior, an influential paper of an influential denomination; (3) It well expresses the views of all those who advocate what they call the "spiritual interpretation." His remarks were founded on Dan. 2:35, especially the latter part: "And the stone that smote the image became a great mountain, and filled the whole earth." Now his argument was this: If we accept the literal interpretation, we must believe that at some future time the surface of the whole earth will be covered with rock; but that being absurd, it follows that the literal interpretation cannot be admitted.
We will show the absurdity of his argument before we attempt to show the fallacy of his conclusions. It is generally supposed that a man who carries the title of D. D., must have some (if not superior) advantages and qualifications as an expounder of the Scriptures. And we may also say that it is reasonable to suppose that the editor of a representative religious paper must be able to understand the theology of his denomination, and have such an oversight of the contents of his journal as to make them conform to their standard of the truth. And therefore we must express our great surprise that a man who carries the title of D. D. should write such an evident absurdity as that noticed above, and that such a paper as the Interior should sanction it and give it currency. We can account for it only by the fact that it is their system of interpretation.
We readily concede that his conclusion would be legitimate if the statement of the text were to be taken literally; but for this nobody contends. To take a figure or symbol literally, is one thing, and to give it a literal interpretation is quite another thing. The truth is, that to take it literally, as the writer in the Interior has done, is to shut out all idea of interpretation. A rock is literally a rock, as all will confess; but "a rock" is no interpretation of "a rock," when the word is used as a symbol. We might ask what could lead this D. D. and the editor of this paper to put before the world such an absurd statement, so evidently in violation of the laws of language; but we will rather ask, Can that system be true which rests upon such violations of the plainest laws of language? We assure the reader that it is with the deepest feelings of reverence for the truth of God, and of pity for the souls who are being misled by false reasonings, that we have undertaken to write on this subject. It is our earnest desire to vindicate the integrity of the message sent from Heaven by our merciful Father, the very essence and life of which is being assailed by mystifying processes.
(To be continued.)
Principles and Precepts.
By Ellet Joseph Waggoner
THE word "law" is derived from the same root as the words "lie" and "lay," and primarily has the same meaning. "A law is that which is laid, set, or fixed, like statute, constitution, from Lat. statuere." —Webster. And in harmony with this, the same authority gives as the first definition of the word "law": "A rule of order or conduct established by authority." It is a favorite saying with those who would make void the law of God while professing allegiance to his word, that the ten commandments are good, but that they are adapted only to fallen beings, and hence cannot bind angels nor redeemed saints, nor even people in this world who have been converted. Let us see how such a theory agrees with the definition of law.
We will suppose that the angels are free from law, and that redeemed saints are to have a like freedom. In that case there would be nothing "laid down" for their guidance, no rule or order of conduct established by authority. In fact, there would be no authority, and each one would act independently of all the others. There would then exist in Heaven the same thing that would exist on earth if there were no law, namely, anarchy; for that means "without rule." But "God is not the author of confusion," and therefore such a state of things cannot exist in Heaven, and if not in Heaven, then of course not among the saints still on earth. The case may be stated thus: 1. When there is no law there is anarchy and confusion; there can be nothing else. 2. Confusion cannot exist among God's people, whether in Heaven or on earth. 3. Therefore the people of God are always and everywhere subject to his law.
Seeing that it will not do to claim that any beings are absolutely free from law, the enemies of the truth have invented a specious theory, with which, unfortunately, many firm believers in the law of God have been captivated. It is this: The law, they say, as it exists in the ten commandments, is adapted761only to fallen beings. These commandments hang on the two great principles of love to God and love to man, and it was these principles alone that existed before the fall, and these alone will be the law for the redeemed. Some there are who claim that these principles are all the law there is now for Christians. We regard this theory as more dangerous than the one which claims that all law is abolished; for it is the same thing in reality, while it has the appearance of great deference to the truth of God. Let us examine it.
It is utterly impossible for any one to be guided by an abstract principle. Certain principles may have a controlling influence on our lives, but they must be embodied in definite precepts. As an illustration, we will relate a portion of a conversation which we once had with a gentleman who claimed that Christians have nothing to do with the ten commandments. The question was asked him: Is there, then, nothing for Christians to do? Answer: 'Yes, they must love the Lord.' Very good, but how are they to show that they love the Lord? Answer: 'By doing what he tells them to do.' Well, what is it that contains specific statements of what the Lord requires us to do to show our love for him? Answer: 'Young man, I am older than you are.' The reader will wonder, as we did, what bearing this had on the subject. It showed that the man saw that the only possible answer was, 'The law of God,' an answer which would not agree with his theory, hence he chose to give none. But the illustration serves to show that principles, to be obeyed, must be embodied in precepts.
Says the beloved disciple: "This is the love of God, that we keep his commandments." 1 John 5:3. So when we read that the first great commandment is, "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind" (Matt. 22:37), we know that it means nothing more nor less than that it is our first and highest duty to keep, both in letter and in spirit, all those commandments which define our duty to God. In no other way can we show that we love him. In fact, nothing else but that is love for him.
Suppose for a moment that a man were placed here on earth with nothing to serve as a rule of life except the statement that he must love God supremely and his neighbor as himself. He sets out with a firm determination to do his whole duty. But ere-long he is found doing something which God abhors. We will suppose that he is adoring the sun and moon. When reproved for this, he might well reply, "I did not know that I was doing anything wrong; nothing was said to me about this matter. I had a feeling of love and gratitude to God, and did not know how to manifest it in any better way than by paying homage to the most glorious of his created works." By what law could the man be condemned? He could not justly be condemned, because the will of the Creator on that point had not been made known to him, and he could not reasonably be expected to know the will of God if it had not been revealed.
It will be seen by a very little consideration, that to put a man on the earth with nothing but a general command to love God, and at the same time to expect him to do nothing displeasing to God, would be to assume that the man had infinite wisdom. For God is infinite; and if a man, without being told, finds out what God requires, it can only be because he can comprehend infinity. But this is an impossibility. "Canst thou by searching find out God? canst thou find out the Almighty to perfection?" No, indeed; the creature that could know the mind of God any further than it was directly revealed by him, has never existed.
Then since, as we have conclusively proved, there must be a law for all creatures, and since this law must be definitely expressed, and since, moreover, the whole duty of man is to love God above all things, and his neighbor as himself, we are shut up to the conclusion that the ten commandments always have been and always will be the rule of life for all created intelligences. In direct support of this, Solomon says: "Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter: Fear God, and keep his commandments; for this is the whole duty of man." Eccl. 12:13. This settles the matter, at least for the present time. John also says that the love of God is to keep his commandments; but it will be our duty to love God to all eternity; therefore it will always be our duty to keep the commandments of God. And it makes it no less a duty because it becomes our highest pleasure. To the natural man, duty is irksome; the object of making him a new creature in Christ is that it may be a pleasure for him to do his duty. Paul says that God sent his Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, thus condemning sin in the flesh, in order that the "righteousness [requirements] of the law might be fulfilled in us." Rom. 8:3, 4. The object of the gospel is to make us like Christ, who said, "I delight to do thy will, O my God; yea, thy law is within my heart." Ps. 40:8.
In addition to the above, we offer the words of the prayer which Christ has commanded us to pray to God: "Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done in earth, as it is in Heaven." Matt. 6:10. Now the will of God is his law. See Rom. 2:17, 18; Ps. 40:8. We are taught by this prayer, then, that when the kingdom of God is established on this earth, God's law will be kept here even as it is now kept in Heaven. And David says, by inspiration, that the angels that excel in strength "do his commandments, hearkening unto the voice of his word." Ps. 103:20. That is, they are anxious and delight to keep God's commandments. Duty is with them a pleasure. And when God's kingdom comes, we also, if permitted to become subjects of it, will delight to do God's will, and will keep all his commandments, of which "every one" "endureth forever." We shall then do perfectly what we now are (or should be) striving to do in spite of the weakness of the flesh.
This subject will be continued in another article, in which we shall consider the objection that there are certain commandments of the decalogue which angels or glorified saints could not violate if they wished to, and that therefore it is absurd to suppose that obedience to those commandments is required of them.
The High-License Delusion.
By Ellet Joseph Waggoner
THE following we find credited to the San Francisco Alta:—
"The only bulwark so far thrown up against the encroachment of prohibition is the high license. Prohibition has outlawed beer and wine in Maine, Vermont, Iowa, and Kansas. Wisconsin, with her great brewing interest, has only saved herself by adopting high license. Nebraska, with her enormous distilleries and breweries, has taken the same shelter. Southern States, like Georgia and Texas, have their feet upon the very threshold of prohibition. Will the dealers in California hear and heed in time?"
This wail does not sound much as though high license were the grand, desirable thing which many misguided temperance people imagine it to be. There is a large number of influential men in California who are earnestly striving for what they call "high license." Will they hear and heed in time? or will they persist in throwing up this "bulwark against the encroachment of prohibition"?
The first thing to do in dealing with the liquor traffic is to determine its character. Is it wholly good and beneficial? or are there some evils connected with it? or is it an unmixed evil? The first question will be universally answered in the negative. No one will claim that there are no dark features to the liquor traffic. Well, then, is it partly good? This must be answered in the affirmative, if it can be shown that the use of liquor has any
tendency to make men better, or wiser, or more kind to their families, or wealthier, or that it in any way conduces to their real happiness. Not one of these things can be claimed for it. On the contrary, it is brutalizing and degrading in its tendency; ignorance and poverty everywhere accompany it; and misery of every description is caused by it. The use of liquor is a promoter of vice in every form; and it is safe to say that more murders and suicides result from it than from all other causes combined. It cannot be denied that the use of alcoholic liquors is evil, and only evil, continually.
Now what about licensing a traffic that is so unmitigated an evil? What does the word "license" mean? It means liberty. To license the sale of liquor, is to give men full liberty to dispense that which will entail all the evils above enumerated, and thousands more. Why not with just as good reason license murder outright? It will be claimed, of course, that those who sell liquor do not murder anybody. No, they do not directly; but it is well known that what they sell cannot possibly produce any good results, and tends directly to all manner of evil. An apologist will doubtless say that we do not prohibit the sale of fire-arms, and men often buy them with the sole design of committing murder. The case is not a parallel one; for weapons may be, and most commonly are, used for inoffensive purposes. If it were impossible to use them for any other purpose than that of murder, we think there would be a quite general demand for the prohibition of their sale. As it is, we are not championing the sale of fire-arms. Even if fire-arms were also an unmitigated evil, the question of their sale would have no bearing on the liquor traffic; for the existence of one evil is no just reason for the existence of another.
But the friends of license say we must not consider it as a permission, but as a tax. That is a distinction with no difference. We must consider it just as it is. A liquor license is simply a permission to certain men to sell that which will ruin their fellows, but with the provision that the profits of the unholy traffic are to be divided with the Government. And so, in spite of all casuistry, it is a fact that the Government becomes a partner in crime.
Whether any kind of license will serve as a step toward temperance, may be easily determined by a moment's thought. People who are addicted to the use of liquor will get it if it is to be had. Then, if the license tax be placed so high that the small dealers cannot afford to continue the business, the result will be that instead of having a given quantity of liquor sold by one hundred dealers, we shall have the same quantity sold by seventy-five or less. But since these have to pay a heavier tax than before, they will make greater efforts to increase the profits, either by increased sales, or by adulterating the liquor still more, so that nothing is gained in the way of temperance.
The great argument which misguided temperance men urge in support of high license, is that public sentiment is not ready for prohibition, but that high license can be carried, and therefore we must take what we can get. True, and if they would lower the price of the license, they could carry their measure by a still greater majority. The question to be considered is not, What measure will secure the largest support? but, What measure is best? Let the latter question be settled, and then work for the support of what is right.
"But it is impossible to stop the sale of liquor entirely, even by the most stringent prohibitory laws; therefore the best thing to do is to secure as much revenue from it as we can." This is another argument often used, but it is very fallacious. There are places where the sale of liquor is absolutely prohibited, and what has been done may be done. It is true that in large cities it is next to impossible762to utterly eradicate the evil; but the same thing may be said of all crime. We have a prohibitory law against murder, with severe penalties attached; but it has never been effectual in causing murders to cease. In our large cities the law is violated daily; yet no one thinks of licensing the evil. It is very certain that there are far fewer murders than there would be if there were no prohibitory law against murder; and no one can doubt that if the law were abolished, and any form of license substituted, murder would be rampant.
When the question of the resumption of specie payments was under discussion, a prominent statesman solved the problem by saying, "The way to resume is to resume." So the way to prohibit is to prohibit. It is true that it would take more time and a greater effort to secure prohibition than it would to secure even a very high license; but when secured something would be accomplished. Nothing is ever gained by parleying and compromising with evil. Vigorous measures alone are of any value, whatever the evil against which we are striving. We are firm in the belief that absolute prohibition is what all temperance people should labor for, no matter how impossible it may seem to secure such a result. The extract quoted at the beginning of this article, followed as it was by the statement, "We are opposed to prohibition," should open the eyes of temperance people who are counting "high" license. We do not doubt that license is a practical measure, but we have no faith in the results of such practice. It would not be so difficult a matter to secure prohibition as it seems, if men were in earnest. But whether difficult or not, makes no difference. We are not to abandon a good measure for a bad one simply because the bad one may be more easily executed. What we consider the proper method to adopt to secure prohibition may be discussed at another time. E. J. W.