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Review and Herald, Vol. 38, No. 4.

Facts relating to the Course of Day

Review and Herald

Jul 11, 1871

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Jul 11, 1871

Facts relating to the Course of Day.

By John Nevins Andrews

BY ELD. J. N. ANDREWS.
The following article from the pen of S. Bliss, written in 1860, contains some facts of interest relating to the commencement of day in the Pacific Ocean:—

“SATURDAY—SUNDAY.”

“By general usage, time is now reckoned according as the longitude of any given place is east or west from Greenwich, Eng. Thus in Asia, and all the lands east of it, until we reach the meridian of 180° east from Greenwich, the day precedes that in Europe; whilst in America (and in all the islands of the Pacific to the west), until the same meridian is reached, the day follows.
“We were interested in listening last Sunday to Dr. Gulich, a son of Dr. Gulich of the Sandwich Islands, born there, and now a missionary of Micronesia, who spoke of the day as commencing away in those distant islands—they being west of the meridian named.
“Thus at the Kingsmill Group of islands which lie on the equator and in longitude 175° east from Greenwich the sun rises just two hours after it has risen at the Sandwich Islands which lie 165° west of Greenwich, but thirty degrees east of the former group. So that when it is sunrise at Kingsmill, it is eight o’clock in the morning at the Sandwich Islands. And though the same sun is shining at the same time on both places, the day which is reckoned as Sunday, and is observed as such at the former island, is regarded as Saturday at the latter.”—Advent Herald, Vol. 24, No. 2.
The lesson taught the missionaries in the case of the Society Islands seems to have been remembered by them. It was no very pleasing result to them to find that they had actually established the observance of the seventh day in that group of islands when nothing was farther from their intentions. The two shores of the Pacific being one day apart in time, the case is plain that somewhere in that ocean is located the line which divides between the beginning and the end of the course of day. The navigators who cross that ocean have found it important to fix the location of this line. And the missionaries who labor in the various islands that are so thickly strewed through that vast body of water, have felt the necessity of fixing the place of this line even much more urgent than have the navigators. But strange to say, while the missionaries have felt constrained to acknowledge that the day line is a necessity, and that it has an actual existence in nature, they seem never to have thought that such being the case, it was one of God’s works, and worthy of being sought out as such. Ps. 111:2. They left the decision to the navigators, who settled the question according to their own convenience.
The meridian of the royal observatory at Greenwich, England, being that from which longitude, east and west, is most generally reckoned, it was the most convenient to the navigators to fix the line of 180° as the day line. For there being three hundred and sixty degrees to the circumference of the earth, one hundred and eighty degrees east or west from the starting point of Greenwich is just half way round the world; in other words, one hundred and eighty degrees east longitude and one hundred and eighty degrees west longitude is the same meridian. But there is nothing in nature that indicates Greenwich, England, as the point from which we should reckon longitude. Therefore the line of one hundred and eighty degrees from Greenwich, which is just opposite to it, is selected by mere accident because the most convenient line for those whose longitude is reckoned east and west from that town.
We need not expect mariners to be governed by higher considerations than these. But we should expect missionaries to look into the subject to find the truth as it really is. The line of one hundred and eighty degrees east and west from Greenwich cuts off the north-eastern part of Asia. But as has been shown, the day line cannot answer its purpose if established through a continent. There is but one place in nature where this line can be located, and every consideration bearing upon the subject indicates that to be the place of this line. It must lie between the old world and the new, where the east and the west come together. There is the place where the day begins earliest of all on one side and latest of all on the other, the line between representing the space of twenty-four hours. The day line is not the result of accident, but is, as we have seen, something which exists in consequence of God’s purpose that it should. We may therefore be certain that its location was not left to chance. It exists in the only place where its existence is possible.
The writer speaks of the division of time by this line. His ideas are just, though the place assigned to the line is too far to the west, as has been shown in former articles. All places near the west side of this line witness the commencement of the course of day. And all places between the east side of this line and the west coast of America witness the close of that course. Dr. Gulich spoke truthfully when he spoke of the day as commencing earliest of all in those islands of the Pacific immediately to the west of the day line.
Though we do not agree with the location of the day line at 180° from Greenwich, yet we do not disagree with the writer that it is found between the Sandwich Islands on the east, and the Kingsmill Islands on the west. But the one being twenty-five degrees east of 180°, and the other being five degrees to the west of that meridian, they are thirty degrees or about two hours apart, so that if the sun rises at the Kingsmill Islands at six A. M. it is at that moment at the Sandwich Islands nearly eight o’clock. But there is one other error or inadvertence in this statement which should be corrected. If the sun rises earlier in reality at the Sandwich Islands than at the Kingsmill Group, why do we say that the former are one day behind the latter? In truth, the sun rises nearly one whole day earlier at the Kingsmill Islands than at the Sandwich Islands.
There is some point or line on our globe where the sun rises earliest of all because the first sunrise (or first day-break) was at this point. And to the east of that point it rises latest of all, for it has to make the twenty-four-hour circuit of the globe before it gets round to rise on the east side of that point. The line between the place where the sun rises earliest of all and latest of all is therefore what we term the day line. This line lies between these two groups. The sunrise at the Sandwich Islands, though apparently in advance of that at the Kingsmill Group is really almost twenty-four hours behind it; for the first sunrise (or first morning) necessarily started from the west side of the day line, and before it completed the circuit of the globe to the Sandwich Islands, the day at the Kingsmill Group was nearly finished.
It is not therefore the result of man’s unauthorized and arbitrary decision that we have this extraordinary fact that the Sandwich Islands are twenty-four hours behind those islands which lie immediately to the west of them. It is indeed wonderful that the same sun may be shining on the Sandwich Islands on Sabbath morning and at the same time may be shining on other islands a little further west where it is actually the morning of the first day of the week. But the Creator himself ordained the circuit of the sun, and that circuit has of necessity a beginning and a termination, and these, though divided only by a line, are necessarily twenty-four hours apart.
Here is an article from an old paper which has some bearing upon the subject. We give it entire as follows:—

“WHERE DOES THE DAY BEGIN?”

“PACIFIC OCEAN, Feb. 3, 1856.
“This inquiry has perplexed my own mind more than a little. I knew it must begin in California, or in China, or some place between; but exactly where that place was I never have been able to find out before this voyage. And now for the gratification of the curious, I will publish my discovery. I got a hint in San Francisco which led to the conclusion that, as all Christendom has adopted the Greenwich reckoning of longitude and latitude, hence the meridian of longitude which begins at that place, passing round the globe at the equal distance of 180° east and west of Greenwich, cutting through the Pacific Ocean nearly equi-distant from China and America, must philosophically be the beginning point of each day. Still there remained a query in my own mind how we could practically start from San Francisco with the daily reckoning of that place, and keep up that reckoning all the way to China, without being one day too fast for the Hong Kong time when we got there.
“But to make this practically work, when we got to the meridian on the 30th of January, we simply dropped a day, so that January, 1856, to us had but thirty days—the first of the kind we had ever seen. This, however, rather perplexed the Chinese passengers, some of whom contended that one day was Sunday, and some another. And in fact their philosophy hardly reached to a sufficient extent to make this change correctly. Two or three days hence they are to celebrate their new year, but I have little doubt that they will be one day off the mark when they get to Canton, and will find that they made their new year one day sooner than their Canton friends.
“Hence the ultimate conclusion, the new day opens upon China and all the islands of the Pacific Ocean between the meridian and China; and closes upon California, Oregon, and all the islands of the Pacific Ocean between the United States and the meridian longitude of 180° west. This is the true philosophy of the beginning and ending of each day.
“I. J. R.”
This writer inquires, “Where does the day begin?” Each place upon the globe might answer, “The day begins and ends here, for we have here full days of twenty-four hours each.” But it is also certain that each day does not begin at the same time over all the world. There is a point, therefore, where the day begins earliest of all, and of consequence another at the end of the circuit where it begins latest of all. Between these two only is the line of transition which we call the day line. Properly speaking therefore, the inquiry should be, “Where does each day commence to make the circuit of the world?”
The writer had a strange state of confusion existing in his mind. He knew that the day “must begin in California, or China, or some place between.” But the day cannot begin on the east side of the Pacific when it is an undisputed fact that the west side of that ocean is one day in advance of the east side. He speaks of latitude as if, like longitude, that also were reckoned from Greenwich, instead of being reckoned from the equator. Even when he started from San Francisco he could not see how they could “keep up that reckoning all the way to China, without being one day too fast for the Hong Kong time when we got there.” This does not present the case in a right light. For if they made no change between San Francisco and Hong Kong, when they reached the latter they would be one day behind in time. It was because of this that at the passage of the day line, as fixed by navigators, they added one day to their count, so that January 30 was called January 31. This may be said indeed to shorten that month; for they could not add one day between those places to bring San Francisco time forward to that of Hong Kong in China except by adding it to their count. Yet though they set their count of days one day ahead, and thus reckoned that day as the 31st, which they would at San Francisco have called the 30th, they simply conformed to the time where they then were, and to the facts concerning that place. They had crossed the day line. And in crossing that line they struck that day which they would not have met for twenty-four hours had they remained where they were and waited for it to come to them. While, therefore, it was true that this was to them only the thirtieth day which they had witnessed in the month of January, it was the thirty-first day in the place where they then were.
This writer bears testimony to the fact already noticed that the day line established by navigators is the meridian of 180° east and west of Greenwich. Though this is not very wide of the mark, yet it is only fixed at that definite meridian because just half way round the world from Greenwich, and it cannot be the true line as has been fully shown.
He intimates that the Chinese did not make the change, and has little doubt that they will be one day in advance of the people of China when they arrive at Canton. This is indeed a singular conclusion when the writer knew that those who added a day to their count did it that they might be in harmony with the time on the west side of the day line.
Our changes of time to earlier or later each day according as we go east or west, are simply in consequence of the fact that each day has a definite course around our world, and is therefore earlier east and later west; and we do by these changes of the hour by our watches keep with the people of the meridian where we are. When therefore we come to either side of the day line we have just the same time that we should have had if we had always lived there. Our change of twenty-four hours in crossing that line is not therefore because we have been making the circuit of the globe, for those who have always lived nearest to this line have the same change to make if they cross it, but because we now cross the line that divides between the beginning and the end of the course of day, which line represents the space of twenty-four hours required by the sun to make the circuit of the world from its west side round to its east.

WHAT WILL THE HARVEST BE?

By Sel.

They are sowing their seed in the daylight fair, They are sowing their seed in the noonday’s glare; They are sowing their seed in the soft twilight; They are sowing their seed in the solemn night. When shall their harvest be?
They are sowing their seed of pleasant thought, In the spring’s clear light they have blithely wrought; They have brought their fancies from wood and dell, Where the mosses creep, and the flower-buds swell. Rare shall the harvest be.
They are sowing the seed of word and deed, Which the cold know not, nor the careless heed; Of the gentle word and kindest deed, That have blest the heart in its sorest need. Sweet shall the harvest be.
And some are sowing the seeds of pain; Of hate, remorse, and a maddened brain; And the stars shall fall, and the sun shall wane Ere they root the weeds from the soil again. Dark will the harvest be.
And some are standing with idle hand; Yet they scatter seed on their native land. And some are sowing the seeds of care, Which their soil hath borne, and still must bear. Sad will the harvest be.
They are sowing the seed of noble deed, With a sleepless watch and an earnest heed; With a ceaseless hand o’er the earth they sow, And the fields are whitening where’er they go. Rich will the harvest be.
Sown in darkness, or sown in light, Sown in weakness, or sown in might, Sown in meekness, or sown in wrath, In the broad work-field, or the shadowy path; Sure will the harvest be.
—Sel.

FOUR IMPOSSIBLE THINGS.

First, to escape trouble by running away from duty. Second, to become a Christian of strength and maturity without undergoing severe trials. Third, to form an independent character except when thrown upon your own resources. Fourth, to be a growing man when you look to your post for influence, instead of bringing influence to your post.

Little Temptations Can Strengthen Character for Trials

DESPISE not little temptations; rightly met they have often nerved the character for some fiery trial.

The Overflowing Cup of Christian Sorrow

THE Christian's cup may be brimful of sorrow; but for him the overflowing drop is never added.

Secular and Spiritual Things.

By Evangelist

THE way in which the popular churches have been divorcing themselves from religion is enough, were it not for the infinite mercy of God, to break up the household of faith.
Christ came into the world to set before men the duties they had denied, and to emphasize his teachings by his exemplary life. He explained divine existence and providence and human depravity and responsibility; and among his chief instructions were the new lessons he taught concerning the relation existing between social and sacred things; for men then, as at the present day, had almost forgotten that there were mutual rights and fraternal relations at all. There was a great gulf widening and deepening between sanctuary and social affairs.
In the parables and miracles of Jesus, we see a design to correct this common error. He used familiar illustrations, taken from every-day life; and in his wonder-working acts, he accomplished invariably, where men’s bodies were involved, an immediate temporal good. Christianity, at the present day, seems to be controlled by the power of fashion and form; and being overbalanced by their influence, we say what others say, do what others do, almost think what others think; and through fear of being unlike the world, we gather the cast-off garments of other people, and struggle out of all self-hood into the appearance of somebody else.
There is a great deal of leveling, and lining, and chalk-marking, among the schools of fashion; and many are the pupils in daily attendance. And all of this for one of two reasons: first, selfishness; second, pride. This prevailing influence would seem to divide the church into two classes; viz., first rate and second rate. There are members who might be termed the second rate, as also in the social circle, not because they are poor, or ignorant, or less humble, but because they come to the sanctuary or into the social circle not rounded up to the highest style of this fast age. But when assembled at the sanctuary for worship, they do not aim to separate saints from them. They seek divine power, by which they may overcome the world. The other class, it would seem from their conduct, are ever seeking mere selfish enjoyment. And yet one wonders why they are happy. They help to lift no burdens; they wipe away no tears. They keep no watch over the weary, broken-hearted. They work but little for the salvation of poor sinners. They close their religion away from the world—look it up for exhibition only on special occasions.
Paul said to the Romans, “Be not conformed to this world; but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God.” Be not conformed to this world—to its sinful maxims, customs, and habits. Be transformed—changed, not in outward appearance only, but in the spirit and temper of your mind; cultivate a spirit of humility and gratitude; and devote all of your powers to the honor of God and the good of your fellow-men.
The perfection of the outward body depends upon the perfection of each organ; so with the spiritual body, the church of Christ. Happy the day when Christians will learn the great lesson of living their religion, leaving the result with God. Christianity does not consist of the exhibition of flounce, feather, broadcloth, kid gloves, creak, cologne, musk, mustache, and dead hair; but, to be genuine, it must enter into and control all business transactions. It must speak in every-day tones, and sanctify common things. It must wear a work-day garb, and get out of its finery and form. Religion is not to be confined to public congregations, funerals, and special times.
It does not effervesce in hymns, or lay itself out in sermons. It must cut and work up, so to speak, into trade, literature, science, everything. It must go with us wherever we go, stay as long as we stay, and bring us back sober and in our right minds to our homes and daily avocations. We must use it, praise it, and be it, every hour. It should be as a sun, irradiating everything with its beams, and gilding with its luster every place in which we move.
But, says one, this is a day of improvement, and expediency and propriety demand of the church a corresponding advancement. Expediency and propriety seem to be discoveries of the present day; and these fine-spun fashionisms are made, warp and woof, of the snare in which many a coward is caught by the ecclesiastical spiders that sit watching in the centers of Christendom. This fine-spun Christianity works a deception in the church; and its gains are as wonderful in feeding the fancy as were the gains of the barley bread in feeding the mouths of the masses on the shores of Galilee.
Brethren, let us not be desirous of vainglory, but seek to enjoy the fruits of the Spirit, which are love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance; against such there is no law.—Evangelist.

I'll never Forgive Him.

“I’ll never forgive him—never!” “Never is a hard word, John,” said the sweet-faced wife of John Locke, as she looked up a moment from her sewing.
“He is a mean, dastardly coward, and upon this Holy Bible I——”
“Stop, husband. John! remember he is my brother; and by the love you bear me, forbear to curse him. He has done you wrong, I allow, but, O John, he is very young and very sorry. The momentary shame you felt yesterday will hardly be wiped out with a curse. It will only injure yourself, John. O, please don’t say anything dreadful!”
The sweet-faced woman prevailed; that curse which hung upon the lips of the angry man was not spoken; but still he said, “I’ll never forgive him—he has done me a deadly wrong.”
The young man who had provoked his bitterness, humbled and repentant sought in vain for forgiveness from him whom, in a moment of passion, he had injured almost beyond reparation. John Locke steeled his heart against him.
In his store sat the young village merchant, one pleasant morning, contentedly reading the morning paper. A sound of hurried footsteps approached him; but he took no notice of it, until a hatless boy burst into the store, screaming at the top of his voice, “Mr. Locke, Johnny is in the river—little Johnny Locke.”
To dash down the paper, and spring for the street, was the first impulse of the agonized father. On, on, like a maniac; he flew, till he reached the bank of the river; pallid and crazed with anguish. The first sight that met his eye was little Johnny, lying in the arms of his mother, who, with her hair hanging disheveled around her, bent wildly over her child. The boy was just saved. He breathed, and opening his eyes, smiled faintly in his mother’s face; while she, with choking voice, thanked God. Another form lay insensible, stretched near the child. From his head the dark blood flowed from a ghastly wound. The man against whom John Locke had sworn eternal hatred, had, at the risk of his own life, been the saviour of the child. He had struck a floating piece of drift-wood as he came to the surface with the boy, and death seemed inevitable.
John Locke flung himself down upon the greensward, and bent over the senseless form. “Save him,” he cried huskily to the doctor who had been summoned. “Restore him to consciousness, if it be only one little moment; I have something important to say to him.”
“He is reviving,” replied the doctor.
The wounded man opened his eyes; they met the anxious glance of the brother-in-law, and the pale lips trembled forth, “Do you forgive me?”
“Yes, yes; God is witness, as I hope for mercy hereafter; I freely forgive you, and, in turn, ask your forgiveness for my unchristian conduct.”
A feeble pressure of the hand and a beaming smile were all the answer.
Many days the brave young man hung upon a slender thread of life; and never were more devoted friends than those who hovered over the sick-bed. But a vigorous constitution triumphed, and, though pale and changed, he walked forth once more among the living.
“Oh, if he had died with my unkindness clouding his soul, never should I have dared to hope for mercy from my Father in Heaven!” Said John Locke to his wife, as they sat talking over the solemn event that had threatened their lives with a living trouble; “Never—now I have tasted the sweetness of forgiveness—never again will I cherish revenge or unkindness toward the erring; for there is new meaning to my soul in the words of our daily prayer, and I see that I have only been calling judgment upon myself, while I have impiously asked, ‘Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.’”—Sel.

Pure Hearts.—

I think we must all admit there is nothing so beautiful as a pure heart—a heart through which Jesus has gone as we went through the courts of the temple at Jerusalem, driving thence everything that offended—all hatred, all malice, all jealousy, all envy, all uncleanness—a heart whose thoughts are pure, whose desires are pure, whose affections are pure, whose motives are pure, whose purposes are pure, whose principles are pure—a heart that is the house of the immaculate Spirit of the infinite and eternal God! Oh, there is nothing beneath the skies so attractive, so beautiful, so desirable,so glorious, as a pure heart! If not—if candor and conscience constrain us to answer in the negative, let me ask other questions, Would we have pure hearts? Are we groaning after conformity to God? Are we hungering and thirsting after righteousness?—Sel.

Opponent’s Arguments Self-contradictory.

By E. B. Lane

A FEW days since, a Baptist minister came to the tent to make inquiries about our faith. I had given a discourse the night before on repentance and conversion to which he listened, and with all of which he seemed much pleased, except the full claims of the law of God, i. e., he did not think the fourth commandment obligatory in this dispensation. He freely admitted that there were no requirements in the New Testament for the observance of the first day of the week, and said he believed there was no sacred time in this dispensation.
He manifested candor, seemed to have quite a thorough knowledge of the Bible, and to be a man of age and intelligence, and I requested him to give his reasons for his views. He stated that the Sabbath was the beginning and type of the rest God entered into after creation was completed—a type in God’s great eternal purpose planned before the foundation of the world; and in the same sense that Adam was himself a type of Christ, Rom. 5:14, the Sabbath was a type of Adam and his posterity’s rest through Christ.
He admitted that the type must last till it reaches the antitype. I saw where such arguments would unavoidably lead him, and handed him the Bible for his proof. He turned to Hebrews 3, reading carefully and commenting on each of the following points: priesthood of Christ, the relation Moses sustained to the children of Israel, the to-day of verse 7, the day of temptation or provocation in the wilderness. He admitted Canaan to be only typical of the promised rest, and that this rest is still future (chap. 4), and that we in this dispensation should fear lest we come short of entering into this promised rest. He began to see where this reasoning would lead him if continued. I asked him what relation we sustain to this eternal rest, and if we have yet received it. To which he replied, “No, only by faith, and not in reality.” Since he had admitted the type (Sabbath) must continue or remain binding till it met its antitype (the future eternal rest), therefore the Sabbath (type) must be obligatory till the rest (antitype) should be received. Truly arguments against truth are self-contradictory. E. B. LANE.
Bowling Green, Ind.

Regeneration; or, the New Birth.

By Jos. Clarke

“Ye must be born again.” John 3:7. To many, this saying is as strange a paradox as it was to Nicodemus; to others, it appears an absurdity; while still others dilute and temper its meaning. Our Lord here uses only a few words for the expression of a great and mighty work: this work includes, no doubt, the whole work of God upon the soul, from the time of its first crying out after God, until it receives the final finishing touch of immortality, at the coming of Christ, or at translation. David must have understood the saying, for he prays, “Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.” Ps. 51:10. Paul, in Rom. 8:23, says, “Even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting for the adoption, to wit, the redemption of our body.”
In fact, the whole life of the Christian is a struggle to be free from sin and all its surroundings; and all our experiences here, in the conflict with the powers of darkness, are but the pangs preceding the new birth, which culminates in the resurrection of the body, and its translation to Heaven, and the reception of immortality. To the living righteous it will be translation; for those favored ones will not pass through the gates of death.
But often we speak of the righteous as born again, even now; by faith we view them in possession of eternal life: now, we, by faith, see the righteous clad in his Saviour’s glorious brightness; but the full realization of that wonderful change is reserved for that time when death shall be swallowed up in victory.
Press on then, fellow-pilgrim, to that event. Let not your sins weigh you down. Be not overcome by cares or sorrows, temptations or pleasures. The time draws near.
Jos. CLARKE.

The School of Patience for Children

No SCHOOL is more necessary to children than that of patience, because either the will must be broken in childhood or the heart in old age.

Streator, Ill., June 30, 1871

By R. F. Andrews

Inconsistency.

THE outward acts are an index to the heart; and the true condition of our hearts is shown by the daily acts of life. Quite often our actions contradict our words, or, in other words, our lives give the lie to our profession. I have known individuals who professed to love God, and who have testified that it was their chief pleasure to do his will, but who, when the claims of his holy law have been presented before them, have tried every way possible to evade its claims, contradicting their own positions, and giving evidence that in their hearts they were hostile to it.
It quite often happens that those who have never made a profession of religion, when they hear the arguments in favor of the immutability of the law of the Most High, and its binding force upon the children of men, will tremblingly turn their feet away from the Sabbath, and make an effort to regard the day as sacred to the Lord. Such a course evinces that the fear of the Lord is not entirely banished from the mind, and that the law has been doing its work of conviction upon the heart and conscience. Now how it looks right here at this point, for an individual who professes to be a servant of the Lord to assail such an one thus: “It will do you no good to keep the Sabbath without you keep all the other commandments perfectly.” This, although in one sense true, shows hostility to the commandments of God.
Suppose an individual who had been in the habit of profaning God’s name, stealing, or testifying falsely, should be awakened to a true sense of his terrible condition and make an effort in the fear of God to put these sins away, and to lead a life of obedience; how it would sound for a professed lover of Jesus Christ to come and say to such, “It will do you no good to stop swearing, stealing, or lying, without you keep all the other commandments.” Would we not think that the one who would do this was discouraging a trembling soul who was making an effort to extricate himself from the snares of the adversary? Notwithstanding his professed devotion and love for Christ and his cause, we should regard him as a real enemy in thus discouraging and weakening the hands of one who was making an effort to be on the Lord’s side.
Now is it consistent to talk in this manner to individuals who are endeavoring to cease their violation of the fourth commandment, when we would shudder to do so, if any other commandment were the one in question? How much better it would be, to encourage such to take hold of the service of God with all the heart, and to come out fully on the Lord’s side. Paul says that “the carnal mind is enmity against God; for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be.” Rom. 8:7. Oh! that we might heed the exhortation of the word of God, and keep the heart “with all diligence,” remembering “that out of it are the issues of life.” R. F. ANDREWS.

Streator, Ill., June 30, 1871

Who Is our Pattern?

By S. B. Whitney

It may seem unnecessary to raise this inquiry, as all Christians admit that Christ is the pattern for all believers; but while this is true, yet he is not the only one, as is shown by Paul’s words in 1 Tim. 1:16: “Howbeit for this cause I obtained mercy, that in me first Jesus Christ might show forth all long-suffering for a pattern to them which should hereafter believe on him to life everlasting.”
Here is a point where Infinite Wisdom has seen fit to consider human weakness, by giving us a pattern in the person and experience of a man of like passions as ourselves, that, whereas we might be tempted to think it impossible to conform to the divine standard in this respect, with only the example of the Son of God for a pattern, and therefore excuse ourselves from doing so. We may be reproved for our want of faith, patience, and submission, and be encouraged to endure and overcome, until, as did Paul, we can “rejoice” in our “sufferings,” and “fill up that which is behind of the afflictions of Christ” in our “flesh.” Col. 1:24.
The example of Paul is worthy of imitation, as is also that of the prophets, James 5:10, and, having the divine sanction, is not only commendable but obligatory; and when we are disposed to be “weary in well-doing” or in suffering for Christ’s sake, let us remember the “bonds and afflictions,” “stripes,” “imprisonments,” “perils,” &c., &c., which the apostle endured, and, repenting of our weakness, seek God earnestly for faith and courage to “endure as seeing Him who is invisible.” S. B. WHITNEY.

Working for God.

“Every hour that fleets so slowly, Has its tasks to do or bear; Luminous the crown and holy, If you set each gem with care.”
It is a blessed thought that we may work for God, and that he chooses us as agents to go out into the world to labor for him. The grandest and highest work of earth is left for the weak arm of clay to accomplish, and we doubt if angels in Heaven have a holier mission to fulfill than the one intrusted to the Christian. The white-robed ministers from the better land may indeed linger around the weary sinner, ready to soar away with the glad tidings that he has repented, but they cannot speak to him, nor lead him to the Fount that “cleanseth from all sin.” The Christian can do this, for the Father qualified him expressly for the work, and thus gave him the power to do what angels are powerless to perform.
The true Christian has a work to do if he would gain the city of our God; for our Heavenly Father enjoins, yea, even commands, that he should go forth and labor with heart and hand for the cause of the Master. The faithful child of God will not sit down by the wayside, and dream the passing moments of life away. He will not fold his arms and stand idly by, while souls are crowding the way that leads to eternal ruin. Ah! a work of the greatest importance is measured out to the Christian!
And who will go forth with willing heart to do the grand and important work that God calls upon him to do? Who will falter when the welfare of precious souls in the great coming eternity depends upon his faithfulness? Who will refuse to obey that divine voice which says, “Go ye into my vineyard and labor”? and who will become idle and inactive in the service of one who is mighty and eternal?
Christian, are you working for God? Are you toiling in humbleness for the Master? or are you dreaming away these bright moments that are bearing you to the eternal world? Would you gain a starry crown of life—one that will never fade or grow dim as the long ages of eternity are rolling away? Would you have the blest assurance, when the world recedes from your vision, that you have done your Master’s will and fulfilled your life’s mission? Then work for God, and toil on in the lowly path that he has marked out for you. Go speak to that poor, weary sinner, who perhaps longs to drink of the water of life. Take him gently by the hand and ask him to go with you to the heavenly country. Kneel by his side and humbly plead with God until the fearful load of guilt is all removed, until you hear the stammering tongue speaking praises to the name of our God.
Christian, work for God while the day lasts, for the night is coming when your arm will lie nerveless in the dust. Souls are passing away without a hope in God, and unless you labor for their eternal welfare, they will go on to ruin’s brink. The mighty waves of sin are rolling fearfully over the earth. Oh! who will beat them back if the Christian falters? And who will defend the great truths of Christianity? May all who profess to love our Saviour be true and valiant soldiers of the cross, and labor faithfully for him until the Master shall say, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”—Sel.

Our Reasonable Service.

By Lera E. Orton

We sometimes think when almost overcome of evil, that if our circumstances were different we could serve the Lord with a whole heart, dwelling on the heights continually. It is a great mistake. We may be in a community of Christians, may live in a Christian family; but the most favorable surroundings cannot excuse us from constant watchfulness—constant warfare with evil besetments. God requires an individual work wherever our lot is cast; and has promised that his strength shall be sufficient for us in our greatest extremity.
Joseph, suffering under unjust imprisonment in a foreign land, away from all kindred, served the Lord acceptably. And he was just as devoted to God when made second only to Pharaoh, and with the honors of Egypt showered upon him. He was just as steadfast though separated from all of “like precious faith,” and among idol worshipers. God may not call for a great work from us; but only to do what little we do out of supreme love to him. He measures our love and obedience, rather than the magnitude of our work, and we need not charge it to surroundings, but to something wrong within ourselves, when we offer a lame sacrifice unto the Lord.
“O, think of the Master worn and faint! Whose meek lips uttered no complaint. Who toiled for thee ’mid the noontide heat, And sought no rest for his weary feet.”
LERA E. ORTON.
Winspear, N. Y.

DISAPPOINTMENTS

By L. D. Santee

This bitter world! my soul is wildly yearning For gracious help divine, The golden fruitage of my life is turning To gall and-bitter wine.
Loved ones have walked with me so bright and gaily In young life's pleasant morn; But one by one they've passed to death's dark valley, And left my heart so torn.
Heavy the days, and filled with deepest sorrow, With sad and wakeful nights, Joy cometh not, and each succeeding morrow Brings gloom, and chill, and blight.
The Lord has knowledge of my heart's temptations Its murmuring and its pain. And in his word I find this consolation, “Thy dead shall live again.”
O Lord, thou binder up of sad hearts broken, Give to the weary rest May thy sweet, “Peace be still,” again be spoken To soothe my troubled breast.
E'en now a sacred peace fills all my being Thy loving power I see; Oh! may it be my prayer while time is fleeing, Nearer, my God, to thee.
L. D. SANTEE.
Continue reading: To the Overcomer