THIS was the subject of our Lord's discourse with Nicodemus recorded in John 3. Christ said on that occasion, that except a man be born again he cannot see the kingdom of God. The new birth is therefore a thing of infinite importance to us. Have we experienced this great change? Or rather is the great change which this new birth represents being steadily carried forward in our daily experience?
The new birth is what Ezekiel calls giving men a heart of flesh in place of the heart of stone which they possess by nature. Chap. 11:19; 18:31; 36:26. It is the act of creating within men a clean heart and renewing a right spirit. Ps. 51:10. It is what Jeremiah and Paul call the circumcision of the heart. Jer. 9:26; Rom. 2:28, 29. The new birth is but another name for conversion. Acts 3:19. Paul calls it the washing of regeneration and the renewing of the Holy Ghost. Titus 3:5. It is the act of putting off the old man and putting on the new. Eph. 4:22-25; Col. 3:9-12.
This great change begins when we first yield to the Spirit of God, and continues till the work of grace is perfected in us, or till we grieve the Spirit of God so that it withdraws from us and leaves us to our own ways. Nor is this moral transformation the only work that this Spirit accomplishes for us. If it is successful in carrying forward to perfection this work of grace, it will at the last day make us immortal; and this act of conferring immortality by which the people of God will be made equal to the angels, will complete the great work of the new birth. Rom. 8:11; 2:7. Luke 20:36; John 3:6, 8.
The work of conversion commences when the word of God is first received into the heart. Matt. 13:18-23. The entrance of that word gives light. Ps. 119:130. The first lesson is by the law of God, for by the law is the knowledge of sin. Rom. 3:20; 7:7. Then when the sinner sees the duty that he owes to God and understands that he has neglected it, he is convinced of the law as a transgressor and realizes that he is justly condemned. James 2:9-12; Ps. 51:3, 4. Then godly sorrow for sin is wrought in the heart by the Spirit of God. This godly sorrow for sin works repentance. 2 Cor. 7:9, 10. And repentance manifests itself in the change of men's conduct. 2 Cor. 7:11; Matt. 3:8; Luke 19:7-10.
When the sinner thus realizes that he is guilty and that his condemnation by the law of God is just, he is not far from help. Now the Spirit of God sets before him the fact that Christ has died for him. Rom. 5:6-8. God will forgive his sins if he will with repentance and faith lay hold upon the Saviour. Acts 20:21; 16:30, 31. And now when faith springs up in his soul, he has peace in believing, and joy in the Holy Spirit. Rom. 5:1. The law of God can accept the death of Christ instead of the death of the sinner. Rom. 4:25; Gal. 3:13; Matt. 20:28. Now the sinner is represented as having died to sin. To make this fact very plain, the gospel directs that those who have thus died shall now be buried in baptism and then raised from that burial to walk in newness of life. Rom. 6:1-6; Col. 2:11, 12.
Now the work of regeneration has just commenced. Phil. 1:6; Hosea 6:3; Mark 4:26-29. The circumcision of the heart has begun in the removal of man's evil nature and in the renovation of his heart by the Holy Spirit. Rom. 8:2, 7-9; Col. 2:11; Deut. 10:16; 30:6; Jer. 4:4; Rom. 2:28, 29. When this great change has been carried forward to perfection, the old man is put off and the new man is put on. Eph. 4:20-24. We cannot make any progress in this work without gaining daily victories over the world, over self, and over Satan. These are the three great foes with which we have to contend. We have no promise of eternal life except we overcome. Rev. 2:7, 11, 17, 26; 3:5, 12, 21; 21:7.
Conversion is the work of God's grace upon the heart. Eph. 2:8-10. But this work of grace must make constant progress in us while we live. 2 Pet. 3:18. This work begins when we first believe in Christ. But faith is not the only thing necessary to our salvation. James 2:14, 17, 20. Peter says that we must add to our faith virtue, that is, a righteous obedient character. 2 Peter 1:5. Then to our virtue we must add knowledge, that is, of God's word and our duty toward him. To this knowledge we must add temperance, that is, the control of our appetites and passions. Verse 6; Gal. 5:24. To temperance we must add patience, that is, the control of our own spirit and temper. To patience we must add godliness, that is, complete devotion of our lives to God. To this we must add brotherly kindness, so that we would lay down our lives for our brethren. John 15:12, 13; 1 John 3:16. To all this must be added charity, or the perfect love of God. 2 Peter 1:7; 1 Cor. 13. Peter says that we must give all diligence in the accomplishment of this work. 2 Pet. 1:5. And he testifies that if we do these things we shall never fall. Verse 10. This is the great work of conversion.
J. N. A.
THE SAFETY OF OUR CAUSE.
By Stephen Nelson Haskell
BY ELD. S. N. HASKELL.
THERE is no question more frequently asked, and certainly one of no more importance, especially to those who have investments to make, than concerning the safety of the enterprise or institution in which these investments are to be made. It must be admitted by all believers in the Christian religion that the cause of God is the only permanently safe institution in the world.
Christianity and civilization go hand in hand. A nation cannot be civilized in the truest sense without becoming Christianized. Morality has its foundation in the Bible religion, and the stream becomes purer as it partakes of the likeness of its author; and that cause or institution cannot fail which is built on the principles emanating from Jesus Christ. He is "The chief corner-stone," "The author and finisher of our faith." In speaking of some who apostatized from the apostolic church St. Paul says: "Nevertheless the foundation of God standeth sure, having this seal, The Lord knoweth them that are his."
Since the fall of man, the cause of God has ever had its enemies who have opposed it and predicted its overthrow. Its worst enemies, however, have been its professed friends who have imbibed immoral principles, and while professing great love for the cause have brought great reproach upon it by their evil practices. Then there are those who, like birds which live on carrion, feast upon these sins. The mistakes of Abraham, the sin of David, and the errors of Solomon are impartially recorded by the sacred penman. A stain has been left upon the characters of these men which has been a reproach to the truth; but the cause of God in its native purity existed still. A traitorous Judas, the writings of Celsus, the first infidel writer on the Christian religion, and the entire brood which have followed down to Voltaire, Tom Paine, and Bob Ingersoll, can ruin themselves but not the Christian religion.
Those institutions and enterprises, founded and conducted upon the principles exemplified in the life of our divine Lord, and devoted to the promulgation of such truths, will stand as long as God has a work to do on the earth. Their security is based upon moral principles, and as long as there are men who possess these principles, they will be guardians and protectors.
Thus it is with present truth, and those institutions erected and devoted to the promulgation of the Sabbath reform and truths specially adapted to the last days. Their founders may die, their friends may turn into enemies; but the cause itself, the institutions devoted to the interests of the cause, will surely succeed as God is the author of the truths which are taught. Money invested in this work in a spirit of sacrifice is as safe as can be. Banks may and will fail, railroad bonds fluctuate in the market, oppression from monopolies and wicked men may rob us of our homes; but there is one safe place for ourselves and our means: it is in the truth of God. By investing here we co-operate with the angels of God, and by depriving ourselves of selfish interests and practicing self-denial for the upbuilding of the work of God, we practically sympathize with Jesus Christ, who left the royal courts of Heaven and gave his life for the salvation of others. A spirit of sacrifice for the welfare of others is therefore to be coveted rather than dreaded.
It is in this light that we view the institutions in our midst, and we are not alone in this; we are acquainted with instances where worldly men have loaned thousands of dollars to our brethren with whom they were acquainted, to be placed in our institutions, and this was taken from banks.
And one thing to the praise of God can be said of the institutions devoted to the work of present truth; not one penny thus invested has ever been lost to him who invested it; while thousands and tens of thousands have been lost in banks, patent rights, real estate speculations, etc., etc.
The gospel of Jesus Christ will soon triumph, and those who have linked their lives with it, and have known no interest but its advancement upon the earth, will triumph with it.
THE SUNDAY LAW.
By B. L. Aldrich
BY PROFESSOR B. L. ALDRICH.
THERE seems to be in human nature possibilities of evil far beyond the measurement of the most Calvinistic doctrine of depravity. Notwithstanding the apparent progress of charity and the improvement of civilization, the law that certain periods of time will bring about the maturation of oppressive ideas, even when the world is condemning the cruel old days of persecution, is again to obtain recognition. History repeats itself by returning to the stake and fagot as well as by turning its plowshares and pruning-hooks into swords. Religion, as it has been abused by men, has had its periodical and local fits of tyranny in all the ages, and often those who have but just escaped from the ordeal of tribulation are the most earnest in seeking to oppress others.
As we are now at the beginning of a reign of religious tyranny, big with portents, we are not astonished to see that those who are most zealously enlisting in the army that is to make war with the remnant of the church belong to the class who in the inquisition days were the staple victims. The graves of the persecuted Baptist dead are hardly molded, and the ankles that ached in the stocks hardly rested, before we hear representatives of the old victim church declare that the penalties for working on Sunday must be made severe.
We see them, mirabile dictu! uniting with the children of the Papacy to bear their part in provoking the wrath that shall be poured out on all those that worship the image. No manifestation could more positively show the hollowness of the general Christian profession of obedience to the Gospel—the meek, love-winning Gospel—than this Sunday-law movement. It can excuse itself by the Gospel no way, for the New Testament in no place teaches that the first day of the week is the Sabbath, but on the contrary teaches that the seventh day is, and if Christianity, as laid down by Christ, teaches anything, it is that men are not to be coerced into church conformity nor forced to abide by any rule of faith.
Baptists are accustomed to call the first day of the week the "Lord's Day." But on what authority? Certainly not on any authority of God's word. Now therefore, before they proceed to advocate a law to compel all men to refrain from work on Sunday, it would be a wise counsel for them to stop and consider by a careful examination of Scripture whether Sunday is God's holy Sabbath, or one of the days established by the Romans.
Sunday is just about as much the Sabbath as sprinkling is baptism. When I was a Baptist I supposed I was separate from all the traditional errors of Papacy, but I found that in keeping the first day of the week and breaking the seventh I was disobeying God and exercising allegiance to the Pope. It is, therefore, strange and true that Baptists, who professedly reject tradition and appeal to the Bible, should at last show a fatal weakness of adhering to a heathen day under direction of the Pope, and abetting the disgraceful cause of persecuting all who faithfully cling to the Gospel of Christ.
When did Jesus tell his disciples that they must lay their hand upon the arm of civil government in order to enforce Sunday as a day of rest or any other religious peculiarity? How does it become the business of the church to be enacting rest-days for the nation? Does it come properly within its sphere of duty to regulate the order of work and rest, to prescribe sanitary laws in society, and to say when its wheels of industry must run and when they shall stand still? Is the ecclesiastical power once more going to reach after the control of the State to disfranchise and proscribe and to threaten with effect our free people, feeling for their heartstrings by grasping the wrists of legislators?
No laws can ever be passed to prevent recreation on Sunday, as unbelievers will oppose that, and most church members themselves do not attach any sanctity to that day; but legislation is intended to affect those who conscientiously regard the commandment, "Six days shalt thou labor," as binding as "The seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord," and will violate the164law of man when it viciously conflicts with the law of God.
It is interesting to watch the signs of the Lord's coming, and, in the fulfillment of the prophecy of setting up the image, to follow up the details of the first approaches towards the consummation of that Protestant effigy, which is the product of caressing many years, the falsehoods of the papal church. We have long asked what would be the outcome of so much error in the doctrines and ordinances. The question will soon be answered, for prophecy has provided a great provocation for the swift and terrible return of an avenging Lord. The image must be set up, but woe to the sculptors and woe to the idolaters that cast themselves down before it.
WAYSIDE PREACHING.
By Adoniram Judson
PART SECOND.
The fourth day came and still the missionary continued his wearisome labor in the zayat. The old water-bearer had become a sincere inquirer,—a timid, but true believer. The self-confident philosopher had almost ceased to cavil. Fresh inquirers had appeared, and the missionary’s heart was strengthened. Still his thoughts turned to the stern sah-ya and his little boy, as he murmured, repeatedly, “The one shall be taken, and the other left.” While these desponding words were upon his lips, the very child who was in his thoughts sprang up the steps of the zayat, followed by his grave, dignified father. Above the showy folds of his new Madras turban, he carried a red lackered tray upon which was a cluster of golden plantains. Placing the gift at the missionary’s feet, he drew back with a pleased smile of boyish shyness; while the man, bowing courteously, took his seat upon the mat.
“You are the foreign priest,” he remarked civilly, and more by way of introduction than inquiry.
“I am a missionary.”
The stranger smiled, for he had purposely avoided the offensive epithet, and was amused and conciliated by the missionary’s frank use of it. “And so you make people believe in Jesus Christ?”
“I try to.”
The visitor laughed outright, then, as if a little ashamed of his rudeness, he composed his features and with his usual courtesy, resumed, “My little son has heard of you, sir; and he is very anxious to learn something about Jesus Christ. It is a pretty story you tell of that man—prettier, I think, than any of our fables.” The missionary threw a quick, scrutinizing glance on the face of his visitor. He saw that the man was ill at ease, that his carelessness was entirely assumed, and that underneath all there was a deep, wearing anxiety. “Ah, you think so? To what particular story do you allude?”
“Why, that of the strange sort of being you call Jesus Christ—a great prince, or something of the sort—dying for us poor fellows, and so—Ha, ha! The absurdity of the thing makes me laugh; though there is something in it beautiful, too.”
“I perceive you are an unbeliever,” said the missionary.
“No; oh, no; I am a true and faithful worshiper of Lord Gaudama; but of course neither you nor I subscribe to all the fables of our respective religions. There is quite enough that is honest and reasonable in our Buddhistic system to satisfy me; but my little son”—here the father seemed embarrassed, and laughed again, as though to cover his confusion—“is bent on philosophical investigation—eh, Moung Moung?”
“But are you not afraid that my teachings will do the child harm?”
The visitor looked up with a broad smile of admiration, as though he would have said, “you’re a very honest fellow after all.”
“What if I should tell you that I do believe every thing I preach as firmly as I believe that you sit on the mat before me, and that it is the one desire of my life to make everybody else believe it—you and your child among the rest.”
The sah-ya tried to smile, tried to look unconcerned; but his easy nonchalance of manner seemed utterly to forsake him when he most needed it; and finally, abandoning the attempt to renew his former tone of banter, he quietly answered, “I have heard of a writing you possess, which by your leave I will take home and read to Moung Moung.”
The missionary selected a little tract from the parcel on the table beside him, and gave it to his visitor. “Sah-ya,” said he, solemnly, “I hereby put into your hands the key to eternal life and happiness. This active, intelligent soul of yours, with its exquisite perception of moral beauty and loveliness cannot be destined to inhabit a dog, a monkey, or a worm, in another life. God made it for higher purposes; and I pray that I may yet meet you, all beautiful, and pure, and glorious, in a world beyond the reach of pain or death, and, above all, beyond the reach of sin.”
At these words the boy, who had to this time sat upon his mat like a statue, his eyes fixed upon the speaker, sprang forward—
“Papa, papa, hear him. Let us both love the Lord Jesus Christ. My mother loved him; and in the golden country of the blessed she waits for us.”
“I must go,” said the sah-ya hoarsely, attempting to rise.
“Let us pray,” said the missionary kneeling down.
The child laid his hands together, placing them against his forehead, bowed his head to the mat, and the father remained seated. Gradually, as the fervent prayer proceeded, his head drooped a little; and it was not long before he placed his elbows on his knees, and covered his face with his hands. As soon as the prayer was ended, he rose, bowed in silence, and with his child walked away.
Day after day went by, the sah-ya, as he passed the zayat, always saluting its occupant respectfully, but evincing no disposition to cultivate his acquaintance farther. He was accompanied by the child less frequently than formerly, who sometimes paused for a moment to ask for a book, or exchange a word of greeting. Meanwhile that terrible scourge of eastern nations, the cholera, had made its appearance; and came sweeping through the town with its usual devastating power. Fires were kindled before every house, and kept burning night and day; while immense processions continually thronged the streets, with gongs, drums, and tom-toms, to frighten away the evil spirits, and so arrest the progress of the disease. The zayat was closed for lack of visitors; and the missionary and his assistants busied themselves in attending on the sick and dying. One night he was aroused from his slumbers by the calls of faithful Ro Shuay-bay.
“Teacher, teacher, you are wanted.”
“Where?”
The man lowered his voice almost to a whisper and sending the volume of sound through the crevice in the boards said, “At the sah-ya’s.”
Here the missionary found the veranda thronged with relatives and dependants, and from an inner room came a wild wailing sound, which told that death was already there. No one seemed to observe his entrance; and he followed the sound of woe until he stood by the corpse of a little child.
“He has gone up to the Golden City, to bloom forever amid the royal lilies of paradise,” murmured a voice close to his ear.
The missionary turned abruptly, and saw a middle-aged woman, holding a palm-leaf fan to her mouth.
“He worshiped the true God,” she continued, suffering the individuality of her voice to glide away in the wail of the mourners, and occasionally slurring a word which she dared not pronounce distinctly—“he worshiped the true God, and trusted in the Lord our Redeemer—the Lord Jesus Christ; he trusted in him; he called and he was answered; he was weary—weary and in pain; and the Lord who loved him, he took him home.”
“Was he conscious?”
“Conscious, and full of joy.”
“What did he talk of?”
“Only of the Lord Jesus Christ, whose face he seemed to see.”
“And his father?”
“His father! Oh, my master, my noble master! he is going too. Come and see him.”
“Who sent for me?”
“Your handmaid, sir.”
“How dared you?”
There was a look such as might have been worn by the martyrs of old upon the woman’s face, as she expressively answered, “God was here.”
In the next apartment lay the noble figure of the sah-ya stretched upon a couch, in the last stage of the fearful disease.
“It grieves me to meet you thus, my friend,” remarked the visitor.
The sah-ya made a gesture of impatience. His fast stiffening lips stirred, but could convey no sound; there was a feeble movement as though he would have pointed at something; but his half-raised finger wavered and sank back again, and a look of dissatisfaction, amounting to anxiety, passed over his countenance. Finally, renewing the effort, he succeeded in laying his hands together, and with difficulty, lifting them to his forehead, and then quietly and calmly closed his eyes.
“Do you trust in Lord Gaudama at a moment like this?” inquired the missionary, uncertain for whom the act of worship was intended.
There was a quick tremor in the shut lids, and the poor sah-ya unclosed his eyes with an expression of mingled pain and disappointment, while the death-heavy hands slid from their position back upon the pillow.
“Lord Jesus, receive his spirit,” exclaimed the missionary solemnly. A bright, joyous smile flitted across the face of the dying man, even seeming to shed light upon the glazed eyes; a sigh-like breath fluttered his bosom for a moment, the finger which he had before striven to lift, pointed distinctly upward, but now fell heavily across his breast, and he was no more.
“You had better go now,” whispered the woman; “you can do no further good, and may receive harm.”
“And who are you that you have braved the danger to yourself, of bringing me here?”
They drew near the body of the child, which had been left for a moment alone.
“See!” said the woman lifting the cloth, reverently. A copy of the Gospel of Matthew lay on his bosom.
“Who placed it there?”
“He did, with his own dear little hand,” and the woman’s voice gave expression to one swell of agony, and then died away in a low wail, like that which proceeded from the adjoining room. Presently she resumed, “I was his mother’s nurse. She got this book of you, sir. We thought my master burned it, but he kept it and may be studied with it. Do you think he became a true believer?”
“To whom did he pray at the last moment?”
“To the Lord Jesus Christ—I am sure of that. Do you think the Lord would receive him, sir?”
“Did you ever read about the thief who was crucified with the Saviour?”
“Oh, yes; I read it to Moung Moung this very day. He was holding his mother’s book when the disease smote him, and he kept it in his hand until just before he died.”
“The Lord Jesus Christ is just as merciful now as he was then. Where did you become acquainted with this religion?”
“My mistress taught me, sir, and made me promise to teach her baby when he was old enough, and to go to you for more instruction. But I was alone and afraid. I sometimes got as far as the big banian tree on the corner, and crawled away again trembling so with terror that I could scarcely stand upon my feet. At last I found out Ro Shuay-bay, and he promised to keep my secret, and gave me books, and explained their meaning, and taught me how to pray, and I have been getting courage ever since. I should not much mind now, if they did find me out and kill me.”
When the missionary again resumed his labors at the zayat his hearers were widely scattered in the jungles, in far off towns, and in that other place, whence no traveler returns. His last hopeful inquirer, the priest, and the poor old water-bearer, were all dead; and the philosopher fled away they knew not where; but the missionary’s heart swelled with joy as he thought that a few at least had been gathered into the fold of Christ, before they were swept away by the fell destroyer.—Abridged from Memoirs of Adoniram Judson.
THE CAUSE IN CALIFORNIA.
By Stephen Nelson Haskell
IN company with Eld. Rice, I left Oakland March 17, for Tulare and Fresno counties. We found our brethren in this part of the State in a discouraged condition. The abundant harvest of last season crowded out their prayer-meetings, and in various ways the enemy had come in, and the good spirit which had been received at their camp-meeting was in a measure lost. The course of Eld. Wood, and other circumstances combined,165had caused a state of feeling not conducive to spiritual prosperity.
Our meetings commenced Friday night, and continued, with three meetings a day, until Tuesday night. Nearly all the friends within a circle of eight miles attended these meetings. The Spirit of God helped in preaching, and in uniting hearts. The following Sabbath and Sunday we also spent at this place, and we left our friends much encouraged, with a good outside interest.
We also visited Fresno, and Church's Colony. Eld. Rice will remain in this section until the camp-meeting.
Upon returning to Oakland, we found the interest much increased under the labors of Eld. Corliss. The church has been revived and encouraged. One sister fully embraced the truth in these meetings. Six were baptized April 2. Some of these cases are very interesting. An English sea captain's wife, who accompanies her husband at sea, embraced the truth through the ship missionary work, and united with the San Francisco church on Sabbath morning, and was baptized with the others in Oakland in the afternoon. Another was an educated Swiss, who was raised in the Catholic church, understands several languages, and has traveled extensively. He has passed through sore trials and temptations over religious matters. He related that on his passage from Africa to South America he seriously contemplated committing suicide. He left the Fiji Islands on the ship Panonia, where he found our publications. In these he found the light which satisfied his mind, and embraced the truth. Arriving in San Francisco, he sought the Seventh-day Adventists and requested baptism. Another, who has been connected with our job printing office much of the time for a couple of years, and much valued for his ability, was, some time in the past winter, induced to sign the anti-whisky pledge, and subsequently, the "teetotal" pledge. To overcome his appetites, he found it necessary to rely upon the Lord for help, and thus, step by step, he fully embraced the truth and was baptized. Other cases of interest might be mentioned.
Bro. Briggs has just arrived from Newcastle, Placer Co., a new field, where he has been laboring a short time. He reports a company of thirteen there, with meetings established and a Sabbath-school organized. He also reports progress in the work in Nevada City.
The special calls for labor which I have received since coming upon this coast are more than ten faithful ministers could fill. The result of the missionary work in California is seen both upon land and sea; and from the islands of the sea, we learn of fruit from the missionary work. To God be all the praise.
S. N. HASKELL.
GLEANINGS FROM THE EASTERN FIELD.
ALABAMA, Bladen Springs.—Eld. C. O. Taylor reports a two-days' meeting with good attendance and good interest. Several expressed themselves favorable to the truth, and some acknowledged that they felt condemned for working on the previous Sabbath. Good results are looked for.
MINNESOTA, Stoe Prairie, Todd Co.—Bro. John I. Collins, March 14, writes: Commenced meetings here about three weeks ago. The Lord has blessed the effort. The attendance has not been large, but the hearers are very regular and attentive. The school-teacher, an influential young man, and his wife, and a few others, have begun to keep the Sabbath. Nearly all who have attended the meetings are convinced of the truth, and I think others will obey when they are fully tested.
Jordan, Scott Co.—Bro. J. W. Moore says: I have found, scattered through this part of the country, within a radius of twelve miles from here, seventeen Sabbath-keepers; and all of them except two have embraced the truth by reading, and previous to my coming had never heard a sermon on present truth. All but two of the families supposed that they were the only Sabbath-keepers in this section of country. I am making an effort to get our publications introduced into these families.
MICHIGAN, Newark, Gratiot Co.—Bro. L. A. Kellogg reports that he has closed a series of meetings there, and adds: The result was good, as those who had accepted the truth plainly saw the weakness of their former positions. I then spent a few days in visiting and encouraging the friends, and listening to opposition discourses. Seven have taken a firm stand for the whole truth, and others are deeply interested.
IOWA, Traer, Tama Co.—Bro. J. D. Pegg says of the meetings there: Ten or fifteen are now keeping the Sabbath as the result of our labors here. We hope to organize a class and a Sabbath-school.
Bro. C. A. Washburn, writing from Decatur county, gives the following important testimony: I have noticed in this church, as in others, that those who take our papers, and read them, are growing stronger in the truth; while those who do not, are growing weaker, and are dropping off by the way.
WHAT SHALL WE DO FOR CHRISTOPHER?
By E. L. Hurd
WHAT shall we do with him? This is a question which presses for answer just now, and you, Mr. Editor, must help us to an answer soon. Christopher is our boy, and if you can not help us in respect to him, what are you good for, Mr. Editor?
The trouble is this: There is a band numbering three hundred, formed in our town, of men who were well nigh ruined by drink. They all started as moderate drinkers. They had no thought of ever becoming otherwise than moderate drinkers. They cannot tell now when they became otherwise than moderate drinkers. Nor can their acquaintances tell. They passed insensibly through moderate drinking until they found themselves in drunkenness. And all along they believed in moderate drinking and in those who advocated moderate drinking, and were associated with such. But having gone thus by insensible degrees down the stream until they have found themselves in the rapids, they see no way but to keep out of the stream altogether. They have banded themselves together not to drink intoxicants, and to help each other not to drink. Their case, many of them artisans of all classes, and professional men, most of them having families sadly stricken by their drinking, appeals to the tender sympathy of all Christian people. But here is a great difficulty. The saloons are still open. These three hundred men are surrounded by the great army of moderate drinkers, both those who think themselves so, and those who are so. This band with good intentions now are tempted constantly to think that they might safely form the company of those who have not yet fallen into drunkenness—those who praise and practice moderate drinking. Then there is this great army itself of moderate drinkers, all of whom preach, and most of whom think, that they practice moderate drinking, and none of whom expect to go down the stream into drunkenness. For the sake of these two classes, the most of the Christian people of this town have decided themselves to join together; also to touch, taste or handle no intoxicants.
They do this in the spirit of Paul, because, so far as they can see, moderate drinking of intoxicants, as an example, if not otherwise, is very apt to cause their weak brother to offend. And they are combining their influence and effort to persuade all the army of moderate drinkers, and especially the young men, to take this same position as right and safe for themselves, and best for the good of others.
Now, here is the trouble with our Christopher. He has just come home, and says that all the young men of his set say that this movement is "fanatical;" that "the statement that moderate drinking leads to drunkenness is atrocious;" that the only difficulty with the drunkards is, that they did not have self-control enough to remain moderate drinkers: and that just what is needed is to set the example constantly of the temperate and moderate use of wine, beer, etc., and to teach that moderate use constantly.
Now, Christopher is no sneak. He does not see why this moderate drinking should retire into privacy. He thinks that just where the public—the cold, and the hungry, and the weary—are furnished with entertainment at the restaurant, the coffee-house and the saloon, the example of the temperate user is needed. Why should not two young men sip their wine and beer together in the restaurant or the saloon, practice self-control, and illustrate, right in the presence of all, the beauties of moderation? Why not? We tell him that this moderate drinking was preached in this country seventy-five years ago, but in practice it was found to eventuate in drunkenness extensively, and that this has been the history of moderate drinking; that it eventuated in, and was lost in, drunkenness. But he insists that it is absurd to say that moderate drinking leads to drunkenness; the drinking has ceased to be moderate long before the drunkenness ensues, and he glibly quotes good Dr. Crosby to this effect. And here is the source of the present dilemma with our boy and his set. They, in common with many of us, value and admire the able chancellor. They have heard us who know him, praise him. They are prepared to hear favorably what he says. But just now copies of a lecture by him are being circulated assiduously through the saloons of this town to endeavor to thwart this movement, which has already diminished their patronage, and just now his argument is in the mouth of every one there and thereabouts. We are sorry for this, for we know that this is not what the good chancellor intended. And we are sure if he could see the effects right here among the young men, he would be sorry, too. But we are most sorry on account of our Christopher and his companions. What shall we do for Christopher?—E. L. Hurd, Pres. of Blackburn University, in Ex., and Chronicle.
NEWCASTLE.
By E. A. Briggs
AT the close of the last sermon which I preached at Nevada City, an active old gentleman stepped up to me and made known his firm determination to henceforth keep the seventh-day Sabbath of the Most High. This brother was thirty years old, and a married man, at the time of the great shower of falling stars of 1833. Matt. 24 : 34. He was the thirteenth individual in that place, who had taken hold of the commandments of God this winter, making a total of thirty commandment-keepers in that vicinity.
I returned from Nevada City to Newcastle March 21, and resumed my labors here. The words spoken seemed to be blessed in this place. A company of thirteen Sabbath-keepers has been organized. Two of these, however, signed the covenant at Auburn last summer, and some of the others were more or less interested in matters pertaining to present truth. E. A. BRIGGS.
ANOTHER WARNING TO MEAT EATERS.
By William Penniman
A New York paper in a recent issue, states: "Fifty million worms in the muscles of a living man, was the diagnosis two physicians made of the case of a patient in Bellevue Hospital, last week. The man was a butcher, nineteen years of age, who obtained admission to the hospital to be treated for rheumatism, from which he was supposed to be suffering. As the ordinary symptoms of that disease were not apparent, a careful examination of the patient was made, and ultimately a small portion of muscle was extracted from his shoulder, and placed under a microscope. It was found to be full of the worms called trichinae, and the disease had been contracted by eating small portions of raw, diseased meat. Medical treatment failed to effect a cure, and the patient died from exhaustion, on December 6. A post mortem examination by the two professors, revealed the fact that over fifty million of these minute creatures had existed in the body of the miserable man. The case recalls that mentioned in Acts 12:23."
This quotation does not say what kind of raw, diseased meat was used, but it was probably pork, as the trichinae is more often found in this than any other kind of meat. It is sometimes in beef. It may be in fowls, or in any animals (even fish) which consume diseased flesh. The only safety, then, is a total abstinence from flesh eating, or in having the worms well cooked. (And who wants to eat cooked worms, if they are dead?)
WM. PENNIMAN.
The Cost of Cigars
“Take a cigar,” is a pleasant invitation to almost every man. This politeness, however, is very expensive. The smoker of cigars who does not spend more than one dollar a week for “the weed” is a very rare specimen of man. Let us consider what that amounts to. In six months, $26. Bring that in as capital every six months, at seven per cent per annum, compound interest, and in fifty years it will be $22,423.98. That much for one man. Now figure on (say) a million men who indulge in cigars, and see what an immense amount of men’s possible profits ends in smoke.—Alta.