Review and Herald, Vol. 78, No. 22. (5/28/1901)

Review and Herald

May 28, 1901

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · May 28, 1901

“THINK NOT THAT I AM COME TO DESTROY THE LAW.”

By Ellen G. White

MRS. E. G. WHITE.

Let us listen to the words of Christ, the divine Teacher, as they fall from His lips upon the ears of the disciples, who press closely around Him, and upon the ears of the scribes and Pharisees, who watch His every movement, and listen to His every word, hoping to hear something which they can use as an accusation against Him. The vast multitude listen also to words full of grace and truth, spoken in a clear, musical voice. Such words they have never heard from the rabbis.

“Think not that I am come to destroy the law, or the prophets,” Christ says; “I am not come to destroy, but to fulfill.”

Our eternal well-being has not been left in uncertainty. We need not depend upon the writings of “the Fathers,” or upon commentators, for explanations regarding the law of God. When these men have told us all that they in their human intelligence can, we find that they do not agree. We see such a diversity of opinions that were we to follow them in deciding what is truth, we should be left in confusion and uncertainty. The Lord has told us not to follow these human guides, but to take everything claiming to be Bible doctrine to the Scriptures. “Bind up the testimony, seal the law among my disciples. And I will wait upon the Lord, that hideth His face from the house of Jacob, and I will look for Him. Behold, I and the children whom the Lord hath given me are for signs and for wonders in Israel from the Lord of hosts, which dwelleth in Mount Zion. And when they shall say unto you, Seek unto them that have familiar spirits, and unto wizards that peep, and that mutter: should not a people seek unto their God? for the living to the dead? To the law and to the testimony: if they speak not according to this word, it is because there is no light in them.”

“The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined.” This light was shining forth as Christ in His sermon on the mount gave the true exposition of the law. The traditions, maxims, and false interpretations which had been brought in, had buried the precious jewels of truth beneath a mass of rubbish. Christ rescued these precious jewels, and placed them in the framework of truth. He bade them stand fast forever, to shine in their natural luster, commending truth to the intellect, arousing the slumbering conscience, leading the people away from human tradition to the word of God. Christ taught the people to ask, “What saith the word of the Lord?” I have a soul to save. I cannot afford to be mystified when my eternal well-being is at stake. Because my minister refuses to examine the Scriptures with a heart free from prejudice and stubbornness, because he refuses to admit the binding claims of the law of God, shall I do the same? Shall I refuse to lift the cross? Shall I be guided by preconceived opinions? Shall I lose the way to heaven because the shepherd cries in my ears, Peace, Peace, The Fathers, The Fathers? Shall I turn from the cool snow waters of Lebanon to the turbid streams of the valley?

Many among those who were listening to Christ were not seeking for evidence of the truth of His teaching. Of this they had had altogether too much. What they desired was not evidence, but an excuse to evade truths of eternal importance, which had for their foundation a “Thus saith the Lord.” They did not wish to obey; for obedience involved a cross. So to-day many refuse to put their will on the side of God’s will. They refuse to conform their lives to the great standard of righteousness. They have educated and trained their God-given intellect to make of none effect the law of Jehovah, treating it as a code of moral embarrassment, a yoke of bondage. In the lives of transgressors they see the result of disobedience, yet they will not yield. They are not willing to reason from cause to effect, because Satan has blinded their minds by his sophistry, clothing the truth with a shadow of darkness. Paul’s words to the Galatians, “Who hath bewitched you, that ye should not obey the truth?” come sounding down along the line to our time.

But whether the world, or the Church, which has joined hands with the world, obeys or disobeys, the law of God maintains its binding claims, notwithstanding the fact that men claim to have refuted every argument in its favor. The truth still lives; the light still shines; it cannot be put out. In the Dark Ages the Bible was set aside; it was burned. Men tried to banish it from the earth; but how signally they failed! The law of God may be ignored, despised, rejected, trampled upon, but it is still the great standard of righteousness, immutable and indestructible. It is eternal, like the character of Jehovah.

The keenest intellect may try to the utmost of its capacity to make void the law, but behold, the intellect of the greatest men perishes. Men build themselves up, full of a desire for high titles rather than for a growth in grace, but they go down to the grave. Their ambition perishes with them. Their eloquence and genius are forgotten. But God’s holy law, unchangeable, eternal, and immortal, will stand firm forever and ever.

God will test all, even as He tested Adam and Eve, to see whether they will be obedient. Our loyalty or disloyalty will decide our destiny. Since the fall of Adam, men in every age have excused themselves for sinning, charging God with their sin, saying that they could not keep His commandments. This is the insinuation Satan cast at God in heaven. But the plea, “I cannot keep the commandments,” need never be presented to God; for before Him stands the Saviour, the marks of the crucifixion upon His body, a living witness that the law can be kept. It is not that men cannot keep the law, but that they will not.

To-day men dare to charge Christ with being a Sabbath-breaker. Those who repeat this charge, made by the scribes and Pharisees, place themselves on the side of the enemy of God, and

directly contradict Christ’s teaching. With sacrilegious words the Pharisees charged Him with transgression, and if they could have fastened crime upon Him, as they flattered themselves they could do, they would have been able to prove that He should be sentenced by the very law He had given. But they could not prove in a single instance that His works were not in perfect harmony with the law.

In His human nature Christ rendered perfect obedience to the law of God, thus proving to all that this law can be kept. He endured the death penalty himself, not to abrogate the law, not to immortalize sin, but to take away sin. It is because He has borne the punishment that man can have a second probation. He may, if he will, return to his loyalty. But if he refuses to obey the commands of God, if he rejects the warnings and messages God sends, choosing rather to echo the words of the deceiver, he is willingly ignorant, and the condemnation of God is upon him. He chooses disobedience because obedience means lifting the cross, practicing self-denial.

The natural mind leans toward pleasure and self-gratification. It is Satan’s policy to manufacture an abundance of this. He seeks to fill the minds of men with a desire for worldly amusement, that they may have no time to ask themselves the question, How is it with my soul? The love of pleasure is infectious. Given up to this, the mind hurries from one point to another, ever seeking for some amusement. Obedience to the law of God counteracts this inclination, and builds barriers against ungodliness. Each person, as a rational human being, is under the most sacred obligation to obey the law. The Spirit has been provided to enable all to do this. Those who transgress the law by resting on the first day of the week instead of on the seventh, bear false witness to the world. God desires His people to uphold the dignity of His law by resting on the seventh day, His memorial of creation.

The ability to enjoy the riches of glory will be developed in proportion to the desire we have for these riches. How shall an appreciation of God and heavenly things be developed unless it is in this life? If the claims and cares of the world are allowed to engross all our time and attention, our spiritual powers weaken and die for lack of exercise. In a mind wholly given up to earthly things, every inlet through which light from heaven may enter is closed. God’s transforming grace cannot be felt on mind or character. The talents that should be used in active piety are ignored and neglected. How, then, can a response be made when the invitation is heard, “Come; for all things are now ready”? How is it possible for a man to receive the commendation, “Well done, good and faithful servant,” when he has been disobedient, unthankful, unholy? He has trained his mind to disregard God’s plainest requirements. He loves the things of earth more than the things of heaven.

MY OWN STORY.

By Maggie A. Pulver

MAGGIE A. PULVER.

As my thoughts oft go back to the years of the past, When my lot with the guilty and wretched was cast, And I think how my Saviour, the King from above, Has followed my footsteps with infinite love, My heart overflows for the blessings so sweet,— I would cast all the treasures of earth at His feet.

Again and again, when a child, did they tell Me that I must serve God, or be cast into hell, And burn while the years of eternity roll,— The flesh of my body, for the sins of my soul,— For the sins of my life, the few years earth I trod, To appease the great wrath of a merciful (?) God.

They told me that Jesus sometime, by and by, Would return to this earth, from His home in the sky, And summon the wicked their sad doom to hear, And Oh! how my guilty heart trembled with fear! I wished that some secret place earth could provide, Where I from His wrath and His vengeance might hide.

I tried, but in vain; for I could not draw near To a God I was trying to worship through fear. The tortures of hell haunted me in the night; I hated myself; for I could not do right. I thought of the day when my deeds must be met, Till at last I gave up all, and tried to forget.

How oft, ’neath the strains of some beautiful song, My heart has been stirred, and my soul made to long For the bliss that was promised the sinless and free, But my sad heart would say, “Not for me—no, not me!” I oft heard that still small voice speaking within, And I thought God delighted to twit me of sin!

Oh, how thankful I am now, that Jesus could see My tempest-tossed soul, and have pity for me, And send me His message of pardoning love, Take me into His ark, like a poor, weary dove, Give me joy for my sorrow, and peace for unrest, Covering all my dark sins with His own righteousness.

For now all those beautiful songs I can sing With a heart that’s attuned to the praise of my King; For I’m washed in His blood; from my sins I’m set free, And rejoice in the knowledge that Jesus loves me. And now my heart throbs but with joy, not with fear, When the messenger tells me my Saviour is near.

THE TWINS' DARK BIRTHDAY.

By Ella A. Drinkwater

Ella A. Drinkwater, in Christian Union.

(Concluded.)

“Now you are sorry, Oliver, that you wished General Gates had General Washington’s command,” said Paul, reproachfully.

“Well, some folks did think so,” excused Oliver. “That Burgoyne’s surrender was a big thing for him; but I guess that General Washington will do just about right, after all.”

“I should think he would,” cried Paul. “He is the greatest man and the best that ever lived.”

“Excepting our father,” corrected Patience, who thought that she would have been a British subject long before this if her father had not fought so well.

“Well, well, I’ll go and look after the cattle,” said Oliver, rising to light the lantern. “You’ll not expect a man to plow on such a day as this, marm?”

“Certainly not,” replied the mother; “do whatever you like. I think you will feel happier to be employed, and you will not have time for evil forebodings. When the Lord comes, I wish to be doing my duty.”

“So do I. So do I,” repeated Oliver, going out into the twilight.

“I want the Lord to think well of me,” whimpered Keturah, drawing the apron away from her face, “but I tremble so I can’t do anything. I never heard of the like of this.”

“The dark can’t hurt us,” declared Paul; “for grandsir’ is all safe, and he lived through a dark day. So be a good woman, Keturah, and make the dumplings.”

“I thought you children intended to learn two Bible verses for your birthday,” said their mother, suggestively.

“So we do,” answered Paul, taking the large Bible from the stand in the corner, feeling sure that no harm could come to him while holding this book. Seated together near the tall candle on the table, with the Bible open between them, grandsir’ in his corner, Keturah peeling vegetables, and their mother cutting and fitting the little coat, the children ceased to feel that anything unusual was occurring; only when they glanced out of the window or up at the clock did a shivering fear creep over them, and then they drew nearer together and clasped the edges of the book more firmly.

“Here is just what we want,” cried Paul; “‘Arise, shine; for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee. For, behold, the darkness shall cover the earth, and gross darkness the people: but the Lord shall arise upon thee, and His glory shall be seen upon thee.’ Now this means that it will be as light as can be, Patty,” he explained. “God knew that it would be dark to-day, and so He wrote this to tell us that the sun will shine, and we need not be afraid. Is that right, mother?”

“I think He will allow you to take the comfort of it in that way,” she replied, after an instant’s hesitation. “It means something more than that to me.”

So the children softly repeated the words over and over again until the coat was cut and basted, and the dinner was all ready. Oliver assisted the great-grandfather to his place at the table, and they all bowed their heads while he asked a tremulous blessing, then the mother helped them to the stew from the large blue platter, and the dinner hour passed just as usual; but as they were rising from the table, a torch flashed past the windows, and a loud rap sounded upon the outer door.

“The day of doom has come!” shrieked Keturah, hiding her face in her lap.

“It is one of the neighbors,” said the mother. “Open the door, Paul.”

With trembling fingers Paul admitted Seth Rider.

“Are you all prepared to die?” asked the young man, setting his torch in the chimney corner.

“Sit down, Seth,” invited the mother, placing a chair for him. “I think we are no nearer death than we are every day.”

“Other folks think different,” answered Seth, in surprise. “Everybody’s crowding into the meeting-house, where they couldn’t see each other’s faces but for the candles; and Parson Smith, he had prayed an hour when I left, about Pharaoh, and Judas, and Jezebel; but I thought I’d come and see how you folks was getting along, and perhaps you’d like to go to the meeting-house. The men are shaking and groaning, and the women are crying and fainting, and the young ones are bawling.”

“I think I shall stay at home and do the duty of to-day,” replied the mother. “If the world does not come to an end, Paul will need his coat; and if the world does come to an end to-day, I wish the Lord to find me doing the duty He has set for me; and besides I do not know how to faint.”

“I wish I felt as you do,” said Seth, admiringly; “but just come to the door and see how things look. This is the darkest spell of all.”

Leaving grandsir’ nodding over his plate, all hastened to the door, while Seth stood upon the door-stone, holding his torch high above his head. The clouds were thinnest at the north; at the northeast they were very thick, and so low that the hills half a mile away could not be seen; but the southwesterly hills near where the children’s aunt Esther lived, twenty miles away, could be plainly seen, although the spaces between were so dark that the grass could not be distinguished from the trees. All the clouds were in motion, hurrying one over the other, seeming to form three layers, the lower one being of a peculiar brassy hue.

“See the rainbow!” cried Patience, pointing to a faint red light in the clouds twenty or thirty feet above their heads.

“It may be the reflection of your torch, Seth,” said the mother; “just place it behind the door.”

“That is just it,” acknowledged Seth, after trying the experiment several times. “Now what kind of a sign do you make of that?”

“It means that the clouds are damp, and so they reflect the light of your torch just as they do the sun when there is a rainbow. How many wonderful things we shall learn to-day!”

“Well, I’ll go back and tell the folks there is one woman with a clear conscience, who isn’t afraid to live or die,” said Seth, stepping into the path. “I paid folks all I owed them this morning, and I asked Eben Grey to forgive me, too; so I hope the Almighty will remember me in mercy.”

For a moment they stood watching Seth as he walked down the road, stopping now and then to gaze up at the reflection that was following him.

“I’ve—had—my—sup—per—and—now—I’ll—go—to bed,” the great-grandfather was saying when they entered the kitchen; and as he would not be persuaded that it was daytime,

Oliver helped him to bed in one of the small rooms off the kitchen. Rather more carefully than usual Patience began to wash the dishes; Paul fed the sparrows in his father’s old hat in the corner of the settle; the mother stitched and pressed the seams of Paul’s coat; Keturah was induced to make preparation for the morrow’s baking, and Oliver brought in several rakes to mend, saying, apologetically, “I can always work best when folks is around.”

At three o’clock, as Oliver was going out with the mended rakes, he called the family to the door, and there they saw the outline of the sun, pale and shadowy.

“‘Arise, shine; for thy light is come!’” cried Paul, jumping up and down. “The Bible said so! The Bible said so!”

“Yes, the sun is going on his appointed way,” the mother said, with great relief, “and it is not as dark as it has been. As the moon is nearly full to-night, we shall probably see that as usual.” But while she spoke, the ghostly sun disappeared.

“Never mind,” comforted Paul, trying to swallow the queer feeling in his throat, “for we know now that the sun is going right on; and, O mother! may we sit up and see the moon?”

“I think you may,” promised the mother. “Now come in and begin the samplers that you have been talking about so long.”

Delicate little Paul never thought of being ashamed of doing “girl’s work,” and they were soon delightfully busy in selecting the bright worsted, and marking their names, ages, the date, with the Bible verses they had learned that day. At supper time it was almost as dark as it had been at noon; but as soon as their bread and milk was eaten, the children stationed themselves at the window to watch for the moon.

“The moon rises at nine o’clock,” announced Keturah, looking up from the almanac.

“Oh!” cried both the children.

“You might say your hymns to me,” proposed the mother; “that will make the time pass quick.”

Turning disappointedly from the window, the children drew their stools beside their mother on the hearth-rug; they repeated all the hymns and Bible verses they knew, ending by kneeling together at their mother’s knee to pray the little prayer that their great-grandmother had learned in the far-away English home.

“It is darker than ever,” said Paul, running to the window. “And oh, see the lights!”

A number of persons with torches and lanterns were passing on their way to the meeting-house.

“Go with them, Keturah, if you will feel any better,” advised the mother.

“I don’t want to see nobody that is more afraid than I be,” sobbed Keturah.

But in spite of their anxious, impatient watching, it grew so dark that Oliver could not see his hand before his face when he stepped out-of-doors at nine o’clock. Earth and sky appeared to be swallowed up in blackness of darkness.

“We shall not see the moon until to-morrow night, children,” said the mother; “so go to bed, and I will call you when the sun rises.”

The darkness was not frightful at night, for it was often dark at night; so the weary, excited children fell asleep peacefully, sure that God and their mother would take care of them.

The next sound that Patience heard was Paul’s voice calling her, and she opened her eyes to find the room full of light. Running to the window, she saw the sun shining gloriously from a bed of scarlet and crimson clouds, causing all the dewdrops on grass and shrubs to twinkle like stars. The roosters were crowing, the hens cackling; the sheep were scampering down the lane to the meadow; Oliver was whistling as he watered the oxen, and Keturah was humming a psalm-tune while she heated the oven for baking. Grandsir’ stood on the door-stone with bared head; and when Patience met her mother she received from her a rare kiss, and the counsel, “Always trust the Lord, my child.”

And now, when another little Paul and Patience coax their grandma for a story, the most wonderful one that she can tell them is about the dark birthday of herself and brother Paul.

Thanking God for Failure and Shattered Hopes

“THANK God for failure, shattered hopes, lost aims, And ungained garlands; for He knoweth best. I longed to win for God and for the truth, To spread His kingdom over sea and shore, Struggled—and lost, while others gained their crowns. Baffled and sore, cast out and left behind— ‘They also serve who stand and wait;’ Perchance they also win who seem to fail; God’s eye sees clearer than our earth-dimmed sight.”

Prescription for Attaining the Higher Life

“In these days we hear much about the ‘higher life.’ But the best prescription that we know of for attaining it is to use our knees for prayer, our eyes for watchfulness, our purses for liberal giving, our tongues for confessing Jesus, and both our hands in hard work to do Christ’s will.”

LITTLE WILLIE'S FIRST VISIT.

By S. E. Kiser

I hear no shouting in the hall, No pounding on the floor; He isn't marking on the wall Nor swinging on the door; His battered toys are put away, The cat is deep in dreams— He's been away a week to-day, And, oh, how long it seems!

His books are not strewn on the stairs, His toys are hid from view; His paints are not left on the chairs, The rugs are not askew; He went away a week ago, He's coming home again— To-morrow he'll return, but oh, How can I wait till then? —S. E. Kiser, in Chicago Times-Herald.

CONSECRATION

By S. B. Whitney

S. B. WHITNEY.

Take me, Lord, as wholly thine; May thy light within me shine; O abide with me, I pray! Let me serve thee, day by day.

Take my heart, and may I be New-created, Lord, in thee; Give me flesh, for heart of stone; Let thy will in me be done.

Take my mind, and let it be Dedicated, Lord, to thee, As a temple cleansed from sin, While thy Spirit dwells within.

Take my eyes, and let them see Only that which pleaseth thee; Ready to discern the right, Blind to all but heavenly light.

Take my ears, and let them be Closed to all but truth and thee; Open, always, to thy voice, At its entrance to rejoice.

Take my lips, and let them speak Words of comfort to the weak; Touched by flame of living love, Taken from thy courts above.

Take my hands, and let them be Cleansed from all iniquity; Ready in thy service, Lord, Handling skillfully thy word.

Take my feet, and make them run Swiftly in the race begun; Make them like the youthful roe, In the way of life to go.

Take my life, and let it be Willing sacrifice to thee; Spent below in holy strife, Ending in eternal life.

Take me, Lord, as wholly thine, Let thy graces in me shine; Use me here, then let me rest In the mansions of the blest.

DIVINE PROVIDENCE.

By Mrs. C. A. Haas

MRS. C. A. HAAS.

(Battle Creek, Mich.)

WHEN contemplating the operations of divine providence, we are often confused and entangled because we are looking through a glass darkly. We see the handwriting on the wall, but cannot interpret it.

When the Lord said to Abraham, “Get thee out of thy country, and from thy kindred,” it was all a mystery to him. Why it was necessary for him to be separated from his kindred, and go into a far country, he did not fully comprehend. Paul says, “By faith Abraham, when he was called to go out into a place which he should after receive for an inheritance, obeyed; and he went out, not knowing whither he went.” He was obliged to walk in the shadow; but still he walked, because God commanded. Such was his faith in divine providence that he would go forward, no matter how dark the way might seem.

From his experience, as well as from instruction given in other portions of the Bible, Christians should learn to go where divine providence leads. There is nothing lost in obeying God. We can go anywhere if our Father says, “Go forward.”

A Man's Weak Points

By S. O. James

A MAN'S weak points as pronounced upon by his enemies, may become his surest defense against self-exaltation. S. O. JAMES.

OUR OWN.

By Florence K. Harper

BY THE LATE FLORENCE K. HARPER.

“We have cheerful words for the stranger, And smiles for the sometime guest; But oft for our own the bitter tone, Though we love our own the best.”

I read the preceding lines many years ago, but have not been able to forget them. They have come to my mind over and over again; but only recently have they made any decided impression upon me. I have not in the past been as faithful, as patient, and as kind to “my own,” as I should have been. But lately I have been seeking to gain the victory over every wrong word and action, and have been gaining victories, too.

It is in the home circle that many of us live most of our life; and if we live up to the privileges and blessings that are offered in true home life, it is here that we shall find the most happiness and sweetness that can be obtained on earth. Satan has sought in many ways to bring his blight upon the home, and in no way has he succeeded better than in the manner suggested by these lines. We little realize the importance of our words, and even of the tones of our voice, or how much weight and influence attend them. It is only when we exercise the same courtesy, gentleness, politeness, and sweetness toward the different members of the home circle that we would toward our friends and acquaintances, that we see the beautiful effects of true courtesy. I wish I could express my thoughts in language plain enough to show the results as I have seen them. They remind me of the opening of beautiful, fragrant flowers.

Kind, gentle, tender words, bright smiles, and loving, courteous attentions to the aged in our homes, lift them above their infirmities, and banish the feelings of sadness that so often attend their declining years, giving them a brightness and dignity which will follow them even to life's close. We should not grow beyond our aged loved ones, but should encourage them to be interested in, and to help with, our plans and purposes of life; while we in turn should be interested in what interests them, so that, as their sunset draws on, they may be useful, and consequently happy to the last. We who are younger will find their long experience of value to us.

Let us notice the effect of smiling attention and real interest in the affairs of the little ones. The politeness and courtesy we learn to exercise toward them will be copied by them; there is no better way to teach the children than by example. And if there is a rough, uncouth, boisterous, unruly boy (or girl, sometimes) in the home, there is no better way to effect a change in him than by being ourselves toward him and before him what we wish him to be. We shall be surprised to see the effect of a bright, sweet, courteous manner toward such.

These are just a few suggestions as to the effect of courtesy, tenderness, gentleness, and other graces in the home,—graces which we usually offer to friends, acquaintances, and often to mere strangers. We shall see beautiful results as we extend true courtesy toward other members of the family, to father, or mother, or husband, or wife, as the case may be. We may be alone, at first, but we do not know the power and influence that attend rightly directed efforts.

The Spirit of Christ is one of gentleness, courtesy, refinement, politeness, tenderness, and love. This is the atmosphere that pervades heaven, and we are bringing heaven itself into our homes when we bring what may seem at first but a small current of this atmosphere into them. It will eventually fill our home, crowding out all bitterness, fault-finding, coarseness, and unkindness.

The Smile That Comes Through Tears

“It is easy enough to be pleasant When life flows along like a song; But the man worth while is the man who will smile When everything goes wrong.”

“For the test of the heart is trouble, And it always comes with the years, And the smile which is worth the praise of the earth Is the smile that comes through tears.”

BIBLE READINGS WITH FAMILIES.

By Mrs. S. N. Haskell

The Giving of the Law.

MRS. S. N. HASKELL.

I. WHAT was the greatest event during the first twenty-six hundred years of this world's history? Deut. 4:32, 33, 36.

2. How many witnessed the scene? Vs. 10, 11.

Counting women, children, and old persons, there must have been about three millions of people. Num. 1:45-47; Ex. 12:38.

3. What preparation was made? Ex. 19:10-14.

4. What took place on the morning of the third day? V. 16.

5. How did Mt. Sinai appear? V. 18; 24:16, 17.

6. Who came down upon the mount? Ex. 19:20; Ps. 68:17; Acts 7:37, 38.

7. How was the whole earth affected? Ex. 19:18; Ps. 68:8; Heb. 12:26.

8. What did the people hear? Deut. 4:12.

9. What was spoken by the Lord? V. 13.

10. Did the people hear the Lord speak any other words than the Ten Commandments? Deut. 5:22.

II. Is this a subject that should especially be taught to the children as well as to adults? Deut. 4:9, 10.

12. What was Moses commanded to do? Ex. 24:12.

13. What did he receive? Ex. 31:18.

14. How was the law written? Id.

15. Could it be erased?—No; it was graven. Ex: 32:16.

16. Who made the tables? Id.

17. What happened to these tables? V. 19.

18. Who made the second tables? Deut. 10:1.

19. Who wrote on the second tables? Vs. 1-4.

20. What was written on them? V. 4.

21. Where were the tables placed? V. 1, 5.

22. Where was the ark kept? Heb. 9:3, 4.

23. Who communed with the children of Israel from above the mercy seat, or lid of the ark? Lev. 16:2; Ex. 25:22.

The ark, on account of the law, was regarded as the most sacred object in the sanctuary. None except those appointed by God were to touch it. Num. 4:5, 15.

Study these texts until the scenes of that day are vividly impressed upon your own mind, then, with the Lord's help, give the reading to your neighbors.

Do not introduce the Sabbath question into the reading; but try, by God's help, to impress their minds with the sacredness of the whole law, which will be a good foundation for further study.

THE WAY OF THE CROSS.

all, in King's Messenger.

“He steadfastly set His face to go to Jerusalem.” With the thought of the cross, the heart naturally associates trial, hardship, sorrow, something that hurts, something to be dreaded; and thus we lose sight of its God-intended meaning. Jesus not only “set His face to go to Jerusalem,” so shortly before His death, but His life was one constant “pressing forward” toward it. And why?—To bring a “life more abundant.” Everything that was of the nature of a cross, was only a preparation for a “larger life.” And now the Holy Spirit, who is to “take of the things of Christ, and show them unto us,” leads us step by step in the path trodden by our Lord; for He knows that although these “well-beaten tracks” mark the direct road to sacrifice, they also mark the only way to resurrection, life, and glory.

’Neath the thorns which outward lie, There’s a hidden sweetness; From each sorrow He will bring More of heavenly meetness.

Wouldst thou know the Comforter In that bond the dearest? Ah! the road to Calvary Thou wilt find the nearest.

Fellowship with Christ doth mean Not alone the gladness; “Fellowship in suffering”—aye, Joy e’en in the sadness.

But remember Calvary, With its gloom and sorrow; Just preceded by a span— Resurrection morrow.

First, my heart, Gethsemane, Then to Calvary gladly; For who hath His will laid down Cannot follow sadly.

For “a little while” the cross— Just how long “He knoweth;” And remember “He knows best” How His “love-life” groweth.

WHAT THE LIGHT DID.

By Viola E. Smith

VIOLA E. SMITH.

THE night was dark; thick clouds hid the sky. The city clock struck the midnight hour. Against the row of silent buildings down by the river, a moving figure could be dimly discerned. It was that of a woman, an outcast child of sin. Where was she going, at such an hour, alone? She drew her shawl closer around her shivering form; she neared the river; she stood on its bank. She looked into its depths as many another has done. “O river!” said she, “you are dark and deep. My soul is dark with sin. You are a fit refuge for such as I. Receive me, and hide me from human sight.”

But as she stretched her arms for the fatal leap, the clouds parted. The silvery moonbeams shone upon the water. They became a thousand bright jewels upon its scintillant breast. The woman instinctively shrank back; for she loved darkness rather than light. Was it possible that the leaping, laughing, shimmering tide was the same which a moment before had been black as ink? Her guardian angel was very near just then. Bending over her, he whispered, softly, “If the pale light of the moon can so change the river, what can the white light from the throne of God do for your soul?” A ray had entered it already. She knelt, and uttered her first prayer: “God, be merciful to me a sinner.” And, like the publican of old, she went to her house justified.

The city clock struck one. The river murmured softly as it flowed on to the solemn sea; and the moonbeams danced upon its bosom. They had performed their mission.

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