Review and Herald, Vol. 37, No. 13. (3/14/1871)

Review and Herald

Mar 14, 1871

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Mar 14, 1871

Study of Prophecy.

By Dr. Cumming

“We have also a more sure word of prophecy; whereunto ye do well that ye take heed, as unto a light that shineth in a dark place, until the day dawn, and the day-star arise in your hearts.”—2 Pet. 1.19.

Peter records in his Epistles the scene he witnessed on Tabor. Deep and lasting must have been the impression it made upon his mind. He makes a deduction from the scene witnessed on the mount. On it I intend to ground illustrations of the future, so far as delineated in the sacred volume.

But I feel it necessary to explain the words of Peter. The common reading of the passage is, “until the day-star arise in your hearts.” Such, however, is not the meaning of the apostle—“a day-star” arising in a believer’s heart is not a scriptural idea. The true construction of the passage, and in perfect accordance with the Greek, is this: “Ye do well that ye take heed (as unto a light that shineth in a dark place, until the day dawn, and the day-star arise)”; there we close the parenthesis, and then the words, “in your hearts,” refer back to the words, “take heed.” Therefore the true reading of the words is, “We have also a more sure word of prophecy; whereunto ye do well that ye take heed in your hearts, as unto a light that shineth in a dark place, until the day dawn, and the day-star arise.”

Peter speaks in language which many in this generation certainly do not accept. “We have also a more sure word of prophecy,” and he adds, “Ye do”—ill? No. “Ye do”—wrong? No; but, “Ye do well to take heed.” Too many excellent Christians repudiate every discussion which touches the skirts, or trenches on the merest outlines, of prophetic investigation. Let us show that such an attitude is not scriptural, it is not even rational, and certainly it is not profitable to our souls or conducive to our happiness.

Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel, Daniel, all have written prophecies, some portions of which have been translated into facts, while some of their writings remain still for the future to illustrate, and the historian to record. The last discourse of Jesus to his disciples was a portrait of the things that were to come on the earth. The disciple who loved the most, called the disciple of love, was chosen while an exile on Patmos, to pre-write the events of the future. Before him swept past the apocalyptic visions that are every day being translated into facts. The objection we hear constantly urged, sometimes by Christians, always by the profane, is this: Have there not been so many misinterpretations, mistakes, and miscalculations, that we are compelled to shrink from all effort to explain those predictions that relate to the future, until the future is lost in the present, and the predictions are known to be true by our seeing their fulfilment? What, I ask, would be the use of such a theory? When the whole earth shall be covered with the glory of Tabor, we shall not need evidence that God is God, or that the New Testament is true. We shall then read its magnificent pages in the original splendour in which they were once written, and we shall have the evidence of our senses that all God ever revealed is true. But the misinterpretations of the past ought not to be dissuasives from our attempting what we can prove to be a clear and an obvious duty. In the laying of the Atlantic telegraph, the failures of the past serve to stimulate better efforts for the future, as well as contain the elements of future success. Failures are not losses. Every buoy we see floating in the Channel over sandbank or shipwreck makes past disaster the ground of future safety. The wrecks of the past make the voyages of the present only more certain, and less liable to peril. But if the misinterpretation of predictions be a valid reason for not attempting to understand them, will not such objection strike much further? The Bible has been misinterpreted; are we therefore to put a padlock upon it? The words of God have been perverted; are we therefore never to read them? Christianity has been turned into dark and overshadowing superstition; is Christianity therefore to be abjured, and its sublime hopes and prospects to be put in abeyance? The abuse of a thing is no valid argument against its use. The mistakes of the past ought to be reasons for greater care, more ardent prayer, but not for neglect of the subject altogether.

It has been urged that the difficulties are so many that they are insuperable. We deny it. Of course the Bible does not make us prophets. The interpreters of prophecy do not assume to be so. We are interpreters of what God has written, not prophets of what God has not written. The books of Isaiah, Daniel, Revelation—the predictions scattered through the Epistles—are part and parcel of the inspired word. What is a book written for? To be read. And what is the object of reading? To understand. Is it likely that God Almighty would give us a book that we are not to read, or if we read it that it will be impossible for us to understand? Let us refer to the most difficult and mysterious book in the New Testament—the Apocalypse, how does it open? Does it say, Don’t cross the threshold; don’t venture to read this book, for you will never be able to understand it; cease reading the New Testament at the end of the Epistle of Jude, and leave the book of the Revelation for perusal after its visions have hardened into history? No such preliminary warning is given. On the contrary, it opens saying, “Blessed is he that readeth,” not unfortunate, or mistaken, or fanatical is he that readeth; but, “Blessed is he that readeth, and they that hear the words of this prophecy, and keep those things which are written therein.” That there may be no mistake about the possibility of understanding this book, it is further called, “The Revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave unto him, to show unto his servants things which must shortly come to pass; and he sent and signified it by his angel unto his servant John.” Peter says, “We have a sure word of prophecy,” as sure as a prediction as facts in history are real. And he says, “Ye do,” not ill, but “ye do well to take heed unto it, as unto”—what? A meteor in the swamp, that misleads? a Will-o’-the-wisp, that will drive you or draw you you know not whither? No, but as unto “a LIGHT that shineth in a dark place;” and you are to take heed to it, until the bright and morning star appear upon the brow of night, and the Sun of Righteousness, that set amidst the clouds of Calvary, rise amidst the splendours of everlasting day, with healing under his wings.

The Saviour’s longest discourse was the sermon on the mount of beatitudes, and his next longest sermon was that which he pronounced upon the mount overlooking Jerusalem, when he predicted distress of nations, perplexity, the fall of Jerusalem, the dispersion of the Jews, and all the lights and shadows of that futurity into which we have long ago entered. It is in the course of this prophecy that the disciples said to him, What shall be the sign of thy personal advent; the sign of thy coming, and of the end of the world? What did the Saviour answer? Did he rebuke them? Did he say, You have no business with such subjects? Did he say, Go, and practise righteousness, and charity, and love, and truth, but crush all desire to know aught of futurity? Certainly not; he at once proceeded, in a chapter as sublime as it is rich in comfort and thought, to tell them what signs should precede his advent, what circumstances should usher it in, what shadows and clouds should lie broad, cold, and dark, upon the bosom of the earth, until the brightness of his advent came to strike them through with glory. “There shall,” he said, “be signs in the sun, and in the moon, and in the stars, and upon the earth distress of nations, with perplexity, the sea and the waves roaring; men’s hearts failing them for fear of the things that are coming on the earth. And then”—when? just when you see these things—“then shall appear the sign of the Son of Man in heaven; and then shall all the tribes of the earth mourn, and they shall see the Son of Man coming in the clouds of heaven with power and great glory.” Let us not try to be wiser than the Master; read these words, and see if they only are the fanatics who try to understand them; or whether there be not some ground for suspicion that they are the fools that cast ridicule and discredit on them.

The Saviour has assured his people that he will come again. He has not left us finally; we are in an interim condition, between the Christ that was crucified 1835 years ago, and the Christ that will come in the glory of his Father and with his holy angels. All Christians that repeat the apostles’ creed believe that Jesus will come personally to our world—that he who breathed our atmosphere before, shall breathe it again—that he who raised the dead in Palestine shall raise the dead throughout the whole globe—that he who calmed the tempestuous ocean will stretch his priestly hand over all creation, and there shall be an everlasting and unbroken calm. He will come, in the language of the angel sent to tell the sorrowing disciples upon Olivet, when they mourned his departure from them: “This same Jesus, which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come—so come—in like manner as ye have seen him go into heaven.” Can words be plainer? He rose in the air, the cloud his chariot, the shechinah his glory, and he disappeared; the cloud will be his chariot again, and he will come, in his own language, “in the clouds of heaven, with power and great glory;” or, as the apostle says, “behold, he cometh with clouds, and every eye shall see him.” “The Lord himself shall descend from heaven”—the Lord himself shall descend from heaven. These are weighty words; we don’t appreciate them as we ought. We think too much of death, too little of Him who is the Lord of life and the destroyer of death. We have nothing to do with death but to ignore it; we have everything to do with the Lord of the living, the destroyer of death, and to look for him, worship and adore him.

And certainly in recent times this subject has been investigated by pious, learned, and studious minds, to an extent and with a success with which it never was investigated before. The Evangelical party in the Church of England generally concur in the duty of studying the sure word of prophecy. Growing numbers in other churches agree with them. But if none accepted the study it would be no matter, except a source of sorrow. We are to call no man “Master;” for our rule of belief is not what the most men say, or the best men think, or the fathers have written, or popes have fulminated, but to the law and to the testimony; what say the Scriptures? If they speak not according to them, it is because there is no truth in them.

Let this great truth sink deep into our hearts, that He who came personally to die, will come personally to reign. It is no dispute as to the meaning of the second advent; if language has any sense, if grammar is capable of construction, it must be accepted as a literal and a personal advent. How will that sublime scene, it may be very near, startle a world that has no thought of it, and no care about it. A glory in comparison with which Tabor’s light was dimness will flash into every eye, for “every eye shall see Him,” and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see—some, departing like a vision forever; others, embracing it with joy unutterable and full of glory, the salvation of our God. But whatever be the contrasting effects, his coming draweth near.—Dr. Cumming.

Give God His Day.

The following is good advice relative to the Sabbath. Mr. Ryle wrote it for Sunday. We adapt it to the truth by changing that word wherever it occurs to Sabbath.

Reader, do not be a robber. He that steals, breaks God's eighth commandment. Above all, do not rob God. The Sabbath is God's property. Give God his day.

I entreat you, for your soul's sake, not to profane the Sabbath, but to keep it holy. Do not buy and sell, or idle your time on the Sabbath. Let not the example of all around you, let not the invitation of companions, let none of these things, move you to depart from this settled rule, that God's day shall be given to God.

The Sabbath is one of the greatest blessings which God has given to man. Do not make a bad use of this blessing. He that cannot give God his Sabbath is unfit for Heaven. Heaven is an eternal Sabbath. Oh! while you live, give God his day.

Once give over caring for the Sabbath, and in the end you will give over caring for your soul. The steps which lead to this conclusion are easy and regular. Begin with not honoring God's day, and you will soon not honor God's house; cease to honor God's house, and you will soon cease to honor God's book; cease to honor God's book, and by-and-by you will give God no honor at all.

Let a man lay the foundation of having no Sabbath, and I am never surprised if he finishes with the topstone of no God. It is a remarkable saying of Judge Hale, “Of all the persons who were convicted of capital crimes while he was upon the bench, he found only a few who would not confess, on inquiry, that they began their career of wickedness by a neglect of the Sabbath.”

Reader, resolve, by God's help, that you will always remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy. Honor it by regular attendance at some place where the gospel is preached. Settle down under a faithful ministry, and once settled, let your place in church never be empty. GIVE GOD HIS DAY.—J. C. Ryle.

A Verbal Exposition.

By Christian Secretary

“IF we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”—1 John 1:9.

1. “IF”—a small word: only two letters, but of great local value. A little word, like a small key, may shut up or open great wealth. If, in the construction of language, holds an important place. A man says, If I had done so and so. Yes, indeed—as the representation of neglected opportunities, if is a fatal word. If may have a fearful significance to some by-and-by. Here it is gracious. It is the hinge of salvation. Oh! may it open to us the gates of Paradise.

2. “WE.” John includes himself. He means Christians. Have they sins? Yes. “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves.” What then means this passage, “He that is born of God sinneth not, for his seed remaineth in him, and he cannot sin because he is born of God”? I answer, It means that the new man is created in righteousness and true holiness. “That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit.” “The flesh lusteth,” &c. The new nature, “the seed,” that which is “created in righteousness and true holiness,” never sins. You put a good germ into the natural stock, and the fruit will be good; it may vary in quantity according to culture and position; but its quality or flavor will always be good. The old stock, below the graft, will yield bad fruit, sour, worthless. So Paul says that the old nature “is corrupt according to the deceitful lusts;” always corrupt. “I see a law in my members warring against the law of my mind”—renewed mind. A Christian may sin through ignorance, or frailty, or the force of some sudden temptation. “But though we are in the flesh, we do not war after the flesh.” Sin is no longer the regnant law of the soul. It is not only against conscience, but against the prevailing relishments of the heart. “Oh! wretched man that I am; who shall deliver me from the body of this death?”

“I sigh from this burden of sin to be free, That hinders my joy and communion with thee.”

3. “CONFESS”—acknowledge. What does confession imply? Sin seen, in its nature and guilt. Sin felt, a condemnation and burden. Sin renounced, as wrong and evil. “Let the wicked forsake his way.” Confession must be sincere and unreserved.

4. “OUR.” A word of possession. In certain relations, a word of great worth and preciousness. Luther says the possessive pronouns in the covenant of grace are of infinite value: “my God,” “our Saviour,” “our hope,” “our salvation,” “our glory.” Who can estimate the evangelical wealth of this word? Bengel, one of the richest commentators, makes great use of these little words and the grammatical constructions of the New Testament.

5. “SINS.” Ah, this is sad—our sins. What a possession of sorrow and guilt and shame! What an inheritance of remorse and woe! Observe—Our sins; not the sins of the world; not the sins of the church; not the sins of our neighbors; not the sins of our enemies; but our sins—of commission; of omission; their number; aggravation.

6. “FAITHFUL AND JUST.” That is God! This is marvelous. This fidelity and justice assure us of pardon. Under law, they would demand our punishment; but under grace, our salvation. God can now be “just, and the justifier of him that believeth in Jesus.” Here mercy and truth meet together, &c. This is the glory of the gospel. “It is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.” “It is God that justifieth, who is he that condemneth?” “Faithful

and just!” Oh, the wonders of grace!

7. “TO FORGIVE;” cancel—“blot out,” as you draw a pen across a book account, and write on the face, “Settled;” or seal down the page, and write thereon, “Covered,” “never to be opened.” “Having blotted out the hand-writing that was against us—taking it out of the way—nailing it to his cross.” “Having forgiven us all trespasses.” Verily, “Who is a God like unto thee, that pardoneth iniquity?” Neither the law nor conscience know anything of forgiveness—“but God is rich in mercy.” “The Son of Man hath power on earth to forgive sin.” Think of the cost, the fullness, freeness, unchangeableness; and completeness, of the gospel. Blessed, indeed, is the man whose transgression is covered and whose iniquity is hid.

8. “TO CLEANSE us from all unrighteousness.” The stream deepens! The waters here are “a river in which a man may swim,” and where we are constrained to exclaim, “Oh! the depth, both of the wisdom and knowledge of God.” Justified and washed. Christ is “made unto us wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption.” “Being confident of this, that He who has begun a good work in you, will carry it on to the day of Christ.” Amen!

“How firm a foundation ye saints of the Lord; Is laid for your faith in his excellent word.”

Sinner, this is the way of salvation. Say,

“Just as I am, without one plea, Save that thy blood was shed for me, And that thou bidst me come to thee, O Lamb of God, I come, I come.”

—Christian Secretary.

LOOKING FOR CHRIST.

By Allie A. Santee

“For yet a little while, and He that shall come will come, and will not tarry.” Heb. 10:37.

Ages have passed since Christ to Heaven ascending, Stood for a time on Olives’ rugged height, His blessing poured on his tried ones attending, Then in the azure heavens he passed from sight.

Sad eyes gazed long toward their departing treasure; Hearts there were filled with longing and with pain; When lo! two angels sang in joyful measure, Jesus the Christ your Lord shall come again.

Slowly along have passed the weary ages; But glory to the Lord! the end is near; For soon we learn from the inspired pages, Our great Messiah will in clouds appear.

A little while, O faint and sorely wounded, Only a little while, and toil shall cease; Then shall you be by angels bright surrounded In that bright home of love, and joy, and peace.

Only a little while shall pale lips quiver, And eyes grow heavy with their weight of tears; Soon shall ye bathe within life’s flowing river, And dwell in peace through God’s unchanging years.

Then lay aside your weary weight of sadness, Bring to your careworn features hope’s glad smile; Wear on your upturned faces looks of gladness, Jesus is coming in a little while.

ALLIE A. SANTEE. Dixon, Missouri.

The Joy of Saving the Lost.

By Cutler

In Mr. George Kennan’s fascinating “Tent-Life in Siberia,” is a very thrilling account of a search made by the author for a party of his lost countrymen on the Anadyr River. After a journey by dog-sledge for two hundred miles over drifted snow, they reach the spot where they conjecture the missing Americans to be buried away under the snow. Mr. Kennan and his companion are well nigh perishing themselves from a cold which has sunk the mercury to fifty degrees below zero! The feet of their poor dogs spot the white snow with blood at every step. One of the two brave explorers has already sunk exhausted on his sledge, and is fast falling into the sleep of death. Suddenly, at midnight, Mr. Kennan hears a faint, long-drawn halloo across the wintry waste. It comes from one of his “Chookchees,” who has gone on in advance. He hurries to the spot, all the blood in his veins throbbing at his heart. As he comes up, he discovers the Chookchee standing by a small black pipe projecting from a snowbank. The lost wanderers must be under it. “Thank God! thank God! I repeated to myself softly,” says the heroic writer; “and, as I climbed upon the snow-drift, and shouted down the pipe, ‘Halloo the house!’ I heard a startled voice under my feet reply, ‘Who’s there?’ As I entered the snow cellar, and seized hold of my long-lost friends, my over-strained nerves gave way, and in ten minutes I could hardly raise my hand to my lips.”

Reading the above thrilling scene in my friend Kennan’s book, I found the tears stealing down my own cheeks in sympathy with the brave fellows who had periled their lives in order to rescue their lost friends from death by cold and starvation. After concluding the narrative, which had almost the sweet “lineament of a gospel-book,” I opened my Bible, and read this parable which Jesus spake:

“What man of you, having a hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it? And when he hath found it, he layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing.”

With this vivid scene of the Siberian search fresh in my mind, I read this exquisite parable with a new delight. I seemed to see our divine Shepherd starting off after the lost sheep. He knows the thickets or the quagmires into which the silly truant must have strayed. He may hear its bleatings afar off. He goes until he finds it. He does not beat it for straggling; but, pulling it out of the mire, or drawing it from the tangled thicket, he layeth it on his shoulders—the clean carrying the unclean, the holy carrying the unholy. Beautiful picture of Jesus, the sin-bearer! Every saved soul has been upon Christ’s shoulders. When he “bare our sins,” and “carried our sorrows,” then was the befouled yet precious load upon Jesus’ shoulder. Yes, and he bids us “cast our cares” upon him too! The whole load he takes up joyfully.

Say what we may about free agency, or about the activity of the soul in regeneration, it is equally true that not a solitary sheep would ever have entered the fold of God if the divine Shepherd had not come to seek and to save the lost. He came after each one. For Jesus “tasted death for every man”—for the individual, and not for the vague mass of undistinguishable humanity. That “one sheep” was lost was enough to start the loving Shepherd on his search. What an argument is this to labor for the conversion of one soul!

It has often been made a cavil by students of astronomy that, if this globe of ours is only a mere speck in the starry universe, amid millions of starry planets, why should the Son of God single out this diminutive globe as the theater of his incarnation and sufferings? Why did he stoop to such a little world as ours? In reply to this cavil, Dr. Chalmers prepared and preached his magnificent “Astronomical Discourses.” But we think that this exquisite parable throws a hint of suggestive light on this problem. For, though we do not know that our Saviour ever went on an errand of redemption to any other planet, we do know that he came to this one of ours. We do not know that he went to stupendous Jupiter, or to belted Saturn, or to far-away Neptune.

He did not go, perhaps, to the planet that was biggest in size, but to the one that was basest in sin. He came not “to the largest world, but to the lost world!” Ah! he may have left the “ninety and nine” glorious and gigantic orbs which never wandered, and sought out the single one in which lay a race of sinners lost in misery and guilt!

There is one stroke in the parable which we must not lose sight of. It is that which depicts the exquisite joy of the Redeemer. When the Shepherd “findeth the sheep, he layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing.” He is glad for the sake of the restored sheep; but still more for his own. It was for “the joy set before him that he endured the cross and despised the shame.” Into that sublime joy how many elements may enter! There must have been in my Saviour’s heart a holy ecstasy of love which pleased itself in doing good—in saving me when lost—in enduring suffering and sacrifice for my salvation. This sublime love of the Sin-bearer makes even the crown of thorns to flash as a diadem of splendors on the Redeemer’s bleeding brow. Here was the divine luxury of doing good.

It is a sweet thought too that Jesus would have missed me if I had never been sought and brought back. As the shepherd in the story left the ninety and nine to hunt for a single straggler, so I may gladly hope that Jesus wanted me in Heaven, or else he would not have come so far or endured so much to save me. If I were left without him, there would have been one more soul in hell. But if he were left without me, there would be one soul the less to sing his praise in Heaven. He would have had one the less to present before his Father “with exceeding joy.”

For observe that the sweet parable says nothing about the delight of the sheep in being found; it only depicts the exceeding joy of the shepherd in finding the wanderer. He calls his neighbors together to share his gladness. “Likewise there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth.” The common and inaccurate rendering of this text confines the joy to the angels only; as if it read, “among the angels.” Just as well say that the “neighbors” felt the thrill of gladness over the recovered sheep, and not the shepherd himself.

The transcendent joy in Heaven over a saved soul is not confined to the angel bands. It is only witnessed by them and partially shared by them. It is “in their presence” that the celestial rapture breaks forth. But the supreme joy is in the bosom of the enthroned Redeemer. His was the sorrow, when he was “exceeding sorrowful, even unto death.” His is the joy when he presents even one repentant sinner “before the presence of his glory.” He sees of the travail of his soul, and is satisfied.

O beloved Saviour! When we behold thee on thy throne, the Shepherd amid his ransomed flock; thy victories complete; the last wandering sheep brought home; the last recovered jewel glittering in thy crown; then we will confess that the triumph was worthy of the toil, and the ransom of thy glorified church was worthy of all the bitter agonies of him who came to seek and to save the lost! “Worthy is the LAMB that was slain, to receive riches and strength and honor and glory and blessing forever and ever!”—CUTLER, in Independent.

The Bible in England.

The readiest way for a mediocre man to gain notoriety is, as we all know, for him to proclaim himself infidel and attack the Bible. His blows may be as feeble as a hen’s pecking; but they are sure to attract notice because of the holy and tender regard in which the object that he assails is held by the noblest part of our race. We are always sorry, however, when a man of natural ability is driven to such straits as these to produce a sensation and draw notice to himself; and were especially sorry to find so much of this blue-light stage-thunder in the book just issued by Mr. Conway in England, in which he professes to give a resume of this philosophy or religion which life has taught him.

Mr. Conway is an American, and known to many of us as a clever contributor to some of the magazines, and a well-meaning man, whose anxiety for bold expression, however, very much outruns his thought or judgment. It has noticeably done so in this instance. He informs us that in his teens he had made Christian’s journey from the City of Destruction to Zion, and reached the feet of Christ. He found (which will, to all other Christians, appear a remarkable experience) that he had nothing further to do but to praise him in words and call himself a miserable sinner; but, learning that better work was done in the City of Destruction, he set out on the back track. Of course there can be nothing new in the ideas he advances; the jeers at Christianity are the old and well-worn campaigners with which we are all familiar; but we confess ourselves surprised at the want of policy and taste in their manner. Writing for earnest men, Mr. Conway should have known that an earnest doubter, to command attention, would not turn to the gravest subject which the human soul can approach with the quips and cheap ribaldry of a clown. “The myths of the New Testament,” he tells us, “are but a rehash of the Old and those of Greece; and Jesus wears the old clothes which have served Moses and Zoroaster in their turn.”

It is over the children who are permitted to read the Bible that he lifts up his voice in shrillest lamentation. “They are no more capable of comprehending what is pure in its pages than they are Kant’s metaphysics, while they learn from its scandals which are without a name. Millions of childish hearts and minds first soiled by contact with these obscene pages are offered each year as a holocaust,” etc. Mr. Conway has been unfortunate in his childish reminiscences. The boy or girl who would dig among Levitical laws for obscure uncleanness, must have an exceptionally keen scent for nastiness.

There is an effort, however, of more weight making in England to restrict the use of the Old Testament as a common school-book; the argument urged by Catholics (apart from sectarian differences) being that the Jewish patriarchs, addicted, as they were, to cheating, murder, and concubinage, are hardly the proper models upon which to mold the youthful English minds. There would be some force in this if any English boy is really dull enough to suppose that David or Jacob is offered as an example for his wholesale imitation, which we are loth to suppose is the case. It is not probable that any part of the Bible will be withdrawn from use in England. Intelligent Christians are keen enough to see that the doctrinal portions of the Scriptures are singularly adapted by divine inspiration, both in their form and wording, to the minds of children. The textbooks of every other religion are accumulations of recondite maxims meant for the research of adults; but the parables and words of Jesus linger with the homely simplicity of an old friend in the child’s mind until his eyes are opened, as age and knowledge come to him, and he finds that he has entertained a god unawares. Neither will the merely historical books, we think, ever give place in English education, as is suggested, to Shakespeare or Milton. It is quite true that the ways of God with men could be as plainly taught in the history of any nation as in that of the Jews; but it is equally true that they are not so taught in any book or by any nation. The Hebrews, avaricious and stiff-necked though they were, had always an overwhelming sense of the divine presence, equaled only by that of the Scotch Covenanter. They wrote down unflinchingly David a murderer, and Solomon an adulterer, thereby to show more clearly the avenging Justice that pursued them. There is no history, and probably never will be one, where God and man are brought face to face with such inexorable fidelity to fact in the narrative, such dramatic force of description, or expression so lofty and pure. It will be long before the English will give up the dullest books in the Hebraic history as a wholesome and pure regimen for their children.—N. Y. Tribune.

The End of the War.

THE long, the terrible, war in Europe, it seems, is over; for while our paper is going to press, the preliminaries of peace have been signed by the French Commissioners. What its issue, as well as what the chief conditions of peace, would be, has long been anticipated; and in this respect no one is taken by surprise as in 1866, when a reconstruction of Germany on an entirely unexpected and by no means popular basis, was announced by the Prussian Government as the chief result of the brilliant war.

The sufferings of the French people in this war have been terrible; and every philanthropist will be glad to learn that so strenuous efforts are now being made all over the world to relieve them. But still more terrible than its sufferings must be the mortification of the nation which has long been the vainest in Europe, at the course which the war has taken and the results which now follow it. The largest cession of territory which France has had to make for centuries—of territory, moreover, which, since its annexation to France, has been the pet of all the administrations; the entrance of the victors into the capital, in utter disregard of all the threats and whinings of the Parisians up to the last moment; and the payment of an indemnity equal to about one-half of our enormous debt—conditions like these will always count, in the history of France, among the greatest calamities that have befallen her.

We waive the question whether the victors might not have acted more magnanimously in offering easier terms, and more wisely in concluding a peace less revolting to the feelings of a great nation; but we are satisfied that every historian who lays any claim to impartiality will proclaim the German terms moderate and lenient in comparison with those which the French, under Louis XIV. and Napoleon I., imposed upon Germany. No one can doubt that if Germany had been humbled as France is now, her war indemnity would not have been less. Berlin would no more have been spared seeing the triumphal march of the French under Napoleon III., than it was under Napoleon I., and the territory demanded from Germany would have considerably exceeded that which is now lost by France. The fate of France has been something terrible; but who will say that it was undeserved?—The Methodist.

The Price of Drinking

It is indeed a low price that is placed upon body and soul, when all relating to the welfare of both is imperiled by the drinking habits which are formed in occasional and moderate drinking. Those whose temporal and eternal hopes are thus destroyed are certainly too cheaply sold.

Religion of Circumstances.

THERE was a period, while the Reformation was being established, during which the English nation changed their religion to accommodate the preferences of the reigning monarch. Under Edward, priests, bishops, and people, were Protestants; under Mary, papists; under Elizabeth, Protestants; and under Henry VIII., papists, with the king for a pope. Such was the facility with which they adapted their religion to their circumstances, that a careful observer remarked “that the English would turn Turks if the king told them to.”

The same accommodating spirit still prevails largely among professing Christians. They are reflectors, and not lights. They shine only as they are shone upon. They echo the sounds that fall upon them. They are the creatures of circumstances. It was with reference to this class that the Saviour said, Have salt in yourselves.

Saving grace comes from God alone. It is always the same in its nature, and in its effects.

It gives victory under temptation. Many are strong in virtue until they are thoroughly tested. They condemn others who do better than they themselves would in a similar position. But he who has the real grace of God in his heart, maintains his integrity when everything is favorable to his yielding to the solicitations of the enemy of his soul. Many, who at home have maintained a character of strict honesty, have, in Congress or in the Legislature, yielded to the tempting bribe, and sold their votes for filthy lucre. The true child of God is honest, whether honesty is the best policy or not. He is governed by principle, and not by self-interest.

Many were plain when they were poor. They professed that it was because the word of God required it. But it is evident that they made a virtue of necessity. In reality, pride was at the bottom of their plainness. Just as soon as their circumstances warranted it, they went into pride and fashion as deeply as their neighbors. Their apparel is now as costly as that of sensible people in their own condition of life, who make no profession of religion. They believed in plain churches and free seats, in their low estate; but as soon as they are able to vie with other denominations in splendor, they build as magnificent houses of worship as their means will allow.

Some twenty years ago, in Western New York, one of the leading preachers—a presiding elder—made an issue in his Conference against secret societies. He professed to believe that they were infidel in their character and pernicious in their influence. He opened the controversy which resulted in the expulsion of several preachers, and of many church members, who had stood by him. When the crisis came, he was transferred to the Pacific coast. Becoming a candidate for an office in the gift of the General Conference, he joined the Masons! As water conforms to the shape of the vessel which contains it, so the principles of many who profess to be Christians, are controlled by their surroundings.

Beloved, is this the case with you? Are you floating along as the current carries you? Are you controlled in your religious associations and principles by the influences to which you are subject? If so, you have no more right to expect to go to Heaven than has a Mohammedan or a heathen!

In Christ is life; and if we belong to him, he makes us partakers of his life. We control circumstances, instead of being controlled by them. The elements that make a dead tree decay, cause a live one to grow. So, if we are true Christians, with our lives hid with Christ in God, the temptations and the trials which result in the complete overthrow of false professors, will only establish us more firmly in our faith.

LET EVERY MAN PROVE HIS OWN WORK; THEN SHALL HE HAVE REJOICING IN HIMSELF ALONE, AND NOT IN ANOTHER.

Holiness and Humility.

JONATHAN EDWARDS describes a Christian as being like “such a little flower as we see in the spring of the year, low and humble on the ground, opening its bosom to receive the pleasant beams of the sun’s glory; rejoicing, as it were, in a calm repose; diffusing around a sweet fragrance; standing peacefully and lowly in the midst of other flowers.” Humility is indeed one of the loveliest graces which adorn the Christian character, and between it and holiness there is an intimate connection. The nearer a Christian gets to God, the more profoundly is he impressed with his infinite purity, majesty, and glory, and the more impure, insignificant, and worthless, does he appear in his own eyes by reason of the marked contrast. We observe this in the case of the pious patriarch in the land of Uz, who, when the voice of the Lord came to him out of the whirlwind, exclaimed, “I abhor myself, and repent in dust and ashes.” So when the “still, small voice” of Jehovah reached the prophet Elijah in the cave on Horeb, he “wrapped his blushing face in his mantle.”

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