“WE” is a very convenient pronoun. It is used by kings, emperors, editors, preachers, and backsliders, as a pronoun of the first person.
“We do not any of us do as we ought.”
“We are all unfaithful.”
“We do not any of us accomplish as much as we might.”
Why is it that it is so much easier for a man to confess the sins of the whole church than to confess his own?
Why is it that men say “I” when they tell of good things done, and “we” when they speak of backsliding, unfaithfulness, and sin?
Men say, “We all love the world too well,” but will they own that they are sinful in this respect? Why is it so much easier to say, “We are sinners,” than it is to say, “I am a sinner”?
Why is it so much easier to say, “We love the world and ought to repent,” than it is to say, “I love the world, I need salvation”?
Suppose we say “we” when we speak of doing good things, and I when we confess our sins, and faults, and follies.
Many a woman will confess all the sins in the neighborhood except her own. Many a man will tell of all the faults in the church members but his own. Persons tell their own righteousness and their neighbor’s sins.
Suppose we reverse this order, and tell of our own sins, and of other persons’ righteousness. Tell our own faults, and leave our excellence to others. “Let another praise thee, and not thine own mouth.” “Confess your faults one to another, and pray one for another, that ye may be healed.”
God help us to be honest and Christlike. Amen.—Sel.
Power of the Truth.
By Editor
“TRUTH is mighty, and must prevail.” By this it is not meant that all who hear the truth will yield to its claims, but that there is power in it to overcome the prejudices of early education, when the heart is willing to obey. Paul says, “The weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty through God to the pulling down of strongholds; casting down imaginations, and every high thing that exalteth itself against the knowledge of God, and bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ.” 2 Cor. 10:4, 5. The only weapon of aggressive warfare mentioned in Paul’s description of the Christian’s armor, is “the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.” It is the truth that sets at liberty those who know it. John 8:32. But in order to know the truth, it is necessary to be willing to do the will of the Author of truth.
As showing the convincing power of the truth simply stated, we quote an extract from a letter placed in our hands by a friend. The writer, a devoted Christian lady, had received from this friend a few copies of the SIGNS OF THE TIMES. How the truth commended itself to her, the following paragraph will show:—
“In regard to the Sabbath question: I have never before spent any time thinking about the matter. I accepted Sunday as it came, unquestioningly, like many another. After looking into the subject as much as my limited time will allow, I cannot help the conclusion that you have the balance of reason; I was about to write, nay, I must go further, and admit that you have all the truth on your side. And how our denominations can look with indifference on a divergence that can be retraced, I do not understand. There are many other things I do not understand; many things that are too wonderful for me; but this one question of the Sabbath, the seventh day being the day of especial rest appointed by God, who can doubt it?”
The humble worker in the missionary cause should not become discouraged because success does not seem to crown all his efforts. Truth is powerful, and will accomplish that which the Lord designs, even the sanctifying of all who have humility enough to receive it. “Sow beside all waters,” remembering that “the Lord knoweth them that are his,” and that he will direct the word of truth to the hearts of those who will acknowledge its power.
Sheep and Wolves
By Chrysostom
As long as we are sheep, we shall certainly conquer, though a thousand wolves encompass us; but if we should become wolves ourselves, we should be conquered in an instant, because then the Good Shepherd would withdraw his assistance.”—Chrysostom.
Manly Piety
MANLY piety makes even unbelief its friend. An uneasy, apologetic, compromising Christian is only an object of deserved contempt on the part of those who behold him trying to trim his sails to winds of circumstances.
Abominations.
It is abomination to worship any but the true God, “either the sun, or moon, or any of the host of heaven.” Deut. 17:4.
“There shall not be found among you any one that maketh his son or his daughter to pass through the fire, or that useth divination, or an observer of times, or an enchanter, or a witch, or a charmer, or a consulter with familiar spirits, or a wizard, or a necromancer; for all that do these things are an abomination unto the Lord.” Deut. 18:10-12.
“The woman shall not wear that which pertaineth unto a man, neither shall a man put on a woman’s garment; for all that do so are abomination unto the Lord thy God.” Deut. 22:5.
It is abomination to use divers weights, a great and a small; or divers measures, a great and a small. “But thou shalt have a perfect weight and a perfect measure.” Deut. 25:14-16; Prov. 11:1; 20:10.
“Envy thou not the oppressor, and choose none of his ways; for the froward is abomination to the Lord.” Prov. 3:31, 32; 11:20.
“These six things doth the Lord hate; yea, seven are an abomination unto him: A proud look, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood; a heart that deviseth wicked imaginations, feet that be swift in running to mischief, a false witness that speaketh lies, and he that soweth discord among brethren. Prov. 6:16-19.
“The sacrifice of the wicked is an abomination to the Lord.” Prov. 15:18. Also the thoughts of the wicked. Verse 26.
“Every one that is proud in heart is an abomination to the Lord; though hand join in hand, he shall not be unpunished.” Prov. 16:5.
“He that justifieth the wicked, and he that condemneth the just, even they both are abomination to the Lord.” Prov. 17:15.
“The thought of foolishness is sin, and the scorner is an abomination.” Prov. 24:9.
“He that turneth away his ear from hearing the law, even his prayer shall be abomination.” Prov. 28:9.
“An unjust man is an abomination to the just; and he that is upright in the way is abomination to the wicked.” Prov. 29:27.
“That which is highly esteemed among men is abomination in the sight of God.” Luke 16:15.
Getting Rid of Bad Habits.
I once heard a minister say, “Suppose some cold morning you should go into a neighbor’s house, and find him busy at work on his windows, scratching away, and should ask what he was up to, and he should reply: ‘Why, I am trying to remove the frost; but as fast as I get it off one square, it comes on another;’ would you not say, ‘Why, man, let your windows alone and kindle your fire, and the frost will soon come off.’ And have you not seen people try to break off their bad habits one after another without avail? Well, they are like the man who tried to scratch the frost from his windows. Let the fire of love to God and man, kindled at the altar of prayer, burn in their hearts, and the bad habits will soon melt away.”—Sel.
Music.
RUBENSTEIN has been offered $125,000 for one hundred concerts, while a hundred years ago one of Mozart’s finest compositions hardly brought the price of one of Rubenstein’s tickets. Mozart himself, the great composer, was left to die at the age of thirty-six, in a garret, destitute of life’s barest necessities, and to be buried in a pauper’s grave. An exchange thinks that “an observant reader of the sunny side of life and humanity will find in this increase of the world’s appreciation of music, much to make him believe the world is growing upward into sunnier, gentler heights.”
Be not deceived, my friend. Let not the world be deceived by its abundant melodies and its growing appreciation of music into the thought that it is therefore growing better and more acceptable to God. Babylon was full of “all kinds of music” when God’s judgments overthrew it, and the Apocalyptic Babylon “that great city which reigneth over the kings of the earth,” has a wonderful musical history ascribed to her, in Rev. 18, just as she sinks as a milestone to rise no more.
Solomon’s temple was never in such enjoyment of music as when he “turned his heart” from the Lord, and Jerusalem at its overthrow was not wanting in its musical appreciation. Let history tell us what age, what city, what nation, was ever wanting, either in musical genius or in appreciation of the same, when ripe for divine judgment.
We love music. We thank God for music. It is a blessed relic of Eden. But let not the world think that God will accept its adoration of music as a substitute for the adoration of his Son. Until facts point to the world’s increase of submission to Christ, it need not point to its love of music as a sign of its growing upward. With statistics showing twenty-five per cent. less of lawful marriages than forty years ago, according to the increase of population, and thirty-seven per cent. more of divorces, thirty-five per cent. more of suicides and murders, and a falling off of attendance at religious worship of fifty per cent., the fact that the world is growing more and more merry in the midst of its increasing horrifying crimes, and of its “more ungodliness,” is rather a proof of the growing dulness of its moral sensibilities.
The music that shines into the very soul of man as his heart becomes the “temple of the Holy Ghost” through faith in his adorable Redeemer, such as has voiced itself in Coronation and in Old Hundred, will roll on and on, with ever deepening swell’s and thrilling harmonies, till the eternal ages of the world to come shall gather up all the heaven-born melodies of the past, and the new strains of the “crowning day,” and give the ravished ear of the redeemed an endless feast of seraphic song. When the world gives evidence of growing production of such heavenly strains as redemption wakes, it will then indeed give evidence of “growing upward toward summer heights.” Till then let her glorying cease.—Pacific Missionary Advocate.
Nell's Opportunities.
"A commonplace life, we say, and we sigh;
But why should we sigh as we say?
The commonplace sun in the commonplace sky
Makes up the commonplace day.
The moon and the stars are commonplace things,
And the flower that blooms and the bird that sings;
But dark were the world and sad our lot
If the flowers failed and the sun shone not;
And God, who studies each separate soul,
Out of commonplace lives makes his beautiful whole."
"I wish that we could all do great things; it is so tiresome, I think, just being commonplace, don't you, mamma?" said Nell Weston, laying aside her book with a discontented sigh.
"What do you call 'commonplace,' and what 'great things' would you like to do?"
"Why, I call my life commonplace; it is nothing but doing housework, going to school, and amusing the children. I suppose that is all that it ever will be, only by-and-by I shall stop going to school. But O mamma, I wish I could be something great and good! If I could write a book and have lots of people writing to me, telling me how much it had helped them; or if I could be a great nurse like 'Sister Dora,' just giving my whole life up to doing good! But what is the use of thinking about it? There will never be any such chances for me."
"Nell, will you give me a five-dollar gold piece?"
Nell had been lounging on the sofa, but she suddenly sat upright and looked at her mother in blank astonishment.
"What did you say, mamma?" she asked, wondering if it could be possible that her mother was losing her mind.
"I asked you, please, to give me a five-dollar gold piece," replied Mrs. Weston, with a queer little twinkle in her eyes.
"But I cannot. You know as well as I do that I haven't more than ten cents to my name, and am not likely to have until I am old enough to earn it myself."
"My daughter," said Mrs. Weston earnestly, all traces of merriment gone now, "neither can you give to the world what you have not in your possession. You must acquire it first. Before you could write your book that should ennoble others, you must have noble, helpful thoughts in your heart; you must be noble and true yourself. You cannot lead others beyond yourself. And if you would do some great work of self-sacrifice, you must strive to become self-denying and Christlike habitually, else when the opportunity comes, it will find you as the bridegroom did the foolish virgins, not ready."
"But what if it never come?"
"You would be noble, true, and Christlike all the same. I think, however, that you will find the trouble is not that the opportunity fails to come, but that either we are not prepared, or else we fail to discover it."
"Do I have any? No, of course I have not had; but will I ever, do you suppose?"
"I think that you do have opportunities every day of your life, little daughter."
"Mamma Weston, what can you mean?" asked Nell, with an exclamation point after every word.
"Just what I say, dear. Now there was yesterday's. You half promised to go and sit with Maggie Deane, but when Cora Clarke came for you to go to ride with her, you gave Maggie up and went. Poor Maggie had a long, lonely afternoon, all the harder to bear because she had been anticipating your coming all the week. You had the opportunity and you did not use it."
"It was too bad, I know," said Nell, regretfully; "but then, after all, it was only a little thing."
"But it was too much for you, you see."
Nell was silent for some time. By and by she turned to her mother with the question:—
"Are such little things the same as great things?"
"Certainly, exactly the same in principle. You will find that these lives of self-sacrifice which look so tempting as you read of them, are hard to live. Hannah More says that when we read, we think we could be martyrs, but when we come to act, we cannot bear a provoking word. But every victory gained over self makes us stronger, and as fast as we deserve promotion, he grants it. If you really deserve a post of honor, you must see that you are fitted for it, and be willing to endure the hardships if you would win the glory. And remember, that for all we give up for Christ, we receive an hundredfold back. There is no happiness like that found in giving our whole selves up to Christ. Carlyle speaks truly when he says that with self-renunciation begins life."
Again Nell relapsed into silence. Sometimes she wished that she was a Christian, and then again it looked so hard to be always struggling to be good, so easy and comfortable just to please one's self, that she could not make up her mind. She was halting betwixt two opinions.
"Mamma," she said presently, "I wish people turned good all at once. I am like the old chief who came to Dr. Livingstone, and wanted some medicine to take for his wicked, angry heart. I would not mind one real hard fight; it is the keeping at it all your life that discourages me."
"But it is only to those who endure to the end, who are faithful unto death, that the crown is promised. Isn't that reward worth struggling for, even all the days of your life? O my precious daughter, you are willing to work day after day and year after year for the education you covet so much, why will you not strive to obtain the prize without which all else profiteth nothing?"
Nell nestled back among the pillows and gave herself up to her own meditations and dreams. She liked to read of lives of heroism and noble self-sacrifice. She liked almost, if not quite, as well to dream of herself as such a character, but—oh dear, could she deny herself in a thousand ways every day of her life?
Just then her thoughts and the Sabbath afternoon stillness were broken into by an importunate, childish voice.
"I say, mamma, won't you come down-stairs now? We are tired of 'musing ourselves, and want you to read to us."
It was Teddy's voice, and Margie, of course, was with him, for the two were inseparable. "'Cause we's twinses," Margie said.
Mamma laid down her book. Nell, watching her through her half-closed eyes, saw her give just a wee bit of a sigh. Mamma's chances for quiet thought and her beloved "Imitation" were few and far between.
"Why don't you go down and read to the children, and let your mother rest? She has to work hard all the week," whispered something or somebody very distinctly in Nell's ear.
But she only nestled closer down in the pillows. It was so comfortable here, and she wanted to think; besides, she hated to read to the children—Teddy was sure to ask such awful questions. She had to study hard herself all the week, and she did not want to go.
"Very hard you have to work for a strong, healthy girl!" whispered back the little voice, just as distinctly as though Nell's head was not buried in the pillows. "I thought you hated shams, and were always saying that you would be a thing and not pretend to be. Seems to me you are wanting to seem to be what you are not."
Nell's face colored. Mamma had reached the door by this time. Oh, dear! should she let her go? The door was open now; she must decide one way or the other.
"I'll go down, if you would like to rest. I can make out to 'muse' them I guess."
"Thank you, ever so much, dear. I would like to rest a little longer."
"What you a-comin' for?" asked Teddy in surprise, as Nell walked into the room. "We want mamma, not you."
"But mamma is tired and wants to rest a little. Won't I do just as well?"
"Nobody can do just as well as mamma," replied Teddy decidedly, for he was not particularly troubled with bashfulness or delicacy of feeling.
Nell felt strongly tempted for a minute to give it up, but resisting the temptation, she said pleasantly:—
"Suppose, now that I am here, you try me, and see if I don't do pretty well."
"I 'pose we'll have to; here's the book."
Nell sat down in the big chair by the window; Margie brought her little rocker over beside Nell, while Teddy established himself in front of them. The book, which was one that Teddy had drawn from the Sunday-school library, was the story of a little boy, Bobby by name, whose way as a transgressor was very hard; but who at last, profiting by hard experience, found the paths of virtue were indeed paths of peace.
The children listened almost breathlessly. Nell became quite interested herself.
"Had a pretty hard time, didn't he?" commented Teddy, as she finished. "Seems to me I'd been good before, if I'd been in his place. 'Twould have saved him lots of trouble."
"May be he didn't know that," suggested Margie.
"Oh, you ain't through yet," interrupted Teddy, as Nell made a motion to rise. "You've got to make the application now. Mamma says it don't do any good to read good books unless701you 'ply 'em to your own life, and try to profit by them. She 'plys 'em pretty hard sometimes, so you needn't be afraid of hurting us. Go ahead now, fast as you've a mind to."
Two thoughts went flashing through Nell's mind as she settled back in her chair. Had she missed the good of her reading by failing to apply its principles and teachings to her own life? And also how could she give a helpful application of even this simple story to these children? Mamma was right. One must have, before giving to others. Still, there they were waiting; she would do the best she could.
"I think," she said slowly and hesitatingly, "that you ought to learn from this story how very sure we are to get into trouble when we do wrong, and that even if it is hard, you will be a great deal happier when you are trying to do right."
"How do you know, do you try yourself?"
Nell's face crimsoned. Teddy did ask such saucy questions! But something kept the angry words unspoken. "After all, was it any wonder that he asked the question?" whispered a little voice. Had she ever given him cause to think she knew the truth of what she was saying?
"Not as much as I ought, little brother," she said gently. "But, suppose that we all try harder than ever, and see if it isn't so; will we?"
"I will," whispered Margie, laying her hand lovingly in Nell's.
"Guess you've been trying this afternoon, haven't you?" asked the incorrigible Ted.
"Some," replied Nell, laughingly.
"Well, you've done pretty well, hope you will keep on. I think your lots nicer."
"I believe—that I will keep on," was Nell's last thought before dropping to sleep that night.—Christian Secretary.
WHAT IS EARTH?
By Mrs. M. J. Bahler
BY MRS. M. J. BAHLER.
Oh what is this earth with its pleasures?
A bauble so worthless and vain
That the hearts which have most of its treasures
Are throbbing and bursting with pain.
Oh, heed not the voices enticing,
Which call thee to join with the throng
Who are laughing and chatting so gaily,
Unheeding the hours which roll on.
Nay, list' not, nor linger one moment
In the bowers at the side of the way;
They are fragrant, I know, with sweet odors,
Rare flowers there blooming each day;
But there's danger beneath their shade tempting;
They enchant, and then lead us away
From the path which is rugged and thorny,
And filled with great crosses alway.
Then, oh, shun not the path filled with crosses,
'Tis the road to the city of God;
No other leads up to those mansions—
Then bow 'neath the cross and the rod.
Yes, the cross we must take with rejoicing,
Like Peter, e'en thankful to share
The scorn and contempt so debasing,
Which our Lord in humility bare.
Then think not, O follower of Jesus,
One moment, so precious, to spend
In idle and fruitless endeavor
To please self; you'll find in the end
That each cup which you drink in these bowers
So pleasing to eye and to taste,
Will assuredly prove no elixir,
But will deaden your senses; then haste.
Leave planning and caring for pleasure;
Lift nobly each cross which you find;
Then peace will shed softly her fragrance,
Distilling pure love through the mind.
Oh, think, were the heavens to open,
And Jesus in glory to appear,
Transcendent, majestic, and awful,
With trumpet peals piercing the air,—
With the chariot of cloud swiftly coming
To earth for the chosen and tried,
Should we then lift our voices rejoicing,
Or seek in deep caverns to hide?
Oh, swiftly that great day approaches,
That day fraught with anguish and joy;
Then let not the angel write sadly,
Vain pleasures God's children employ.
Oakland, Cal., Nov. 2, 1884.
The Fall of a Terrible Heathenism.
By Statesman
PROBABLY there is not to be found in the world a more revolting monument of heathen superstition than the great sacrificial stone which is still seen in the museum in the city of Mexico. It is in form like a butcher's block, though higher, and perhaps ten feet in diameter. The top is slightly convex, in order that the chest of the victim might be thrown upward in such a way as to facilitate the extraction of the heart. The process was to lay the victim on his back, where he was firmly held by attendants, while the priest, dexterously opening the left side and thrusting in his hand, tore out the heart of the living victim, and held it up, dripping with blood, before the idol of the temple. In the center of the convex surface there is still seen a cavity designed to receive the blood flowing from the wound; and connected with it is a trench by which it ran down the side into a receptacle. The horrifying object is sculptured on every side with figures representing war scenes and the capture of numerous victims.
This stone, which is of a dark red porphyry, stood on the summit of the great Teocalli, the chief pyramidal temple of the city of Mexico, where, towering above the surrounding houses and even the palace of Montezuma, it kept in full view of the people the bloody rites of one of the most savage religions ever known upon the earth. It is estimated that twenty thousand war prisoners were sacrificed by the Aztecs annually, so that the brutalizing spectacle witnessed upon this and other chief temples must have exerted an almost constant influence upon the hearts of the old and the young.
After each battle of the Spaniards with the Aztecs in the conquest of the city, they were called to witness the terrible fate of their own comrades who had been taken prisoners, and who, with special ostentation and increased pomp, and more barbarous cruelty, were dragged to the top of the temple and sacrificed with prolonged torture upon the stone. After one of their most disastrous reverses, scores of Spaniards were thus immolated.
Montezuma, though amiable to a fault, had unfortunately been trained for the priesthood. While his generosity, kindness, and affection made him memorable—especially in contrast with the stern selfishness and perfidy of Cortez—yet he could say with respect to this terrible custom, that the only reason why he allowed the Tlascalans to remain unconquered, was that they might supply him with victims for his gods.
But the priests of the Aztecs were not satisfied with prisoners of war alone. They taught the people that on certain great occasions the choicest of their youth must be offered to their gods; and on this same grim stone young men chosen for the purpose, after receiving for a time all honor and every possible human pleasure, were given to the sacrificial knife, though with the assurance that, dying thus gloriously, they would enjoy a higher bliss in the life to come. It is impossible to estimate the influence which this system might have exerted upon the Aztec race, had they longer been spared to extend their conquests, and enrich their altars with the blood of their fellow-men. But there is one comfort which we feel in surveying that terrible altar—it alleviates our indignation at the rapacity, cruelty, and bad faith of the Spanish conquerors.
The Israelitish conquests found their justification in the cruel human sacrifices of the Canaanites; and as the bloody worship of Moloch found its counterpart in the cruel rites of the Aztecs, the Spaniards were spurred on, as they thought, by scriptural precedents. In the interest of humanity we must rejoice that at least the religion of the Aztecs was swept from the earth forever.—Statesman.
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PACIFIC PRESS, Oakland, Cal.
Ill-Assorted Marriages.
Cases like the following are not uncommon. We know a young lady who was surrounded by all the comforts and luxuries of a refined and elegant home. In the course of her giddy youth she conceived a strong passion for the coachman of the family, the same old story, so frequently repeated in these days on which we have fallen. They were married. The shock of the household was great. When the first outbreak of anger and grief was past, a compromise was made with the offending parties, and they made their home for life in the stable! Love can go a long way in making a cottage comfortable and enjoyable. Poverty is not incompatible with peace and happiness. But love is not enough to make a woman at home in a stable, who is wont to tread on velvet carpets and recline on soft pillows. Her lot was misery, and her brief life one of bitter regret. It is useless to say that parents, if wise, will make things different. Perhaps these parents did the very best they could. The introduction into the family of discordant elements, or the setting up in higher life of one who had no capacity to maintain the position nor taste to enjoy it, might have resulted in more misery than they found in their life among the denizens of the stable. And what was true of them will be found true of nineteen in every twenty marriages that are thus injudiciously made.—The Observer.
Something to Do for Somebody Else
If you think that you have nothing to do, look about you and see if you can find something to do for somebody else. To your surprise, you will probably have a chance inside of two minutes. No matter what it is, or how trifling or unpleasant it may be, do it; and you will find that you will be better and happier for it.
Honor Thy Father and Mother
"Honor thy father and mother; which is the first commandment with promise." Eph. 6:2.
THE HOME OF THE SAVED.
By John Norton Loughborough
By Eld. J. N. Loughborough.
Gives the Bible evidence upon the interesting topic of the earth made new, as the inheritance of the saints. 82 pp. Price, 10 cents. Address, SIGNS OF THE TIMES, Oakland, Cal.