Review and Herald, Vol. 22, No. 11. (8/11/1863)

Review and Herald

Aug 11, 1863

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Aug 11, 1863

The Use of Afflictions.

By Moses Hull

BY MOSES HULL.

We are in a world of affliction. A Bible writer has said, "Man is born unto trouble, as the sparks fly upward." Job v, 7. The same writer has also said, "Man is of few days and full of trouble." Chap. xiv, 1. Every human being realizes to a greater or less extent, the truthfulness of these sayings. Sometimes the most devoted, humble, and patient servants of God suffer most. The composer of Ps. lxxiii, seemed to think this was generally the case. While he declared "that the ungodly are not in trouble as other men, neither are they plagued like other men," he said of God's people "that the waters of a full cup are wrung out to them."

That a great and good God rules this world, is doubted by no Bible believer. But if the Jehovah, who has not only all power, but all goodness, rules this world, why does he permit affliction to come upon his children? This question I am going to try to answer. But before so doing, permit me to say that we often talk about the affliction of God's humble children, without realizing that it is affliction that has made them what they are. David said, "Before I was afflicted I went astray." Ps. cxix, 67. Again, "It is good for me that I have been afflicted, that I might learn thy statutes." Verse 71. And again, "I know, O Lord, that thy judgments are right, and that thou in faithfulness hast afflicted me." Vs. 75. David was at times greatly afflicted, insomuch that he exclaimed, "Unless thy law had been my delight, I should have perished in my afflictions." Vs. 92. "I am afflicted very much." Vs. 107. Surely no one can read the above scriptures without concluding that David's afflictions accomplished for him what otherwise could not have been done.

Here I will affirm that one of the reasons of the afflictions of God's people is, that they will accomplish for them what cannot otherwise be accomplished.

God promised to Abraham that his seed should inherit the land of Canaan; but told him to "know of a surety" that before that time they should be strangers in a land that was not theirs, and should serve them and they should afflict them four hundred years. Gen. xv, 13. By turning to Ex. i, 7-17; vi, 11; xiv, 10, he will find that the children of Israel were greatly afflicted. Not only were cruel task-masters set over them, who almost daily increased their burdens, refusing them the necessary amount of straw, and yet requiring "the tale of bricks;" but decrees were issued putting their male children to death. Thus matters went on till God said, "I have surely seen the affliction of my people which are in Egypt, and have heard their cry by reason of their task-masters; for I know their sorrows." Ex. iii, 7. Why were they thus afflicted? I answer—

1. They never would have left Egypt had it not been for their afflictions. Had they lived in case and worldly prosperity in Egypt, they would have had all they could have enjoyed in the land of Canaan. Under these circumstances Moses could hardly have persuaded them to undertake a perilous journey through the wilderness for the sake of land "flowing with milk and honey." Their race must run out if they stay in Egypt. The decree has been passed that all their male children must be put to death. Hence there is no alternative, they must flee from Egypt. Now suppose the decree had never gone forth, and God's people had remained in Egypt, what would the result have been? Undoubtedly we should have had no Messiah. Or if Christ had come he would have been unable to trace his pedigree back to Abraham; hence we should not be able to prove his Messiahship. Had the Hebrews stayed in Egypt, they would undoubtedly have so mingled with the Egyptians that it would have been impossible, by the time the Saviour made his advent, to determine who were Hebrews and who were not.

2. Could they, without being afflicted in Egypt, have been persuaded to leave that country, they never would have endured the hardships of a forty years' journey through a wilderness country. No! a mutiny would have been raised. Moses and Aaron would have been assassinated, and the children of Israel would have returned to the "flesh-pots of Egypt."

3. Afflictions served to bind them together. There is no cord calculated to bind people more closely together than that of affliction. Let a people suffer together for years, as the children of Israel did in the land of Egypt, and in the wilderness—let their tears flow together as did theirs—let them have no other resource for help but to help each other; and they will become united—they will be prepared to move in unison in all important matters.

4. Their afflictions gave Jehovah a chance to work for them, and thus prove himself to be the true God. It was not until affliction had driven Moses out of Egypt, that God revealed himself to him in the "burning bush," and gave him forty years' education in the land of Midian. It was not until the Egyptians were in sight, with their chariots and horses, and there was no other alternative, that the Lord miraculously delivered his people by parting the waters and permitting them to "go through dry shod." It was not until the children of Israel had searched three days for water that the waters of Marah were sweetened. It was not until they feared they would be killed with hunger, and began to wish that they had died by the flesh-pots of Egypt, that God rained down bread from heaven, and commanded them to gather a certain rate every day. At Rephidim the people thirst for water until they fear that themselves, their little ones, and their cattle will be killed with thirst, before Moses is permitted to smite the rock, and let "the waters gush out." Thus in every instance God has permitted his children by affliction to get where they could appreciate his blessings before he has granted them; and then has usually granted them in such a way that they could not deny his agency in them.

In examining the history of the people of God from the days of Abraham to the present, I notice that the blessings of God have ever been preceded by great affliction. I have shown that it was the case in their redemption from Egyptian bondage. It was so in their deliverance from Babylonish captivity. No decree was passed honoring the "Israel of God" in the least, until after Haman had made the gallows upon which to hang Mordecai; "and letters were sent into all the kings' provinces, to destroy, to kill, and to cause to perish, all Jews, both young and old, little children and women, in one day." Esth. iii, 5-15; v, 14; viii, 8. It was not until after the three Hebrew children were cast into the furnace of fire that they were promoted in Babylon. Dan. iii, 30. It was not until after Daniel had been cast into the den of hungry lions, that all in Darius' dominion were compelled by a decree of the king to fear and tremble before the God of Daniel. Chap. vi, 20. It was not until after the Messiah had fasted, and withstood the tempting Devil forty days, that angels were sent to minister to him. Matt. iv, 11. It was not until Paul and Silas had been cruelly beaten, put into jail, and their feet made fast in the stocks, that success crowned their labors in Philippi and Thessalonica. Thus we find the road to every blessing is strewed with afflictions.

The query here arises, Why does God usually withhold his especial blessings until in cases of affliction? I answer, It is the province of affliction to bring God's people into a place where he can bless them.

Where is the child of God that cannot say in truth, "Before I was afflicted I went astray, but now have I kept thy commandments?" or, "It is good for me that I have been afflicted, that I might learn thy statutes?" The one who has never used the name of God in time of prosperity, except to take it in vain, will sometimes in times of sickness pray as earnestly as did Hezekiah. David says, "From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee when my heart is overwhelmed; lead me to the rock that is higher than I." Ps. lxi, 2. Yes, even a Pharaoh, when the plagues are falling on him, could say, "I have sinned against the Lord your God, and against you—now therefore forgive, I pray thee, my sin, and entreat the Lord your God, that he may take away this death only." Ex. x, 16, 17.

David in describing God's dealings with the children of Israel says, "When he slew them, then they sought him, and returned and inquired early after God." Ps. lxxviii, 34. In Heb. xii, 5-12 Paul has clearly argued this point. In verse 11 he says, "Now no chastening for the present seemeth joyous, but grievous; nevertheless afterward it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of righteousness unto them that are exercised thereby." But all are not exercised by it. Isaiah laments concerning Israel, that they turn "not unto Him that smiteth them; neither do they seek the Lord of Hosts." Isa. ix, 13. See also Hos. vii, 9, 10; Jer. v, 3, 4. God's afflicting hand was upon Israel; the prophets were crying aloud and sparing not; and yet Israel refused to turn to him that smote them, until the decree went forth to put them all to death; then were they willing to repent in sackcloth and ashes. Esth. iv, 1, 15, 16.

(To be Continued.)

Tarry with me.

TARRY with me, O my Saviour! For the storm is bleak and shrill;— Give me grace that I may ever Strive to do thy holy will. If in thee I have found favor, Let thy light around me shine, Till my weak and sinful nature, Shall be swallowed up in thine.

Tarry with me, O my Saviour! While I journey here below; For within each earth-born pleasure Lurks unseen a deadly foe. Guide me by thy love and counsel, Through this wilderness of sin; If I have not loved thee freely, Help me, Saviour, to begin!

Tarry with me, O my Saviour! For my life is ebbing fast; And the trials and temptations, Journey with us to the last. Linger near me when forsaken, By the friends I once could deem; Linger near me when is broken, Friendship's brightest, purest dream!

Tarry with me, O my Saviour! For the tempest rudely blows; And my heart is faint and weary, Striving with my carnal foes. Saviour, look with great compassion, In the chambers of my heart; If there's aught of thy displeasure, Gently let it all depart!

Tarry with me, O my Saviour! Let me lean upon thy breast, As did John the blest disciple, When I calmly sink to rest. May thy counsel ever guide me, Till I reach the promised shore, Where the angel choirs are waiting, Waiting to invite me o'er!

I Must Praise More.

By Necros

THE title of a recent article was, "I must pray more;" and in it I expressed wonder that we pray so little, and gave reason why we should pray more. But it strikes me that we ought to praise more as well as pray more. I do not know how it is with others; but I know that I have a great deal for which to be thankful and to praise God. I feel that it will not do for me to spend all my breath in prayer. I should thus, it is true, acknowledge my dependence on God; but where would be the acknowledgment of his benefits conferred upon me? I must spend a part of my breath in praise. O! to be animated from above with that life, whose alternate breath is prayer and praise!

God has been very good to me. Yes, he has exercised goodness toward me in all its various forms of pity, forbearance, care, bounty, grace and mercy; or to express all in one word, "God is love," and he has been love to me. I do not know why he should have treated me so kindly. I have sought, but can find no reason out of himself. I conclude it is because he "delighteth in mercy." His nature being love, it is natural for him to love his creatures, and especially those whom he has called to be his children. O! the goodness of God! The thought of it sometimes comes over me with very great power, and I am overwhelmed in admiration. Nothing so easily breaks up the fountain of tears within me. Those drops, if I may judge from my own experience, were intended as much to express gratitude as grief. I think I shall be able, without weariness, to spend eternity on the topic of divine love and goodness.

Reader, can you not adopt my language as your own? Has not God been the same to you? And shall we not praise him? Shall all our devotion consist in prayer? Shall we be always thinking of our wants, and never thinking of his benefits—always dwelling on what remains to be done, and never thinking of what has already been done for us—always uttering desire, and never expressing gratitude—expending all our voice in supplication, and none of it in song? Is this the way to treat a benefactor? No, indeed. It is not just, so to treat him; neither is it wise. It is very bad policy to praise no more than Christians in general do. They would have much more success in prayer, if one half the time they now spend in it were spent in praise. I do not mean that they pray too much, but that they praise too little. I suspect the reason why the Lord did such great things for the Psalmist was, that, while he was not by any means deficient in prayer, he abounded in praise.

The Lord heard his psalms, and while he sung of mercy shown, showed him more. And it would be just so with us, if we abound more in praise and thanksgiving. It displeases God that we should be always dwelling on our wants, as if he had never supplied one of them. How do we know that God is not waiting for us to praise him for a benefit he has already conferred, before he will confer on us that other which we may be now so earnestly desiring of him? It is wonderful how much more prone we are to forget the benefit received, than the benefit wanted—in other words, how much more inclined we are to offer prayer than praise. For one who offers genuine praise, there may be found ten that pray. Ten lepers lifted up their voices together in the prayer, "Jesus, Master, have mercy on us," but only one of the ten "returned to give glory to God." The rest were satisfied with the benefit—this one only thought gratefully of the benefactor. His gratitude obtained for him, I doubt not, a greater blessing than ever his prayer had procured; and praise has often, I believe, in the experience of the people of God, been found more effectual for obtaining blessings than prayer. A person, being once cast upon a desolate island, spent a day in fasting and prayer for his deliverance, but no help came. It occurred to him then to keep a day of thanksgiving and praise, and he had no sooner done it than relief was brought to him. You see, as soon as he began to sing of mercy exercised, the exercise of mercy was renewed to him. The Lord heard the voice of his praise.

Christian reader, you complain perhaps that your prayer is not heard; suppose you try the efficacy of praise. Peradventure you will find that the way to obtain new favors is to praise the Lord for favors received. Perhaps if you consider his goodness, he will consider your wants. It may be you are a parent, and one child is converted, but there is another concerning whom you say, "O that he might live before Thee!" Go now and bless the Lord for the conversion of the first, and it is very likely he will give thee occasion shortly to keep another day of thanksgiving for the salvation of the other.

Some of us are sick. Perhaps it is because we did not praise the Lord for health. We forget that benefit. We do not forget our sickness. O no. Nor is there any lack of desire in us to get well. We pray for recovery. And so we should; but it strikes me that we might get well sooner were we to dwell with less grief and despondency on our loss of health, and to contemplate with cheerful and grateful admiration what God has done for our souls—the great love wherewith he loved us, even when we were dead in sins; and how he spared not his own Son, that he might spare us; and gives us now his Spirit, to be in us the earnest of heaven, our eternal home. If we were to think such thoughts, to the forgetfulness of our bodily ailments, I judge it would be better for the whole man, body and soul both, than any other course we can pursue. If the affliction should still continue, we should count it light, aye, should rejoice in it, because it is his will, and because he says he means to make it work our good.

There is nothing glorifies God like praise. "Whoso offereth praise, glorifieth me." Prayer expresses dependence and desire; but praise admiration and gratitude. By it men testify and tell all abroad that God is good, and thus others are persuaded to "taste and see that the Lord is good." Praise is altogether the superior exercise of the two. Prayer may be purely selfish in its origin, but praise is ingenuous. Praise is the employment of heaven. Angels praise. The spirits of the just made perfect will praise. We shall not always pray, but we shall ever praise. Let us anticipate the employment of heaven. Let us exercise ourselves unto praise.

Let us learn the song now, "O that men would praise the Lord for his goodness." But above all, "Let the saints be joyful in glory: let them sing aloud upon their beds." I charge thee, my soul, to praise him, and he will never let thee want matter for praise. "While I live will I praise the Lord: I will sing praises unto my God while I have any being."

An Overworked Generation.

By William W. Crane

THERE is no doubt that civilization is a blessing to mankind, up to certain bounds. These bounds have been passed, in this country. Idlers, living by "brain work," luxuriate on the proceeds of the toil of the working men; men of "hard work," who, H. W. Beecher says, "must rank below men of 'brain work.'" Shrewd speculators, planters, jobbers, and the incumbents of lucrative offices, constitute an aristocracy, and, abounding in money, set the fashion of houses, furniture, dress, food and carriages so high, as to waste a great part of the hard-earned substance of the country; and, at the same time, so look down upon the honest laboring class, as to give them a painful anxiety to imitate their extravagance.

These working people work too hard, work in pain: often break down in body and mind; become prematurely old, and descend to an untimely grave. Weary, nervous, and corroded with care, they have little serenity, and, though Christians by profession, and by honest motive, their temper is often sour, gloomy, and irritable. Their children inherit their temper, and re-act on the parents' spirit. Mrs. Alger received notice, on Monday evening, that Mrs. Bliss would visit her, on Wednesday, and that her two daughters from the city, and a friend of theirs, would accompany her. This notice gave very little pleasure. It came when Mrs. A. was extremely tired with her washing. She was giving attention to a sick child, four years of age, and carrying a tired and crying infant in her arms, and at the same time, preparing supper for her husband, who had just come in from labor. "It is hard," she said, "to maintain my standing with Mrs. Bliss' circle of friends. She is quite aristocratic herself, and I am frightened in view of a visit from her daughters from the city, and a stranger with them; but I must try to maintain my standing, though I am working myself to death." "I hope," said Mr. A., "you will not have to purchase much to-morrow, for my account at Baldwin's has already run so high that he wants a mortgage on our lot." "I cannot get along without quite a bill," said Mrs. A. "We must have groceries, and an addition to our table furniture, and a little ready-made clothing, as I have no time to sew." "I am working very hard," said Mr. A., "but, at this rate, I must, as you say, work myself to death." He went, on Tuesday morning, and made the purchases, and came home with a heavy heart.

The visitors came and went, whether they spoke well or ill of Mrs. A., I cannot tell. She had done her best; had worn herself out, broken down her nerves, and was half insane all the night and morning before the visit. She forced on a serene countenance when they came, which was near leaving her when the sick child groaned, when the babe, which was teething, crept after her, crying and seizing her dress; and when Willie came in with his new clothes smeared with mud.

When the visit was over, Mr. and Mrs. A. were unnerved, anxious, morose, and irritable, for Baldwin had that day secured a mortgage on their house and lot, for which they mutually blamed each other. They might have been better servants of God, better citizens, and much happier, with contentment, without mahogany, upholsters, carpets, silver, or even glass table furniture, without silk, or any costly cloth.

An Irish cabin with an earth floor, without debt, might be the seat of happiness. It is alarming to see how many women in this country are broken down in their nerves, and often distracted, by struggling to keep up with custom. Is this right? Hospitality, which, in the days of simplicity was a rich blessing to both giver and receiver, is spoiled, and poisoned by custom. A prominent minister said, he chose to make his visits, not only where he could be comfortable, but where he might be the most comfortable. This cut his poor parishioners to the heart; and it was pitiful to see how they toiled in pain, and went beyond their means, to make their homes attractive to him.

When Quarterly Meeting approached, at A. ———, Sister Green worked so hard, every day, that she fell upon her bed, every night, exhausted and miserable. "Why," said Bro. G., "are you killing yourself with work, Sarah?" "I tell you, Henry, I must put his house

in order. I cannot have my name bandied over the circuit, as untidy." She said this in ill-humor, for one so extremely weary is hardly sane; and Peter's elbows had pushed through his sleeves, Nelly was crying with a sore foot, and the twin babies were asleep on the floor.

When the parlor was filled with social guests, or when the table was surrounded with cheer, no one, but an old itinerant, guessed what pains the feast had cost; and, perhaps, he alone excused Sarah Green for missing the love feast, and coming into meeting after sermon began. He had learned, in almost every instance of fashionable hospitality, to look out for a care-worn face.

At the camp-meeting in S. ——, two families united, and built a large tent, which, with a large table, became very attractive, and was soon thronged. The two sisters, who gave a continued feast, had each a helpless babe, and other small children to look after, and almost constant cooking, setting tables, removing dishes, and making beds.

A happy group sat talking and singing, who brought no cares with them to meeting, when Sister G. said, "Breakfast is ready." At table, Rev. I. D. said, "Sister G., our sister, Nancy Page, experienced sanctification, last night, in a glorious prayer meeting, in the tent adjoining yours," to which Nancy assented. She was a single lady of twenty-eight, and was here without labor or care. Would Nancy's sanctification stand the test of the toils and cares of sister G., who had worked so hard the day before, that she could scarcely walk; and, after subdividing her beds, lay down at midnight, but could not sleep, for the loud singing and shouting in the adjoining tent, which continued all night.

—WILLIAM W. CRANE, in Wesleyan.

Overlooked Christian Service

The Christian's best services sometimes appear to be overlooked and forgotten.

The Detecter.

By Editor

In one of our insane asylums a man was for a long time confined who did nothing but pace up and down his cell, and then turn upon his heel and give the word to "fire?" He had shot his antagonist in a duel, and gone crazy under the remorse occasioned by the bloody deed. That was the power of conscience.

It is based on a sense of God's omniscience. "Thou, God, seest me," has been more terrible to the murderer than the pursuit of a score of detectives. No mortal has seen him do the damning deed. Perhaps he struck the blow in the depths of a forest, or in the solitude of a remote chamber. No ear heard the death-groan of his victim, and dead men tell no tales. But still there is a voice crying to him from the ground that tells him he is seen—that there is an All-seeing Eye which, piercing through the silent heavens, penetrates to the bottom of his blood-stained soul. This harrowing conscience follows him wherever he goes. Solitude becomes no solitude to him. He is ever in the broad glare of an intelligence that reads him and his guilty secret through and through. The whole air is alive; and every rustling leaf, and passing wind, sounds to him like the coming footsteps of a vengeance sent upon him by an omniscient God.

This sense of an All-seeing Eye acts upon men like an instinct. It is impossible to argue it down; it is impossible to bribe it into silence. Under its influence many a one living in secret sin has sunk into melancholy, or died before their time. Others have sought to fathom the secret of their mental derangement—or to discover the mysterious disease that laid them low. They died at the hand of an aroused conscience. "Thou, God, seest me," had a terror for them, under which "heart and flesh failed" them; the mind quailed, and life became an insupportable burthen. May we not find in this the solution of so many unhappy lives, even amid all the surroundings of external comfort or of luxury? May we not detect in this the reason of many a recourse to the intoxicating cup? Conscience has frequently driven the duelist, the destroyer of female purity, or the betrayer of trust, to the slow suicide of the bottle.

The other day we read of a man who had secretly returned to the Revenue officer a sum of money which had been dishonestly withheld from the Government. It was not the fear of human detection that made the smuggler disgorge his unjust gain, for that had entirely passed away. But he "remembered God and was troubled." His guilty conscience needed no human accuser. While the flaming eye of the Divine Detector saw those stolen dollars in his purse, or his safe, he did not dare to keep them there.

Dying beds are often made wretched by the consciousness that death will bring exposure, and that the sinner is finally going into the presence of one who will bring "every secret thing into judgment." But what a mistake to suppose that there is really such a thing as a secret sin! Sin is an offense against God, and if he but sees the offense, and if he but knows it, what matters it how many or how few of our fellow-men have knowledge of the act? Then flatter not thyself, O dishonest man! that thy iron-safe is a secret place. Dream not, O breaker of the seventh commandment! that the privacy of the most private chamber hides thee from the All-Seer. Joseph did not feel himself alone with Potiphar's shameless wanton when he said,

"How can I do this great wickedness and sin against God?"

Secret sins! There are none. The eye of God detects every ill-gotten dollar in my purse. If I keep back or pervert the truth, he sees the lie lying black in the bottom of my heart. He knows my half-formed thoughts before they have even taken shape in my own mind. Not even a wicked thought can I cherish against my neighbor—not even a secret unbelief can I indulge—not even a hollow, hypocritical profession can I make, or formal false prayer can I whisper in my closet, but it is known at once to Him with whom I have to do. His eyes are in every place, beholding the evil and the good. "Surely," says Jeremy Taylor, "if we would always remember that Jehovah is the great Eye of the world, ever beholding our actions, and an ever open ear to hear all our words, and an unwearied arm ever lifted up to crush a sinner into ruin, it would cause much sin to cease from among us, and make us more like those who continually walk in the light before his throne."

Pastoral Visiting.

By Editor

THE following extract from the address of Bishop Ames, to the Missouri Conference, is worthy of serious consideration. We commend it to all our ministers:

"Some men are public benefactors; their faces are so full of sunshine, of genuine kindness, though you should meet them on a cloudy day or in the midst of a rain-storm, they will make you feel better. This is an excellent habit of looking and speaking cheerfully.

There can be very much done by the fireside. You labor in communities which are very much excited and divided, and in which there is strong prejudice against the ministry, against the Master, and against Christianity. And how this prejudice vanishes where the minister kindly speaks to the people where he enters the family, steps into the circle of the home, makes himself pleasant to the children, and exhibits his sympathy for them and desire to do them good. "Why," they begin to say, "let us go and hear that man preach. I like him. He seems to be a good man." Brethren you do not know how such work swells your congregations. And this fireside conversation and prayer! These people who are thus attended to, are much more likely, when they come into the church to stay there than are others. They have a love for the church and a regard for the ministry. There is a sort of sociality, the power of which we do not sufficiently understand and appreciate. Remember, brethren, you do not meet the requisitions of the communities to which you go, unless you visit from house to house. And do not confine your attention to the families of our own members. Visit wherever you have the opportunity. Try to do all the people good; and if you fail you will be a better man yourself. If you see a poor fellow in the water struggling for life, and you try to save him, you will be better for trying to do it. So in this work you will be better men, and will feel better for having tried to succeed.

A friend of mine who is a presiding elder, told me that one of his preachers, when he went on to his circuit, at the meeting of the board of stewards, said to them, "Do not ask any brother to contribute to my support unless I visit him or his family." It was a circuit which had been quite slack in its financial movements; but the preacher went round visiting the people, and when quarterly meeting came they paid all the claims, and had eighteen or twenty dollars surplus; and the stewards were astonished at the results themselves. So much for the effect of going to the houses of the people, upon the support of the minister. You get your support, brethren, from those with whom you are best acquainted. Enlarge the basis of your support by increased attention to the duty. Now, as pastors, let me ask you a question. Physicians get paid at least a dollar per visit from their patients. Would you not visit a few more than you do if you were to get a dollar a visit from the people? and would you do more for a dollar than you will for the sake of Christ and the salvation of souls? Make it a matter of conscience to visit as many families as if you get a dollar a visit from them for so doing; and for that matter, very often the dollar will come, though we do not ask for it.

I have a good old friend whose field of labor embraced a Quaker population. One day he passed the house of an old-friend Quaker. The spirit moved Joseph (for that was the preacher's name) to go in, sit down, and talk with the Quaker. He went in, sat down, talked to the family, introduced the subject of religion, and at last said, "Friend, may I pray with thee?" "Yea," said the Quaker, and he knelt down and made an earnest prayer for the blessing of God upon the family; the friends sitting quietly and listening attentively to the prayer. He then rose, bid them farewell, and went his way. Shortly after Joseph saw a man driving up to his door with a wagon and horses, and stepping before the door. He thought it looked like the friend he had visited, and when he went out he found him standing by the wagon. Said the Quaker, "Joseph, I have brought thee a barrel of flour and a half a dozen hams of bacon, and I want thee to use them." Joseph thanked him for the present and took them into the house; and as the old Quaker drove away, he said, "Now, friend Joseph, thee call and see me whenever thee can."

Our main dependency, I am satisfied, must be found in our pastoral labor—in our visiting from house to house.

Early Influences

By Dr. Oldham

EARLY INFLUENCES.—There can be no greater blessings than to be born in the light and air of a cheerful, loving home. It not only insures a happy childhood—if there be health and a good constitution but it also makes sure a virtuous and happy manhood, and a fresh young heart in old age. I think it every parent's duty to try and make their children's childhood full of love and childhood's proper joyousness; and I never see children destitute of them through poverty, faulty tempers, or wrong notions of their parents, without a heartache. Not that all the appliances which wealth can buy are necessary to the free and happy unfolding of childhood in body, mind and heart—quite otherwise, God be thanked; but children must at least have love inside the house, and fresh air, and good play, and some good companionship outside; otherwise young life runs the greatest danger in the world of withering, or growing stunted, or at best prematurely old and turned inward on itself.—Dr. Oldham, at Greystones.

Solitude and Temptation

SOLITUDE AND TEMPTATION.—Luther says solitude is favorable to temptation; therefore when the enemy would so harass you as nearly to exhaust your spiritual life, as soon as possible leave all and hurry to see some poor, afflicted one, not saying a word about your own trouble, but entering fully into theirs, and you will thus drop your burden. Perhaps the next time you see that friend you will be cheered with the knowledge that you greatly comforted her at that time, when you thought your own sorrow the heaviest.

Satan and Christ Personified

SATAN is wickedness personified, all his children wear his likeness; Christ is virtue personified, all his people are being conformed to him.

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