p. 2 | Review and Herald, Vol. 28, No. 1. (6/5/1866)

Review and Herald

Jun 5, 1866

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Jun 5, 1866

Infidelity and Prophecy.

Is the Bible the book of God? Is it a record of divine revelations? Does God speak to man through its pages? Has it supreme authority?

These questions are important. If the Bible is a record of the divine will, the fact must be susceptible of proof, and it should be proved. If it is a miserable cheat, concocted by designing priests, or a mass of old wives' fables, imposed upon the weakness of credulous fools, that fact can be proved, and the sooner the better, for the subject is of moment, and the necessity for its discussion is urgent.

I know men say that if the Bible is not true, yet it is best to let the imposition pass unquestioned, because it exercises a wholesome moral influence upon rascals generally, who are kept from actual mischief in this world by fear of fancied punishment in the next. But the main question cannot be settled by such evasions. Ignorance is not the parent of true devotion, nor are lies, or pious frauds, the seeds of righteousness.

It is sometimes said that the Bible is an inspired book, and so is the Koran, and so are the Shasters, so are Shakespeare's Plays, so are Plato's Dialogues, and so are books generally,—all are inspired, all have truth, all have error, but all are behind the times, and need to be improved by the addition of whatever new revelations may present themselves; and when all are completed, we are then to believe and obey just as much and just as little of any or all of them, as we please.

But this position does not quite satisfy me. Various modern authors offer me theories, fancies, opinions, and arguments. I take them for what they seem to be worth. But the writers in the Bible do not usually offer their opinions. They relate facts which they profess to have seen; they profess to reject fables and traditions, and they, over and over again preface their sayings with the words, "THUS SAITH THE LORD."

Shakespeare does not say that, nor Plato, nor Socrates, nor any of the poets or sages of ancient or modern times. Now, if the Almighty really speaks to us, we ought to listen and give heed. But if he does not speak, then we cannot accept these statements as either true, or wise, or profitable, for man to believe.

It is sometimes suggested that the writers of the Bible were a pack of credulous fools, quickly imposed upon, and easily deceived. But at this I demur. A fool never wrote Moses' Laws, Job's Discourses, David's Psalms, Solomon's Proverbs, Isaiah's Poetry, Daniel's Visions, Ezekiel's Prophecies, Paul's Epistles, or John's Revelations. The man who thinks fools could write such books, might well afford to try his own hand at it, and see.

Now these writers in general, though intelligent and of acknowledged ability, do not profess to offer speculations, or opinions, but they base their whole system upon alleged facts. If they had been fools they might have been imposed upon somewhat; but in general the facts were of such a nature that they could not be mistaken about them. And they either tell the positive truth, or else they were most outrageous and infamous liars. The Israelites either went through the Red Sea dry shod, or the man who wrote the story about it lied. Either the Jordan was divided before them, or the record of it is a falsehood.

Christ either healed the sick, cleansed the lepers, cast out demons, and raised the dead, or Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, were impudent, lying knaves.

Jesus of Nazareth, whom Jews, Gentiles, and Christians all agree was crucified, either did really, truly, personally, and bodily rise from the dead, and ascend to Heaven, or the men who, at the loss of reputation, at the expense of every personal comfort, and even unto the suffering of violent deaths, bore testimony that they saw him, handled him, walked with him, talked with him, ate with him, and knew him "by many infallible proofs," and finally beheld him ascending heavenward, till a cloud received him out of their sight, were base hypocrites, arrant knaves, vile impostors, and persistent and determined liars.

There is no middle ground to stand on here. They saw what they said they did, or they lied. The Almighty spoke to the prophets, or they told falsehoods in the name of the God of truth. Either they bring to us the actual verities of divine revelation, or else the whole tribe of them, in all their generations, for hundreds and hundreds of years, were deceivers and prating knaves, who lied about the hell which they asserted that all liars should have part in, and deceived about the very words in which they declared damnation on all deceivers.

We cannot blink this proposition out of sight. The question must be met here and settled. Honest men do not wish to be deceived, and in these days men want facts, not fables; truths, not "raw head and bloody bones" stories, by which to direct their lives.

I know the Bible is said to be the best of all the pretended sacred books in the world. But that argument amounts to nothing. If it is not true, it is false. If the Koran, the Shasters, or the spirit communications are true, then let us believe them, and turn Turks, Hindoos, or Spirit-rappers. Or if there is no revelation of the future, then let us make the most of the present—"let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die."

But let us not cling to a lie because it is better than a dozen other lies. If indeed the Bible is better than they are, that is no reason why it should be received if false. For it is not a mere harmless humbug, a collection of the writings of well-meaning but misguided idiots. It is either the word of the everlasting Deity, or else it is a cheat so outrageous and shameful that compared with it, the Koran is sacred, the Arabian Nights reasonable, and the Book of Mormon worthy of sincere respect.

The Bible is everything, or it is worse than nothing. It is the best book or the worst one in the world. It contains eternal truth, or the deepest error. It is pure gold, or base counterfeit. Which is it?

We must not prejudice this question. The Christian says he knows the Bible to be true because he feels it is. The infidel says he rejects it because he has no such feeling. Both may be prejudiced. Either may be mistaken. A more conclusive style of argument than this must be introduced to decide this important question.

The question is not whether the English Bible is entirely, in all its jots and tittles, the word of God, for all agree that there may be in that mis-prints, mis-translations, and possible inaccuracies. And even in the Hebrew and Greek originals, there are errors of transcribers, and some slight variations of readings in different manuscript copies. And then there are recorded in it, not only the words of God, but also of men and of devils; and some of these words all admit to be false. But the question is, whether God, men, or devils, said the words and did the things there related of them. Is the account correct? Is the record true?

We need not inquire whether the Bible is a modern or an ancient book. Here there is no room for dispute. It is older than the art of printing, for it was the first book printed. It is older than the dark ages, for copies of it exist which were written long before. And about the year 176, Celsus, a heathen, or infidel philosopher, in writing the first book ever published against Christianity, entitled "The Word of Truth," quotes or refers to about EIGHTY PASSAGES which can now be found in the New Testament. He speaks of the histories of Jesus written by his disciples, refers to all the leading facts narrated in the gospels, and says "It is but RECENTLY, as it were yesterday, since we punished Christ." "It is but a few years since he delivered this doctrine, who is reckoned by Christians to be the Son of God."

And Porphyry, another heathen writer, about the year 270, wrote against the Book of Daniel, which he

allowed was written as early as the days of Antiochus, or about one hundred and fifty years before the Christian Era. A book cannot be quoted or refuted before it is written. Hence, as Celsus quotes the New Testament, it was written before A. D. 176, and as the New Testament quotes the prophets, they were written previous to it, and as the prophets quote the law, that was written before the prophets wrote, and as the Law refers to Genesis, and Genesis refers to no preceding book, it seems to stand at the head as the oldest of all. We shall not need then to discuss this question of age, as we can prove by Jews, Christians, and infidels, that the books which are called the Bible are very ancient works. But another question, namely, concerning the inspiration, the divine origin, and the authority of the Bible, is the one before us.

We know and admit that there is a God in nature, for there are things done before our eyes which no man has power to do. And the source of that almighty power, that ceaseless energy that rules and upholds and guides the universe, is what we call Deity. And so when power is displayed beyond all human might, we refer that display back to God as to its only author.

But what power do we find in the Bible? It is a book; men have written it; do they give proof of divine assistance in their work?—The Christian.

"A Little While."

Oh, for the peace which floweth as a river! Making life's desert places bloom and smile; Oh, for a faith to grasp Heaven's bright "forever," Amid the shadows of earth's "little while."

"A little while" for patient vigil-keeping, To face the storm, to wrestle with the strong; "A little while" to sow the seeds with weeping, Then bind the sheaves and sing the harvest song.

"A little while," to wear the robe of sadness, To toil with weary steps through erring ways; Then to pour forth the fragrant oil of gladness, And clasp the girdle of the robe of praise.

"A little while" 'mid shadow and illusion, To strive by faith love's mysteries to spell; Then read each dark enigma's clear solution, Then hail light's verdict, "He doth all things well."

"A little while" the earthen pitcher taking To wayside brooks from far-off fountains fed; Then the parched lip its thirst forever slaking, Beside the fullness of the Fountain Head.

"A little while" to keep the oil from failing; "A little while" faith's flickering lamp to trim, And then, the Bridegroom's coming footsteps hailing, To haste to meet him with the bridal hymn.

And He who is at once both Gift and Giver, The future glory and the present smile, With the bright promise of the glad "forever," Will light the shadows of the "little while."

Heaping Coals of Fire.

By Country Parson

Not many years since, there was a Christian merchant in Mesopotamia, of great wealth, with the right spirit in him. A neighboring trader, who did not know much about the Christian merchant, published a calumnious pamphlet about him. The Christian merchant read it. It was very abusive, and wicked, and malicious. All he said was, that the man who wrote it would be sorry for it some day. This was told the libelous trader, who replied that he would take care that the Christian merchant should never have the chance of hurting him.

But men in trade cannot always decide who their creditors shall be, and in a few months the trader became a bankrupt, and the Christian merchant was his chief creditor. The poor man sought to make some arrangement that would let him work for his children again. But every one told him this was impossible without the consent of Mr. Grant—that was the Christian merchant's honored name.

'I need not go to him,' the poor bankrupt said. 'I can expect no favor from him.'

'Try him,' said some one who knew the good man better.

So the bankrupt went to Mr. Grant, and told him his sad story of heavy losses, and of heartless work and sore anxiety and privation, and asked Mr. Grant's signature to a paper already signed by the others to whom he was indebted.

'Give me the paper,' said Mr. Grant, sitting down at his desk.

It was given, and the good man, as he glanced over it said, 'You wrote a pamphlet about me once;' and without waiting for a reply, handed back the paper, having written something on it. The poor bankrupt expected to find libeler or slanderer, or something like that written. But no! There it was, fair and plain—the signature that was needed to give him another chance in life.

'I said you would be sorry for writing that pamphlet,' the good man went on. 'I did not mean it as a threat. I meant that some day you would know me better, and see that I did not deserve to be attacked in that way. And now,' said the good man, 'tell me all about your prospects, and especially tell me how your wife and children are faring.'

The poor trader told him that to partly meet his debts, he had given up everything he had in the world, and that for many days they had hardly had bread to eat.

'That will never do,' said the Christian merchant, putting into the poor man's hand money enough to support the pinched wife and children for many weeks.

'This will last for a little, and when it is gone you shall have more; and I shall find some way to help you, and by God's blessing, you will do beautifully yet. Don't lose heart; I'll stand by you!'

I suppose I need not tell you that the trader's heart overflowed, and he went away crying like a child. Yet the right tack is the effectual thing! To meet evil with good, fairly beats the evil and puts it down. The poor debtor was set on his feet again; the hungry little children were fed. The trader never published an attack again upon that good man as long as he lived; and among the good man's multitude of friends, as he grew old, among all the things that should accompany old age, there was not a truer, heartier one than the old enemy thus fairly beaten. Let us all get upon the right tack!—Country Parson.

Wild Oats.

THERE is an ancient story of a man who owned a beautiful field which a wily stranger vainly sought to purchase.

The young man was firm in his refusal to sell the inheritance of his fathers. When every effort failed, the stranger at last offered to hire what he could not buy; and proposed to rent the land long enough to raise one crop to maturity, and get it off, and then the lease was to expire, the property revert to the owner, and all the stranger's right in the field was to cease.

The bargain was concluded, and the cunning scamp sowed the soil with acorns, from end to end. The first year they sprouted like leaves, the next year they grew like scions, five years after they were slender rods, ten years after they were thrifty saplings, twenty years and they were young trees, and so the crop grew on, until the young man became old and poor, and weary with waiting, and when at last, grizzled and gray, broken with many years, he sank into his grave, his once verdant field was a forest of lusty oaks, which lifted their giant arms heavenward to the sunshine, defied the summer drought and the wintry hurricane, and bade fair to survive the storms and changes of many centuries.

And yet the lease was unexpired. The one crop had not become mature, nor been gathered to the garner; but the thoughtless young man had lost his heritage; the land was his no more.

Just so in the fair, generous soil of youth, with its bounding pulses and its exuberant life, Satan says, "Let me sow just one crop, and gather it in, and then, in a little while, when it is removed, I will ask no more. Pluck up the good seed sown at a mother's knee, buried by a mother's prayers, and watered by a mother's tears, clear off the rubbish that has grown up from the sweet influences of home, amid the gentle loves of sisterhood, and the kindly powers of piety and grace; away with all religious mopings and godly nonsense, clear the field for a new crop, just one; young men, you know, 'must sow their wild oats.' When this crop is off, then there will be time for other grains. Then, in mature life, plant the seeds of goodness, greatness, nobility, purity, and godliness; all these may grow," Satan says, "only let me first have one crop of wild oats."

And multitudes give heed to his wiles and consent to his proposals. But of all the mad delusions of mortals, theirs is the worst. Nothing grows longer, or roots stronger than wild oats. And may God pity the man who has leased his soul to Satan for one such crop. I have seen wild oats sown and grown. I have seen the harvest. I have seen the fatal brand of lust upon the beastly countenance. I have seen the blear of drunkenness in the reddened eye. I have seen the restless twitching of the shattered nerves, I have seen the stiffened gait of the ruined debauchee, and the sneaking glance which told that nothing but brass could make him hold up his head before the world. I have seen the wasted form, the sunken cheeks, the hectic flush; I have heard the shattered voice, the hollow cough, the sad confession, the vain regrets! Aye, I have preached Christ through grated windows, and in gloomy cells, and through the long, stony corridors, whence bars and bolts shut out the freedom and the joy of life; and I have looked on fetters, and knelt by the side of the young man guilty of his brother's blood, and amid it all I have said, "This is the harvest that comes of sowing wild oats."

Yes, and there are dark, dishonored graves where lie the buried hopes of fathers, the joys of mothers' hearts, the pride of brothers, and the love of sisters fair, and in the rank and tangled weeds that sprout and flourish, feeding on the corruptions of the dead, we see the result of "sowing wild oats."

Young man, possessed of all the grand opportunities of youthful life in this swift speeding age, can you, will you, lend your soul to Satan for him to raise one crop of "wild oats?" Will you sell your birthright for a summer's purchase? Will you, in the beastliness of lust, in the vortex of pleasure, in the red gleaming of the wine-cup, in the deadly hallucinations of narcotic drugs, in the poison of tobacco, in the pleasures of riot, in the foul pestilences of disease, in the madness of the gaming table, in the painted harlot's vile embrace, will you, can you, drown all there is about you of purity, and nobleness, and principle, and manliness, and become a poor, degraded, wretched thing?

Would you find your youth a fond delusion, your manhood a fruitless struggle, and your old age a vain regret? Would you spend a weary, worthless life, and see your sun go down at noon? Would you feel that existence has been a mournful failure, never to be retrieved? Would you come before the Giver of your powers, to receive his condemnation and his curse? Would you miss that glad and glorious immortality which is the heritage of all the sons of God? Would you come forth in the last harvest day, to shame and everlasting contempt? Then sow "wild oats."

You cannot eradicate the crop. The adamantine chains that bind together cause and effect will link you to the results of your actions here. Some things are already done beyond recall. In God alone is there pardon for the past! In Christ alone is there salvation from the guilt already incurred. In the blood of sprinkling alone, is there cleansing from the deep stains that now pollute your soul. In the Holy Spirit alone, is there a renovating power that shall revive and renew the wasting vigor of your moral life. In God's word alone, is there a lamp to guide your feet in your perplexed and dangerous path. In God's love and grace alone, is there deliverance from all your iniquities. Rejecting these, you will bind the millstone of sin about your neck as with the chains of fate, and plunge hopeless in the fiery billows of despair. Beware what you sow. "Be not deceived; God is not mocked, for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap. For he that soweth to the flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth to the spirit shall of the spirit reap life everlasting. And let us not be weary in well-doing; for in due season we shall reap if we faint not." Gal. vi, 7-9.—The Christian.

The One Spot.

ONE single spot on the fair face of a sheet of the best letter-paper, will cause its rejection when the manufacturer asserts it for sale. In obtaining recruits for the army, a single blemish in the eye, a little defect in the hearing, the loss of a finger or a toe, the slightest limp or halt in the gait, is the one fatal spot which causes rejection, however perfect the health in all other respects. A faultless specimen of manly vigor offers himself for examination, for the purpose of obtaining an insurance on his life, but at the very first trial of the pulse under the surgeon's finger, the certificate is peremptorily denied, because there is a fatal heart-disease lurking under that fair exterior. Here is a man who for a lifetime has had uniform good health; never dreamed but that he was perfectly well, but noticed for the first time an hour before, a little white pimple about the mouth, surrounded with several red ones, giving a dull hurting, causing, however, not the slightest apprehension; but meeting the family physician accidentally on the street, he inquires very carelessly, "What is it?" On a close inspection, the experienced practitioner detects the existence of a "malignant tubercle," which he knows will rapidly spread with a discoloration, and end in death within twenty-four hours! as in the case of Miss M. A. B.—, last week; of Mr. Henfield, six months ago; and of Mr. Casey, awhile before that, all of Brooklyn.

These are spots, physical and fatal, all! There are moral spots just as fatal to character, health, and life itself. I knew a young wife, first at Rockaway, who could boast of family, fortune, education, health, and great personal beauty; fascinating in her conversation, faultless in her intercourse with society, and of a benevolence so hearty and so free, that it was impossible for her neighbors not to love her with their whole hearts. But there was one spot, only one; and that not known, even to her husband; she would take opium—and died of its over-use at twenty-three.

I have been delighted by the hour, in listening to the recitations and reading the manuscript poetry of Mrs. L., of Kentucky. Neither beautiful nor ugly, but the spoiled and educated child of a rich father. She had a genius and a power which won all hearts, purely. One morning I learned she was dying, although in perfect health the day before. At intervals of a year, the demon of a drunken debauch came over her. It killed her husband, one of nature's noblemen. The one spot!

I knew a wife, living yet I think, a model of personal purity, of domestic industry, system, order and thoroughness. A slave to the care of her family of healthful, beautiful children, there was no sacrifice, no self-denial which she was not ever ready to make or practice for their comfort. Her husband, as the world goes, was all that could be desired as to industry, system, temperance, regularity, and order. It ought to have been a supremely happy family. It was wretched. The one spot was her insufferable ill-nature. It would be untrue to say that she ever came to the table without some expression of dissatisfaction. In twenty-six successive weeks, during which I daily sat at the same table, she never failed once to emit some venom either against the children, the servants, the food, or the weather, or something else. The whole house was kept in a turmoil, no single day passed without it! Her only son was driven to an engine-house, did not sleep at home "once in two years;" thence to the gutter; her daughters married for a home, and she went to an asylum in her old age.

There are many young men with whom you cannot help being pleased; frank, courteous, magnanimous and kind; they always meet you with a smile and a welcome, and you know it is cordial and sincere. On inquiry, they "drink." The one spot! It blasts all things else.

That daughter is beautiful, amiable, and courteous; in all she says or does, there is nothing to hang an adverse criticism upon. The moment she passes from her father's door, dressed in faultless taste, go to her room, and every article it contains, has impressed upon it the one spot of incorrigible sloven.

Let the reader this moment inquire, What spot have I? and begin at the instant to wash it out at any and every sacrifice, for they only who are admitted to the mansions of the blessed, are those "not having spot or wrinkle, or any such thing."—Hall's Journal.

The Sea-fog.

Did you ever stand upon the shore and watch a heavy, white sea-fog rolling in from the ocean, hiding the water and filling the valleys with its smokelike clouds, while the sky was blue above, and the hill-tops clear and distinct above the mist?

It is a grand and beautiful sight, one of the ever-varying and glorious scenes which the dwellers by the sea enjoy. I remember such a sea-fog one beautiful day last autumn. We stood looking across a small bay to the opposite shore, which was high and rocky. At first we saw the water sparkling at our feet and dashing upon the sandy beach; but the fog rolled rapidly in, hiding the waves and the further shore, till only the houses on the summit of the hill were left to view, standing up in a white cloud against the blue sky, with the sunlight gleaming bright upon them. They reminded me of the pictures of the Celestial City in the Pilgrim's Progress, so beautiful and unearthly did they look. It seemed to me a beautiful emblem of the Christian's life on earth. The future here is hidden like the valley in the mist, while the heavenly mansions beyond are clear and distinct, and the sky above unclouded. We cannot see the path before us through the valley up to that home, but the home itself shines clearly visible above the mist in the sunlight of God's promise. And step by step, as we go onward, the path opens before us; the fog can never hide the one step which we ought to take next, nor the city where our journey is to end, however dark the path between may be. Only let us remember always to look up; for if we do not, we shall miss the glory and the joy of life, and see only the dim and dreary fog.—H. P. A. in Am. Messenger.

Marriage and the Sabbath.

VESTIGES of Eden are rare; yet two institutions have survived the wreck, and have come down to us, witnesses of that happy and perfect condition in which they originated. These are the marriage relation and the Sabbath. As the bunch of grapes from Eshcol was a visible testimony to Israel of the fertility of Canaan, so do these divine appointments remind us of the felicity of Paradise.

The marriage bond lies at the foundation of domestic happiness, is the source of home joys and pure affections, without which the world would be far more blank, and miserable, and wicked than it is. Paradise lingers with us in a measure in the sweet and sacred relations of the family.

The other memorial of Eden is the Sabbath—God's reservation to himself of a share of the time measured out to men by the celestial clock-work—the motions of those heavenly bodies which are for times, and for seasons, and for days, and for years. And while the hallowing of one day in seven was an assertion of God's right and authority, and a memorial of his creative work, it was, at the same time, a rich benefaction conferred upon mankind. With what surpassing loveliness must that first Sabbath have been invested. With what splendor must the sun have issued forth as a bridegroom from the chambers of the east, and how must the primeval earth have rejoiced in his radiance. The rivers and lakes reflect his gladdening beams; the bright-hued flowers open their petals; the birds make the groves echo with their sweet melodies; and the parents of our race, untainted by thought or breath of sin, bow down in loving adoration and glorify their beneficent Parent. No jar or discord mars the full harmony; no sound of strife or wailing; no groan, nor shriek, nor sob, nor curse, vexes the air, but one grand, thrilling, universal chorus of praise and love, ascends to the King eternal, immortal, invisible. And even now, what is so redolent of Paradise, as the calm, bright Sabbath morn, when nature has just put on her robes of vernal beauty, and we enjoy a bright respite from care and toil.—Sel.

Pocket-Deep.

YES, say does your religion go pocket-deep? Were you converted only in the upper story—the old man only scalped, or was he killed dead? Does your religion teach only about that unruly member, so that cut your head off, and soul and body would both be damned; or, were you converted right down through, from head to foot, "soul, body and spirit," pocket, pocket-book and all? Not merely the coppers, three-cent pieces, and smooth fourpences; but those dollars and eagles, and V's and X's? Say, friend, when God converted you, did he convert house, barn, cellar, corn-cribs, potato-bins, meal-bags and all? You have been praying for a deeper work of grace. How deep will you have it?—pocket-deep? You have desired to feel more deeply. How deep?—pocket-deep? or do you only want to feel skin-deep? You don't feel as you want to. Well, perhaps you never will till you feel in your pocket more.

Just think about these matters, will you? You feel for your brother; well, just feel in your pocket. You feel for the poor; well, feel in your pocket. You feel for the cause; well, feel in your pocket. You feel for poor preachers; well, feel in your pocket. And if you feel there you will make others feel, and feel very thankful too, that God has some servants whose religion is pocket-deep.

"Oh, I don't believe in talking so much about pecuniary matters!" You don't, eh? Ah, well; I guess your religion is not pocket-deep yet. Try again; get a little nearer Him who "was rich" and "became poor" for you. You feel rather pleased when God's blessings come rolling into your purse and dwelling—that's all right, but the Lord Jesus said, "It is more blessed to give than to receive." Now don't shrug your shoulders so; I'm not going to beg a sixpence from you; don't be alarmed, I wouldn't ask you to give me a dollar for all the money you have in the world. Don't fret; all I want to know is whether your religion is pocket-deep or not. Just think of it a little. I don't ask whether you would scatter everything to the four winds if you knew the Lord was coming so that you couldn't use it; but whether you are as ready to open "the bag" now, when it can be of use, as at some other time, when it will be scattered in haste and fear, and do no one any good, and perhaps will do much hurt, as has often been the case in time past. In a word, is your religion pocket-deep, or is it only skin-deep?—Cross and Crown.

I Am Weary.

My feet are worn and weary with the march Over rough roads and up the steep hillside; O, City of our God! I fain would see Thy pastures green, where peaceful waters glide.

My hands are weary, laboring, toiling on, Day after day, for perishable meat; O, City of our God! I fain would rest— I sigh to gain thy glorious mercy-seat.

My garments travel-worn and soiled with dust, Oft rent by briers and thorns that crowd my way, Would fain be made, O Lord my righteousness, Spotless and pure in Heaven's unclouded ray.

My eyes are weary looking at the sin, Impiety and scorn upon the earth; O, City of our God! within thy walls All, all are clothed upon with the new birth.

My heart is weary of its own deep sin— Sinning, repenting, sinning still alway; When shall my soul thy glorious presence feel, And find its guilt, dear Saviour, washed away?

Patience, poor soul, the Saviour's feet were worn, The Saviour's heart and hands were weary too, His garments stained and travel-worn and old, His sacred eyes blinded with tears for you.

Love thou the path of sorrow that he trod; Toil on, and wait in patience for thy rest; O, City of our God! we soon shall see Thy glorious walls, home of the loved and blest.

Rules to Promote Harmony in the Family.

1. We may be sure that our will is likely to be crossed during the day, so prepare for it.

2. Everybody in the house has an evil nature, as well as ourselves, and, therefore, we are not to expect too much.

3. To learn the different temper of each individual.

4. To look upon each member of the family, as one for whose soul we are bound to watch, as those that must give account.

5. When any good happens to any one, to rejoice at it.

6. When inclined to give an angry answer, to lift up the heart in prayer.

7. If, from sickness, or infirmity, we feel irritable, to keep a very strict watch over ourselves.

8. To observe when others are suffering, and drop a word of kindness or sympathy suited to them.

9. To watch for little opportunities of pleasing, and to put little annoyances out of the way.

10. To take a cheerful view of everything, and to encourage hope.

11. To speak kindly to the servants, and praise them for little things when you can.

12. In all little pleasures which may occur, to put self last.

13. To try for the "soft answer which turneth away wrath."

14. When we have been pained by an unkind word or deed, to ask ourselves, "Have I not done the same and been forgiven?"

15. In conversation, not to exalt ourselves, but to bring others forward.

16. To be very gentle with the younger ones, and treat them with respect.

17. Never to judge one another, but attribute a good motive when you can.—Christian Treasury.

Short Steps

SHORT STEPS.—It is a short step from modesty to humility, but a shorter one from vanity to folly, and from weakness to falsehood.

The New Volume.

By Editor

The Review this week enters upon its twenty-eighth volume. We commence it under favorable circumstances, and cheering prospects. An interesting, harmonious, and encouraging Conference has just closed. The laborers in the great harvest-field who have been more or less crippled by ill health the past year are coming up. The great subject of health reform is getting to be well-defined and clear, by the light of which all will be enabled to adjust their labors to their physical capabilities, and thus have the surest guarantee against breaking down, and becoming inefficient in the future. The reports from the churches which endeavored to observe the late period of fasting, in a manner that should be acceptable to the Lord, are very cheering and reviving. There is in all hearts, which are imbued with a spirit of the message, so far as we can learn or judge, a buoyant feeling of hope and courage, a calm reliance upon God, and trust in his precious promises; a feeling that he has heard the prayers of his people, and is about to revive his cause, and work mightily for his name's sake, and that the time of release, the year of jubilee, is not far away.

While we rejoice in the truth, we are to remember that it is "not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit saith the Lord of hosts." Just so far as we can have the Spirit of God with us, which is designed to guide and illuminate the church, so far we are almighty and invincible; for the apostle sets it forth as the privilege of the people of God to be strengthened with "all might" according to his glorious power. Col. i, 11. Let us seek this Spirit in large measure, and with all the more assurance, because he hath signified his willingness to grant it unto those that desire it, even as parents give good gifts to their children. "Strong in the Lord and in the power of his might," be the motto of all his people.

It is ours to be such a people as God can consistently use in carrying forward his work upon earth; it is then his to accomplish that work, in his own time and for his own glory.

It is ours to realize what manner of persons we ought to be in all holy conversation and godliness, looking for and hasting unto the coming of the day of God; it is his to bring that day, and crown us with redemption at last.

It is ours to change our characters, that they may be in all things conformable to his holy will; it is his to change our vile bodies at last, that they may be conformed to his glorious body.

It is ours to keep the commandments of God in letter and in spirit too; it is his to bring us through the gates into the city, and give us a right to the tree of life.

It is ours to be all that is meant by the comprehensive name of "Christian;" to be all that can be required of the followers of the meek and lowly Jesus; to maintain such characters before the world as are essential to constitute us the people of God; and it is his to bring us into the infinite reward that awaits the overcomers.

And if we fulfill the requirements that rest upon us, sooner would the heavens and the earth pass away, than that there should be any failure on God's part in the things that he has promised.

Do as well as we can, we shall all have enemies; and the better we do, the more and fiercer they will be. Our motives will be traduced, our purposes misrepresented, our actions defamed. Worldlings will deride our hope, and scoff at our conscientious efforts to fulfill our duty; and false brethren will aim at us their arrows dipped in the rankest virus of enmity and malice. But amid it all, in the strength of our Master, we can press steadily on, leaving the result to the great day of adjudication, which will soon settle all the accounts of the past six thousand years of the misrule of error and of sin.

But we are departing from the subject. We want the Review to be a great help to the church in the work here briefly outlined, and in spreading light among the people. We want it to be free from all bitterness, wrath, malice, and evil speaking. We want that every line of its weekly record should breathe forth the spirit of Christianity, meekness, truth, and love. We want all its correspondents to be deeply imbued with the Spirit of God, and to receive a fresh baptism into his will and work.

Then the Review will accomplish its mission. The great Head of the church will own its efforts as of service in his cause; and no weapon formed against it shall prosper.

Note from Bro. Bourdeau.

By D. T. Bourdeau

DEAR BRN. AND SISTERS: I reached this place last Wednesday, having endured the journey well, and was refreshed in meeting my brother, and the dear brethren and sisters in Battle Creek, whose hearts and doors were opened to receive me, and who are endeared to me by free and bountiful acts of kindness and benevolence in the past. May God bless this dear people, is my prayer. We were disappointed in not seeing Bro. and Sr. White, who had just gone to Monterey on a visit; yet we rejoice that Bro. W. has been sufficiently blessed to move out, soon we trust to be in the cause again.

Yesterday I was favored with the privilege of meeting with the Battle Creek church, and was interested and benefited. Especially was I interested in the spirit, order, and manner in which the Bible Class and Sabbath School were conducted. In the evening I was refreshed in attending the ordinances of the Lord's house.

It was a sacrifice for me to leave home, and part with the brethren in Vermont, and our farewell season with the church at Enosburgh was affecting. Yet it was blessed to realize the strong ties that bind us together, and that I should be remembered by them. And we all longed for the Lord to come to invite us where there will be no more parting. But I would be willing to sacrifice, and follow the footsteps of my blessed Pattern, that I may reign with him.

Brethren, pray for us who go to Iowa, that the prospering hand of the Lord may go with us.

D. T. BOURDEAU.

Battle Creek, Mich., June 3.

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