Signs of the Times, Vol. 14, No. 49. (12/21/1888)

Signs of the Times

Dec 21, 1888

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Dec 21, 1888

THE SUFFERINGS OF CHRIST.

By Ellen G. White

Was there ever suffering and sorrow like that endured by the dying Saviour! It was the sense of his Father's displeasure which made his cup so bitter. It was not bodily suffering which so quickly ended the life of Christ upon the cross. It was the crushing weight of the sins of the world, and a sense of his Father's wrath, that broke his heart. The Father's glory and sustaining presence had left him, and despair pressed its crushing weight of darkness upon him, and forced from his pale and quivering lips the anguished cry, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?"

Jesus had united with the Father in making the world. Amid the agonizing sufferings of the Son of God, blind and deluded men alone remained unfeeling. The chief priests and elders reviled God's dear Son while in his expiring agony. Yet inanimate nature groaned in sympathy with her bleeding, dying Author. The earth trembled. The sun refused to behold the scene. The heavens gathered blackness. Angels witnessed the scene of suffering until they could look on no longer, and then hid their faces from the horrid sight. Christ is in despair! He is dying! His Father's approving smile is removed, and angels are not permitted to lighten the gloom of the terrible hour. They can only behold in amazement their loved Commander suffering the penalty of man's transgression of the Father's law.

Even doubts assailed the dying Son of God. He could not see through the portals of the tomb. Bright hope did not present to him his coming forth from the tomb a conqueror, and his Father's acceptance of his sacrifice. The sin of the world, with all its terribleness, was felt to the utmost by the Son of God. The displeasure of the Father for sin, and its penalty, which was death, were all that he could realize through this amazing darkness. He was tempted to fear that sin was so offensive in the sight of his Father that he could not be reconciled to his Son. The fierce temptation that his own Father had forever left him, caused that piercing cry from the cross, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?"

Christ felt much as sinners will feel when the vials of God's wrath shall be poured out upon them. Black despair like the pall of death will gather about their guilty souls, and then they will realize to the fullest extent the sinfulness of sin. Salvation has been purchased for them by the suffering and death of the Son of God. It might be theirs if they would accept of it willingly, gladly; but none are compelled to yield obedience to the law of God. If they refuse the heavenly benefit, if they choose the pleasures and deceitfulness of sin, they can have their choice, and at the end receive their wages, which is the wrath of God and eternal death. They will be forever separated from the presence of Jesus, whose sacrifice they have despised. They will have lost a life of happiness, and sacrificed eternal glory for the pleasures of sin for a season.

Faith and hope trembled in the expiring agonies of Christ, because God had removed the assurance he had heretofore given his beloved Son of his approbation and acceptance. The Redeemer of the world then relied upon the evidences which had hitherto strengthened him, that his Father accepted his labors and was pleased with his work. In his dying agony, as he yielded up his precious life, he had by faith alone to trust in Him whom it had ever been his joy to obey. He was not cheered with clear, bright rays of hope on the right hand nor on the left. All was enshrouded in oppressive gloom. Amid the awful darkness which was felt even by sympathizing nature, the Redeemer drained the mysterious cup even to its dregs. Denied even bright hope and confidence in the triumph which he was very soon to experience, he cried with a loud voice, "Lord, into thy hands I commit my spirit." He was acquainted with the character of his Father, his justice, his mercy, and great love. In submission he dropped into the hands of his Father. Amid the convulsions of nature were heard by the amazed spectators the dying words of the Man of Calvary, "It is finished."

Nature sympathized with the sufferings of its Author. The heaving earth, the rent rocks, and the terrific darkness, proclaimed that it was the Son of God that died. There was a mighty earthquake. The vail of the temple was rent in twain. Terror seized the executioners and spectators as they beheld the sun vailed in darkness, and felt the earth shake beneath them, and saw and heard the rending of the rocks. The mocking and jeering of the chief priests and elders was hushed as Christ commended his spirit into the hands of his Father. The astonished throng began to withdraw, and grope their way in the darkness to the city. They smote upon their breasts as they went, and in terror, speaking scarcely above a whisper, said among themselves, "It is an innocent person that has been murdered. What if, indeed, he is, as he asserted, the Son of God?"

Jesus did not yield up his life till he had accomplished the work which he came to do, and exclaimed with his departing breath, "It is finished!" Satan was then defeated. He knew that his kingdom was lost. Angels rejoiced as the words were uttered, "It is finished." The great plan of redemption, which

was dependent on the death of Christ, had been thus far carried out. And there was joy in Heaven that the sons of Adam could, through a life of obedience, be finally exalted to the throne of God. Oh, what love! what amazing love! that brought the Son of God to earth to be made sin for us, that we might be reconciled to God, and elevated to a life with him in his mansions in glory. And oh! what is man that such a price should be paid for his redemption?

When men and women can more fully comprehend the magnitude of the great sacrifice which was made by the Majesty of Heaven in dying in men's stead, then will the plan of salvation be magnified, and reflections of Calvary will awaken sacred and living emotions in the Christian's heart. Praises to God and the Lamb will be in their hearts and upon their lips. Pride and self-worship cannot flourish in the hearts that keep fresh in memory the scenes of Calvary. This world will appear of but little value to those who appreciate the great price of man's redemption.

All the riches of the world are not of sufficient value to redeem one perishing soul. Who can measure the love Christ felt for a lost world, as he hung upon the cross, suffering for the sins of guilty men? This love was immeasurable, infinite.

Christ has shown that his love was stronger than death. Even when suffering the most fearful conflicts with the powers of darkness, his love for perishing sinners increased. He endured the hidings of his Father's countenance, until he was led to exclaim in the bitterness of his soul, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" His arm brought salvation. The price was paid to purchase the redemption of man, when, in the last soul struggle, the blessed words were uttered, which seemed to resound through creation, "It is finished."

Many who profess to be Christians become excited over worldly enterprises, and their interest is awakened for new and exciting amusements, while they are cold-hearted, and appear as if frozen in the cause of God. But here is a theme, poor formalist, which is of sufficient importance to excite you. Eternal interests are here involved. The scenes of Calvary call for the deepest emotions. Upon this subject you will be excusable if you manifest enthusiasm. That Christ, so excellent, so innocent, should suffer such a painful death, bearing the weight of the sins of the world, our thoughts and imagination can never fully reach, so that we can comprehend the length, the breadth, the height, and the depth, of such amazing love. The contemplation of the matchless love of the Saviour should fill and absorb the mind, touch and melt the soul, refine and elevate the affections, and completely transform the whole character. The language of the apostle is, "I determined not to know anything among you, save Jesus Christ and him crucified." And we may look toward Calvary, and also exclaim, "God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto me, and I unto the world." Considering at what an immense cost our salvation has been purchased, what will be the portion of those who neglect so great salvation? What will be the punishment of those who profess to be followers of Christ yet fail to bow in humble obedience to the claims of their Redeemer, and who do not take the cross, as humble disciples of Christ?

Some have limited views of the atonement. They think that Christ suffered only a small portion of the penalty of the law of God, and that while the wrath of God was felt by his dear Son, they suppose that he had, through all his painful sufferings, the evidence of his Father's love and acceptance, and that the portals of the tomb before him were illuminated with bright hope. Here is a great mistake. Christ's keenest anguish was a sense of his Father's displeasure. His mental agony because of this was of such intensity that man can have but faint conception of it.

With many the history of the humiliation and sacrifice of our divine Lord does not stir the soul and affect the life any more, nor awaken deeper interest, than to read of the death of the martyrs of Jesus. Many have suffered death by slow tortures. Others have suffered death by crucifixion. In what does the death of God's dear Son differ from these? It is true he died upon the cross a most cruel death; yet others for his dear sake have suffered equally, as far as bodily torture is concerned. Why, then, was the suffering of Christ more dreadful than that of other persons who have yielded their lives for his sake? If the sufferings of Christ consisted in physical pain alone, then his death was no more painful than that of some of the martyrs.

But bodily pain was only a small part of the agony of God's dear Son. The sins of the world were upon him, and also the sense of his Father's wrath as he suffered the penalty of the law. It was these that crushed his divine soul. It was the hiding of his Father's face, a sense that his own dear Father had forsaken him, which brought despair. The separation that sin makes between God and man was fully realized and keenly felt by the innocent, suffering Man of Calvary. He was oppressed by the powers of darkness. He had not one ray of light to brighten the future. And he was struggling with the power of Satan, who was declaring that Christ was in his hands, and that he was superior in strength to the Son of God, that God had disowned his Son, and that he was no longer in the favor of God any more than himself. If he was indeed still in favor with God, why need he die? God could save him from death.

Christ yielded not in the least degree to the torturing foe, even in his bitterest anguish. Legions of evil angels were all about the Son of God, yet the holy angels were bidden not to break their ranks and engage in conflict with the taunting, reviling foe. Heavenly angels were not permitted to minister unto the anguished spirit of the Son of God. It was in this terrible hour of darkness, the face of his Father hidden, legions of evil angels enshrouding him, the sins of the world upon him, that the words were wrenched from his lips, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?"

We should take larger, broader, and deeper views of the life, sufferings, and death of God's dear Son. When the atonement is viewed correctly, the salvation of souls will be felt to be of infinite value. In comparison with the enterprise of securing everlasting life, every other sinks into insignificance. But how have the counsels of the Saviour been despised by many. The heart's devotions have been to the world, and selfish interests have closed the door against the Son of God. Hollow hypocrisy and pride, selfishness and gain, envy, malice, and passion, have so filled the hearts of many that Christ can have no room.

He was eternally rich, "yet for our sakes became poor, that we through his poverty might be made rich." He was clothed with light and glory, surrounded with hosts of heavenly angels awaiting to execute his commands. Yet he put on our nature, and came to sojourn among sinful men. "Behold, what manner of love the Father hath bestowed upon us, that we should be called the sons of God." Here is love that no language can express. Our souls should be enlivened, elevated, and enraptured with the theme of the love of the Father and the Son. "And every man that hath this hope in him purifieth himself, even as He is pure." The followers of Christ should learn here to reflect back in some degree that mysterious love preparatory to joining all the redeemed in ascribing "blessing, and honor, and glory, and power unto Him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb forever and ever."

"A LITTLE WHILE."

A LITTLE while, our fightings shall be over; A little while, our tears be wiped away; A little while, the presence of Jehovah Shall turn our darkness into Heaven's bright day.

A little while, the fears that oft surround us Shall to the memories of the past belong; A little while, the love that sought and found us Shall change our weeping into Heaven's glad song.

A little while! His presence goes before us, A fire by night, a shadowy cloud by day; His banner, love inscribed, is floating o'er us, His arm almighty is our strength and stay!

A little while to live and work for Jesus, To gather with the reapers till he come; Oh, let not faithless fears and doubtings seize us— A little while, and then the harvest-home!

A little while! 'Tis ever drawing nearer— The wished-for dawning of that glorious day. Blest Saviour, make our spirit's vision clearer, And guide, oh, guide us in the shining way.

A little while! Oh, blessed expectation! A little while! "Lord, tarry not," we cry; Our hearts up leap in fond anticipation; Rejoice! "The coming of the Lord is nigh!" —Selected.

General Articles.

CHARACTER.

By S. S. Times

IN order to show character in the face, one must be willing to have lines breaking the surface of the countenance. One cannot have a song or a story written on paper, and yet have the paper as free from marks as before. Yet there are persons who actually seek to obliterate from their faces the signs of the little character they possess. They employ cosmetics for the purpose of making their countenances smooth and fair at the cost of destroying the proofs of any gain and growth on their part in the direction of true and noble beings. And there are photographers who will finish up a negative by filling in the lines of character, so that the picture of a real man or of a real woman is reduced to the semblance of a second-rate wax figure in a hair-dresser's window. A fair face is attractive in its way, but it is not to be compared with a fair fame. And when the lines of age or of care are in a face, the attempt to secure a fair face, or a picture of that face as if it were fair, must be at the cost of the fair name which character gives to one who has lived to a purpose, and who has gained the results of worthy living. Well-marked lines in the face are as precious as well-written lines in manuscript. It is not to the credit of any man when it can be said of him that the paper on which he writes is worth more without his writing than with it.

—S. S. Times.

WHAT IS SELF-DENIAL?

By William Raymond

My mind has been directed to the subject of self-denial, and I am convinced that the common idea of it is entirely wrong. My mind was directed to it in the following manner. I found by the teachings of our blessed Saviour, that self-denial was a condition of discipleship. I found also by comparing my experience with the common idea of it, that I knew nothing about it, and I inevitably came to the conclusion that either the common idea of it was wrong, or I was not a Christian.

As I was traveling from place to place, I asked ministers and Christians what they considered as a correct definition of self-denial. I universally received this idea: When a Christian sees anything after which his heart longs, right it may be in itself, yet under present circumstances forbidden by the spirit of the gospel, a struggle ensues in the mind. If he decides on the side of the gospel, and foregoes the pleasure of the thing thus forbidden, it is self-denial.

Now, if this idea is correct, I know nothing about it, and have known nothing about it for more than four years. For more than four years whenever I have seen duty or the will of God, my whole soul has risen right up to do it; and whenever I have seen anything incompatible with the spirit of the gospel, I have not had a single desire for it any more than if the thing was not in existence.

When God called me to go to Africa, my whole soul rose up to go. A blast and a mildew seemed to be spread over everything here. I saw no beauty in anything unless it was in some way connected with my duty.

I have heard of the peculiar emotions that missionaries have felt as they have looked upon their native land for the last time. I stood upon the deck of the vessel and saw my native hills sink—sink until they were entirely hidden behind the mass of water that lay between us, with no other emotion than that of joy—joy that my heavenly Father had counted me worthy to carry the lamp of life to those who sat in the region and shadow of death.

While laboring in Africa, midst all the trials incident to missionary life, I never had one longing desire after home or the privileges of civilization. If the common acceptance of the term is correct, it is no self-denial for me to return to that country. It is my pleasure and delight.

You may be ready to ask what I consider self-denial to be. I think self-denial is a state of mind in which the whole heart, under every circumstance and on every occasion, prefers Christ and duty to selfish gratification. It is a state of mind in which every gratification which is seen to conflict with the will of Christ is at once relinquished, without even the heart longing after it.

Faith is a state of mind, and yet there are particular acts of faith. In the same way, self-denial is a state of mind, and yet there are such things as particular acts of self-denial.

If this view of the subject is correct, it seems to me that many professors of religion know very little about it, and what they call self-denial is but a yoke of bondage which is entirely incompatible with the spirit of the gospel.—William Raymond.

TESTS OF LOVE.

By Frank Hope

PAUL writing to the Romans says, "The love of God is shed abroad in our hearts." He is not at all uncertain that such was the case, but speaks with assurance, as if he were positive and had no doubt about it. Paul is but the type of the true Christian, and it is our privilege to be as sure in regard to our condition as he was, and to know that we have the love of God in our hearts. The question is, How did Paul know? and, How can we know that we have that love? Many say we can only tell because we feel it; we know, say they, that we have it by the peculiar emotions it produces in us.

But though the love of God produces happiness, a feeling of happiness cannot be taken as a sign that one is imbued with that love, for sometimes a true servant of God is far from feeling happy. Christ at times said that he was exceeding sorrowful even unto death, and he is called the Man of sorrows, while on the other hand Belshazzar, no doubt, felt very happy during his impious feast, but he was weighed in the balance and found wanting. Paul says, "We walk by faith, not by sight"—nor by hearing, or feeling, or any of the senses. How, then, can we know that we have the love of God? Simply by our lives. Christ says, "By their fruits ye shall know them," or as Paul said in this connection, "The love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost," and all who have that Holy Spirit will manifest its fruits in their lives. Gal. 5 : 22-25. Besides this the Bible gives us some very simple rules by which we may know if we are imbued with the love of Christ.

1. If we love God we will obey him. We will keep his commandments, for this is the only way we poor fallen creatures have of showing our love and gratitude to him. Said Christ to his disciples, "If ye love me, keep my commandments." John, the apostle of love, tells us, "He that saith, I know him, and keepeth not his commandments, is a liar, and the truth is not in him. But whoso keepeth his word, in him verily is the love of God perfected; hereby know we that we are in him." 1 John 2 : 4, 5. And again: "By this we know that we love the children of God, when we love God, and keep his commandments. For this is the love of God, that we keep his commandments." This is a sure test, and one always to be relied on. When men make great professions of love to God, and yet show a spirit of hatred to his law, it is a sure sign that they are not in the path of love, and Christ says to them as he did to the Jews, "I know you, that ye have not the love of God in you."

2. Those who have the love of God, love one another. On this point John says, "If any man say, I love God, and hateth his brother, he is a liar; for he that loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God whom he hath not seen? And this commandment have we from him, That he who loveth God love his brother also." 1 John 4 : 20, 21. Those who feel hard and unforgiving towards any may be sure that they have not the love of God shed abroad in their hearts. Those who have this love will not feel animosity against even those who do them great injury, but will follow the teaching of Jesus, who said, "Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you." "For if ye love them which love you, what reward have ye? do not even the publicans the same?" If we only love those that are good to us, we do no more than the rest of humanity or the brute creation, and thus show that we are actuated by no higher power; but if we love those who are not good to us, we demonstrate to the world that we are controlled by a higher motive than what humanity naturally has; thus we show that we have the love of God.

3. Those who love God think of him. Said Christ, "Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also." We all know that this is true. The one who is most dear to us is the one who is uppermost in our thoughts; so if we love God we will love to meditate on him and his goodness, and to pray to him. This is not natural for us, for man naturally hates to think of God; it is distasteful to him and troubles him, so before we can thus think of God a change must have taken place in us, that is, we must have the love of God shed abroad in our hearts. Reader, what is your main line of thought? If you love God with all your heart, he will be your constant theme of meditation. David, speaking of the godly, said, "His delight is in the law of the Lord; and in his law doth he meditate day and night." FRANK HOPE.

CUMBERED.

By Christian at Work

CHRIST never asks of us such busy labor As leaves no time for resting at his feet; The waiting attitude of expectation He ofttimes counts a service most complete.

He sometimes wants our ear—our rapt attention, That he some sweetest secret may impart; 'Tis always in the time of deepest silence That heart finds deepest fellowship with heart.

We sometimes wonder why our Lord doth place us Within a sphere so narrow, so obscure, That nothing we call work can find an entrance; There's only room to suffer—to endure.

Well, God loves patience! Souls that dwell in stillness, Doing the little things or resting quiet, May just as perfectly fulfill their mission, Be just as useful in the Father's sight,

As they who grapple with some giant evil, Clearing a path that every eye may see! Our Saviour cares for cheerful acquiescence Rather than for a busy ministry.

And yet he does love service, where 'tis given By grateful love that clothes itself in deed; But work that's done beneath the scourge of duty, Be sure to such he gives but little heed.

Then seek to please him, whatsoe'er he bids thee, Whether to do—to suffer—to lie still, 'Twill matter little by what path he leads us, If in it all we seek to do his will.

SAYING AND DOING.

By Theodore Ledyard Cuyler, D. D.

SOMETIMES a word weighs a ton. Sometimes it is not worth a farthing. Luther's majestic and memorable words, "Here I stand; I cannot change, God help me," when they were pronounced in the Imperial Diet, aroused all Europe. They were half battles. A simple yes or no often decides one's destiny.

Christ commanded open confession of him as one evidence of heart loyalty. Yet his divine wisdom detected the utter cheapness of a confession that was not proved genuine by the daily conduct. If he knew the worth of an honest word of profession, he also knew the worthlessness of a mere promise which the utterer never intended to redeem. "Not everyone that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of Heaven, but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in Heaven." If there is any one passage above all others which a young convert should write in his diary, on the day of his admission into the church of Christ, it is this very text. For under the constant pressure to "confess Christ before the world," and to "open his lips for Jesus," the new convert is in danger of thinking that all that is required of him is a service of the lips. He soon finds words to be cheap and easy. To speak in a meeting becomes no harder a task than to eat his dinner. He may even feed his self-conceit on the praise which his fluent utterances bring to him. His religion runs into words—words—words. That this has proved a snare and a peril to thousands, we pastors know too well.

What Jesus demands of his followers is that their confession should crystallize into conduct. The highest evidence of piety is to do God's will. Saying is good, doing is infinitely better. Faith saves; but faith is not a mere sentiment. It is far deeper than a gracious emotion. It is a stalwart principle, with vigor in every one of its ten fingers, and a prodigious grip and momentum in its right arm. It is not an indolent trust, but an active power in the renewed soul. Faith works by love. Faith overcomes the world; faith removes mountains. Evermore is it set forth in God's word, as a living, acting, burden-bearing, duty-doing principle, "If ye love me, keep my commandments." And keeping a commandment of Jesus sometimes costs the carrying of a heavy load; sometimes the conquest of an ugly temper; sometimes the performance of a painful duty; sometimes the endurance of a hail-storm of reproach; sometimes the surrender of what pride clings to with terrible tenacity. Doing Christ's will sent Henry Martyn to die in Persia, and David Brainard to spend his rich, generous life amid the wigwams of savages. Doing Christ's will sometimes makes a rich man become poor, rather than dishonor his religion. Doing Christ's will leads to sacrifices that cut deep. Doing Christ's will often puts a man under the ban of unpopularity, and a woman under the frowns of fashion. "If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me;" for so shall he be my disciple.

These are times of cheap discipleship. There is a prodigious danger that piety may evaporate into prayer-meeting talks and singing of seraphic hymns. Even Heaven is pictured too often as a sort of celestial "picnic," beneath waving trees and beside sparkling waters. The soul is thus bribed by the promise of enjoyment here and endless raptures hereafter.

Oh, how different is Christ's picture of the Christian life, with its stern duties, its exalted joys, its conflicts, and its well-won crowns! Holiness is not a devout emotion. It is the constant, humble, sincere doing of God's will. "As obedient children, . . . be ye holy in all manner of conversation."

He that heareth Christ's commands and doeth them is the man who buildeth his eternal hopes on a rock. The winds of opposition smite against him; the rains of unjust reproach beat upon him; the currents of selfishness and sin strike him steadily; but he moves not from his sure foundation. He is built on Christ; his life is the daily adding of grace to grace, of deed to deed, of strength to strength, until he is changed into Christ's image from glory to glory.—Theo. L. Cuyler, D. D.

"SET APART."

By Mrs. M. N. Van Benschoten

It was in the sweet June days. A young mother, who had two small children and the entire work of the family to do, arose early, while yet the children slept, that she might uninterruptedly commune with Christ. Noiselessly she entered the parlor, so hushed and still, and opened a window eastward, toward the dawn. The fresh, cool breath of the morning swept in.

"I have come early to meet thee, my Father," she prayed; "speak some precious word to me." Opening her Bible, her eyes fell upon these words: "But know that the Lord hath set apart him that is godly for himself."

With a strange, penetrating power the words came, thrilling her heart. Set apart! For himself—alone! A feeling of great awe and sweetness fell upon her, and as she waited before him it seemed to pervade her entire being with gracious, mollifying influence, like most precious ointment.

The breaking of the day was not so brilliant, so clear or discerning as the light within. Separated unto God! positive, clear, distinct, standing out in bold relief. No such separation had ever been hers before. Yet she knew of consecration unto God. Thoughtfully she had dedicated every redeemed power unto the Most High. But that was her act—this was God's. He had accepted the offering, and now in the intense electric light of his Spirit showed her that he had "separated her unto himself." Henceforth "holiness unto the Lord" must beam forth from all her life, as of old it glistened on the sacred vessels."

Brighter and brighter grew the morning. Softly came the sound of little voices. Was earth, then, with its cares, so near to Heaven? Did its horizon verily lean against the skies? Ah, yes; but now, as never before, it lay bathed in the wondrous after-glow. The world could never seem quite the same. Life could nevermore be common-place. The ceaseless round of every-day toil,—the tying of a little shoe, the sweeping of a room, or homelier duties,—could nevermore be called drudgery. Now that this secret of the Lord lay hidden in her heart, the round of humble duties was lifted into "service for God," while "deeds of week-day holiness fell from her noiseless as the snow."

The days came and went, apparently as before; but to her life had a richer meaning. She was her own no more—on hand and lip and heart was inscribed, "Sacred to Jesus," while a flood-tide of joy and blessedness weaned her from all unhallowed pleasures.

"How strange you are!" said a friend. "You bring religion into everything, and talk about it as easily as about anything else." "Why not?" she replied. "To live is Christ. We know of no life separate from Jesus."

Will the great mass of God's children ever come to thoroughly understand that the garments of holiness are for every-day wear—the beautiful garments, white and shining?

"Week-day holiness" is what the world needs. Not cloistered saint or monastic vows, but men and women who vindicate by their holy lives the promises of God; those who prove by the sweetness and power of their daily living the verity of their own professed allegiance to Jesus Christ.—Mrs. M. N. Van Benschoten, in Guide to Holiness.

HOW SOULS ARE SAVED.

A dying publican's wife, in England, recently gave the following encouraging testimony, as narrated by the evangelist who visited her. He says: "I was asked to go to a public house in Nottingham and see the landlord's wife, who was dying. I found her rejoicing in Christ as her Saviour. I asked her how she had found the Lord. 'Reading that,' she replied, handing me a torn piece of newspaper containing an extract from one of Spurgeon's sermons, which extract had been the means of her conversion. 'Where did you get this newspaper?' I asked. She answered, 'It was wrapped round a parcel which was sent me from Australia.' Talk about the hidden life of a good seed! Think of that—a sermon preached in London, conveyed to America, an extract reprinted in a newspaper there, the paper sent to Australia, a part torn off (as we should say, accidentally) for the parcel dispatched to England, and after all its wanderings, conveying the message of salvation to that woman's soul! God's word shall not return unto him void."—Selected.

Making Others Happy

"Christ's time was largely taken up in making people happy." We are Christ-like, then, when endeavoring to imitate his wisdom and tact, we are doing some little act to make others happy; and there is no one, however narrow his field of service, who cannot find a good many ways each day in which to be like his Lord in this respect.—Selected.

THE DEFEAT OF JUSTICE.

By Editor

DEFEATS of justice have become so common nowadays that they excite little or no remark except in extreme instances. Especially is this true in criminal cases, though even in civil suits it is difficult for one who has not an abundance of money to get justice. Why this is so is well told in the following extract from an editorial in the Oakland Enquirer of November 28:—

“The curse of the legal profession, in respect to the habit of mind fostered in lawyers, is that most of the time the best lawyers are employed against the State instead of for it. The lawyers who are able to make the largest incomes from their practice will not accept the moderate salaries paid to public prosecutors, and it is not often that they care to assume the dignities of a judgeship. Thus it comes that many lawyers spend their lives in trying to beat the civil and criminal laws of the Government under which they live, and it is sometimes surprising that they do not despise themselves for the uniform success of their attempts. It is unquestionably true that every accused person has the right to have the best presentation of his defense which the facts admit of, and that defending criminals is reputable business for lawyers, when it is reputably conducted. But twenty or thirty years of this, unmixed with any experience of public advocacy, will certainly narrow and dwarf the mind, if anything can, and stifle all generosity of sentiment.

“In other words, a lawyer is not a good citizen when he subordinates everything to his profession and cares not whether the laws be good or bad so long as he makes his fees. We need only look at the history of San Francisco and California to be satisfied that many of the leading lawyers of the past thirty years have been men of this class. If it is true that the law is a noble profession the nobility of it must be sought in something else than in breaking up public statutes which were drawn for the public good but without sufficient skill, or in fighting legal battles with absolute disregard of the right or wrong, justice or injustice, involved. Cases of this sort are inseparable from the practice of law, but the lawyer who does not rise high enough in sentiment to feel at all times that the laws ought to be executed alike upon the rich and the poor, and that the statutes should be made strong enough to withstand the attacks of millionaire criminals, is really no ornament to society. The responsibility of the lawyer for the perfection of the law is of no ordinary kind, because he spends his life in studying it and commenting on it; therefore, if he is not willing to give of his knowledge and his experience for the benefit of the public, the loss is a very sensible one.”

The design of the law, and of courts of law, is to guarantee to every man his rights, to protect life, person, and property, and it ought to be the purpose of every member of every court to carry out fully the spirit of the law; but such is seldom the ruling principle in the legal breast. Lawyers undertake cases not simply with the determination that their clients shall have their rights, but that they shall have all the advantage which can possibly be gained for them by whatever means. The legal profession needs renovation, but there is small hope that it will ever be better than it is now. So long as Mammon holds sway in the hearts of men, lawyers will work, not for right and justice, but for money, for place, and for power.

Be Strong to Bear

Be strong to bear, O heart. Nothing is vain; Strive not, for life is care, And God sends pain; Heaven is above, and there Rest will remain. —Watchword.

HOW TO BECOME NEW MEN.

THE following is from one of Talmage's sermons, and is one of the truest things he ever said. Those who will read the fifty-eighth chapter of Isaiah will find the divine authority for the statements here made:—

"O ye overweighted, successful business men, whether this sermon reach your ear or your eye, let me say that if you are prostrated with anxieties about keeping or investing these tremendous fortunes, I can tell you how you can do more to get your health back, and your spirits raised, than by drinking gallons of bad-tasting water at Saratoga, Hamburg, or Carlsbad,—give to God and humanity the Bible, and 10 per cent. of all your income, and it will make a new man of you, and from restless walking of the floor at night you shall have eight hours, sleep without the help of bromide of potassium; and from no appetite you will hardly be able to wait your regular meals, and your wan cheeks will fill up; and when you die the blessings of those who but for you would have perished, will bloom all over your grave with violets if it be spring, or gladiolas if it be autumn."

OUR BUSINESS.

By James Culross

OUR business is not to talk about shining, not to have theories about the way of doing it—but by our good works to shine, and so to bear testimony to the Lord. This simple thought meets a thousand difficulties.

"I am very poor; my candle-stick is tin instead of silver; if I were richer I should be of more use." Let your light shine.

"I am feeble in health; half my time is passed within a sick-room; my candle-stick is a broken one." Let your light shine, even if there is no more candle-stick than to hold the candle from falling over.

"I am very much out of the way, in a very obscure corner, far off from the general eye and observation; I wish I were in a better position." Let your light shine.

The Lord knows why he has placed you where you are; be sure he has a purpose worthy of being accomplished.—Rev. James Culross, D. D.

Continue reading: THE CROSS-BEARING LIFE