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Review and Herald, Vol. XXXI, No. 3

The Sermon.

Review and Herald

Third-day, December 31, 1867

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Third-day, December 31, 1867

The Sermon.

By H. A. St. John

I charge thee therefore before God, and the Lord Jesus Christ, who shall judge the quick and the dead at his appearing and his kingdom
PREACH THE WORD. 2 Tim. iv, 2.

A SHORT SERMON ON DUTY.

BY H. A. ST. JOHN.
TEXT. “Choose you this day whom ye will serve.” Josh. xxiv, 15.
The language of our text is that used by the venerable Joshua on a very important occasion. By an examination of the context, you will discover that this man of God had caused to be assembled at Shechem, all the tribes of Israel. To this vast concourse of God’s then peculiar people, Joshua, their prime minister, delivered his final and farewell address. And it was not because he meant to retire as a superannuated servant of the church, for the evidence is lacking, that God had any such place of retreat for his people, aside from the grave. Joshua, as he informs us himself, was old, “and stricken in years;” and was about to go “the way of all the earth.” And we would certainly suppose that the words of such a man, upon such an occasion, and at such a time, would be listened to with the greatest deference, and sink deep into the heart. He recounted in their hearing very many of the interesting events in their past history, that would serve to remind them of the unbounded goodness of God, as manifested in his dealings with them, and of their eternal obligation to serve and obey him. By facts and illustrations, he vividly portrayed before them, the direful consequences of serving other gods. This brings us to notice the words to which we have before referred. “Choose you this day whom ye will serve.” In the examination of this important injunction of the prophet of God, we wish to notice particularly, three points. 1st. The matter of choice. 2d. The time to choose, and, 3d. The action consequent upon the choice. First, then, the matter of choice. We would remark, the very first word of this inspired declaration, is, in our mind, a complete upsetter of that pernicious, soul-destroying, doctrine of the Devil, known as election, or predestination; which doctrine denies the accountability of man, and teaches that man is but a mere machine, acting only as he is acted upon, and doing only those things that the Almighty had predestined before his existence that he should do, leaving the creature no option at all in the matter. “Choose you,” says the prophet, plainly giving us to understand, without any necessity of inferring, that the vast multitude whom he addressed, were free moral agents, possessing the requisite ability to exercise choice. In short, it is a positive proof of human accountability, for who would think of addressing a machine with such language. This however, is but one of many testimonies that might be adduced to prove the same point. In truth, the Bible itself is but one continued elucidation of the same great fundamental fact. We call it fundamental, because it evidently lies at the very bottom of a sound religious faith. How much would a man fear God, and tremble at his word, if he believed himself to be morally unaccountable for his actions? We have heard ministers of the gospel, thank God, that this doctrine of unconditional election was “dying out.” We should be most happy to unite with them in this kind of thanksgiving; but must confess that we cannot see it. On the contrary, stubborn facts prove that it is startlingly on the increase, though it may be in a new phase, and bearing a new name. Modern Spiritualism, that last and most gigantic deception of the Devil, in various ways inculcates the same idea. May God help us to ever realize that we are accountable beings, amenable to him for all our actions here. We are placed on trial, on probation. Eternal life, or eternal death shall be our portion, according to our own option. They are within our grasp, and which will we choose? Oh! may we make the wise choice, and make that choice now. This brings us to the second point, viz:
Second, The time to choose. “Choose you this day whom ye will serve.” Not to-morrow, or next day, or at some future time, but now, “this day.” Very frequently in the Scriptures of truth we are exhorted to seek without delay the favor of God. Says Paul, “Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation.” 2 Cor. vi, 2. Says Jesus, “Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness.” Matt. vi, 33. Says David, “I made haste, and delayed not to keep thy commandments.” Psa. cxix, 60. Procrastination is still the worst thief of time. Eternity alone can reveal the dreadful consequences of delay. How many unfortunate ones have been struck from existence in a single moment, with no time allowed them to carry out their good resolves. They intended to be Christians, but alas! their probation is ended, and their good intentions can never avail them anything. In the great day of accounts, what can they answer? Oh! that every one might realize the importance of improving the present time. “Boast not thyself of to-morrow; for thou knowest not what a day may bring forth.” Prov. xxvii, 1. Read the Saviour’s parable of a certain rich man. Luke xii, 16–21, and note particularly the 21st verse. Also read James iv, 13–17. And when we take into consideration the solemn fact that we are living in the closing hours of probation, it becomes, if possible, of vastly more importance, that we dally not with the precious moments, so graciously given us to prepare to meet God. Jesus pleads for us now. His blood avails to cleanse from sin now. The fountain for sin and uncleanness is open to-day. The good Shepherd, with outstretched arms, is now calling for the wandering sheep. He can now be touched with the feeling of our infirmities. But in a little from this, the momentous work of man’s redemption will be finished. Now our calling and election may be made sure; then it will be found too late.
Third, The action consequent upon the choice. The first thing that engages the attention, with regard to the action expressed, is its decisiveness. It is “Choose you this day whom ye will serve.” Not whom you desire to serve, or want to serve, or will try to serve; but whom you will serve, regardless of the consequences that may follow. Says Paul, “Know ye not, that to whom ye yield yourselves servants to obey, his servants ye are to whom ye obey; whetherof sin unto death, or of obedience unto righteousness?” Rom. vi, 16. We are servants of God or of Satan, accordingly as we yield ourselves to either. How many times our hearts have been filled with sadness on beholding the seemingly undecided course of professed followers of Jesus. At times they appear to be serving God, and at other times, serving themselves. There appears to be with them no settled decision, no fixed principle as to whom they shall do service. And when we have discovered in our own hearts and lives, the same indecision, the same lack of energy and continuity, how deep has been our grief! How sad to think of spending the hours of this short life of probation to no purpose! To be continually vacillating in all our actions! Like the waves of the sea, driven of the wind and tossed, we continue our fluctuations till all is lost. May the Lord help us, dear friends, to confess our sins before God with deep humility of soul, and take a firm, decided stand upon the platform of eternal truth; and “earnestly contend for the faith which was once delivered unto the saints.” Let us make the noble and wise decision that Joshua did, as found in the same verse of our text: “But as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.” Praise God for the light of present truth! Praise him for the testimonies from Heaven, with which we are so highly favored in these last days! May the Lord aid us to get into that humble place, where they may have their designed effect upon our hearts and lives. We are able to go up and possess the goodly land. Shall we do it? is the important question. “Behold I come quickly,” says the Saviour, “and my reward is with me.” Reader, may it be our great joy to share the reward of the righteous. Amen.

THE TWO ADVENTS.

He came not with his heavenly crown, His scepter clad with power; His coming was in feebleness, The infant of an hour; An humble manger cradled first; The virgin's holy birth, And lowing herds companioned there The Lord of heaven and earth!
He came not with the robe of wrath, With arm outstretched to slay, But on the darkling paths of earth To pour celestial day, To guide in peace the wandering feet, The broken heart to bind, And bear upon the painful cross The sins of all mankind.
And thou hast borne them, Saviour meek, And therefore unto thee, In humbleness and gratitude, Our hearts shall offered be: And gently as the festered bough That on thine altar lies, Our souls and bodies shall be thine A living sacrifice.
Yet once again thy sign shall be Upon the heavens displayed, And earth and its inhabitants Be terribly afraid; For not in weakness wilt thou come, Our woes, our sins, to bear, But girt with all thy Father's might, His vengeance to declare.
The terrors of that awful day, Oh! who shall understand? Or who abide when thou in wrath Shalt lift thy holy hand? The earth shall quake, the sea shall roar, The sun in heaven grow pale; But thou hast sworn, and will not change, Thy faithful shall not fail.
Then grant us, Saviour, so to pass Our time of trembling here, That when upon the clouds of heaven, Thy glory shall appear, Uplifting high our joyful heads In triumph we may rise, And enter with thine angel-train, Thy temple in the skies!
—London Wesleyan Magazine.
“THREE things,” said the Rev. Dr. Henry, “appeared to have been uninjured by the fall: the song of birds, the beauty of flowers, and the smile of infancy, for it is difficult to conceive how either of these could have been more perfect had man remained holy; as if God would leave us something pure to remind us of the Paradise we have lost, and to point to us that which we shall regain.”

CAPTAIN BALL’S EXPERIENCE.

By John Nevins Andrews

I was at work one afternoon in my garden, when a visitor entered and approached so silently that he stood within a few feet of me before I was aware of his presence.
“You appear to be very busy this afternoon,” he said, calling my name.
I looked up, and was not a little astonished to see standing before me, with an embarrassed air, one of the most worldly-minded and irreverent characters in the village.
“Yes, Capt. Ball,” I answered, “I was giving these young pea-vines something to climb upon.”
“And very busy thinking also?”
“Yes, neighbor, I was thinking how much we are like these pea-vines. How much we need something to climb upon—a spiritual staff to lift us above the tangle of worldliness.”
“Mr. Rainsford,” said the visitor in a choked voice, “I—I am trying to find such a staff.”
“My brother,” I exclaimed, full of sympathy and joy, “there is but one staff; that Christ planted for us. We may all rest upon him as a pillar of support, and love, and truth. You have not far to seek—you have only to reach out the tendrils of your heart in aspiration and faith, and they will clasp it. The command is, ‘Repent and believe.’”
He was a middle-aged man, whose head had grown early gray with worldly cares; whose eyes were unaccustomed to tears; and it was affecting to see that hard face soften, and melt at last almost to weeping, as he grasped my hand.
“I have had a strange experience,” he said, recovering himself, but still speaking with much emotion. “It began about three weeks ago. I had lately been making good trades, and one night I was riding home, reckoning on my gains, and feeling a pride and triumph in the start I had got in the world by my own shrewdness and exertion. It was starlight, and very still. I could scarcely hear a noise but the field crickets, and the tramp of my horse on the dark road, when suddenly a voice said, ‘What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?’”
“Was it actually a voice?” I questioned, as he hesitated.
“No; I knew it wasn’t at the time. It was (I have no doubt) in my own mind. But the expression was just as distinct and unexpected as if it had been spoken by some person in my ear.”
“The words I probably learned when I was a child, but had forgotten them, and had to look in my Bible afterward to see if they were there. I found them, and found a good many things besides, which seemed to have been intended expressly for me, to break up entirely my way of life, and trouble all my calculations. The thing has been working ever since, and I can’t stop its working. I have come to the conclusion that I must be a different man, and live for a different purpose; and I have come to talk with you about it.”
Having commenced giving the captain’s story as he related it, I shall continue it in his own words, as well as I can remember them.
The reader, however, must imagine several weeks to have elapsed since my first conversation with him; the scene to be changed for an evening meeting, where the captain, after a long struggle with himself, got up to state his experience.
“I went to talk with the minister,” he continued, after having astonished many others as much as he had me with the repetition of the above narrative. “I wanted to get into the church, where I thought I should be safe. I had no conception of repentance and a change of heart. I supposed our pastor would commence questioning me about doctrines, etc., to let me know what I would have to understand and believe before I could become a church member. But he didn’t take any such course. He made me go into the house and sit down in his study, when he talked with me a long time about the blessedness of religion, and its value above all things in this world, independently of its reward hereafter. Then he said:
“‘Capt. Ball, do you know the first requisite to be done if you would be a Christian?’”
“‘I did not know.’”
“‘The Christian life, the life of a faithful follower of Jesus Christ,’ said he, ‘can be founded only upon repentance. Now it is easy to say we repent of sins, and even to think we repent; but the only repentance that is worth anything, is an active repentance—by which I mean, not only sorrow for sin, and an earnest desire to avoid it in future—but one that goes to work, and seeks, as far as it is in his power, to make amends
for every wrong he has ever done. Is there a person in the world, Capt. Ball, who can look you in the face, and say you have wronged him?”
“He knew my weak point,” added the captain, “I meant, however, to confess something which I supposed was known to everybody who knows me,—my horse trade with Peter Simmons last spring.”
“‘Did you wrong Peter?’ said the minister.”
“‘I shaved him a little,’ said I.”
“‘How much?’ said he. ‘Tell me honestly what you think.’”
“‘I let him have a ring-boned and wind-broken nag that I had physicked up to look pretty gay—worth for actual service not over ten dollars—and got in return a sound, steady beast, worth sixty dollars, and twenty-five dollars to boot. So I honestly think that I shaved him out of seventy-five dollars.’”
“‘And with seventy-five dollars in your possession belonging to poor Peter Simmons, do you think you can commence a life of Christian purity? Do you think that Christ will hear your prayers for pardon?’ said the minister.”
“‘I said something about a trade is a trade, and they must look out for themselves when they swap horses—but he cut me short.’”
“‘Your own soul,’ said he, ‘will not admit the excuses which your selfishness invents.’”
“‘But the rule you apply,’ said I, ‘will cut off the heads of church-members as well as mine. There’s Deacon Rich, he trades horses, and shaves when he can.’”
“‘No excuse,’ said he, ‘whose head it cuts off; no matter what Deacon Rich does. You have to deal with your own soul and with the Lord. And I tell you, whether you are out of the church or in it, a single dollar which you have unjustly or knowingly taken from any man without rendering him its full value to the best of your ability—a single dollar, I say, will be like a millstone hung upon your neck, to sink your soul and body into the sea of spiritual death.’”
“‘I couldn’t stand that. The Spirit of God used these words with terrible effect upon my heart. The truth spoken by the pastor appealed to my understanding with irresistible power. I went away, but I could not rest. So I took seventy-five dollars, and went to Peter and paid him; making him promise not to tell anybody, for I was ashamed to have it known that I was conscience-stricken, and paid back money.’”
“‘Then I went to the minister and told him what I had done. He didn’t praise me, as I thought he would. He took it as a matter of course, and no more merit in me than it is to wash my hands before I sit down to supper. On the contrary, he seemed to suspect that my hands were not clean yet. He wanted to know if I had wronged anybody else besides Peter. I tried to say, No, but my conscience wouldn’t let me. I could have told a plumper lie than that once, without flinching; yes, and flattered my own heart to believe the lie. I was discouraged; I felt bitterly disheartened. It was, indeed, so much harder being a Christian than I supposed, that I had regretted going to talk with the minister at all. Like the young man who had great possessions, I was on the point of going away sorrowful. But my heart burned within me, and I was forced to speak.’”
“‘In the way of business,’ said I, ‘no doubt I have taken advantage here and there as everybody else does—as church-members themselves do when they can.’”
“‘What everybody does is no rule for you and me, captain Ball,’ said the minister. ‘It is to be Christians in the fullest sense—not simply to be church-members—that we must strive with all our hearts. The fact of being in the fold does not make the lamb; there are wolves in the fold, alas! but we are by no means justified in doing as the wolves do, even when they appear in sheep’s clothing.’”
“‘I felt the rebuke. ‘Well,’ said I, ‘there is Deacon Rich; I think he paid me a note twice. The first time he paid it, we were transacting other business, and by some mistake, the note wasn’t destroyed. I found it among my papers afterward. I was a good deal excited, and lay awake more than one night thinking what I ought to do about it. The deacon was a hard man, I considered, and took advantage of people when he could. He had driven more than one hard bargain with me.’ (The deacon, who was present and heard these allusions to himself, winced and coughed uneasily. Captain Ball went on without appearing to mind him.) ‘So,’ said I to the minister, ‘I concluded I would serve the deacon as he would probably have served me under similar circumstances. I kept the note by me a good while, and when I thought the particulars of our settlement had slipped his mind, I said to him one day, maybe he would like to take up that note which had been due considerable time. He was surprised—looked excited and angry—said he had paid it, and finally he took out his pocket-book, and, with some pretty hard words, paid it over again with interest.’”
“‘And now,’ said the minister, ‘what are you going to do about it?’”
“‘I suppose,’ said I, ‘the money must be paid back.’ So I went to the deacon the next day, told him that on reflection I was convinced that he was right and I was wrong about the payment of the note, and returned him the money—one hundred and thirty dollars—a good deal to his astonishment. (The deacon coughed and wiped his forehead.)”
“‘I hoped then all was right,’ continued Capt. Ball. I tried to satisfy my conscience that it was all. But I was afraid to go back to the minister, he had such a way of stirring up the conscience and finding mud at the bottom, when we flatter ourselves that, because it is out of sight, there is no impurity there. And I knew that, as long as I dreaded to see the minister, something must be wrong; and on looking carefully into my heart, I found the little matter of a mortgage, which I had foreclosed on a poor man, and got away his farm, when he had no suspicion but I would give him time to redeem it. By that means had I got into my possession property worth two thousand dollars, for which I did not actually pay, and for which Isaac Dorr never actually realized more than half that amount. But the proceeding was entirely legal, and I tried to excuse myself.’”
“‘But my awakened conscience kept saying, ‘You have taken a poor man’s land without giving him a just return; the law of God condemns you, although the law of man sanctions the wrong. You shall have no peace of soul, your heart will burn you, until with justice you wipe out your own injustice to him and to others whom you have wronged.’”’
“‘Against the decree of my conscience, I rebelled a long time. It was hard for me to lose a thousand dollars, together with the interest due from the time the mortgage was foreclosed; and it was like taking a portion of my life to be obliged to subtract so much money from my gains, and give it to a man who had no legal claim upon me. I groaned and mourned over it in secret, and tried to pray, but that mortgage came right up between my prayer and God, and Heaven looked dark and frowning through it. At last I could not resist the appeals of conscience any longer, and went again to the minister, told him my troubles, and asked him what I should do.’”
“‘There is a simple test,’ said he. ‘Do you love your neighbor as yourself? If you do, you will be just to him, if it takes from you the last dollar you have in the world.’”
“‘That was a terrible sentence. I went out staggering from it as if I had received a blow. ‘O God,’ I said, ‘how can I be a Christian?’”’
“‘But I had help beyond myself; otherwise I could never have ended the struggle. I knelt before God, and solemnly vowed for his sake, for the sake of his pardon and love, I would not only do justly to the poor man I had wronged, but I would give up, if need be, all I had in the world, so that I might find peace in him.’”
“‘A strange, soothing influence came over my soul, and a voice seemed to say, ‘Though you lose all, you have God and Christ; and the blessings of a heart pure and at peace shall be left you—the best and only source of happiness and life.’ And in the solemn night time, after I gave up the struggle, that comfort came to me, so great and precious, that I felt willing, if it only stay with me, to accept poverty and go into the world poor and despised, hugging that priceless blessing in my heart.’”
“‘The next day I felt as light as if I had wings. Nothing could keep me from going to see Isaac Dorr, with a couple hundred dollars in my pocket, and a note for the remainder of what I owed him.’”
“‘Well,’ said the captain, with tears running down his cheeks, ‘I only wish that every person here could have seen the Dorr family when I visited them, and made known my errand.’”
“‘Poor Isaac had grown discouraged, and had just made up his mind to quit his wife and children, and go to California. His children were crying, and his wife was in the extremity of distress and despair. She received me a great deal better than I anticipated. ‘I had acted according to law,’ she said, ‘and Isaac, careless and improvident, was greatly to blame.’”’
“‘Yes,’ said Isaac, with the firmness of a desperate man, ‘it was a savage game you played on me, but I was a fool ever to get in debt as I did, and then fancy that any one would not take the advantage when the law permitted it. I am ruined in consequence; and here you see this woman and these babies’—the poor fellow broke down as he looked at them, and cried like a child.”’
“‘Isaac,’ said I, as soon as I could speak, ‘I have come to show you that a man can be honorable, even when the law don’t compel him to be. I want to do right, Isaac, because God commands it, and I have come to tell you that you needn’t leave your wife and babies yet, unless you prefer.’”
“‘Prefer to go off into a strange land, and leave them here to suffer!’ he cried; and he caught the children in his arms, and wrung his wife’s hand, and sobbed as if his heart would break. Then I counted out the money I had brought, and explained what I intended to do, and gave him the note, and such surprise and kindness I never saw.’”
“‘They would all have kissed my feet if I would have let them. It seemed to me as if Heaven had opened then and there—and it was opened in my heart, with such a flood of light and joy as I had never experienced or thought possible before.’”
“‘My friends,’ added the captain, his once hard voice now almost as mellow as a woman’s, his cheeks still moist with tears, ‘I have been constrained to make this confession; I thank you for listening to it. The minister tells me a man can be a church member and not a Christian. I mean to be a Christian first, and if I fail——.’ He could proceed no further, but sat down with an emotion more effective than any words.”
“I have nothing to add to this narrative, except that he became a church member, and that his example of thorough repentance, of child-like faith in Christ, and of vigorous, practical, every-day righteousness, elevated many degrees the standard of Christianity among the people.”
The experience of Capt. Ball illustrates a kind of religious reformation, which, we are sorry to say, is less frequently met with than is desirable. The religion of theories and articles of faith is hardly equal to the task of saving some of the shrewd business men of the present day. They need a salvation like that which came to the house of Zaccheus, when he “stood and said unto the Lord, Behold, Lord, the half of my goods I give to the poor: and if I have taken anything from any man by false accusation, I restore him fourfold.” Luke xix, 8, 9.
I commend the experience of Capt. Ball to the readers of the Review. He did his duty in the case, and no more. Reader, do you desire the blessing of God here, and a part in his kingdom hereafter? Then go thou and do likewise.
J. N. ANDREWS.

FRUITS MEET FOR REPENTANCE.

REPENTANCE, when true and heartfelt, is a tree that bears the most excellent fruit.
  1. It changes a man's whole course of life.
  2. It causes frank and hearty confession of sins.
  3. It causes men to make reparation to every person that they have defrauded.
Satan, who does everything in his power to lead us into sin, does his utmost also to prevent us from repenting. It is repentance that is the shameful thing, not sin—the thing that we only need to fear and shun. Yet, in the sight of God, repentance is an honorable and noble work, and such it is in the sight of all who love and fear him.
I am glad to give the following from Bro. and sister White, who deeply feel the danger of those who are disposed to cover the sin of extortion and deception:
The subject of restitution must be faithfully brought before the people, so that those who have wrongfully taken from others may see that the only way to free themselves from this sin is to fully restore. If they have not means to fully do this, let them confess their sin to those injured, and restore as far as their means will reach. If they have sufficient means, let them be sure and repair all the injury, in point of property, their sin has done to those they have wronged.
The frank confession of the brother at Norridgewock who was waiting for baptism till he should restore to the one he had cheated before he had turned to the Lord, is a rare exception. Because the Lord will forgive such sins, thousands think their work done when they have confessed their sins in general, without repairing such injuries to others as taking from them wrongfully. Zaccheus would restore fourfold. These are not willing to restore that which they took without giving it its value. Such cannot be saved with this sin upon them.
The following from the Christian is a candid and pointed illustration of this great subject. Mrs. W. has read it with deep interest, and we wish it set before the readers of the Review.

Prize the Bible.

“Oh! what mines of wealth are there in the Bible, of which most of us know nothing. This is one use and need of afflictions; they make the word of God precious. A single text becomes more to us in hours of trial than was the whole Bible before. We cling to it as a drowning man clings to the plank which saves him from a watery grave. We bear our whole weight upon it, and find it strong enough to bear us and not break. Hear Bunyan: “Ah! what did I now see in that blessed sixth of John? ‘and him that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out.’ Oh, many a pull hath my heart had with Satan for that blessed sixth of John! A word, a word to lean a weary soul upon. It was that I hunted for.”

AN EARNEST WORD.

By Ryle

I love to contemplate the coming day of joy and glory, that awaits the servants of God. That day when death shall be destroyed, when sin shall have an end, when sorrow and sighing shall flee away, and God shall be all and in all. But yet to many that day shall bring no gladness. It shall be the day when the sinner shall for the first time fully see his great mistake. Despair is truth seen too late; and men will feel it then. As the Christian's days of toil and sorrow shall have an end, so also the sinner's hours of scorn, and mockery, and carelessness, shall all be past. The gayest shall become sober then, and awful reverence shall seal the blasphemer's lips. Hard hearts shall break, proud wills shall bend, brazen foreheads shall bow, and mockers shall be dumb.
And when I think that all who read these pages must meet those grand events, and when all things in heaven and earth are warning me that the solemn and decisive hour draws near, I cannot refrain from saying an earnest word to the careless, the thoughtless, the wanderer from the Lord.
The scenes of future light and blessing which the prophets bring to view, are glorious, grand, eternal facts. But the day of judgment, the resurrection of the dead, the wrath to come, the damnation of hell, and the perdition of ungodly men,—these are just as certain and just as true. If, in that day of glory, “the righteous shall be recompensed in the earth,” even so, “much more the wicked and the sinner” shall receive their recompense therein. The lake of fire is as real as the city of our God, and the “second death” is as certain as “the first resurrection.” The day of Lot's escape was the day of Sodom's downfall; and the day when God's people shall enter their glory, will be the day when the ungodly shall receive their doom.
“Come ye blessed,” and “Depart ye cursed,” will be the words of welcome or of woe which shall either call us to eternal joys, or clothe our skies in sackcloth, and consign us to the devouring flames.
The world to come will be a holy world. No sin, or shame, or sorrow will find entrance there, and if we would share it, we too, must be among the pure in heart, who alone shall see the Lord in peace.
My friend, whoever you are who may read these words, I solemnly testify to you of these eternal facts.
I warn you of the necessity of repentance, the danger of delay, the approach of death, the nearness of the judgment, and the certainty of the eternal doom. But with this warning, thank God, I can bring you words of hope. Your sins are many, but Christ has borne them in his body on the tree. Your guilt is great, but a greater sacrifice has been slain to give you peace and rest. His blood can make you clean; his grace can purge your heart from every inward fault and lust and stain.
And He who gave his Son for you, is your friend. He who died for your sins on the cross, is your friend. The Holy Ghost that convinces the world of sin and of righteousness and of judgment, is your friend. The angels that are sent forth to minister to the heirs of salvation, are your friends. The servants of God who proclaim your danger and unfold to you the way of peace, they also are your friends. All Heaven bends lovingly over the wayward, erring son of sorrow and of shame.
Christ, the companion of publicans and sinners, the pitying and gentle-hearted Man of Sorrows, the Good Shepherd seeking to save the wayward sheep, only unfolds the love of God to sinful men. “Why will you die?” is the entreating word of God. “Ye will not come unto me that ye might have life,” is the piteous complaint of him who died for man; and the Holy Spirit still re-echoes these entreating words within your soul from day to day.
O my friend, I pray you heed these warnings and invitations, and turn to Christ and live. In him you can find peace, in him you may have salvation. And then when his glory shall be revealed, you too may behold it and rejoice for ever more. May God grant it for his name and mercy's sake.—Ryle.

Personal Religion.

By Spurgeon

WHAT does it matter to you or to me what John Calvin said, or John Wesley either? They were glorious men, and did a world of good in their day, but, instead of wishing to wear their shoes, let us wear our own; for they are far more likely to fit our feet; and let us come to this Book, and find out what God would have us know, by the use of our own personal judgment. This will make men of us. To be fed upon spoon victuals forever will leave us nothing but babes, such as sects might delight in, but such as men should not desire to remain. “To law and the testimony” let us come. It is the best way of creating a Christian unity; and, throwing aside the prejudices of birth, and all other prejudices so far as we can, let us seek to believe the whole Gospel, for we are put in trust of it as such, and although we may, and must I suppose, make some mistakes, yet we should come as nearly as we can to the holding of the whole counsel of God.—Spurgeon.

Are the Dead Conscious? No. 2.

By Editor

Gen. xxxv, 18. And it came to pass, as her soul was in departing, (for she died,) that she called his name Ben-oni: but his father called him Benjamin.
As this scripture speaks of the soul's departing, it is seized upon with avidity by believers in the conscious state of the dead, as proof that the soul is a separate entity and can exist in a disembodied state, as it is something which departed when the person died. For instance, Luther Lee remarks upon this passage:— “Her body did not depart. Her brains did not depart. There was nothing which departed which could consistently be called her soul; only upon the supposition that there is in man an immaterial spirit, which leaves the body at death.” In reply, the reader needs not to be reminded that neh-phesh, the word here used for soul, signifies something else besides brain and body. For our part, we much prefer the exposition of Parkhurst, that neh-phesh may here signify the breath. And such an idea is in the strictest accordance with reason and matter of fact; thus, it came to pass as her breath was departing (or, as the breath of life was leaving her); for she died, &c. Compare this with Gen. i, 20, 30, margin.
In these latter references, the same word, neh-phesh, is used to denote that which is possessed in common by the fish and living creatures in the sea, the beasts of the field, and the fowls of the air. In the one case the margin says, “soul,” and in the other, “a living soul.” The last writer in the Bible, uses soul in the same sense, and says that under the second of the seven last plagues, “every living soul died in the sea.” The word here used for soul, is the word which answers to neh-phesh of the Old Testament; and if it proves an immortal soul for the human race, it proves the same for the lower orders of animals. It is the breath of life which gives and sustains life. Gen. ii, 7; vii, 22. And when this breath of life departs, death is the result.—Ed.
Continue reading: Report of the Battle Creek Bible Class.