BEYOND the cross of Calvary,
Its agony and shame,
The Saviour looked to that glad day
When all should love His name.
He saw the earth in beauty robed,
Where sin no more would be,
And all the righteous ones of God
From sorrow would be free.
He saw the reign of righteousness,
When all at peace shall dwell;
He heard the songs from happy hearts,
He heard glad anthems swell.
Henceforward let us see the same.
As we by faith behold
Our Christ upon the throne of grace,
We may in Him be bold.
We need not fear the enemy;
He is a conquered foe;
He can not triumph over us,
As we straight forward go.
From victory to victory
We need make no delay;
Whate’er we ask we surely have
Who unto Jesus pray.
There is no loss or failure now,
There is no word defeat;
When we rely on Jesus’ power,
Our victory is complete.
O, let us unto Jesus pray,
That He may ever dwell
Within our hearts from day to day,
And then will all be well.
M. J. WOODWARD.
SMOKING STUNTS THE GROWTH OF BOYS.
Whatever difference of opinion there may be upon the advisability of smoking for men, there is none as to its pernicious effect upon boys. It affects the action of the heart and reduces the capacity of the lungs. Young men who are being trained for athletics are not permitted to smoke by their trainers because, as they say, “it is bad for the wind.” The argument that will appeal most forcibly to your boy is that smoking will stunt his growth. It has been proved that youthful smokers are shorter and weigh less than their comrades who do not smoke. Cigarettes are particularly injurious. Nicotine the active principle of tobacco is said by chemists to be, next to prussic acid, the most rapidly fatal poison known. The tender tissues of a growing boy can not absorb even a very small quantity of it without most injurious results.—Ladies’ Home Journal.
HOLMAN BIBLES
Family editions in six languages. Pronouncing Teacher’s Bibles in great variety. Catalogue free. A. J. HOLMAN & CO., 1222-1226 Arch St., Philadelphia, Pa.
Fidelity Wherever We Are Situated
The truest nobility is fidelity wherever we are situated. An illustrious example is given in the following account: A duke went to the home of Sir Matthew Hale, one of England’s greatest judges, and told him he was engaged in a lawsuit which would come before Hale for judgment in a few days. He said he wanted to give Hale a statement of the case, so that he might understand it when it came into his court. The great jurist reproved him sharply. “Not one word,” he said, “will I hear. I will listen to the case in open court, and decide it on its merits.” The duke said that the plaintiff was “only a common farmer.” “That makes no difference,” Hale said; “when a man comes into my court, it is his case, not his rank, that I consider.” The duke still protested. He wanted to acquaint the judge with certain facts that it would not be pleasant to mention in open court. Hale answered that if his visitor persisted, and did not leave the house at once, he would commit him to prison. The duke left and went to the king to complain. The king heard his story and laughed. “Faith,” he said, “I think you are lucky. I wonder he did not send you to prison. I verily believe he would not hesitate to commit me to prison if he thought I was trying to get him to help me do some one a wrong.”—Selected.
SENSITIVENESS OR SELFISHNESS?
Are you (NOT Your Neighbor) Sensitive? Why?
It is thus that a popular writer in a copyrighted article in the Examiner of November 20, answers a correspondent who asks for instruction as to self-love, or sensitiveness:—
Long ago some one suggested an important truth in remarking that sensitiveness was only one form of aggressive self-love—or words to that effect. Yet we often hear people refer to their own “sensitive natures” as if they were speaking of a great virtue.
There is, of course, a sensitiveness which means a refined appreciation of the beautiful things in life. To be stirred by the charms of nature, to respond to the vibrations of sunlight, and winds and songs of birds, to feel the intensity of the full moon’s rays to hear the wonderful message of the Silence and to be conscious of the Companionship of Space—this—this is to be “sensitive” in the best sense.
But the majority of people who use that word attach an entirely different meaning to it. The very weakest and silliest forms of self-conceit and selfishness are called “sensitiveness,” as well as the most wearing and ignoble phase of jealousy.
I have seen a young woman who was all life and mirth and sociability, transformed into a sullen, silent monument of “sensitiveness” by the advent of other young women into her circle—others who were kind, agreeable, and companionable, but for whom she felt a selfish and jealous resentment because they interfered with her supremacy.
She did not for one instant acknowledge the unpleasant truth to herself. She believed she was really giving the right of way to others, and proving her own “sensitiveness” by keeping in the background. On the contrary, she made herself painfully conspicuous by her altered demeanor and her silence, and destroyed the comfort of all who came near her.
I have seen a “sensitive” husband render home unbearable because his wife enjoyed the visit of a relative or a school-girl companion. And I have seen a wife equally “sensitive” because her husband was courteous to other women or to his own family.
No husband who is thoughtless or negligent of his wife’s feelings and happiness, and no tactless and indifferent wife, need quote these remarks to justify unkind conduct. There are men and women who forget that love between husband and wife should be like the flame in some holy temple, which is never allowed to go out. There are men who bestow all their courtesy on the outside world, and women who bestow all their affection on their relatives, leaving the husband lonely and neglected. It is natural that the partners of such men and women should be really “sensitive” to their sorrows; but the fact remains that most of the sensitiveness we hear about comes from self-love, selfishness, jealousy, and a tendency to petty tyranny.
It is amazing and amusing to think of the number of people in the world who are miracles of selfishness, yet who really believe themselves to possess most unselfish natures. Unselfishness does not consist in merely doing one’s duty in a material way toward a loved one; it consists in being reasonable, considerate, and unselfish as well.
I have seen a mother work like a servant for her children, and deny herself physical comforts to give them luxuries, yet at the same time mar their pleasure and humiliate their pride by her jealousy of their friends, and the continual obtrusiveness of what she called “sensitive nature.” This is not the unselfishness which makes home life beautiful. It is the sensitiveness that means self-love.—Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
LESSONS BY MAIL ON MEDICAL ELECTRICITY, OR HOW TO USE THE BATTERY
By Gerald L. Abell
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A special lesson is also sent on application free of charge for the treatment of any special disease that the applicant may be interested in that is not included in the course.
The Family Correspondence Course, with this extra lesson, only Five Dollars.
ABELL'S Electro-Therapeutic School, 36 Geary St., San Francisco, Cal.
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AN IMPORTANT SOCIETY FORGOTTEN.
“JOHN, I would like to invite my friend, Mrs. Smalley, this evening. Will you be able to be in?”
“No, my dear, I must attend the meeting of the Ancient Order of Foresters to-night.”
“Well, to-morrow evening?”
“I have the Royal Arcanum, and you know—”
“What about Wednesday evening?”
“O, the Odd Fellows meet that night; on Thursday, I have a meeting of the Knights of Labor to attend; on Friday, the Royal Templars of Temperance; on Saturday, there's a special meeting of the Masonic Lodge, and I couldn't miss that; and then Sunday evening—let me see—what is there on Sunday night, my dear?”
“The Grand and Ancient Order of Christian Fellowship.”
“Why, I had forgotten. Am I a member of that? Let me see—”
“But you have forgotten another society, John, of which you were once a member.”
“What's that?”
“Your wife's.”—The Candidate.
GLEANINGS
SIX things are requisite to create a happy home. Integrity must be the architect, and tidiness the upholsterer. It must be warmed by affection, and lightened up with cheerfulness, and industry must be the ventilator, renewing the atmosphere and bringing in fresh salubrity day by day; while over all, as a protecting canopy and glory, nothing will suffice except the blessing of God.—Dr. Hamilton.
WOULD you not be very much surprised to find a boy going to bed at night ignorant and waking up in the morning a college professor? It is likewise inconsistent to entertain the notion that there is some way by which humanity can secure health without sowing for it.
CHILDREN are like jam. They are all very well in the proper place, but you can't stand them all over the shop.—The Wouldbegood.
TRIFLES light as air are to the jealous confirmation strong as proof of Holy Writ.—Shakespeare.
NOTHING except a battle lost can be half so melancholy as a battle won.—Wellington.
THE true use of speech is not so much to express our wants as to conceal them.—Goldsmith.
EXAMPLE is a dangerous lure; where the wasp got through, the gnat sticks fast.—La Fontaine.
TO ERR in opinion, tho it be not the part of wise men, is at least human.—Plutarch.
FOR one swallow does not make spring, nor yet one fine day.—Aristotle.
ANY man may make a mistake; none but a fool will stick to it.—Cicero.
TELL me what you eat, and I will tell you what you are.—Brillat Savarin.
TO SEE what is right and not to do it is want of courage.—Confucius.
THE most successful time to cure a disease is before it begins.
ETERNAL vigilance is the price of liberty.—John Philpot Curran.
HE hears but half who hears one party only.—Aeschylus.
“BE ye therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves.”
WIND puffs up empty bladders; opinion, fools.—Socrates.
AN ANGRY MOB QUELLED BY THE STORY OF THE CROSS.
By Jacob Chamberlain
“Swing shut the city gates; run and tell the sentinels to stand guard, and let no one pass in or out till we have made way with these preachers of other gods. No news shall ever get out of the city as to what has become of them.”
It was in a walled city of some twenty thousand inhabitants in the kingdom of Hyderabad, within twenty miles of its capital, as we were on a Gospel preaching tour, the first ever made through the kingdom of the Nizam, in August, 1863, which is more fully spoken of in “In the Tiger Jungle.”
We had been traveling since early morning, preaching in all the towns and villages on our way, and arrived before the gates of the city during the heat of the day, and camped outside its walls. We had heard of it as the wickedest city of the realm.
A Brahman Family.
About 3 P. M., my four native assistants went into the city to offer Scriptures and tracts for sale, I promising to join them when the heat should be a little less.
After half or three-quarters of an hour I went through the iron gates, the largest and strongest city gates that I had up to that time seen. The city, with its high granite walls, lay four square, with a gate in the middle of each side, and the main streets running from gate to gate, crossing each other at right angles at the market-place.
Just after entering the gate, I met my native assistants returning, with a hooting rabble following them. Speaking to me in the Tamil language, not understood by those people, they told me that it was not safe to attempt to do any work within the city. They had sold a few Gospels and tracts to both Mohammedans and Hindus. The Mohammedan zealots and Brahman priests had been diligently examining the Gospels, and saw that their systems must go if these Scriptures were believed, and Mohammedans and Hindus joined in an effort to stop the people buying, and drive the catechists out of the city. Herod and Pilate had become friends for this purpose.
Some of the Gospels were bound in yellowish buff book-binder’s muslin. The Mohammedans sent messengers running through the streets saying that they were bound in hog-skin, and warning the faithful not to touch them. The Brahmans sent messengers to tell the Hindus that they were bound in calf-skin, and skin of the sacred cow, and telling them not to be polluted by them. They had not only prevented the people from buying, but had incited the rabble to drive the catechists out of the city.
“Have you preached to the people?” said I to the catechists. “Have you proclaimed the Gospel message?”
“No sir; we have only sold a few books and tracts.”
“Then we must do so now. Did we not, before we left home, make a solemn vow that we would not pass a single town or village without proclaiming the Master’s message, and have we not His covenant, ‘Lo, I am with you’? I, at least, must go to the market-place and preach. You need not accompany me unless you think it best.”
“We did make that vow. We will go with you,” they said.
The rabble had halted and quieted as they heard the foreigner talking with the catechists in a strange tongue, waiting to see what would come of it. We walked with slow and firm step up the street to the market. The crowd followed, increasing by the way. Seeing a foreigner with the catechists boldly walking up the street, the Brahman and Mohammedan zealots joined the throng.
We reached the center of the town where the main streets crossed, and there was the market-place, with a roof supported upon large masonry pillars. Ascending the steps, I said in Tamil to the catechists, “Place your backs against these pillars, so that no one can attack you from behind, and keep a sharp watch on all, but show no signs of fear. The Master is with us, His promise is good.”
As we stood there, we could see three of the four city gates open with the armed gate-keepers sitting under the arch of the gateway. Turning, I spoke politely to the people in Telegu, which was understood by all.
“Leave this place at once,” was the angry response.
I complimented them on the polite reception which they gave to visitors, telling them I had visited more than a thousand towns in the Telegu country, but it had been reserved for them to show the most polite reception that had thus far been received. A few smiled, but the rest only scowled the more.
“Friends,” said I, “I have come from far to tell you some good news. I will tell that to you, and then we will immediately go.”
“No,” said some who were evidently leaders, “we will not hear you. We have found out that you have come to proclaim another God. You do so at your own peril. You see this angry mob. One word from us, and you are dead. Say not another word, but leave the city instantly, and we will see you safely out of the gates. Dare to say one word against our gods, and we will loose this mob on you.”
We had seen the angry mob tearing up the cobble paving-stones, and gathering them in the skirts of their garments to stone us with.
“We have no desire to abuse your gods,” said I, “but have come to deliver a message.”
Then came the order, “Swing shut the gates; make way with these preachers of other gods.”
I saw one nudge another, saying, “You throw the first stone, and I will throw the second.” But all who had stones to throw were in my vision, and they quailed a little under my keen glance, and hesitated. I seemed to feel the presence of the Master, as if He were standing by my side with His hand on my shoulder, saying, “I am with you. I will tell you what to say.” I was not conscious of any anxiety about my personal safety. My whole soul was wrapped up in the thought, “How shall I get my Master’s offer of salvation before these people?” The promise of Luke 12:12 was then, I doubt not, fulfilled, “The Holy Spirit shall teach you in the same hour what ye ought to say.”
“Brothers,” said I, “it is not to revile your gods that I have come this long way; far from it. I have come to you with a royal message from a King far higher than your Nizam; I have come to tell a story sweeter than mortal ear has ever heard. But it is evident that this multitude does not wish to hear it.”
They thought that I was weakening, and quieted down to see what was going to happen.
“But,” said I, “I see five men before me who do wish to hear my story. Will you all step back a little? I will tell those five who want to know why I have come here and what is my message, and then you may stone me. I will make no resistance then.”
I had been carefully scanning the crowd, and had selected my men; for I had seen five honest countenances who had shown no sympathy with the abuse that had been heaped upon us.
“Brother with the red-bordered turban,” said I, addressing a venerable Brahman who stood among the people at the right; “you would like to hear what my wonderful story is, before they stone me,13would you not? Be frank and say so; for there are others like you who wish to hear.”
“Yes sir, I would like to hear what your story is,” said he, speaking up courageously and kindly.
“Brother with the gold-bordered turban at my left, you, too, would like to hear, and you with the yellow turban, and you with the brown-bordered, and you with the pink.”
I had rightly judged these men, for each assented. They were curious to know what I had to say.
“Now will you five men please come forward, and I will tell you alone. All you others step back, step back; as soon as I have told these five the story, you may come forward and throw your stones.”
The five stepped forward, the rest reluctantly stepped back a little. I had purposely chosen Brahmans, as I thought I could win them the better.
“Brothers,” said I, in a subdued tone, “what is it you chant as you go to the river for your daily ablutions? Is it not this:—”
said I chanting it in Sanskrit, “and is not this the meaning?” said I in Telegu:—
‘I am a sinner; my actions are sinful.
All that pertains to me is polluted with sin.
Do Thou, O God, that hast mercy on those who seek Thy refuge,
Do Thou take away my sin.’
These five Brahmans at once became my friends. One who correctly chants their Vedas and their mantras, they look up to with respect.
“Now do you know how God can do what you ask? How He can take away the burden of our sin and give us relief?”
“No, sir, we do not know. Would that we knew.”
“I know; I have learned the secret; shall I tell you?”
“Yes, sir, please tell us.”
The multitude seeing the Brahmans conversing with the foreigner with evident respect, quieted still more, and pressed forward to listen.
“Step back, step back,” said I, “it is only these five to whom I am to tell my story. If the rest of you listen, it is on your own responsibility. Step back, and let me tell these five alone.” This only increased their desire to hear, and I went on:—
“Brothers, is it possible for us by our own acts to expiate our sins? Can we, by painful journeys to the holiest of all your holy places, change those sinful natures that you bemoan. Does not your own Telugu poet, Vemana, say:—”
‘The Muslim who to Tirupati goes on pilgrimage,
Does not thereby become a saint of Siva’s house.
Becomes a dog a lion when he bathes in Ganges stream?
Benares turns not harlot into pure and trusted wife.’
Hearing their own language chanted, the people pressed forward still more intently.
“Nay, brothers, it is not by these outward acts, to the utmost austerity, that we can attain to harmony with God. Does not your beloved Vemana again say:—”
‘Tis not by roaming deserts wild nor gazing at the sky;
’Tis not by bathing in the stream nor pilgrimage to shrine;
But thine own heart must thou make pure, and then, and then alone,
Shalt thou see Him no eye hath kenned, that thou behold thy King.’
“Now, how can our hearts be made pure, so that we can see God? I have learned the secret; and I will tell it you.”
Then I told the Story of stories: the story of redeeming love. Gradually and imperceptibly I had raised my voice until, as I spoke in the clear, resonant Telegu, all down these three streets the multitude could hear, and as I told them of His rejection by those He had come to save, and told them that it was for them, too, far away here in India, that He had suffered this agony on the cross, down many a cheek of those who had been clamoring for my life I saw tears coursing, and dropping upon the pavements that they had torn up to stone us with. Far earlier in the story I had seen them stealthily dropping their armfuls of stones into the gutter, and press back to listen.
How they listened as I went on to tell them of the laying of His body in the tomb.
“Now,” said I, folding my arms, and standing before them, “I have finished my story. You may stone me now. I will make no resistance.”
“No, no,” said they, “we don’t want to stone you now. We did not know whose messenger you were, nor what you had come to tell us. Do those books that you have tell more about this wonderful Redeemer?”
“Yes,” said I, “this is the history of His life on earth.”
With this their wallets were produced, and they purchased all we had of the Gospel of Luke. They purchased all the Gospels and tracts we had with us, and appointed a deputation of their best men to escort us to our camp, begging us to forgive them for the insults they had heaped upon us, for they knew not whose messengers we were.
Verily, the story of the cross has not lost its power.—Jacob Chamberlain.
“NOT FOR REWARD.”
By Marian Davis
Not for reward! not for reward!
No dream of ease-crowned life,
No need of selfish gain,—not these,
Not these the soul can move
To victor-strife.
’Tis love, Thy love alone,
O Thou of Calvary,
Who in Gethsemane made moan,
Who lived and died, yea, lives,
For such as we.
So much, so much bestowed!
So rich the gifts of Heaven!
Be mine but to return, O Lord,
Thine own, Thy name to adore
For mercies given.
Be mine to love, to share
With Thee the travail-pain;
Thy watch to keep, that souls that weep
Through woe’s deep night may wake
To joy again.
Be mine Thy joy to know
Of victory-crowned strife;
Of vanquished sin; the day brought in
Of peace, through anguish won,
To endless life.
MARIAN DAVIS.
OUR WORK AND WORKERS.
THE brethren at Greenfield, Ind., are building a new house of worship.
AT Corsicana, Texas, on the 16th ult., three candidates were baptized by Brother Thos. Defreeze.
BROTHER LUTHER WARREN, of Nebraska, has been called to labor in New York City, and is now in his new field.
BROTHER R. C. PORTER has taken charge of the work in St. Louis, Mo. This is an important field, and it is hoped that a successful work may be accomplished there.
SISTER LEONORA BOLLES, who last year formed and taught health schools in Philadelphia, is now doing a like work in Memphis, Tenn., with encouraging success.
At the annual session of the Virginia Conference, held last month, officers were elected as follows: President, R. D. Hottel; secretary, A. M. Neff; treasurer, Jas. Gargett; secretary and treasurer of the Tract Society Department, A. M. Neff; secretary of the Sabbath-school Department, Mrs. B. F. Purdham.
On the 2nd ult., eight young people were baptized in Little Sioux River at Blencoe, Iowa, by Brother N. L. McClintock, local elder. One of the company united with the Onawa church.
HARVEST ingathering services were held at Marion, Ind., on Sabbath, November 16. The exercises were mainly for the children, and the Reporter notes that it was a very pleasant occasion.
FROM the Recorder we learn that a dozen persons have begun the observance of the Lord’s Sabbath at Stewardson, Ill., where Brethren Curtis and Thompson have been laboring. A Sabbath-school has been organized.
BROTHER J. F. BEATTY, who has been connected with the Nebraska Conference and Tract Society work for the past eight years, is now employed in the book department of the Pacific Press Publishing Company, the home of the SIGNS OF THE TIMES.
We have received the General Conference Bulletin for the third quarter of 1901. This number contains the directory of our workers and other matters of interest. Those desiring a copy can get it by sending five cents to the publishers, 267 W. Main St., Battle Creek, Mich.
NOTWITHSTANDING the fact that the company at Franklin, Ky., has been reduced in numbers by death and removals, they are collecting means to build a chapel and will soon begin the work. This is a good way to replete their numbers and to let their light shine.
BROTHER C. H. JONES, manager of the Pacific Press Publishing Company, arrived home on the 26th ult. from a business tour in the East. He was absent over six weeks, and traveled about ten thousand miles. He attended the General Council at Battle Creek, Mich., and gave personal attention to the transfer of the Sentinel of Christian Liberty to the branch publishing house in New York City.
THE colored brethren of Nashville, Tenn., hold meetings regularly in a hall. The Watchman says that in addition to the regular Sabbath services they have a weekly reading and sewing circle, in which the young are taught to sew, while those over school age, who need such help, are taught to read the Bible. A movement is on foot to secure a lot and erect a church building that will properly represent the cause.
“This is a hard field” is an expression often heard from laborers who report concerning their work. When the Lord came to earth as a missionary, He went into that portion of His vineyard on which the most labor and expense had been bestowed, and found a very “hard field.” But He stuck to it till they put Him to death. He came to save sinners, and He sends His disciples to call sinners to repentance, and no successful work for sinners ever was accomplished in an easy field. “Woe to them that are at ease in Zion.”
On the 30th ult. the Sabbath-school in this city held a harvest ingathering service. The hour usually devoted to preaching was given to this special service. The exercises were varied, giving all an opportunity to take a part. The recitations and songs by the children were mostly in classes, the church-school taking quite a prominent part, and this gave time for the adults to add their testimony to the goodness of God, and offer their tribute of praise. The whole was mainly in the nature of a praise and thanksgiving service, closing with a collection.
On the 25th ult. Prof. W. E. Howell and family arrived in San Francisco from Hawaii, on the Australian steamer Sierra. He was on the way to Berrien Springs, Mich., to connect with Emmanuel Missionary College, and had with him two Chinese students for that institution. He reports that the bubonic plague has again appeared in Honolulu. Although living right in the city, he had not heard of the fact until he went to buy a steamer ticket. He then learned that there had been several deaths from the plague, and had to pass a rigid examination before being able to secure a ticket. Even then the through steamer would not bring his goods, and they had to be left for a local steamer. The authorities had succeeded remarkably well in keeping the matter quiet, the victims of the plague being mostly among the Asiatics.
MORE LIGHT.
By W. S. Bissonnette
Long since I walked alone,
That Christless course, my own,
Around the heart of stone:
Yet all the world seemed bright
Beyond my soul’s own night
Then dropped a lowly star,
Anointing from afar,
And touched my spirit’s bar;
Lo, now, its inner light
Makes day without seem night.
Still kindle, Christ, my soul
Till it illumes the whole,
God’s in and out, aright;
Or quench my candle’s dole
And give again the night,
That I may know the Light.
