p. 115 | Review and Herald, Vol. 42, No. 15. (9/23/1873)

Review and Herald

Sep 23, 1873

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Sep 23, 1873

THE ONE HOPE;

By Joseph Harvey Waggoner

Or the Promise to the Fathers.

BY ELD. J. H. WAGGONER.

(Concluded.)*

TEXT.—“The heaven, even the heavens, are the Lord’s, but the earth hath he given to the children of men.” Ps. 115:16.

The passage last quoted, Eph. 1:13, 14, cannot be explained on the supposition that the earth is not to be renewed, and is not to become the inheritance of the saints of God. There can be no difference between the inheritance and the possession of this text. The token or earnest extends to the fulfillment of the promise; after that the sign or assurance can have no more significance. But the apostle says the seal of the Spirit “is the earnest of our inheritance until the redemption of the purchased possession.” The inheritance of the saints, as well as the saints themselves, is waiting for redemption.

Note the similarity of expression in regard to the saints and to their possession. “Ye are not your own. For ye are bought with a price.” 1 Cor. 6:19, 20. “Feed the church of God, which he hath purchased with his own blood.” Acts 20:28. “Denying the Lord that bought them.” 2 Peter 2:1. The purchase price has already been paid for us. It is the precious blood of Christ. But our redemption is future; for that we yet “groan within ourselves.” Rom. 8:23. We shall not be glorified till “Christ who is our life shall appear.” Col. 3:4.

And thus also our inheritance: it is a “purchased possession.” Jesus bore the curse of the earth as well as that of man. The Lord said it should bring forth thorns, because of the sin of man. And when Jesus was “made a curse for us” on the tree, he wore a crown of thorns—the curse of the earth. And the words of the apostle are no more emphatic in favor of the purchase of the earth than of its redemption. No “possession” of man, either present or prospective, needs redemption, except the earth. And that is still “groaning” under the curse. Pain and death, thorns and thistles, are evidences of Satan’s triumph. But it shall not continue forever.

When the earth was created it “was without form, and void, and darkness was upon the face of the deep.” Gen. 1:2. When first called into existence, it was a chaotic mass, in confusion and darkness. When the old world—“the world that then was”—was destroyed by water, it was turned again to a desolate waste. And among the changes which it is yet to undergo, it will once more be returned to that desolate condition, preparatory to its entire renewal and restitution. David prophesied of this in the following words:—

“Come, behold the works of the Lord, what desolations he hath made in the earth. He maketh wars to cease unto the end of the earth; he breaketh the bow, and cutteth the spear in sunder; he burneth the chariot in the fire. Be still and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the heathen, I will be exalted in the earth.” Ps. 46:8–10.

Thus, and thus only, will wars be made to cease upon the earth: the Lord will destroy the weapons of war in the day of destruction and desolation.

Isaiah foretold these things, as follows:—

“Behold, the Lord maketh the earth empty, and maketh it waste, and turneth it upside down, and scattereth abroad the inhabitants thereof. * The land shall be utterly emptied and utterly spoiled; for the Lord hath spoken this word.” Isa. 24:1, 3.

Jeremiah gives a vivid description of the condition into which the earth is to be brought:—

“I am pained at my very heart; my heart maketh a noise in me; I cannot hold my peace, because thou hast heard, O my soul, the sound of the trumpet, the alarm of war. Destruction upon destruction is cried; for the whole land is spoiled: suddenly are my tents spoiled, and my curtains in a moment. * I beheld the earth, and, lo, it was without form, and void; and the heavens, and they had no light. I beheld the mountains, and, lo, they trembled, and all the hills moved lightly. I beheld, and, lo, there was no man, and all the birds of the heavens were fled. I beheld, and, lo, the fruitful place was a wilderness, and all the cities thereof were broken down at the presence of the Lord, and by his fierce anger. For thus hath the Lord said, The whole land shall be desolate; yet will I not make a full end.” Jer. 4:19–27.

Though the “destruction” is complete, so far as the works of man and the beauty and formation of the earth are concerned, yet, says the Lord, “will I not make a full end.” As the material was all reserved for future use when the old world perished by water, so will it be in the destruction which is now future. The Lord did not create the earth in vain. He who says: “I am God; my counsel shall stand,” will have his designs ultimately accomplished, whatever may, for a time, interpose.

Ezekiel had a view of the same condition of the earth, though briefly stated in his prophecy:—

“The fishes of the sea, and the fowls of the heaven, and the beasts of the field, and all creeping things that creep upon the earth, and all the men that are upon the face of the earth, shall shake at my presence, and the mountains shall be thrown down, and the steep places shall fall, and every wall shall fall to the ground. And I will call for a sword against him throughout all my mountains, saith the Lord God: every man’s sword shall be against his brother. And I will plead against him with pestilence and with blood; and I will rain upon him, and upon his bands, and upon the many people that are with him, an overflowing rain, and great hailstones, fire, and brimstone.” Eze. 38:20–22.

Other quotations might be given from the Old Testament, but we pass to the New, wherein this overwhelming ruin is located. When the Saviour spoke of his second coming he said:—

“Immediately after the tribulation of those days shall the sun be darkened, and the moon shall not give her light, and the stars shall fall from heaven, and the powers of the heavens shall be shaken: And then shall appear the sign of the Son of man in heaven: and then shall all the tribes of the earth mourn, and they shall see the Son of man coming in the clouds of heaven with power and great glory. And he shall send his angels with a great sound of a trumpet, and they shall gather together his elect from the four winds, from one end of heaven to the other.” Matt. 24:29–31.

Here it will be noticed that the Saviour locates the shaking of “the powers of the heavens,” just before his coming. This is the ushering in of that “great day of the Lord,” of which the prophet says:—

“That day is a day of wrath, a day of trouble and distress, a day of wasteness and desolation, a day of darkness and gloominess, a day of clouds and thick darkness.” Zeph. 1:15.

The apostle Paul speaks also of this shaking of the heavens, and says it will be produced by the voice of God when he speaks from Heaven. After describing the terror of the day when God spoke his holy law from mount Sinai, he says:—

“See that ye refuse not him that speaketh: for if they escaped not who refused him that spake on earth, much more shall not we escape, if we turn away from him that speaketh from Heaven: whose voice then shook the earth: but now he hath promised, saying, Yet once more I shake not the earth only, but also heaven.” Heb. 12:25, 26.

This testimony informs us that the shaking of heaven and earth will be caused by the voice of God speaking from Heaven, and, also, that this will take place but once. Therefore, wherever we find these, or either of these, events spoken of in the Scriptures, we know it is the same that was foretold by the Saviour in Matt. 24, and to occur in immediate connection with his second coming. That the same event is spoken of in Rev. 16 is very evident:—

“And the seventh angel poured out his vial into the air; and there came a great voice out of the temple of Heaven, from the throne, saying, It is done. And there were voices, and thunders, and lightnings; and there was a great earthquake, such as was not since men were upon the earth, so mighty an earthquake, and so great. And the great city was divided into three parts, and the cities of the nations fell: and great Babylon came in remembrance before God, to give unto her the cup of the wine of the fierceness of his wrath. And every island fled away, and the mountains were not found.” Rev. 16:17–20.

By reading the preceding verses, it will be seen that “the great day of God Almighty” is then near, and—that the Lord Jesus announces his speedy coming. The seventh angel is the last, and this plague finishes the wrath of God upon the last generation of the sinful race. God’s voice is heard from Heaven; the heavens and the earth are shaken; since men were upon earth so great a convulsion of nature had never taken place; the whole face and surface of the earth is changed into wasteness and desolation; “every island fled away, and the mountains were not found.”

This day of battle, and its effect upon the hearts of the men of this world, who have not secured an interest in the blood of the Life-giver, is described briefly in another scripture thus:—

“And the heaven departed as a scroll when it is rolled together; and every mountain and island were moved out of their places. And the kings of the earth, and the great men, and the rich men, and the chief captains, and the mighty men, and every bond man, and every free man, hid themselves in the dens and in the rocks of the mountains; and said to the mountains and rocks, Fall on us, and hide us from the face of him that sitteth on the throne, and from the wrath of the Lamb: for the great day of his wrath is come; and who shall be able to stand?” Rev. 6:14–17.

The terrors of that day are awful to contemplate. Not only that “the earth shall reel to and fro like a drunkard, and shall be removed like a cottage,” Isa. 24:20, that the convulsion shall be so great that the isles of the ocean shall sink, the mountains be cast down, and the pleasant valleys filled with the wreck of matter; though these would appall the stoutest heart, and overwhelm the bravest with fear; but it is that the day of “the wrath of the Lamb” is come; the terrible thought that, in this hour of the world’s great calamity, there is no refuge—no hope. Few are so hardened but that they are ready to call upon God in the hour of great peril and bitter anguish. Though men revile the name of Christ, there is left in their hearts a consciousness of his availing mercy, which reveals itself in time of danger. But oh! the agony of the soul when the conviction is forced upon the rich, the proud, the great, the admired of the world, that there is no Saviour! that he who has so long plead the sacrifice of his life in their behalf, who has so long beseeched them to turn and live, has “put on the garment of vengeance,” and will no longer listen to their cry.

“Where will the sinner hide in that day? It will be in vain to call, Ye mountains, on us fall, For his hand will find out all, In that day.”

How forcible the question is presented to the rich, the great of the world:—

“And what will ye do in the day of visitation, and in the desolation which shall come from far? to whom will ye flee for help? and where will ye leave your glory?” Isa. 10:3.

Oh! that we could fully realize that that day of wrath is near to come.

But this is not the final change which the earth is to undergo. During this time of its utter desolation, while it is empty and void without an inhabitant, the saints are in the “mansions” of the “Father’s house” which Jesus ascended on high to prepare for them; John 14:1–3; to which they are taken when “caught up into the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air.” 1 Thess. 4:17. There they sit on thrones of judgment, the decisions of which are executed at the end of the thousand years. Rev. 20. Of this day of Judgment, Peter speaks and gives most decisive testimony in regard to the future of the earth. He says:—

“There shall come in the last days scoffers, walking after their own lusts, and saying, Where is the promise of his coming? For since the fathers fell asleep, all things continue as they were from the beginning of the creation. For this they willingly are ignorant of, that by the word of God the heavens were of old, and the earth standing out of the water and in the water: whereby the world that then was, being overflowed with water, perished: but the heavens and the earth, which are now, by the same word are kept in store, reserved unto fire against the day of judgment and perdition of ungodly men.” 2 Pet. 3:3–7.

The apostle here denies the cavil of the scoffers, that all things continue as they were from the beginning of the creation. Great changes have already taken place, of which they are “willingly ignorant,” if ignorant at all. The word of God gives an account of the flood, and the earth itself gives evidence of the fact. As “the fountains of the great deep were broken up,” and the highest mountains submerged, the face of the whole earth was changed by the violence of the storm and the action of the waters. So complete was the change wrought in all nature, that in describing it, inspiration says, “The world that then was, being overflowed with water, perished.” To the eye of the beholder, after the flood only new scenes were presented. The multitudes of men who but a short time before peopled the earth, were all gone. The beasts were destroyed, and the fields were deserted. So terrible was the destruction when “the windows of heaven were opened,” that even the fowls of the air perished. No sound of living thing was there to greet the

rising sun.

The fruitful field was a desolation, and all the workmanship of man was in ruins. Had Noah and his family been transported by the ark to some distant planet, the scene would not, probably, have been so new and strange, nor the contrast with their former home so great, as that which now greeted their sight. Truly, they looked out upon another world. The elements—the materials—were the same. In every other respect all was strange and new.

But another change, as great as any in the past, remains to be effected; not by water, but by fire. Literally it will be melted “with fervent heat.” And to this it is reserved “against the day of judgment and perdition of ungodly men.” We have read in Prov. 11:31, that the wicked and the sinner will also “be recompensed in the earth.” And the Revelation says that after the thousand years of judgment, “the rest of the dead”—the wicked will be raised from the dead, and in the midst of their fruitless efforts to wage war against the camp of the saints, “fire came down from God out of Heaven, and devoured them.” Rev. 20:9. This chapter also says they receive their portion in a lake of fire, which will literally be fulfilled when the earth is melted by the fire which devours them.

Many efforts have been made to give Peter’s words a figurative application; but all such efforts do violence to the text. It does not refer merely to the change of dispensation, as theorists have asserted; nor is the fire a figure, and the heavens and earth used by metonymy to represent the people. But both the earth and its inhabitants are introduced; and not only “the perdition of ungodly men” is spoken of, but also the melting of the earth and the elements. As the apostle speaks of a literal creation, and a literal flood which changed the face of that creation, so does he speak of a literal conflagration of that literal earth; for figurative fire would not melt the elements of literal earth.

Many scriptures besides those quoted speak of the great “burning day.” To one only will we refer. As Revelation, the last book of the New Testament, in its closing scenes consigns the wicked to a fire which devours them, so does the closing book of the Old Testament leave the wicked under the action of this devouring element:—

“For, behold, the day cometh, that shall burn as an oven; and all the proud, yea, and all that do wickedly shall be stubble: and the day that cometh shall burn them up, saith the Lord of hosts, that it shall leave them neither root nor branch.” Mal. 4:1.

Thus at once shall the curse, and the accursed, be removed from the earth. Beyond this, another scene is introduced:—

“Nevertheless we, according to his promise, look for new heavens and a new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness.” 2 Pet. 3:13.

The scriptures cited, as well as analogy, show that the new earth will bear the same relation to the earth which now is, that the present earth bears to that which was before the flood. It will be composed of the same material, but in every sense renewed. The Lord said by Jeremiah, as quoted, that the earth shall be turned again to chaos—with-out form and void—yet he will not make a full end. That earth which was given to Adam at first; which Noah beheld under two dispensations; upon which Abraham dwelt as the land of promise; upon which the wicked will receive their recompense in the great day, will be given to the saints of the Most High, when sin and sinners shall be entirely removed from it.

The description of the new earth, in the Bible, is very brief. Whether it were brief or extended, we could never realize its glory. Having always associated with a different state of things; having always had crosses and trials to bear, sorrows and disappointments to suffer, our minds cannot grasp the realities of a world of glory, and of unalloyed bliss. In vision it was shown to John, who says:—

“And I saw a new heaven and a new earth: for the first heaven and the first earth were passed away; and there was no more sea. And I John saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down from God out of Heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a great voice out of heaven saying, Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he will dwell with them, and they shall be his people, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God. And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away. And he that sat upon the throne said, Behold, I make all things new. And he said unto me, Write: for these words are true and faithful.” Rev. 21:1–5.

Whiting’s translation of verse 1 says: “And the sea was no more.” Not as though there were no sea at all in that heavenly state, but that the old sea was no more, even as the former heaven and earth were no more. All was new. Dr. Clarke says:—

“The sea no more appeared than did the first heaven and earth. All was made new; and probably the new sea occupied a different position and was differently distributed, from that of the old sea.”—Com. on Rev. 21:1.

On this new earth the New Jerusalem, which descends out of Heaven from God, is located. It is the capital of the universal kingdom of Christ, who, as the seed of Abraham, is the heir of the world. It is that “city which hath foundations,” which the Lord himself built, for which Abraham looked.

As Abraham offered up Isaac, the son of the promise, so was Christ, the seed of Abraham, the true heir, offered as a sacrifice. Abraham, in the offering of Isaac, was taught the death and resurrection of his seed before they could inherit the promises. So “Christ must needs suffer” before he entered into his glory. And so all the saints must suffer, and await the morning of the resurrection to fit them to inherit a holy and eternal inheritance. Paul says, “Corruption cannot inherit incorruption.” 1 Cor. 15:50. But when the Son of man comes, seated upon the throne of his glory, he will raise the saints immortal, that they may “inherit the kingdom prepared from the foundation of the world.” Matt. 25:34. Micah says:—

“And thou, O tower of the flock, the strong hold of the daughter of Zion, unto thee shall it come, even the first dominion.” Micah 4:8.

To what this refers, we cannot imagine if not to the dominion which was granted to Adam at the first—dominion over the whole earth. That the expectation of the saints takes hold on this promise is shown in their song of anticipated triumph, and of glory to the Lamb:—

“For thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood out of every kindred, and tongue, and people, and nation; and hast made us unto our God kings and priests; and we shall reign on the earth.” Rev. 5:9, 10.

From this there can be no appeal. Abraham’s promise, Paul’s hope, Christ’s heirship, the saints’ expected triumph, the peaceful inheritance of the meek, all look to the earth made new, redeemed from the curse.

“I long to be there! and the thought that ’tis near, Makes me almost impatient for Christ to appear, And fit up that dwelling of glories so rare, The earth robed in beauty,—I long to be there!”

The particular points of glory and of beauty, as set forth by Isaiah, John, and other inspired writers, I leave with the reader to examine, only adding the view in Revelation of the final song of triumph, when the wicked are destroyed, the curse removed, and all is made new. All the inhabitants of the wide creation of God join in this song:—

“And every creature which is in Heaven, and on the earth, and under the earth, and such as are in the sea, and all that are in them, heard I saying, Blessing, and honor, and glory, and power, be unto him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb forever and ever.” Rev. 5:13.

THE FAITHFUL FRIEND.

When the cup of our pleasure is mingled with gall, And the tears of our anguish like raindrops descend, It is sweet to remember, and know through them all, There is still ever living a Saviour and Friend.

Though the skies may be darkened and stars be obscured, And the deep gloom of midnight encircle the heart, Yet we still in our sadness by Christ are assured, That the joy of his presence shall never depart.

When the wild waves were tossing the ship on the sea, And the tempest was sweeping, and danger was nigh, There was heard mid the waters of rough Galilee, Sweetest words of the Saviour, “Fear not, it is I!”

All along through the desert so barren and drear, When its sands are so scorching, and burdens oppress, He that walked in the furnace is felt to be near, Even there he is ready his loved ones to bless.

When we come to the river, the river of death, Though in weakness we shudder, yet Jesus is there; We can feel thrilling through us, his life-giving breath, And the hope that it wakens soon conquers despair.

Oh! soon, when we stand on that bright shining shore, Will the tears of our sorrow be all wiped away; And with storms and with tempests to trouble no more, We will walk in the light of the Lord as our day. —Sel.

Little Sins and the Progress of Temptation

WELL did Jeremy Taylor thus describe the progress of sin in man: “First it startles him, then it becomes pleasing, then easy, then delightful, then frequent, then habitual, then confirmed. Then the man is impenitent, then obstinate, and then he is damned.” Reader! the devil only wants to get the wedge of a little allowed sin in your heart, and you will soon be all his own. Never play with the fire—never trifle with little sins.

LAMPS do not talk, but they do shine. A light-house sounds no drum, it beats no gong, and yet, far over the waters its friendly spark is seen by the mariner. So let your actions shine out your religion.

HE who rightly loves himself, will love his enemies.

A Churchman’s Thought about Death.

By Editor

[The following extracts we copy from an article in the Independent. Its author was, of course, a firm believer in the immortality of the soul. But his views of death are different from those of most of his belief, and more scriptural than those of any writer whom we remember to have read, who believed in the separate existence of spirits. The modern portraiture of death as a friend, as “the gate to endless joy,” as “the voice that Jesus sends, to call us to his arms,” is as unscriptural as can be; for the Scriptures always treat death as an evil, as an enemy, as the result and fruit of sin. “They that hate Me love death.” These are the words of “wisdom.” Life—blessed thought of life! the Life-giver will soon come and destroy “the last enemy, death;” and redeem his people from the bondage of corruption. Oh! what a glorious hope! Review.]

We often “wish we were dead:” sometimes in haste; sometimes in disgust at a passing worry; sometimes, no doubt, with a devout aspiration, wishing “to depart and to be with Christ.”

If we oftener considered what it must be to be dead, we might be less hasty, more reconciled to the trials of life, and more devout in our aspirations.

The Church makes Good Friday a great fast, because then Christ died; and Easter Even a great vigil, because then Christ was dead; and Easter a great feast, because then Christ rose again from the dead.

Our mortal life is a common day—neither feast nor fast—unless we choose. Our death is our fast-day. Our vigil is kept in the place of departed spirits, and our resurrection is our first taste of the consummation of joy and felicity. Everything that has been ours before of spiritual enjoyment was a foretaste, an earnest, not wholly imaginary, but not wholly real, not full, not satisfying.

In itself, death is simply horrible. Nobody who conceives of it aright can possibly be enamored of the thing itself. There is some physical and psychological truth in the modern theory that all suicides are insane—a theory which does not take away the guilt of suicide, unless it can be shown that the insanity was the visitation of God and not the fault of the man, as it is no excuse for murder to plead drunkenness unless it can be shown that the drunkenness was involuntary, that the man was drugged. . .

A great many people have a general idea that when they are dead they will have relief from all their old troubles, and exemption from all new ones. Perhaps they will, for no man knows what it is to be dead except dead men. But I cannot think so of death. If this be so, it is more blessed to die than to live. Death is no natural evil, and our natural love of life is a hallucination. We might still decline to commit suicide for moral and religious reasons, but we might take any honest chance of dying that offered. We might contend for the privilege of nursing small-pox patients, or court death in any philanthropic cause, and be not foolish, but wise, in doing it.

But when an unaccustomed ache in my body stirs up an apprehension in my soul, and when, nevertheless, I do not at once run to a physician nor settle my estate because my sober judgment and experience bid me wait and see if there be need, I know that I am not hypochondriacal, and yet I know that I have had a warning of an evil that must befall me sooner or later.

One third of me never can desire to die. My body and its physical instincts, so far as animal consciousness goes, must revolt against dying and must struggle against it to the last gasp. Organized matter cannot desire disorganization, if it can desire anything. As an animal, nothing can tempt me to die. I must be forced into dying or trapped into dying. My animal nature may submit to death from exhaustion or in obedience to a master, whoever has mastered it; but, if it had its freedom of choice, it would live.

And another third of me, my intellectual nature, is unwilling to die. I may be impatient of the clog and burden of this flesh, as impeding my intellectual progress. I may be sleepy when I desire to study, or my vital force may be engaged and preoccupied—in digesting food or exercising muscles. I may lose time which I grudge from study, in the mere act of locomotion necessary to bring me to the object of my study. But I know that if I cheat nature of her dues, I shall have to repay her, by an enforced rest or by an untimely death. And when I am thus brought face to face with the question whether it be not better to die and get rid of this flesh, that my mind may have everything its own way, there is no intellectual algebra that can determine for me the value of that unknown quantity, “the state of being dead,” as an intellectual advantage, and no pharmacy that can assure me of the medical use of dying as a specific for intellectual ills. I must be a great enthusiast in intellectual experimentation before I experiment on myself with drugs of unknown power; and I can hardly claim to be scientific if I take my premises for granted and then die to prove my theory! I prefer to stay in the body and know what I can do, be it little or much, rather than to go out of the body; to find myself in fact what a German transcendentalist affects, and to have no resource but to evolve truth out of my own inner consciousness.

And I am sure that my immortal spirit has a natural horror and loathing of death. And, if you tell me that that is because I am a sinner, I say, No!—at least, not entirely; for Christ had and showed the same feeling, and he knew no sin. Indeed, it is because I am spiritually enfeebled and brutalized by sinning that I can suffer as little as I do in view of death. If I had Christ’s sinlessness, I should suffer Christ’s agony and bloody sweat at the thought of dying. (I mean all of it that was of human origin. There was a divine element in that sacred mystery that was Christ’s only.) That righteous man dreaded death with an intensity of human dread that no sinner is sensitive enough to feel. Body, mind, and spirit naturally, instinctively, and rationally, yea, religiously hate and abhor death and shrink from it. “All that a man hath will he give for his life.” Intelligently to “wish we were dead” is unnatural and monstrous; or it is the crown of our religiousness that we can desire to depart and to be with Christ, even though we must depart by death.

The state of being dead is nothing to be coveted or foolishly bespoken for ourselves. These wonderfully made bodies will be dishonored and defiled and slowly resolve into earth. Having been organic since Adam, who was the only “son of the soil,” it is a terrible humiliation that befalls every scion of this aristocracy of matter when its rank, hereditary for 6,000 years, is disfranchised by the tyrant Death, and itself becomes the sport of worms and of creatures which it “would have disdained to have set with the dogs of its flock.” If there be any such thing as “animal consciousness”—“the spirit of the beast, which goeth downward”—appertaining to organized matter, that consciousness must suffer keen disgrace and shame in the state of being dead unless it be true that our physical part is also capable of religion after its sort. . . . . . . . .

—Rev. John Vaughan Lewis.

How Long and How Many.

How long do you think it took to write the Bible? Fifteen hundred years. From Moses, who wrote Genesis, to St. John, who wrote Revelation, it was that long, long time.

How many people helped to write it? More than thirty. There were Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Paul, and Peter. There were Moses, Ezra, David, Daniel, and Samuel. Some were shepherds, some farmers, some fishermen, some tent-makers, some kings, some judges, some princes; some were learned, some were unlearned; and yet they all agree in what they write. There is not so much as a word of disagreement in the whole book. How could that be? Because God did the thinking of the Bible. The thoughts in the Bible are all God's thoughts. Those thirty men only did the writing. They wrote just what God told them. How many different sections of books are there in the Bible? Sixty-six, all bound together, making one beautiful whole. It is a blessed book. Prize it above all the books in the wide, wide world. Make it the man of your counsel and the guide of your life. Your life can never be a failure if you follow its instructions. You will live to purpose, and save your soul, and not thyself only shall be saved, but others through thee.

Evening Thoughts on Rest and Waking

In closing the eyes for the nightly rest, it is good to say: “He giveth his beloved sleep;” and in opening them, when night is past, to say: “When I wake I am still with thee.”

Hardening and Softening Through Circumstance and Kindness

Many a one hardens or sharpens, through the opposing or grinding of unkindly circumstances, who else might have been gentle, restful, round with grace in lineament and soul, through nestling among loving influences.

What Can Be Done for the Children?

WITH what deep anxiety and solicitude is this question asked by many a parent. How few feel it enough to let their lives show they are in earnest to seek the cause of the present state of things, and as if life depended upon their individual efforts, commence a reformation.

I have just come from meeting. One brother spoke very lengthily, and said nothing but the truth, but not a bit of feeling in the whole, dry as Sahara, without the redeeming feature of one oasis. During the time, the children fell asleep. Another brother rose, and in the same strain repeated much the same thing. Still the little ones slept, and I thought it was well, for though he told how he felt to see the young going to ruin, he related such a doleful experience that any child would shrink from a road where they would be in danger of meeting the like, and I should advise them to do so.

Parents, what would you do if the children in your neighborhood came to spend the afternoon with yours? Would you seat them in straight-backed chairs and bring from some dark corner the hideous looking skeletons your father had in his office, and tell them to look at these and remember they too must soon pass away, hoping thus to make a salutary and lasting religious impression upon their young minds? Would you take from your box of relics the dried rose buds and geranium leaves, sacred to you from association, and try to interest them in these because beautiful to you? Would you not rather lead them to the garden, where the summer flowers were blooming in all their freshness, and, while weaving bright garlands, tell them of God, the author of the beautiful? Do you say, “We are too old for this—the young can talk hope, but we who have felt the storm of adversity and suffering have had our hearts chilled as yours will sometime be.”

It is true the floodtide of sorrow has swept the shore of many a heart—one by one its idols may have been carried far out into the briny deep, but where is the brave soul that with Christian fortitude says no other life shall be shadowed by a cloud which hangs over mine?

Have you seen the beautiful peaches mellowing in the long August days? Storms as well as sunshine have done their part toward coloring the velvety surface. As the summer days of life go by and its autumn days come, should they not find us with a deeper experience—a richer soul beauty? Why not have a religion that lasts forever? a kind that makes life sunnier and brighter? The Bible tells us that “the path of the just is as the shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day,” and who would not prefer this to the one where is only darkness and groaning?

The exhortations which reached my heart when a child were not the longest ones however filled with fine rhetorical phrases, but perhaps some aged pilgrim would tell, in words brief and broken, his desires and determinations, or a little child would rise to say, “I love Jesus.” These suited me best then, and they do now. But how shall it be done? Live for God at home. Faithfully perform life’s little duties—if there are any such—and let your daily life be such that the young will not look incredulous when in meeting you profess to know what religion is. Draw the young heart near to yours in confidence and real concern, and being a child yourself, learning daily at the feet of Jesus, yours will be a language they can understand. I think now of sweet childish faces and lips that loved to talk of Jesus—ears that would listen eagerly when told of Heaven and its beauties. Some are now far down the broad road, others are asleep, but alas! not in Jesus.

Who shall be called to give an account for these things? Can we not make our Bible-classes and our social meetings more interesting? Jesus’ love is as warm and fresh to-day as when he shared the joys and sorrows of childhood, and so will ours ever remain if we have the right kind. If I plead earnestly, it is because I have been a child, and my heart aches for the children.

ORIGINAL.

Clerical Horse-Racing.

By Editor

. . . The Rev. Henry Ward Beecher, the Rev. W. H. H. Murray of Boston, and the Hon. George Loring, whom the papers mention as “Christian Statesman,” have united in the authorship of a book entitled, “The Perfect Horse.” It is devoted to the discussion of the points of a good horse, and vindicates racing, apart from its concomitants of gambling, drinking and rowdyism. Mr. Beecher declares that, “for the sake of social life, for eminent moral reasons, the horse deserves to be bred, trained, and cared for with scrupulous care; and if a minister can teach men how to do it, it is not abandoning his profession, but pursuing a remote department of it, which has too long already been left to men who look upon the horse as an instrument chiefly of gambling gains or of mere physical pleasure.” The announcement of this new and “remote” department of the ministerial profession will be greeted with a general horse laugh, especially around the stables where the thorough-breds are in training for the August meetings. We observe, also, that during the recent races at Buffalo, the Rev. Mr. Fletcher of that city attended the race-course every day, and, as he afterwards informed his scandalized congregation, he derived much pleasure from the rivalry of the noble animals, and his enjoyment would have been entire but for the presence of the gambling fraternity. It would not be surprising if a little longer acquaintance would entirely overcome this inconvenient disgust, and even enable him to venture something in the pool without the slightest qualms. Many a troublesome conscience has been gradually quieted in this way, and, so far as known, gave its owner no further annoyance. Mr. Fletcher may be assured, too, that when he has a few dollars—the more the better—at stake his interest in the race will be immeasurably increased, and his wonder will be how he formerly took so much interest in the mere “rivalry of the noble animals.”—Christian Statesman.

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