Ex. x, 14: And the locusts went up over all the land of Egypt, and rested in all the coasts of Egypt: very grievous were they; before them there were no such locusts as they, neither after them shall be such.
[Locusts.] Of all animals calamitous to mankind, by destroying vegetation, the gryllus migratorius (migratory locust) seems to possess the most formidable powers of destruction. In Syria, Egypt, and almost all the south of Asia, they appear in desolating legions, in a few hours changing the most fertile provinces into barren deserts, and by their numbers darkening the air, [or as verse 5 expresses it, covering the (face, Heb.) eye of the earth, i. e., the sun]. Happily, this calamity is not frequent, for it is the inevitable precursor of famine and its horrible consequences. The annals of most of the south Asiatic climates are filled with accounts of such devastations. We are told that nearly as much damage is occasioned by what they touch, as by what they devour. Their bite is thought to contaminate the plants, and either to destroy or greatly weaken their vegetation. When dead, their putrefaction is justly regarded as the cause of desolating pestilences. The swarms are said to have a leader, whose flight they observe, and whose motions they strictly regard. Scarce an adequate conception can be formed of their multitude. Barrow states that in South Africa, the whole surface of the ground might literally be said to be covered with them for an area of 2,000 square miles. The water of a very wide river was scarcely visible on account of the floating carcasses. When the larvæ (for these are much more voracious than the perfect insects) are on a march during the day, it is utterly impossible to turn the direction of the troop, which is generally with the wind.—Encyc. Americana.
THE ISRAELITES BORROWING OF THE EGYPTIANS.
Ex. xi, 2: Speak now in the ears of the people, and let every man borrow of his neighbor, and every woman of her neighbor, jewels of silver, and jewels of gold.
The original does not in the least imply that the Israelites asked the Egyptians to lend them the jewels, or vessels, of gold and silver, as promising to return them; but rather that they requested, or even required them; and the Lord engaged to dispose the Egyptians to comply with their requirement; for the words may be rendered, And the Lord will give the people favor, &c.—Scott.
THE 430 YEARS' SOJOURN.
Ex. xii, 40: Now the sojourning of the children of Israel who dwelt in Egypt, was four hundred and thirty years.389430 years]. Gen. xv, 13, the time is stated at only 400 years; but the texts are thus reconciled: It was 400 years from Ishmael's mocking Isaac, the beginning of their affliction; but from Abraham's entering Canaan, the commencement of their sojourning, was 430 years. Comp. Gen. xv, 30. In the text of Genesis, the Samaritan after “children of Israel,” adds, “they and their fathers, in the land of Canaan, and in the land of Egypt, was 430 years.” The Alexandrine copy of the Sept. has the same reading; and the same statement is made by Paul, Gal. iii, 17, who reckons from the promise to Abraham to the giving of the law. That these three witnesses have the truth, the chronology itself proves; for it is evident that the descendants of Israel did not dwell 430 years in Egypt; while it is equally evident, that the period from Abraham's entrance into the promised land to the birth of Isaac was 25 years; Isaac was 60 at the birth of Jacob; Jacob was 130 at his going into Egypt, where he and his children continued 215 years more; making in the whole 430 years. See Kennicott's Diss.Greenfield, after Dr. A. Clarke. It is to be remarked, too, that the sacred text says, The sojourning of the children of Israel, who dwelt in Egypt,” not their sojourning in Egypt, but their sojourning simply, was 430 years, as above.—Jenks.
The Commentary.
Tell me the meaning of Scriptures. One gem from that ocean is worth all the pebbles of earthly streams.—M'Cheyne.
PARAPHRASE OF PS. V.
By J. M. A.
GIVE ear, O Lord, hear thou my earnest cry;
My inmost thoughts consider, thou Most High;
My supplication hear, my God, my King,
For my petition unto thee I'll bring;
My voice, each morning, thou shalt hear on high,
For then, to thee, will I direct my cry.
In wickedness thou takest no delight;
With thee no evil dwells,—thy ways are right;
The wicked and the vile thou dost despise,
Nor shall the foolish stand before thine eyes;
Destroy thou shalt all those who leasing speak,—
Abhor the man of blood and vain deceit.
But as for me, thy mercy will I heed,
And come within thy courts, my cause to plead,
And there, toward the temple of thy grace
With reverential fear I'll set my face.
Thy way, O Lord, before my face make straight,
For lo! mine enemies all lie in wait;
In paths of righteousness O lead thou me,
Nor let me miss the way marked out by thee;
For in their mouth no faithfulness abides;
Their inward part, a world of evil hides;
Their throat an open vault,—a wicked snare,
A flattering tongue withal, to lure one there.
O God, destroy thou them,—consume them all,
And by their wicked counsels let them fall;
For their transgressions manifold and great,
Their names cast out; for all thy laws they hate.
But let all those rejoice that trust in thee,
And them that love thy name let joyful be;
And ever let them shout for joy intense,
Because thou art to them a sure defence;
For thou, O Lord, the righteous man wilt bless,
And compass him in times of sore distress.
J. M. A.
A Question on the Communion.
A CORRESPONDENT writes: “We read in 1 Cor. xi, 33, that when we eat (referring to the Lord’s supper), we should tarry one for the other. I have thought we should wait while the bread is being passed among the members of the church till all are served, and when the leader takes his piece and eats it, we should all do likewise. If I am wrong, please give me light on the subject.”
REPLY. We do not think the point our correspondent has on his mind is that to which Paul refers. The disorders which he has in view, and the abuses which he would correct, are brought to view in the preceding verses of the chapter, 17-22. It appears that the Corinthians had connected with the Lord’s supper a disgraceful feast and drunken carousal. First of all, there were divisions among them, the church separating themselves into different parties. And commentators assert that these different parties would bring provisions from their homes, of such as they were able, to have a feast in connection with the Lord’s supper. These cliques would partake by themselves, some before others had arrived at the place of meeting, the more wealthy bringing costly viands, to the mortification of the poorer brethren, who were not able to make so sumptuous provision. So some were drunken while others were hungry; and the communion was turned into a scene of confusion, and made an occasion of scandal. Paul reproves them because they did not come together to partake of the Lord’s supper exclusively, verse 20, and tells them that they have houses in which they should do the eating and drinking of their ordinary meals, verse 22; and the conclusion to be derived from his instruction is, that they should put away their divisions, no longer communing in cliques, and when they came together, they should come for the Lord’s supper only, waiting one for another till all had assembled at the place of meeting, and then commune together in a sober and worthy manner.
THE VICTORY OF FAITH.
By Cuyler
The great historical event of the year now closing has been the successful submersion of the Atlantic Cable. When the telegraphic squadron set off from the shores of Ireland, in July, they carried what the world had come to consider a “forlorn hope.” The idea that a slender wire could be stretched through the dark dungeons of the deep, among sunken wrecks, and rocks, and slimy sea-monsters; and that the messages of daily life and love could find their “dim, perilous way” across it, was pronounced by many sagacious men a rank absurdity. But the wise men on board of those vessels believed in their cable just as implicitly when they started from Valencia as they did a month later, when that cable was sending back the President’s telegram to Valencia with the speed of the lightning. Fools cannot deny its success now when they read news from London in the papers received within a few hours. But Cyrus W. Field read those telegrams with the eye of faith ten years ago! He and his brave associates “endured as seeing what was yet invisible” to others. “The victory that overcame was faith.”
Their scientific faith was a similar mental exercise to that spiritual act of the mind which believes in every word revealed by God, and patiently waits for the fulfillment of his promises. Religious faith is simply a firm belief in God. There must be a certain degree of knowledge in order to intelligent faith. Field and Canning knew the laws of electro-magnetism, or they never would have believed in their Atlantic Telegraph. Knowledge of God underlies all faith in God. “How shall they call on him in whom they have not believed? and how shall they believe in Him of whom they have never heard?”
The Christian knows, from his Bible, that God is wise and good, and therefore commits his way unto the Lord. He knows from the Bible that God is true, and will not break his promises; therefore he has faith in prayer. That single precious promise that God is “the rewarder of those that diligently seek him” is linked with every labor of love, with every act of obedience, with every effectual prayer. God rewards labor. Does not every farmer act in faith when he puts in the plough, and drops his grain into the mellowed earth? Every pastor prepares his sermon; every mission-school is built, and its lessons taught each Sabbath; every pious parent tills the soil of the child’s teachable heart in the simple faith that God rewards labor.
God rewards obedience also. He enjoins upon the sinner the forsaking of his sins, and the acceptance of Jesus as his Saviour. The sinner that repents and accepts Christ does so through a firm confidence that his Heavenly Father will reward obedience. “By faith, Noah, being warned of God of things not seen as yet, prepared an ark to the saving of his house.” An unbelieving generation hooted at the “fanatic” who was squandering his life on that huge, unwieldy vessel. But every blow of Noah’s hammer was an audible proof of Noah’s faith in the Lord as the rewarder of obedience.
God rewards believing, earnest prayer. “Ask, and ye shall receive; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened.” God hears prayer, and God answers prayer in his own time and way; upon these two great facts the Christian plants his knees when he bows to his fervent supplications. Oh! the long trials to which we are often subjected, when God would test our faith, or would strengthen our faith by its own exercise! Christ kept the Syro-Phenician mother at arm’s length for some time, in order to try the degree of her faith. It won its victory at last. Godly wives are often left to press their earnest petitions through many a year before the answer comes in the Spirit’s work upon a husband’s heart. I came to-day from the bedside of a man who was lately converted, though his noble wife has been pleading for him ten years “without ceasing.” “The grief that weighs me down,” said a Christian mother, “is the fact that of my six children not one loves Jesus. I am alone.” But this Hannah, of a sorrowful spirit, continued her supplications by night and by day. She did her own duty, and then prayed for a blessing. Five of those daughters gave themselves to Christ in one revival. “Mother,” said one of the converted young women, “let us all unite in a day of fasting and prayer for our unawakened sister.” They did so; and ere many days she, too, was added to that Christian sisterhood. The victory that overcame was a believing woman’s faith.
We could enumerate cases of prayer answered long after the lips that breathed it had mouldered into dust. When Captain K—, of Philadelphia, sailed on his last voyage, he left a prayer for his infant child, written out and deposited in an old oaken chest. After his death at sea, his widow locked up the chest, for the use of her child when grown up to manhood. He grew up a licentious, dissolute youth. On her dying-bed the mother gave him the key of the oaken chest; which he did not dare to open, lest he should find something there of a religious character to trouble his conscience. At the age of fifty-six he determined to open it, one day, from sheer curiosity. He discovered on the bottom a neatly-folded paper, on which was written, “The prayer of Mitchell K—, for his wife and child.” He read it, put it back with his father’s quadrant into the chest, and determined never to unlock it again. But the prayer wrought upon his conscience—burning it like live coals; his remorse became so great that the mistress with whom he lived in guilt thought him deranged! He ceased not to cry for mercy. Faith in Jesus, the pardoner, brought him peace and healing. He made confession, married the woman whom he had wronged, united himself with Christ’s church, and lived to old age an exemplary Christian. God was the rewarder of a faith that had lain for half a century locked up in secret! O! Lord, INCREASE OUR FAITH!—Cuyler.
THE FINALLY LOST.
By D. T. T.
An esteemed brother takes exception to our criticism on Luke ix, 25, “Lose himself,” and claims that those who thus perish at last are only lost in the sense in which one is lost in a terrible snow storm, lost on an island at sea, lost in the woods, lost as the sheep of the house of Israel were lost (Matt. x, 6), they all the while in their second death retaining a consciousness of their condition, as men in this life in the above-named cases were, though lost, still conscious of their identity and existence. We reply, the cases are not parallel, the illustrations lack force and point, and the argument is unsound. For apollumi in some seventy-two instances of its usage (out of one hundred and two times) in the Greek New Testament, when referred to whole, living men, or to parts of these integral men, describes their actual perishing destruction, or their devotement to such a real perishing, in which case they were as good as perished and dead. It is also applied to sheep as good as actually dead to the owner unless found, to bottles broken or perishing as bottles, so that they are no longer whole bottles, money forever lost unless found by the owner, and food left to corrupt and be utterly wasted. In no instance is it used to describe human beings as such, only as truly killed and their life taken away, or as being in a condition where their death was a certain thing, an inevitable tendency, and this result unmistakable and sure at last. Thus, in some instances, the prolepsis is used, the apollumi is anticipated, and they are spoken of as perished or dead when doomed to die, as a Montpelier (Vt.) physician, a few years since, exclaimed upon accidentally swallowing a large dose of strychnine, “I am a dead man,” though he survived the fatal dose six hours.
In about twenty-four instances the word is used to describe the final destiny of man at the Judgment. If the place of this destiny were as temperate, and at all to be compared with an island, the woods, this world, or even a snow storm; if there were a good shepherd to hunt for and find the lost sheep there, and the sinner not doomed to the full infliction of the second death in that place; then might the lost hope to live on in anguish for a time. But what shall survive the destruction (apollumi, Matt. x, 28) of “both soul and body in gehenna—fire?” Who will restore the apollumi—“lost life” (Luke ix, 24) “in them that (apollumi) perish” (2 Cor. ii, 15)? And Heaven lost, soul and body lost, yea, even life lost, where can the lost one find himself in this outer darkness? Submerged in the lake of fire burning with brimstone, will the totally lost without immortality, without eternal life, cut loose from the source of being, compared to stubble, to chaff, to tares, to dry branches, to thorns and briars, to corruption, live on and on? Must he not with such a nature, and amid such surroundings, rather “lose himself?” Shall we make this apollumi have no deeper meaning when applied to a man in a sea of literal fire, in the eternal world, than when used to set forth the condition of a man in a wilderness on this earth? Is he no more lost in the eternal fires than in the green woods? And shall we take the accommodated or secondary sense of a word to explain its primitive meaning?
Note the first use of apollumi in the New Testament, in Matt. ii, 18, i. e., “to destroy,” i. e., to kill, murder, take away life, cause to perish. Fifteen or twenty times in the Bible is the first death denominated a shadow, and if it be but the shadow, then what shall be the substance? For the righteous the shadows will flee away, but for the evil, in their second death, never. From this last death there is no resurrection. It is to “be as though they had not been.” No being, hence no consciousness. Hence our position, viz., consciousness and unconsciousness are directly opposite terms. Life and death are directly opposite terms. Therefore in life man is conscious, but in death man is unconscious. And so in the apollumi, the perishing, the destruction in the lake of fire beyond the Judgment, life, all life, and consequently all consciousness of life and being, is forever lost. This being true, the lost will be lost to God and angels, and the saved, yea, more, he will “LOSE HIMSELF.”
Tenaciously, as with a strange love for something unfathomed and horrible, do good men cling to the dogma of endless misery, to be inflicted by a just and merciful God. Do they really ever look the awful doctrine in the face? Do they truly believe it? When they walk their rooms at midnight in sleepless, mental agony at the bare thought, as did Jonathan Edwards, we will believe that they do. But believe the dogma you never can. Thank God, the touch of the Ithuriel spear of truth awoke us from twenty years of sleep in the overshadowing of the horrible nightmare.—D. T. T. in World’s Crisis.
Affliction as God’s Winnowing Frame
By Salter
AFFLICTION is God's winnowing frame that blows away the chaff from the corn. We ought ourselves to have laid aside our vanities, but God doeth it for us.—Salter. Lam. iii, 33.
Kindness Makes Friends
Kindness makes friends.
THE ALABASTER BOX BROKEN.
In blessed contrast to the cruel contempt and rejection of the nation, and the malignant persecution and bloodthirsty plots of the rulers, which darkened the closing days of the Lord’s life of love, stands the loving appreciation and sympathy of the quiet family of Bethany. Our hearts are drawn out in affectionate, grateful remembrance of Lazarus, and Mary, and Martha, in whose humble home He found a retreat from the cruelty of days when, by way of eminence even in his life, we see him as the man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. How divinely fair he appears in these scenes of peaceful retirement when, for example, Mary sits at his feet listening, and Martha, cumbered with much serving, shows her love in another way. Or here again, in the house of Simon the leper, what a group! The Prince of Life in that lowly guise; and Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead, seated at table with Him, Martha still serving, and Mary breaking her box of ointment, very precious, and wiping his feet with the hairs of her head! All her best and fairest employed to do honor to Him whom man despised.
What voice is this that breaks in upon their peace with the murmur, “Why was this waste of the ointment made? for it might have been sold for more than three hundred pence, and have been given to the poor.” There is a kind of satisfaction in knowing that it was the voice of Judas Iscariot, though it seems that he was not the only one who had indignation at this honor done to Jesus. May there not be some in this age—which measures every thing by its utility—who would say, “Well, and why this waste? Would it not have been better bestowed on the relief of human wants?” Is it Judas Iscariot who speaks in the cause of humanity against Jesus, who defends the poor woman’s “waste?” “Let her alone. Why trouble ye her? She hath wrought a good work upon me.”
There is surely something in this act which we imperfectly understand. It is made of great importance in the gospels. John interrupts his narrative of the resurrection of Lazarus to explain that Mary, the sister of Lazarus, was “that Mary which anointed the Lord with ointment, and wiped his feet with her hair.” Then the Lord speaks of it in terms of such peculiar commendation as a good work done upon him: “She did it for my burial.” In John we learn that Mary had treasured in her heart the intimation of His death, which His disciples generally seem to have heard with strange stupidity or indifference. She had been looking forward to that event, and, with love’s sorrowful providence, as He who had known it all, tells her secret, “against the day of my burying hath she kept this.” She saw the gathering darkness with love’s quick apprehension, and knew that the hour was come; and so, as he expresses it, “She has come aforehand to anoint my body for the burying.” And then we have the emphatic testimony of the spiritual import and permanent interest of the action: “Verily I say unto you, Wheresoever this gospel shall be preached throughout the whole world, this also which she hath done shall be spoken of for a memorial of her.”
But does it occupy the prominence among us which seems here to be assigned to it in connection with the preaching of the gospel? The gospel is preached and souls are saved; but is “this that she hath done” spoken of with true appreciation and intelligence, as a memorial of her? Let the reader answer for himself, not as to what he hears others do when the gospel is preached, but whether this expression of the poor woman’s love stands out in his own thoughts as the words of Jesus would lead us to expect.
What did it mean? The cost of that box of ointment was a large sum for one in her circumstances. Estimate it not according to the measure of value in our day, but as it was to be reckoned when “two pence” was a reasonable sum to be given to the host when a wounded man was left in his care at an inn. In the parables the wages of the laborers were a penny a day; so that three hundred pence was about a year’s income from incessant daily toil. She had treasured that costly box for this very purpose; and we must suppose that in doing so she had denied herself many things which a selfish heart could ill have spared in that humble home. It would not have served her purpose had it not been costly to her; for its very use was to testify her appreciation of Him, her love to Him, and her sense of the great love of which He was about to give the crowning proof in that death which she had in mind when she anointed Him for the burial. There is something more acutely sad in the apparent insensibility of His disciples to His sufferings, than even in the malignity of His open enemies. And was it nothing to Jesus in that hour—is it no relief to you, lover of Jesus, in looking back to that hour—to know that there was one human heart—alas! we know not that there was another—in which His sayings about His death were treasured up, and which overflowed with intelligent sympathy for a suffering Saviour? Yes, dear Lord, thou hast not forgotten it amidst the glories of the Father’s right hand. Thou wilt not forget the alabaster box broken at Bethany, when the homage of unnumbered crowns is cast at thy feet. And we, too, would enter into fellowship with Thee, as we remember that there was one poor woman who hung over Thee with tenderness, as Thou didst go out to meet all that death for us, and counted nothing too costly to express her sense of Thy love and her attachment to Thy person. Now rejoicing in the gospel, which tells all Thy love to us, we will tell of this humble tribute of the love that answered back to Thine as a memorial of her who paid it.
Two other incidents associate themselves with this in our minds. The first is that recorded in Luke vii, where a woman which was a sinner, braves all the scorn of the company at the Pharisee’s table, where Jesus was, “and stood at his feet behind him, weeping;” weeping tears of tenderness, in the consciousness of a Saviour found, but tears of grief too, at the sight of that Saviour treated with haughty neglect, “and began to wash His feet with tears, and did wipe them with the hairs of her head, and kissed His feet, and anointed them with the ointment.” The Lord interpreted that act as the great love of a sinner to whom much was forgiven; it was love’s appreciation of a Saviour despised of men, which presented everything to honor Him—her tears to wash his feet, her hair to wipe them, her lips to kiss them. The other incident is recorded in Luke xxi, where He sees a poor widow casting two mites into the treasury, and commends it as surpassing all the gifts of ostentatious wealth; for “she of her penny hath cast in all the living that she had.” She gave her all for the repair and maintenance of the temple, which was a type of Christ, and thus, according to her light, gave expression to the same grateful love which placed him first. Judas would have said, “Better buy bread with it.”
These two incidents illustrate the meaning of Mary’s action, and they may show that while the alabaster box would not have served her purpose unless it had been costly to her, yet the costliness is not to be estimated by human standards. The widow’s two mites were just as much as Mary’s three hundred pence, and no more; for it might be said of the one as well as of the other, “She hath done what she could.” But then Mary’s action stands pre-eminent in the fullness of her appreciation, the pureness of her love, and the intelligence of her sympathy and fellowship with Him in his circumstances. He was there the outcast and rejected one, resting for a brief hour ere he went out to bear our sins in his own body on the tree; and there was she, alone in her loving sympathy, with her alabaster box of ointment, which she had kept for that day, to anoint his body for the burial and refresh his spirit by her love.
Judas said, “Why this waste?” And there is never wanting a spurious philanthropy to take up the Judas-cry, whenever it is a question of suffering for Christ or honor paid to him, or anything laid upon the altar of God, as though everything rendered to God were a robbery of man. We know how to estimate the specious hypocrisy which would hide the bag under its flowing robe. But at present we are not called upon to expose the essential self-seeking of a Christless philanthropy. Brethren in Christ, let us look to ourselves. Does not our failure, even when the gospel is preached, to speak of this that she hath done, as a memorial of her, reveal a radical defect in what is called “the religion of the day?” With all its bustling activities, and apparent zeal in the service of man, or even in telling of the love of God to men in the gospel of his Son, there is such a want of appreciation of Christ, in the excellence and loveliness of his person, such a want of love to himself, as leaves all cold and mechanical—and even, so far as men are concerned—lifeless and inefficient. Ah! it is not that there is too great love of souls, too deep and absorbing a desire that they may be saved, to great sacrifices for the welfare of others—far from it; but there is too much self-seeking under the guise of service for man or for the church, when Christ himself is left out of view. We consider man and his interest only, and refuse to break the alabaster box of ointment to the Lord, under the plea of spending it on the poor.
This runs through all our professed service. Even in the assemblies of the saints, everything is measured by man’s profit; and worship, the soul’s manifested appreciation of Christ, is lost sight of. We meet rather to hear a sermon than to worship; and we reckon the results, not by the savor of Christ that has ascended to the Father, but by the impressive views which have been presented to ourselves of our duties or our comforts. We say nothing of the far lower objects of the entertainment and enjoyment of a passing hour. Brethren, here also it is ours to break the alabaster box of ointment in our loving appreciation of Him who is the chiefest among ten thousand and altogether lovely; in homage and devotedness giving to Him, and not to man, the first place, recognizing His presence in the midst of us; and then, in the out-poured love and gratitude of our souls, we may say, “While the king sitteth at his table, my spikenard sendeth forth the smell thereof.” It is heaven anticipated, when it can be said, “And the house was filled with the odor of the ointment.”
Let us remember, too, that it was to Jesus rejected, that she offered this tribute of love, and that she did it for his burial, as though all earthly fragrance and honor must be buried with him. And so let us prove that the heart, in devotedness to him, has, in association with him, sacrificed all that is most attractive of earth. “I am crucified unto the world, and the world unto me.” The alabaster box is broken and its fragrance poured out. Men will account it a waste; but he who said, “She hath wrought a good work in me,” hath said, “Every one that hath forsaken houses, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for my name’s sake, shall receive an hundred-fold, and shall inherit everlasting life.” Brethren, we need to learn that to renounce for the Lord’s sake is greater than any service. In this connection also, we may say, that it is the Judas-argument, Why this waste? that attempts to justify the occupation of places, and the continuance of associations, which we know to be dishonoring to the Lord, under the plea of the opportunities and influence they afford to serve man. Opportunities of usefulness, influence for good, while Christ is dishonored! Brethren, break the alabaster box of ointment, however carnal wisdom may condemn or reproach you. There is but one thing more, to which we barely allude. The bodily presence of Jesus is no longer with us, that we might, like these honored women, testify our love to him in acts of personal service. Yet in another way the body of Christ is here; and beyond any mere service to man, we may minister to him in such a way that at last he will acknowledge it. “Inasmuch as ye did it unto the least of these my brethren, ye did it unto me.” And here, again, we find occasion to break the alabaster box of ointment very precious. But then, it is only as we see him before all that are his, and value him beyond all his gifts, and show that Christ himself is our object and portion beyond the engagements of any service. And will it not all be perfected, when, like the odor of the ointment filling the house, the love and gratitude of the redeemed gathered together in him shall fill all Heaven with the songs of his praise forever?—The Witness.
Purity of Mind
When the mirror is highly polished, the dust will not defile it; when the mind is enlightened with wisdom, licentious thoughts will not enter it.