Earlier text: CO-WORKERS WITH CHRISTWALKING IN LIGHT.
By W. S. Chapman
In the Scriptures there are many references to light as being a blessing to man, and in the New Testament several admonitions to walk in the light. What then is light, and what is meant by “walking” in light? Many of the statements of the Lord and of the apostles, found in their writings, on the surface seem to contain only the milk of the word. If we remain satisfied with the thought that comes to the mind naturally, on reading such a statement, we are apt to receive but a slight refreshing, and a religion based upon such a reading, and blessing, is necessarily dwarfed and weak—a surface religion. It is only as we dig down deep below the surface, that the precious nuggets of truth, fairly sparkling with meaning, are discovered, and that we feed upon the meat of the word that will develop us into strong men and women in Christ Jesus. “Then Jesus said unto them, Yet a little while is the light with you. Walk while ye have the light, lest darkness come upon you. . . . While ye have light, believe in the light, that ye may be the children of light.” John 12: 35, 36. The natural thought and inference here is that the Lord is speaking of the truth and counseling his disciples to walk in it. This is true in an abstract, or general, sense; but there is far more contained in these simple words than appears on the surface. The light that was to remain in the world but “a little while,” was Jesus. Then spake Jesus again unto them, saying, “I am the light of the world; he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.” John 8 : 12. “No other light ever has shone, or ever will shine, upon fallen man, save that which emanates from Christ. Jesus, the Saviour, is the only light that can illuminate the darkness of a world lying in sin.” In John 8 : 12 you notice that the light is called “the light of life,” and so in John 1 : 4 we read, “In him was life; and the life was the light of men.” Then it was the life that Jesus led here upon the earth that was the light which was to remain but “a little while” in the world, as the light of the world; for Jesus said, “As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world,” and his disciples were warned to believe in the light, and to walk in the light, as long as it remained with them. Did Jesus mean that when he went to the Father darkness would again cover the earth,—that it would have no light?—No; for he said to his followers, “Ye are the light of the world. . . . Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.” Matt. 5 : 14–16. The conclusion then is that so long as the Lord remained in the world, he was its light, and that after his death his followers were ever to be the light of men in his place. So then, as the life of Jesus (John 1 : 4) was then the light of the world, the life of his followers is now the light, and the only light, the world now has. This is a startling statement, but reflection will convince of its truth, and it will be proved shortly. But what does it mean to walk in the light—life—of Jesus?—Why, to live just such a life as he lived, that it may take the place to the world, of his life in it, and so continue to lighten the world. In only one way can this be possible, and that is by having Christ enthroned in the mind, guiding and directing, he living his life over again here upon the earth, through the Spirit. Phil. 3 : 10; Col. 1 : 24. “Humanity has, in itself, no light. Apart from Christ, we are like an unkindled taper, like the moon when her face is turned away from the sun; we have not a single ray of brightness to shed into the darkness of the world.” “Of Christ it is written, ‘In him was life; and the life was the light of men.’ It was by receiving of his life that his disciples could become light bearers. The life of Christ in the soul, his love revealed in the character, would make them the light of the world.” “As Christ is the channel for the revelation of the Father, so are we to be the channel for the revelation of Christ. While our Saviour is the great source of illumination, forget not, O Christian, that he is revealed through humanity. . . . Every individual disciple of the Master is heaven’s appointed channel for the revelation of God to men. . . . The disciples of Christ are set as light bearers on the way to heaven; through them the Father’s mercy and goodness are made manifest to a world enshrouded in the darkness of misapprehension of God. . . . It is thus that men are led to believe ‘the love that God hath to us.’” CHRIST OUR HIGH PRIEST.
By C. H. Keslake
In Heb. 3: 1 we are exhorted to “consider the apostle and high priest of our profession, Christ Jesus.” There are many ways in which we may study Christ, but it is obvious that the way we are to study him, in this instance, is as our High Priest, for that is the way he is introduced in the text. While this exhortation has been applicable to the “brethren” in all ages, it must be of special application to the “brethren” who are in the “waiting time.” With the light on the sanctuary question shining upon God’s people now, revealing the solemn truth that our High Priest in the most holy apartment is engaged in the work of cleansing, it must be of special interest to them to know Christ as their High Priest. Inasmuch as we are exhorted to “consider the high priest of our profession,” it must be clear that those who do this will gain a knowledge of him,—light will shine from him upon them, revealing him more perfectly as the Saviour of sinners. Indeed it is as Christ is set forth as High Priest, and because of it, that Paul declares that “he is able also to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by him, seeing he ever liveth to make intercession for them.” Heb. 7: 25. An important consideration as to why God’s people at this time should have a thorough understanding of Christ’s position as High Priest, and the character of his work as such, is the fact that at this very time, Satan, working with all power, signs, and lying wonders, is to counterfeit the work of Christ as High Priest. Over and over again we have been told that while light and power is descending from above, a new power is rising from beneath and taking possession of those whose lives are not being sanctified by the truth. With this thought in mind I will quote a few extracts from “Early Writings,” illustrating this truth. On page 45 is given a chapter on “End of the Twenty-three Hundred Days.” It reads: “I saw a throne, and on it sat the Father and the Son. . . . Before the throne I saw the Advent people,—the church and the world. I saw two companies, one bowed down before the throne, deeply interested, while the other stood uninterested and careless. Those who were bowed before the throne would offer up their prayers, and look to Jesus; then he would look to his Father, and appear to be pleading with him. A light would come from the Father to the Son, and from the Son to the praying company. Then I saw an exceeding bright light come from the Father to the Son, and from the Son it waved over the people before the throne. But few would receive this great light. . . . “I saw the Father rise from the throne, and in a flaming chariot go into the holy of holies within the vail, and sit down. Then Jesus rose up from the throne, and the most of those who were bowed down arose with him. . . . Those who arose when Jesus did, kept their eyes fixed on him as he left the throne and led them out a little way. . . . A cloudy chariot, with wheels like flaming fire, surrounded by angels, came where Jesus was. He stepped into the chariot, and was borne to the holiest where the Father sat. There I beheld Jesus, a great High Priest, standing before the Father. . . . Those who rose up with Jesus would send up their faith to him in the holiest, and pray, ‘My Father, give us thy Spirit.’ Then Jesus would breathe upon them the Holy Ghost. In that breath was light, power, and much love, joy, and peace. “I turned to look at the company who were still bowed before the throne; they did not know that Jesus had left it. Satan appeared to be by the throne, trying to carry on the work of God. I saw them look up to the throne, and pray, ‘Father, give us thy Spirit.’ Satan would then breathe upon them an unholy influence; in it there was light and much power, but no sweet love, joy, and peace. Satan’s object was to keep them deceived, and to draw back and deceive God’s children.” (Italics mine.) When was all this?—After Jesus had gone into the holy of holies. From the Scriptures we learn that Christ did go there in 1844. So then at this very time Satan is to counterfeit the priestly work of Christ, to deceive the professed people of God, and to draw back and deceive God’s children. It is as High Priest that Christ is to save to the uttermost. When therefore one comes under Satan’s hellish influence, and receives his spirit, thinking that he is receiving the Holy Spirit, he surely comes under one of Satan’s masterpieces of deception, exceeded only by that which Satan will work when he personates Christ at his second coming. Truly we are in the time of peril. Satan’s work will be so like Christ’s that few will realize the difference. As the prayer, ‘My Father, give us thy Spirit,’ is offered, there will come on the respective parties mentioned above a spirit; with the one there will come light, power, and much love, joy, and peace; with the other there will also come “light and power, but no sweet love, joy, and peace.” Here surely is one test as to whether one has the Holy Spirit or not. “Saved to the uttermost!” sweet the refrain;
“Saved to the uttermost!” sing it again.
Bright words of glory, how beauteous they shine,—
“Saved to the uttermost;” Jesus is mine. “Save to the uttermost!”—this Christ can do;
“Save to the uttermost!”—words ever true.
Trusting thy Saviour, this truth shall be thine:
“Saved to the uttermost; Jesus is mine.” “Saved to the uttermost!”—glory to God!
“Saved to the uttermost!” tell it abroad.
To Christ my Saviour my all I resign;
“Saved to the uttermost;” Jesus is mine. FAITH DIVINE.
By Walter Irenaeus Love
O God, how great thy faith, thy patience, too,
How great, since thou who seest all earth's shame,
Its cruel wrongs, its deep unuttered woes,
Its selfish sins committed in thy name,
Canst wait in hope, without a breaking heart,
Through all the years, and trust that He who came
From thee will conquer yet, will win the fight
And through the pow'r of love set all things right. —Walter Irenaeus Love, in New York Observer. A LITTLE COWARD.
By Minnie E. Kenney
Minnie E. Kenney, in Christian at Work. ELSIE and Dick were on their way to meet some of their schoolmates, who were going to the woods to hunt for ferns. Elsie had started first, because it would take her longer to get there than it would Dick. It was quite a little walk to the place of meeting. It would not have been so far if Elsie had “cut ’cross lots,” like most little country girls and boys; but there was a very large field in the way, which Elsie always went around. Now, if I tell you why Elsie did this, some of you will think that she was a very silly little girl; and perhaps some little boys and girls will call her a coward, as her brother Dick did. Elsie was very much afraid of cows. Even of gentle old Brindle, whom she had known all her life, she was somewhat afraid, and she would go a long way out of her path to avoid meeting a strange cow. You will not wonder, then, why Elsie did not go through the field when I tell you that there were always several cows in it, some of which had the reputation of being bad-tempered. One big black cow, with ugly-looking horns, Elsie was particularly afraid of, and a loud moo-oo would send her scampering past the field as fast as her feet could carry her. She had just passed this part of her walk when she heard Dick calling. “Hello, Elsie! wait a minute,” and looking back, she saw him running right through the field, among those dreadful cows, without the least sign of fear. “O Dick! how can you come through that field?” exclaimed Elsie, with a sigh of relief as he jumped over the fence, and stood safely beside her. “I’m not a ’fraid cat like you,” answered Dick, scornfully. “I’m not such a baby as to be afraid of a few cows.” Elsie did not resent being called a coward; she was quite used to it by this time. “Let’s stop, and rest a while under this big tree; it’s so hot,” she said. “All right,” answered Dick, throwing himself on the grass. “We’ve lots of time. I say, Elsie,” he exclaimed, as he looked up into the green branches waving over his head, “do you see that nest up there? Tom Reed said yesterday that he would bet any money that I don’t dare go up and get it. Now, I will just get it down, and show it to him this morning,” and he sprang up and took off his coat. “O Dick, please don’t!” cried Elsie. “Perhaps there are little birds in it.” “No, there are not,” answered Dick, “for it’s an old nest, and has been there two or three years,” and in another moment he had reached one of the lower limbs, and was making his way upward. The bird that had built the nest had evidently intended that it should be beyond the reach of any boy; for she had selected the end of a long and not very strong limb to build upon, and her home had hitherto been undisturbed, for no boy had cared enough about the nest to venture after it. Elsie stood looking up into the tree. She could hear Dick rustling among the leaves as he went up higher and higher, although she could only now and then catch a glimpse of him. “Dick!” she cried, as she saw him venturing cautiously out on a limb. “Dick, please don’t go any farther. I am sure that branch will break with you. Don’t go out on it.” Dick paused, irresolute. He knew that he would be running a great risk if he ventured any farther out on that slender limb; and he half determined to please Elsie and come down again, without making any further effort to get the nest. Then he thought of what the boys would say if they should hear that he had been up the tree, and was afraid to get the nest. Afraid! At the mere thought of such a taunt, Dick’s face flushed, and he resolved to get the nest, even at the risk of breaking his neck. “This branch is safe enough, Elsie,” he called down to her. “Don’t you wish you were up here, too?” and he rocked backward and forward on the swaying limb. “I see Aunt May coming around the corner,” he said, presently. “I must hurry and get the nest before she comes. Here’s my hat,” and he threw his broad-brimmed straw hat down on the grass that it might not be in his way. “Dick, Dick, don’t,” pleaded Elsie, almost crying with terror, as she saw the branch bending beneath his weight. “Stop your noise, Elsie,” commanded Dick, a little roughly, it must be confessed. He was nervous himself, although he wouldn’t have owned up to it for anything in the world. Elsie stood still, her hands clasped together, scarcely breathing in her anxiety. Dick was crawling cautiously along, and he had almost reached the nest, and with his hand outstretched to grasp it, had “Hurrah” on the tip of his tongue, when there was a crackling noise, and Elsie uttered a scream of terror as the limb broke off, and Dick came crashing through the branches. One of the lower limbs broke his fall, and he hung on it for a moment and then fell to the ground. “Dick, Dick, are you dead?” cried Elsie, as he lay white and unconscious. “O Aunt May, Dick is killed.” Aunt May bent over him with face as white as Elsie’s own. “No, he isn’t dead, Elsie,” she said, as she could hear a faint breathing. “Run home as fast as you can for your father, Elsie. I will stay here with him.” Elsie hardly waited for her auntie’s words to start off. Her little feet fairly flew over the ground. When she reached the field where the cows were, she paused just a moment. Could she go through it? Could she pass those terrible cows? She was only a little girl, you know, and it required almost as much courage to think of going among them as it would if they had been bears. Only a moment she paused; then one thought of Dick lying white and motionless under the trees, decided her. With a very earnest little prayer in her heart, Elsie climbed over the fence. Every moment was so precious. Perhaps Dick might die before her father could get to him. She ran bravely on, trembling as the cows raised their heads and looked at her in mild-eyed wonder, and as the black cow uttered a loud “moo-oo-oo,” it seemed as if her feet would refuse to carry her another step. At last she reached the fence, and clambered over it, scarcely believing that she had really crossed the field unhurt. It took only a few moments for her father to harness up the horse and drive back with her to where she had left Dick. He was sitting up now, leaning against Aunt May, a little color returning to his white cheeks, the nest closely held in his right hand, while his left arm hung helplessly at his side. He had really escaped with only a broken arm and a slight bruise, wonderful as it seemed, considering the height of his fall. The hardest thing would be to keep him quiet while his arm was getting well again. For a few days the pain made him so weak that he was glad enough to stay in bed and have the window darkened so that the light would not make his head ache. When he was able to sit up, then indeed it was a hard matter to keep him quiet. He was irritable, and it took everybody’s best efforts to keep him in a good humor. “O Dick, I wish you had not climbed up after that nest, and hurt yourself,” said Elsie one morning, when it seemed impossible to please him. “I don’t then,” said Dick. “I am not a coward. I would rather get hurt than be afraid to do a thing because there is a little danger in it. You’re only a girl, and girls are always afraid to do anything except walk around and play croquet. Bah! ’Fore I’d be a girl!” Aunt May heard this speech. “Do you really think you’re braver than Elsie?” she asked, quietly. “Of course I am,” answered Dick, in surprise. “Do you think Elsie would have dared to climb the tree after that nest?” “Do you know, Dick, it seemed to me that day as if Elsie was the brave one and you were the coward,” said Aunt May. “Why, auntie!” exclaimed both the children, in surprise.359 “I mean just what I say,” said Aunt May, smiling at their surprise. “Tell me, Dick, why did you want to get that particular nest so much?” “Tom Reed dared me to get it,” answered Dick, promptly. “I didn’t want the nest itself; but I wanted to get it because it was so far out that no other fellow would dare to go after it.” “Oh!” said Aunt May, “then you went because you were afraid not to go,—afraid to be thought a coward; and that fear made you hazard your life. I should call that being very much of a coward indeed. Now, I will tell you how my little Elsie proved her bravery,” she added, putting her arms around the little girl, and drawing her to her side. “Dick, you know how afraid Elsie is of cows?” “Yes, she’s more afraid of a cow than I am of a bear,” said Dick, wondering how Aunt May was going to prove Elsie’s bravery. “Don’t you think it would take a good deal of courage for her to go through a field full of them? I don’t say that it would have been brave for either you or me, but don’t you think it would be a pretty hard thing for Elsie to do?” “That’s just what she never will do,” exclaimed Dick, triumphantly. “I’ve seen Elsie walk all the way around that field a hundred times.” “Yes, I know you have,” answered Aunt May; “but the other day, when you were lying under the tree, and Elsie thought you were dying, she went right through the field, because she wanted to bring your father to you as soon as possible. She was afraid to go, but her love for you led her to conquer her fears, and go bravely through among the cows. Wasn’t that true bravery, Dick?” “You’re a brick, Elsie,” said Dick, warmly. “I didn’t think anything in the world would make you go past black Daisy.” “There is a difference, you see, Dick,” said Aunt May, “between daring and courage. It was a daring thing in you to go out on that branch, when you knew yourself that it was dangerous; but your daring came from a sort of cowardice after all, while Elsie didn’t put herself in the way of danger from a desire to prove that she was brave, but her courage came to her when she needed it to do what she thought was right for her to do. Boys don’t often stop to think about this in the right way, I know, Dick; but don’t you think it is better sometimes to be thought a coward than really to be one? I am going to fasten this nest up in the corner of your room so it will remind you sometimes of my little lecture. Shall I?” “Yes, if you like,” said Dick, rather doubtfully. I think it was a reminder to him sometimes of the difference between daring and courage. Of course, like all boys, he sometimes got them sadly mixed, but I don’t think he ever risked his life again to show that he was not afraid. WE CAN MAKE HOME HAPPY.
By The Myrtle
Though we may not change the cottage
For a mansion tall and grand,
Or exchange the little grass-plot
For a boundless stretch of land,
Yet there's something brighter, dearer,
Than the wealth we'd thus command. Though we have no means to purchase
Costly pictures, rich and rare,
Though we have no silken hangings
For the walls so cold and bare,
We can hang them o'er with garlands:
Flowers are blooming everywhere. We can always make home cheerful,
If the right course we begin;
We can make its inmates happy,
And their truest blessings win;
It will make the small room brighter,
If we let the sunshine in. We can gather round the fireside,
When the evening hours are long;
We can blend our hearts and voices
In a happy, social song;
We can guide some erring brother,—
Lead him from the path of wrong. We may fill our home with music
And with sunshine brimming o'er,
If against all dark intruders
We will firmly close the door;
Yet should evil shadows enter,
We must love each other more. There are treasures for the lowly,
Which the grandest fail to find;
There's a chain of sweet affection
Binding kings of kindred mind;
We may reap the choicest blessings
From the poorest lot assigned. DO NOT HURRY TO GET MARRIED.
Girls, do not be in a hurry to get married. If you are but sixteen, do not allow such an idea to get into your head for at least four years. Do not even run the risk of it by permitting any young man to get so far as proposing the point. Fight them off, and make them wait or go to somebody who is ready. Do not live under the impression that you must accept the first love-sick youth who proposes. Be patient, deliberate, and sagacious. There is a world of happiness for you between sixteen and twenty. The world would be a dreary old world if it were not for the sweet faces of young girls with their piquant sayings and melting smiles. After you have reached twenty, it would be well to consider the matrimonial problem with some seriousness. Then, if you have learned to think and deliberate, you will probably make a suitable selection, and marriage with a worthy man is not only a woman's privilege, but, unless married too young, her best and highest development, mental and physical, can be attained in this state. Men and women were made for each other, and a very old but nevertheless true truism is that a happy marriage is the very garden of Eden. An unhappy marriage is the reverse, and the greatest of all calamities that can befall a pure, affectionate, and noble woman.— Sel. THE man was arrested as a “drunk,” yet the captain hesitated. “Smell his breath,” he said to the officer who brought him in. The officer did so, and admitted that he could detect no trace of liquor. As the officer is an abstainer, his testimony was competent. “He acts drunk, and he is drunk or sick, I don’t know which,” said the captain, as the man lurched forward against the rail. “His eyes look as if he was full of dope,” said the officer. “I found him on Washington Street.” “Give him a cold-water shampoo, and I’ll see if the doctor can come over.” The doctor was out, and the captain went downstairs himself to see how the non-alcoholic drunk was getting along. The officers had stripped him to the waist, and were giving him cold water in such quantities that he was sputtering and blowing and howling for all he was worth. Aromatic spirits of ammonia was poured into him, and the process was continued until he began to yell for mercy. A foreigner, speaking English imperfectly, his condition heightened the difficulty in understanding him. But if he told the truth, he is the most peculiar drunkard that ever came to the attention of Boston police. He says he never drinks anything but coffee, and acquired the inebriety he was blessed with when taken to the station house, solely by libations of the cup that is considered so harmless. His name is John Canavenez, and his birthplace, Brazil. The Brazilians, he says, drink coffee from infancy,—the strongest and blackest. The habit has grown upon him to such an extent that he sometimes drinks forty small cups a day, each cup being equal in strength to about a quart of the beverage we know. He prepares the coffee himself. Mashing some of the green berry, he steeps it, and steeps separately a quantity of the burned berry. Combining the two until he has boiled all the essential part out, he has almost a syrup. Putting in fresh coffee, and cooking this with it, he has a bitter drink that would make an American gasp, and a cupful would nauseate a novice. He consumes about a pound of coffee a day; and if deprived of the beverage, his nerves are gone completely. He was two weeks in a hospital in New York last winter, and nearly died for lack of his narcotic drink. It is not, like alcohol, a stimulant, but more like opium in its effect, although it produces a result unlike either, but rather like a combination of both. He attributed his condition yesterday to the fact that his stomach had been upset, and he had eaten practically nothing for two days, and his tipple took hold of him more than it would ordinarily. He says that only once or twice has he been in this condition, and that generally he feels only calm and happy. He originated his way of preparing the beverage, and never knew of any one else who used the same method. The captain concluded to let the Brazilian go. “He could hardly be called a drunk,” he remarked, “but he is a new one on me, and I hope he won’t teach any Boston people to use his Brazilian coffee dope. We have vices enough without new ones being imported.” JUNE
By Alexander Macauley
PLEASANT are the days of June,
To the world a ceaseless boon,
And the nights, when in the sky
Moon and stars hold revelry.
Nature now herself outvies,
And to equal heaven tries.
So, in failing, we may guess
Heaven’s unspoken loveliness;
All things are so sweet and rare:
Heaven alone could be more fair.
— Alexander Macauley. JUNE STUDY OF THE FIELD: PART III.
“Mexico in Its Religious Aspect.”
(Text-book, June Magazine.) 1. WHAT were some of the characteristics of the religion of the Aztecs? 2. Relate briefly the legend giving the history of the Shrine of Guadaloupe. 3. Tell something of the Inquisition in Mexico. 4. What religious practices of the Aztecs are, with very little change, a part of the Catholic worship in Mexico. 5. How was the Bible introduced into this field? 6. What attempt was made to destroy its influence? With what result? 7. How were religious liberty and freedom of the press secured? 8. What can you say of the pioneer work of Miss Melinda Rankin? 9. How is the greater part of the missionary work carried on to-day? 10. Give the number of communicants and adherents of the Protestant churches. HOUSEHOLD HINTS.
By Ida M. Patton
A SIMPLE nut cake, without soda or baking powder, may be made by using one cup each of hickory-nut meats, sugar, and sifted flour; one egg. Mix all together, drop in little patties on an oiled tin, and bake. They are best several days old. To insure perfect freedom from cake or bread adhering to tins, oil the tins in the usual way, then cover with flour and turn out again. To press the seams of sleeves, use a round stick about the size of a broom-handle. Fruit toasts are so easily prepared, yet so wholesome and appetizing, that they may be an important part of the daily bill of fare. Have the zwieback hot, then moisten quickly with hot water, turn off immediately and spread the fruit over the toast. Apples or peaches, canned or dried, or prunes are good either cold or hot, to suit the taste. Berries may be heated, the juice first, and thickened with a little cornstarch, before spreading on the toast. Petoskey Potato Flour and Its Uses
“I SUPPOSE you never thought of a potato’s being luscious,” says a Michigan man. “You thought that peaches are the only things that are luscious. Perhaps you never ate a Petoskey potato. We make flour out of these potatoes. Out of the flour we make bread, soup, and any other prepared food into which potatoes are put. The flour is kept in cans until ready for use. The bread is very palatable. It forms one of the regulation articles of diet in the German army.”—N. Y. Tribune. THE THIRD ANGEL'S MESSAGE.
The Place of Sunday Legislation in the Making of the Image of the Beast.
As is well known by all, in the Sunday legislation throughout the United States to-day the claim is made that it is only in behalf of the “civil” Sabbath. No more baseless claim was ever presented for anything than this in behalf of Sunday as a civil Sabbath. Sunday, as a rest day, has not anywhere about it any suggestion of anything civil. Its present standing, its whole genealogy, its origin—all demonstrate the truth that Sunday legislation can not possibly be anything else than religious. The Sunday movement of to-day is but a revival, or a continuation, of that which has been. All the Sunday legislation of the newer States has been in imitation of that of the original States which at first were the colonies. And the colonies had Sunday legislation because they all (except Rhode Island, which, too, did not have Sunday legislation) had a union of religion and the State. In such legislation the colonies only continued the same thing from their original homes in Europe. Their original homes in Europe inherited it from the time when the Papacy ruled Europe. And the Sunday legislation at the time when the Papacy ruled Europe, was but the continuation of the Sunday legislation that was originated in the making of the Papacy, in the fourth century. Since, then, the Sunday legislation of to-day connects, by its undisputed and unbroken genealogy, with the Sunday legislation of the making of the Papacy in the fourth century, it is perfectly plain that the nature of that original legislation marks the character of Sunday legislation forever. Accordingly, the study of that question in the days of the making of the Beast is also, and in itself, a study of the Sunday legislation of the present time, and of the making of the Image of the Beast. In a previous study we saw how that, in the false theoretical scheme of the bishops of the fourth century, when the church had been exalted to imperial favor, and had become one with the State, this was held to be the establishment of the kingdom of God upon the earth. And, because of this, Sunday was set up in this false kingdom of God, in imitation of the establishment of the Sabbath among the people of Israel, after their deliverance from Egypt and the establishment of that true theocracy. And, “all things whatsoever that it was duty to do on the Sabbath, these we,” said the bishops, “have transferred” to the Sunday. All this shows that Sunday legislation was, in its very essence, and in its every idea and purpose, religious, and only religious. There are, however, several items that are worth mentioning, which show this yet more fully. One of these appears in an oration which Eusebius, one of the principal bishops of that day, and especially one of the principal bishops in the uniting of Church and State, delivered, “in praise of Constantine,” and in his presence, on the thirtieth anniversary of the emperor’s reign. He declared that God gave to Constantine the greater proof of his beneficence in proportion to the emperor’s holy services to Him, and, accordingly, had permitted him to celebrate already three decades,—thirty years,—and that now he was entering upon the fourth one. He related how the emperor at the end of each decennial period had advanced one of his sons to a share of the imperial power; and now in the absence of other sons, he would extend the like favor to other of his kindred. Then he gave the meaning of all this as follows:— The eldest, who bears his father’s name, he received as his partner in the empire about the close of the first decade of his reign; the second, next in point of age, at the second; and the third in like manner at the third decennial period, the occasion of this our present festival. And now that the fourth period has commenced, and the time of his reign is still further prolonged, he desires to extend his imperial authority by calling still more of his kindred to partake his power; and, by the appointment of the Cæsars, fulfills the predictions of the holy prophets, according to what they uttered ages before: “And the saints of the Most High shall take the kingdom.”—Eusebius, “Oration in Praise of Constantine,” chapter 3. Then, as the sun was the chief deity in this new kingdom of God, the bishop proceeds to draw for the edification of the Apollo-loving emperor, the following picture of him as the sun in his chariot traversing the world; and positively defines the system of government as a “monarchy of God” patterned after the “divine original,” as follows:— Lastly, invested as he is with a semblance of heavenly sovereignty, he directs his gaze above, and FRAMES HIS EARTHLY GOVERNMENT ACCORDING TO THE PATTERN OF THAT DIVINE ORIGINAL, feeling strength in its CONFORMITY TO THE MONARCHY OF GOD.—Id. The system of government there established being considered as in very fact the kingdom of God itself, the laws enacted in promoting the interests of that kingdom would, necessarily, be religious. And even so Eusebius plainly declares, in the following words:— Again, that Preserver of the universe orders these heavens and earth, and the celestial kingdom, consistently with his Father’s will. Even so, our emperor, whom he loves, by bringing those whom he rules on earth to the only begotten Word and Saviour, renders them fit subjects of His kingdom.—Id.; chapter 2. And the Sunday laws were the very chief of all the laws that were ever enacted in the interests of this “kingdom of God.” For, by it, the authority of the Church was extended over those who did not belong to the Church, equally with those who did; and this is not true of any other law. Consequently, the Sunday law was the chief means by which men were brought “to the only begotten Word and Saviour,” and rendered “fit subjects of his kingdom.” This is fully confirmed by the fact that the purpose of the first Sunday law that ever was enacted, was “that the day might be devoted with less interruption to the purposes of devotion” (Neander), and “that God should be served with prayers and supplications.”—Sozomen. And, of the second Sunday law, Eusebius gives the intent in his declaration, “in praise of Constantine,” that “he commanded, too, that one day should be regarded as a special occasion for religious worship.” And, again: “Who else has commanded the nations inhabiting the continents and islands of this mighty globe to assemble weekly on the Lord’s day, and to observe it as a festival, not indeed for the pampering of the body, BUT FOR THE COMFORT AND INVIGORATION OF THE SOUL, BY INSTRUCTION IN DIVINE TRUTH?”—“Oration in Praise of Constantine.” Such is the true character, and the real purpose, of Sunday legislation, in its origin, and ever since. And whatever may be claimed for it, the character and purpose of Sunday legislation never can be anything else than just that. Interpreting the Constitution for Porto Rico and the Philippines
The Independent, explaining how “a second generation can adjust itself to the Constitution or laws of its fathers,” gives as the best way, that of “interpretation,” and says:— “It is an absolute necessity to interpret it, not according to its literal language, but according to its purpose for the welfare of the people. . . . We have very little concern in the academic discussion of the question whether the Constitution, by its own force, without any legislation, makes the people of Porto Rico and the Philippines citizens. We know it ought not to do it, and so we believe it does not or will not do it.” And by this sort of an interpretation the conclusion is reached—“The Constitution does not control us as to Porto Rico.”