Review and Herald, Vol. 50, No. 18. (11/1/1877)

Review and Herald

Nov 1, 1877

Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Nov 1, 1877

THE PARABLE OF THE RICH MAN AND LAZARUS.

By W. H. Littlejohn

BY ELD. W. H. LITTLEJOHN.

From remote antiquity, the parable, or, as it might with propriety be called, the word picture, has been largely employed in the illustration and enforcement of moral truth. Twelve hundred years before the advent of our Lord, Jotham, the son of Gideon, reproved the men of Shechem for having chosen Abimelech to be their king, in the use of that most graphic and apposite fiction, wherein the trees sought to make a king over them. Subsequently to his effort, and clear down to the commencement of our era, there were found among the Jewish Rabbis, as well as among those of other nations, learned men whose skill in the use of this rhetorical figure demand our most enthusiastic commendation. But of all persons known to the historic age, our Lord himself attained to the highest perfection in the construction and use of the parable. In his hands it was on various occasions employed with telling effect, and so largely was it used by him that the record which has preserved for our benefit the numerous fictions of this nature which he employed, occupies no insignificant place in the gospel account of his ministry. But from his day to the present time, there seems to have been a steady decrease in the use of this rhetorical method.

Why the Holy Spirit should have worked so radical a change in the style of the New Testament writers, who followed Christ, it would be difficult to state. But it is nevertheless true that the parable is almost, if not quite, lost sight of in their more prosaic productions, whether oral or written. So far as authors and orators are concerned, this side of the first century, it is possible that the desuetude into which this popular method has fallen may be attributed, measurably, to the fact that the poverty of the more recent efforts, when compared with those of the great Master, becomes so apparent that the more modern disciples of the art have become dissatisfied with their own productions to that extent that discouragement has ensued, and a change of style been found desirable.

But beyond this consideration, it is doubtless true that the natural defects inherent in the parabolic method have contributed largely to its decadence, and almost universal disuse at the present time. For, while it is true that it presents some marked advantages over the more direct and less ornate style of logical induction, it is also true that its use is attended by certain very grave disadvantages. As it regards the former, little can be said, except that, being more dramatic in its character, it holds the attention and commands the interest of a class of hearers who could, with difficulty, be held by the more logical style. Possessing, as it does, somewhat the character of romance, it readily fascinates those who would shrink from the mental effort of either making or following a logical deduction. So true is this that even children, incapable of appreciating the moral which the speaker is seeking to impress, are immediately attracted and held in rapt attention by the array of figures or characters which are presented in his narration.

All, therefore, which is necessary to this form of argument, is that the speaker, having got possession of the ears and intellect of his hearers, make the conclusions which are to be drawn so obvious that they cannot be mistaken. This done, either by full explanation or otherwise, he has carried his point and reached the hearts and judgments of individuals who otherwise would have been too indifferent to his theme to receive any appreciable benefit from his discourse.

Having said thus much in regard to the advantages of this form of speech, but little need be added respecting its drawbacks. In fine, the most of them have been shadowed forth already. In the first place, the skill required in its construction is so great, in order to success in its use, that few could ever hope to attain to it. In the second place, when stated without explanation, it is nearly as liable to mislead certain minds as it is to conduct them safely to the desired conclusion; since the wisdom required to the understanding of the parable is nearly equal to that demanded in its creation. Hence we read in the Scriptures that “the legs of the lame are not equal; so is a parable in the mouth of fools.” And again, that after Christ had spoken in parables to those that were without, in order “that seeing they might not see, and hearing they might not understand,” it was necessary for him to explain in private to his disciples their import, since, though familiar with this line of teaching, they had found themselves incapable of drawing therefrom the precise idea which he wished to emphasize. In the third place, as the ambiguity of this kind of teaching is so great that it could not safely be employed in the inculcation of important doctrines without full and explicit explanation, it is too cumbersome for use in all such cases; since expedition would dictate that the more direct method of expressing one’s self in the outset, so as to be easily understood, should be chosen.

As an illustration of this fact, we have but to call attention to the endless controversies which have marked, if not marred, the history of the church in reference to points of faith which it has been supposed find their authentication in those portions of Scripture which partake of the allegoric or parabolic nature. So unsatisfactory have been the results of these wordy contests, that, we believe, at the present time it is conceded by the best authorities that no tenet should derive its chief support from anything except those portions of Scripture which are the freest from figure, and the most fully characterized by explicitness in statement.

Having said thus much in regard to parables in general, we wish now to speak of one in particular, i. e., the one which relates to the rich man and Lazarus. Our object in so doing is to show that the use which has been made of it in the theological world, so far as it has been employed as the basis of an argument to prove the natural immortality of man, is altogether illegitimate. In doing so, the correctness of the second proposition above will be still further illustrated, as the number of those who have employed it for such a purpose has not been inconsiderable.

The first labor to be entered upon will be that of establishing the proposition that the narrative under consideration is in reality a parable, as some have insisted that it is not, but that it is rather a matter of actual history. The effect of the view held by the latter class is at once apparent. If they be right, then the theological bearing of the historic facts presented by the Saviour on the occasion we are considering, forever establishes the doctrine that men live between death and the Judgment, since he, in the sixteenth chapter of Luke, gives a detailed account of the thoughts, feelings, actions, and conversations of individuals who had passed from this, and were then living in the future, state.

The only argument hitherto presented by the advocates of the historic character of the story which seems to be worthy of a moment’s thought, is found in their declaration that it is nowhere called a parable. The force of this consideration, however, is seeming rather than real. If it were true that there were nowhere found in the Scriptures parables which are not declared to be such, then a bare presumption would be established in favor of the theory under examination. But, mark you, this will be a presumption only; since it would not be impossible for an exception to exist to the general rule thus established. But when it can be shown, as it certainly can, that no such rule exists at all, and that there are many parables which are generally conceded to be such, not because of positive Scripture declarations (which are lacking), but because of the nature of the text and context, then even the presumption is utterly swept away. Let, therefore, the reader who would be satisfied as to whether parables are always thus denominated in the word of God, by the individual uttering them or by others, examine the following, which are nowhere said to be such in the sacred writings; viz., Unclean spirits, treasure hid in a field, pearl of great price, net cast into the sea, ten virgins, talents, beam and mote, good Samaritan, prodigal son, lost piece of silver, unjust steward, two sons, children of the bride-chamber, wise and foolish builders, &c.

Having disposed of the negative, let us now give attention to the positive argument. If we were called upon to prove the proposition that the story of the rich man and Lazarus is parabolic, it would be natural to cite the concurrent judgment on this point of the great mass of scholars for many centuries. As this, however, while standing alone, would not be conclusive, it would be preferable to furnish reasons for the opinion held which are drawn from the Scriptures. In doing so, three facts might be cited with propriety and force.

The narration is given in precisely the manner in which it would be were it a parable, as we claim that it is.
There is in it nothing inconsistent with the idea that it is such, since it is perfectly admissible, in writings of this class, to speak of things which are purely fictitious as though they had actually transpired.
Its statements are such that it must either be regarded as parabolic, or else the Lord would be found guilty of an inaccuracy, as it regards the nature of disembodied spirits, which would be altogether unpardonable in one possessing his information, i. e., he would represent those who have entered upon the other world as possessing those bodily organs which are of great use here, but could be of none there. We speak of the eyes, the tongues, and the fingers, which he gives to Dives and Lazarus, the former being in the torments of hell, and the latter in the joys of Abraham’s bosom. But it is submitted that such appendages do not belong to disembodied spirits, and, therefore, that it cannot be an historic verity that Dives, who was at least possessed of ordinary sharpness in this life, should have so far lost his shrewdness in the one to come as either to suppose that he was still possessed of the physical organ of taste, or that he had in the place of it a spiritualistic one, which was parched in the flame, and which could be cooled by the application of natural water. And it is also submitted that to speak of spiritualistic water would be the height of nonsense.

Should it be objected to the reductio ad absurdum resorted to in the last proposition referred to above, that the men in question did really possess their natural organisms, having been resurrected for the purpose of entering upon reward or punishment, it would only be necessary to reply, that he who would resort to this stratagem in order to defend the doctrine of the historic verity of the narrative, would do so at the expense of the argument for personal consciousness in the spirit world. For if Dives and Lazarus were indeed resurrected men, then what is said of them applies to that class only, and proves nothing concerning the intermediate state of the dead.

Having thus, as we believe, successfully established the view that the portion of Scripture which is at present engrossing our attention is not literal but figurative in its character, it is time to proceed to the determination of its real value in the decision of those questions which relate to the conscious state of the dead. As there is a large class who are agreed with us in pronouncing the narrative of the rich man and Lazarus to be a parable, but who, as we think, err, nevertheless, in making it largely the basis of their faith in an intermediate state of the dead, it becomes necessary to examine their reasons for so doing. If we rightly apprehend them, the principal one is found in the fact that somehow it is difficult for them to believe that the Lord would, for any purpose whatever, represent individuals as speaking and thinking under circumstances where such speaking and thinking would be out of the question. In other words, that if the dead be really unconscious, it would not be proper for him, under any circumstances, to represent them as holding converse, reasoning, &c., as did Dives and Lazarus. Now, therefore, as these individuals regard the word of God as the standard of morals, it will be sufficient for them if their difficulties can be met and removed by citations from that word. They will also agree that in this particular it would be perfectly proper for Christ to do and say that which the Holy Spirit inspired prophets and good men at

any time to do and say. But this being true, proof in abundance can be brought forward to show that their scruples are altogether unfounded.

Take, for example, the language which Isaiah puts in the mouth of the dead when the great king of Babylon descended into the grave: “Art thou also become weak as we? Art thou become like unto us? Thy pomp is brought down to the grave, and the noise of thy viols: the worm is spread under thee, and the worms cover thee.” Chap. 14:10, 11. Now every person knows that, physically speaking, it would be altogether out of the question for the dead to address one who was about to come among them; but at the same time it is readily perceived by all, from the connection, that the utterances of the writer are parabolic, or at least figurative, and therefore admissible.

Again: take the parable of the trees which conversed together over the matter of selecting a king. Judges 9:8–15. Almost any child knows that what is said in regard to their utterances one to another was literally untrue; and yet Jotham, without qualification or explanation, declares that they spake one to another. Did he therefore falsify? All must agree that he did not. Why? Simply because it was manifest to all his hearers that he was employing a parable—or, if you please, an apologue—wherein it was generally understood that it was legitimate for the person using the same to employ fictitious characters, and to attribute to them powers which they naturally could not possess, and actions which they never performed. But words need not be multiplied. Deny this prerogative to the allegorist or parabolist, and you have destroyed his art. Concede it to him by common consent, and it remains a power for good, while no moral principle is in the least disturbed thereby.

Having seen that the objection urged against giving the parable fictitious features is not well taken, since it is justifiable in all such writings to give full play to the fancy in the creation of characters and incidents, it is time to inquire for additional reasons for insisting that it was in any way designed to emphasize the conscious state of the dead. If they can be rendered at all, it is difficult to see from whence they are to be drawn. A single glance at the discourses of the Lord will show that the idea which he sought to make prominent was, not the fact of the life hereafter, but unquestionably that of the proper estimation of riches in this life. It is shown by the context that he was addressing the Pharisees, than whom there were no greater sticklers for existence between death and the resurrection, as well as thereafter. There was, therefore, no need that he should enlarge upon that point. Nor was he in a mood to propagate their pet theory in order to curry favor. He had just been reproving them for avarice, and the character of Dives, rolling in wealth, and clothed in the luxurious garb of an oriental millionaire, furnished him a fitting instrument for the illustration of another phase of the property question. It was the inordinate admiration for men of wealth which he sought to condemn. To this condemnation all the language employed, and the figures used, were made to contribute. This was the objective point of the parable. Everything else was simply auxiliary to the work of reaching that object.

To say, therefore, that one of the auxiliary statements which the Lord employed was so used, because of the desire to indorse the doctrine contained therein, would be equivalent to saying that all of the auxiliary statements were made for the same purpose. To insist upon this, however, would place those urging such a view in a most unenviable position. For, unfortunately for them, the Lord not only spoke of men, but he also spoke of places. He declares just as emphatically that the angels took Dives and Lazarus respectively to hell and to Abraham’s bosom, as he does that they existed at all. Now, therefore, if the logic be correct, it must be true that these places do actually exist somewhere, and that the Lord designed to inculcate that fact. Saying nothing about the former, where is the expounder of Scripture sufficiently intelligent to locate, and courageous enough to advocate the existence of, the latter? The expression “Abraham’s bosom” is used in the word of God in but one connection: and that is the one under consideration. Never before, nor never after this instance, was it employed. Hereafter it will be shown that it was purely the creation of a Pharisaic brain, and that the whole theory concerning it was too monstrous to be entertained for a moment.

But again: it is distinctly stated that in the future life portrayed by our Lord, there was but a gulf between the righteous and the wicked, and that so narrow that conversation could be carried on across it, and that the eyes of the good and bad respectively could take in the situations and circumstances of each other. He, therefore, who would insist that the bare mention of Dives and Lazarus by the Lord proves their existence in the spirit world, must, if he would be consistent, insist that the existence of the gulf is a fixed fact, and that the righteous and the damned, in the world to come, are in such close proximity that the former can hear the groans of the latter, and the latter can listen to the songs of the former. But who, in this age, will venture to advocate so repulsive a notion? Nevertheless, this is the strait to which those are driven who seek to employ the parable in the interests of natural immortality.

But that which proves too much proves nothing at all. We leave, therefore, this branch of the subject, feeling that a line of argument which drives those who employ it into the endorsement of such absurdities, refutes itself so perfectly that it demands no further attention.

(To be Continued.)

TRUST

By Lilia D. Avery Stuttle

I know not what is in the by-and-by, For this is hidden from my mortal eye; And, dearest Lord, I would not question why— Thou knowest best. And I, my Lord, would ever strive to be Calm and resigned, contented but to see The things alone thou dost reveal to me, And leave the rest.

I know not now but trials, dark and deep, May cast their gloom across my pathway steep, But this I know,—my Lord will ever keep Close by my side. What need I reck, though tempests oft assail? What though my bark be driven by the gale? I know my Lord will never, never fail To be my guide.

Why should not He who calmed the stormy wave, Who gave his life a sinful world to save, Who lives again, victorious o’er the grave, Lead me aright? Shall I allow my foolish heart to fear? Shall I forget my Guide is ever near? May I not dwell within his presence dear, Though dark the night?

I know that He who “notes the sparrow’s fall,” Who gems the dew and paints the flowerets small, Will gently lead and guide his children, all Who serve him here. I’ll trust in Him who formed the sea and land, Who holds the briny waters in his hand, Who hath, in mighty strength, creation spanned, And will not fear.

And by and by, when “faith is lost in sight,” When we shall rest within that haven bright, When sin and death, with desolating blight, Shall come no more. With tongue immortal will I loudly sing, And chant the praises of my glorious King, Amid the joys of an eternal spring, On that bright shore.

Oh, glorious day! when all earth’s woes shall end, When for his saints the Master shall descend, Then may we hail our long-expected Friend, With songs of joy. And in those mansions, beautiful and fair, Which our dear Lord has promised to prepare, In perfect bliss we’ll dwell forever, where Naught can annoy.

MRS. LILIA D. AVERY STUTTLE.

THE TELEGRAPH IN PALESTINE.

By Edwin B. Raffensperger

The “Keely Motor” it seems is yet before the public. Recent notices of that wonder of wonders assure us that it will prove all that has been claimed for it. Be this as it may, we must not be surprised at any thing. We are accustomed in these latter days to glorify the magnetic telegraph, and to speak with great self-complacency of this wonder of the nineteenth century. What can be more astonishing than the fact that a message may be transmitted around the world on wire?

But the people of Palestine, in the first century, witnessed the working of something far better than any of the modern systems of telegraphing. Without the intervention of electric machine, voltaic piles, needles, coils, registering apparatus, armature movements, posts, wires, cables, glass and rubber insulators, or any of the appliances by which operators now transmit messages, “a healing word” is sent instantaneously a distance of twenty-five miles. No atmospheric disturbance, no accident to the wires or machinery, no want of skill on the part of the operator, endangers the transmission.

Behold its effect.

There, in the sick-chamber of a family belonging to the upper-class, honored and respected, surrounded by all the comforts of life, lies a child—perhaps the only son of doting parents. For days and nights they have watched the progress of the disease. It baffles the skill of all the physicians, and defies the efforts of kind friends and neighbors. At last, with broken and bleeding hearts, they give up in despair. They have exhausted the last remedy, and still the child grows worse. Is there no hope? Can mortal skill suggest no restorative? Have we done all that can be done to save our darling?

“Yes,” say the parents, “we have done all we could, and oh how willingly would we give all our possessions for the restoration of our dying boy!”

“No,” says one, “not all. Physicians can’t save him; medicines can do him no good; but there is One who is greater and wiser and better than all physicians. He attended a marriage not long ago, and, while there, actually converted, for the benefit of the guests in attendance, six large vessels of water into excellent wine. That man can save your child.”

The agonized father acts upon the suggestion, and starts at once for Cana of Galilee. He makes no apology for his rudeness, but rushes at once into the presence of the miracle-worker. His manner indicates to all his terrible earnestness.

“Come down to Capernaum at once; my son is dying,” is the touching request.

“Except ye see signs and wonders, ye will not believe,” is the ambiguous response.

The anxious nobleman needed a gentle reproof. Here he had rushed into the presence of Him who had ability to open eyes, unstop ears, still waves, and raise corpses; and yet, in his heart, he limits the power of Jesus, and seems to think that nothing but his actual presence can do any good for the dying child. He has faith enough to go to Jesus, but seems to doubt his ability to send help so far. He repeats the request: “Sir, come down ere my child die.”

The response is, “Go thy way, thy son liveth.”

With the utterance of these words there goes forth a power that is felt in that distant sick-chamber. To the astonishment of the attendants, a sudden, a striking, an unprecedented, an unaccountable, a miraculous change takes place. The pulses at once become regular, the skin moist, the eyes natural, the limbs strong, the voice right, and the dying child leaps up from his couch, and is just as well as any of the attendants.

The next day the father, strong in the faith that the Saviour’s word is true, is delighted to hear as he approaches the house, “Thy son liveth.”

“At what hour began he to amend?” asks the nobleman.

“Yesterday, at the seventh hour, the fever left him.”

Here now was a “mathematical proof” that the telegraph worked accurately.

Thus the ruler reasoned: “Yesterday, in Cana, at one o’clock in the afternoon, I besought Jesus to heal my son; and here in Capernaum, twenty-five miles distant, at one o’clock precisely, the fever left him.”

Is it any wonder that this man and his whole house believed? May just the same incident serve to establish our faith in the ability of Jesus, who is still the Lord of life. Yea, more, are there not similar responses to the prayers of God’s people now? Can we not detect these wonderful coincidences on every page of the history of prayer? God has placed the foot of the ladder reaching to Heaven, with angels ascending and descending, at our very feet. It is our privilege to pray. It is our duty to pray for our dying sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, husbands, wives, fathers, mothers, and friends; and while we are yet speaking, God will hear and answer.—Edwin B. Raffensperger, in Christian Weekly.

GREAT TRACT WRITERS.

Peter Waldo set to work with his cargo of tracts among the Piedmontese valleys, and from his labors there sprang those Waldensian churches, which, through thirty-five persecutions, held fast the pure truth of Christ, although gashed by the spear of Savoy and scorched by the fagot of Rome. Then came John Wycliffe, the grand tract writer and distributer. One of his tracts carried in the pocket of a nobleman into Bohemia, and lent by him to a man whose name was John Huss, brought him to the knowledge of Jesus. Then came Martin Luther, who wrote a preface to his comment upon the Epistle to the Galatians, and that preface found its way into the heart of a Bedfordshire tinker, named John Bunyan. And John Bunyan wrote a preface to his comment upon the Epistle to the Romans, and it was while reading that preface that John Wesley was convicted of sin. John Wesley was a zealous tract writer and an efficient tract distributer fifty years before the tract society was born. Then Richard Gibbs, an old Puritan doctor, wrote a book, years and years ago, called the “Bruised Reed,” which fell at the right time into the hands of Richard Baxter, and brought him under the enlightening power of the Spirit of God; and then Baxter’s ministry was like the sun in his strength, and he wrote a book called “The Call to the Unconverted,” which continued to speak long after Baxter himself had ceased to speak with human tongue. That “Call to the Unconverted” went preaching on until it fell into the hands of Philip Doddridge, and it was the means of bringing him to a richer faith, and a deeper experience of the things of God. Then Doddridge wrote a book called “The Rise and Progress of Religion in the Soul,” which, just at the critical period in his history, fell into the hands of William Wilberforce and led him to Christ. Wilberforce wrote “Practical Christianity,” which fired the heart of the most famous tract writer the world has known; for who has not heard of Leigh Richmond? He wrote the simple annals of a Methodist girl, and published it under the title of the “Dairyman’s Daughter,” and I should like to know into how many languages that has been translated, and been made of God a power for the spread of truth! The same book on “Practical Christianity,” went to a secluded parish in Scotland; and it found there a young clergyman who was preaching a gospel that he did not know, and it instructed him in the way of God, and he came forth a champion valiant for the truth, until all Scotland rang with the eloquence of Thomas Chalmers. Look at it. Not a flaw in the chain. Richard Gibbs, Richard Baxter, Philip Doddridge, William Wilberforce, Leigh Richmond, Thomas Chalmers—is there not power in a tract?—Everybody’s Paper.

COVETOUSNESS

By S. M. Spicer

“Again the devil taketh him up into an exceeding high mountain, and sheweth him all the kingdoms of the world, and the glory of them; and saith unto him, All these things will I give thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me.”

In the third temptation presented to Jesus, Satan, having abandoned his previous position (that of requiring proof of his divinity), comes boldly out to seek to induce the Saviour to yield allegiance to him, in consideration of receiving in return all the riches and power of this world. He did not simply offer the enviable position of being the richest man in the world, but of possessing all the riches and glories of the whole earth.

Who can comprehend this great offer? The millionaire counts his acres by the hundreds or thousands, and his dollars by the million; but he must utterly fail to estimate or conceive the wide-spread wealth of more than 40,000,000,000 square miles covered over with the princely wealth, splendor, and glories resulting from human skill and industry.

With mankind in general, there is probably no stronger natural impulse than the desire to gain wealth; hence there is no avenue by which the tempter oftener presents his enticements to sin, nor any inclination more difficult to resist; yet the offer of the whole world and all the power and glory thereof moved not the Son of God.

“Then saith Jesus unto him, Get thee hence, Satan; for it is written, Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and him only shalt thou serve.” This reply plainly showed Satan that he was not disguised before the Omniscient, and that he must at once abandon his hope of seducing the world’s Redeemer.

There is one point worthy of notice in all these answers of Jesus; he says, “It is written,” &c. Thus he presents as authority in each case the written precepts of God’s word, to refute the adversary, not claiming, as he justly might, equal authority with the Father. May we not consider this expressly an example for his followers to refer to the written word in meeting the assaults of the tempter? If we always do this with the sincere determination to obey God and worship only him, saying to Satan, “Get thee hence,” the severest conflict will immediately end in complete victory.

We may perhaps say, we have never in our experience met with this temptation—to worship Satan. Let us consider briefly the mode and motives presented in this case. We read that “the earth is the Lord’s and the fulness thereof.” But Satan claimed that all the kingdoms of this world and the glory of them were delivered unto him, and said, “To whomsoever I will, I give it.” Now the inquiry is, To whom do we acknowledge allegiance while we receive and appropriate these treasures? What are the motives and principles that govern our actions as relating to the possessions of this world? Do they in all things testify our allegiance to earth’s rightful sovereign? Do we thus acknowledge God as the author of our being, and the giver of every good and perfect gift, and so render to him the worship and cheerful obedience of grateful hearts? If so, we are serving the true king of the universe and may look to him for the recompense of reward. But if we are occupying our favorite corner of this fair world as absolutely our own, and controlling all the wealth within our grasp for selfish purposes, ignoring God’s claims upon us as his stewards, then our service, being pure selfishness, is sin, and belongs to the author of sin.

Now, in following our natural inclinations, we are wholly unconscious of any leadings of the adversary; yet these natural tendencies—the weaknesses and perversions of humanity—are the very means the tempter uses to delude and entice to sin, thus securing to himself our service—our worship.

The covetous heart worships him in bending all the energies to increase worldly gain, and as the passion grows, absorbing every other interest—a miser, he worships through his gold, and dreams not of the fetters with which the enemy has bound him, feeding his sordid soul with pelf till he blindly enters the gates of death.

Satan is truly the arch-deceiver; for he has ever deluded his votaries with the false promises of worldly possessions, concealing the fraud that while he gives, he still holds, as it were, a mortgage on all, so that it cannot be separated from his domain; and that not only will it perish with the using, but finally all must be utterly consumed together in the fires of the last day. Yes, all the material wealth, both of the lowly and the princely, will then be forever rent from their grasp:—fearful, fatal, eternal loss of those who have laid up no other treasures.

How many sadly mistaken souls will toil on through life lured by the deceiver, and wake at last to hopeless disappointment and bankruptcy from that last great conflagration.

And must all our dear earthly possessions thus perish? Yes, all, even the laborer’s home encircled with strongest ties, which has perhaps cost the hard toil of near a lifetime, together with cares and perplexities that may have nearly or quite excluded all thoughts of laying up a better treasure in a safer world. Oh! stop and think for once, poor mortal, will it pay to waste life thus in the service of the great deceiver?

But how sadly fearful the ruin when all the palaces of the rich and the great shall vanish before the devouring flames, with all the costly decorations and splendors that have fed the pride and ostentation of the devotees of fashion and the gay pleasure-seeking throng. No wonder the Saviour so often pronounced woes upon the rich, especially those who may have gathered wealth by improper means—extortion, oppression of the poor, and the various dishonest devices suggested by the father of lies. Will not the flames burn hotter on ill-gotten gain—on palaces built by robbing the poor, on lands accumulated under mortgages steeped in the sweat of honest, fruitless toil, or the tears of the widow and orphan? Yea, sevenfold hotter those devouring flames, and sevenfold heavier the crushing weight of the cruel oppressor’s sin. Oh! can we say there are few who have yielded to the temptation to serve the wicked one for the hire of earthly riches he has promised?

It is a truly solemn thought that all the acts of our lives are classed either in the service of God or the service of Satan. There is no neutral ground. “His servants ye are to whom ye yield yourselves servants to obey, whether of sin unto death or of obedience unto righteousness.”

S. M. SPICER.

SOWING AND REAPING.

What we sow Will surely grow, Though the harvest may be slow. It may be We shall see Fruitage in eternity, From some deed, Dropped like seed, For a soul that was in need.

Let us strive, While we live, Worthy things to do and give; Striving still With good will Empty granaries to fill; For what we sow Will surely grow, Though the harvest may be slow. —Sel.

HOW MUCH BELONGS TO GOD?

By CHAS. C. LEWIS

I have somewhere heard a person talk like this: “I attended Sabbath-school regularly for three years, missing scarcely a Sabbath, and I think I might be excused from attending this year.”

This brings up an important question—Can we do enough for God in one day or year to merit a play-spell during the next?

We are apt to say within ourselves, when, by the help of the Lord, we have succeeded in performing some good deed, “There! I have done a good thing for God: surely I am entitled to a little rest.” But does the example of Christ teach us such a lesson? Most assuredly it does not. On the contrary, we find Christ doing good ceaselessly. Every day he is about his Father’s business. Now, we find him preaching to the eager multitude the words of eternal life; again, he pauses at the well to do personal work for the woman of Samaria. To-day, the sick are brought to him, and he heals them; to-morrow, he says to the impotent man at the pool of Bethesda, “Take up thy bed and walk.” At all times and in all places we see him doing good. Christ is our example. If we follow him, we shall find no time to take our ease, or to shirk responsibilities.

This same lesson is taught in other portions of the Bible. In Gal. 6:10, Paul says, “As we have therefore opportunity, let us do good unto all men.” We have opportunities every day. Luke touches this point in the seventeenth chapter and tenth verse, as follows: “So likewise ye, when ye shall have done all those things which are commanded you, say, We are unprofitable servants: we have done that which was our duty to do.”

The work we can do in any day is all demanded for that day; and each night, as we look over the day’s work, we shall find no surplus which can be used to cancel any part of the morrow’s labor. Each day the love of Christ demands our all. The poet beautifully expresses this thought in the following well-known words:—

“Were the whole realm of nature mine, That were a tribute far too small; Love so amazing, so divine, Demands my soul, my life, my all.”

CHAS. C. LEWIS.

Continue reading: The Positive Commands of Christ