Review and Herald, Vol. 37, No. 3.
OUR FAITH AND HOPE; Or, Reasons Why We Believe as We DoPage 1
Earlier text: OUR FAITH AND HOPE; Or, Reasons Why We Believe as We Do“She Has Outlived Her Usefulness.”
Not long since, a man in middle life came to our door asking for “the minister.” When informed that he was out of town, he seemed disappointed and anxious. On being questioned as to his business, he replied: “I have lost my mother; and as this place used to be her home, and as my father lies here, we have come to lay her beside him.” My heart rose in sympathy, and I said, “You have met with a great loss.” “Well, yes,” he replied, with hesitancy, “a mother is a great loss in general; but our mother had outlived her usefulness. She was in her second childhood, and her mind had grown as weak as her body, so that she was no comfort to herself, and was a burden to everybody. There were seven of us, sons and daughters; and we agreed to keep her among us a year about. But I have had more than my share of her; for she was too feeble to be moved when my time was out, and that was more than three months before her death. But then she was a good mother in her day, and toiled very hard to bring us up.” Without looking at the face of the heartless man, I directed him to the house of a neighboring pastor, and returned to my nursery. I gazed on the merry little faces which smiled or grew sad in imitation of mine,—those little ones to whose ear no word in our language is half so sweet as “mother,”—and I wondered if that day could ever come when they would say of me, “She has outlived her usefulness—she is no comfort to herself, and a burden to everybody else!” And I hoped that before such a day should dawn, I might be taken to my rest. God forbid that I should outlive the love of my children! Rather let me die while my heart is a part of theirs, that my grave may be watered with their tears, and my love linked with their hopes of Heaven. When the bell tolled for the mother’s burial, I went to the sanctuary to pay my only token of respect to the aged stranger; for I felt that I could give her memory a tear, even though her own children had none to shed. “She was a good mother in her day, and toiled hard to bring us all up—she was no comfort to herself, and a burden to everybody else!” These cruel, heartless words rung in my ears as I saw the coffin borne up the aisle. The bell tolled long and loud, until its iron tongue had chronicled the years of the toil-worn mother. One—two—three—four—five. How clearly and almost merrily each stroke told of her once peaceful slumber in her mother’s bosom, and of her seat at nightfall on her weary father’s knee. Six—seven—eight—nine—rang out the tale of her sports upon the green-sward, in the meadow and beside the brook. Eleven—twelve—thirteen—fourteen—fifteen—spoke more gravely of school-days, and little household joys and cares. Sixteen—seventeen—eighteen—sounded out the enraptured visions of maidenhood and the dream of early love. Nineteen— happy bride. Twenty—spoke of the young mother, whose heart was full to bursting with the new, strong love which God had awakened in her bosom. And then stroke after stroke told of her early womanhood—of the loves, and cares, and hopes, and fears, and toils, through which she passed during those long years, till fifty rang out harsh and loud. From that to sixty, each stroke told of the warm-hearted mother and grandmother, living over again her joys and sorrows in those of her children and children’s children. Every family of all the group wanted grandmother then; and the only strife was who should secure the prize. But, hark, the bell tolls on! Seventy—seventy-one—two—three—four. She begins to grow feeble, requires some care, is not always perfectly patient or satisfied; she goes from one child’s house to another, so that no place seems like home. She murmurs in plaintive tones, that after all her toil and weariness, it is hard she cannot be allowed a home to die in; that she must be sent, rather than invited, from house to house. Eighty—eighty-one—two—three—four. Ah! she is a second child—now “She has outlived her usefulness, she has now ceased to be a comfort to herself or anybody”—that is, she has ceased to be profitable to her earth-craving and money-grasping children. Now sounds out, reverberating through our lovely forest, and echoing back from our “hill of the dead,” eighty-nine! There she lies now in the coffin, cold and still; she makes no trouble now, demands no love, no soft words, no tender little offices. A look of patient endurance—we fancied, also, an expression of grief for unrequited love,—sat on her marble features. Her children were there, clad in weeds of woe, and in irony we remembered the strong man’s words, “She was a good mother in her day.” When the bell ceased tolling, the strange minister rose in the pulpit. His form was very erect, and his voice strong; but his hair was silvery white. He read several passages of Scripture expressive of God’s compassion to feeble man, and especially of his tenderness when gray hairs are on him and his strength faileth. He then made some touching remarks on human frailty, and of dependence on God, urging all present to make their peace with their Master while in health, that they might claim his promises when heart and flesh failed them. “Then,” he said, “the eternal God shall be thy refuge, and beneath thee shall be the everlasting arms.” Leaning over the desk, and gazing intently on the coffined form before him, he then said, reverently: “From a little child I have honored the aged; but never till gray hairs covered my own head, did I know truly how much love and sympathy this class have a right to demand of their fellow-creatures. Now I feel it. Our mother,” he added, most tenderly, “who now lies in death before us, was a stranger to me, as are all of these, her descendants. All I know of her is what her son has told me to-day,—that she was brought to this town from afar, sixty-nine years ago, a happy bride—that here she has passed most of her life, toiling as only mothers ever have strength to toil, until she has reared a large family of sons and daughters—that she left her home here, clad in the weeds of widowhood, to dwell among her children—till health and strength left her. God forbid that conscience should accuse any of you of ingratitude or murmuring on account of the care she has been to you of late. When you go back to your homes, be careful of your example before your own children; for the fruit of your own doing you will surely reap from them when you yourselves totter on the brink of the grave. I entreat you as a friend, as one who has himself entered the evening of life, that you may never say in the presence of your families nor of Heaven: “Our mother had outlived her usefulness—she was a burden to us.” Never, never!—a mother can never live so long as that! No; when she can no longer labor for her children, nor yet care for herself, she can fall like a precious weight on their bosoms, and call forth by her helplessness all the noble, generous feelings of their hearts. Adieu, then, poor toil-worn mother; there are no more days of pain for thee. Undying vigor and everlasting usefulness are thy inheritance.— Sel. AFTER Newman Hall had finished his address before the Young Men’s Christian Association, at Springfield, he was waited upon by a few theological students. After the introduction, he stepped forward, and throwing great earnestness into his face and voice, he remarked:— “I have a word or two to say to you. Learn to speak without notes. I hear that a good many—perhaps the most—of the ministers in America confine themselves to their manuscripts. That is abominable. One shouldn’t be under that sort of bondage. One ought, of course, to be able to write. I write, and sometimes follow closely from beginning to end what is before me on paper. But for a minister to limit himself to that one method, and never feel free to speak without having the written words of elaborate preparation under his eye, is terrible. No; you must learn to speak without notes. Some think they cannot do this. Let me tell you how I did it.” “When I went to college, it seemed to me I should never be able to say a word in public without writing. But I soon determined that if I were going to be a preacher, and particularly if I wanted to be anything like a successful preacher, I must form the habit of extemporaneous address. So I went into my room, locked the door, placed the Bible before me on the mantle, opened it at random, and then, on whatever passage my eye chanced to rest, proceeded to deliver a discourse of ten minutes. This practice was kept up for an entire twelvemonth. Every day, for a whole year, ten minutes were given to that kind of speaking, in my own room, by myself. At first, I found it very difficult to speak so long right to the point. But then, if I could not talk on the subject, I would talk about it—making good remarks and moral reflections, being careful to keep up the flow, and say something, to the end of the term allotted for the exercise. At the end of the twelve months, however, I found I could not only speak with a good degree of fluency, but that I could hold myself strictly to the subject in hand.” “You take this course. Don’t do your practicing on an audience. That is outrageous. No man ought for a moment to think of inflicting himself on an assembly of people, until he has gone through a course of training, such as I have indicated, by himself. But you can learn to speak without notes, if you will try.” “Must Support My Family.”
By Henry Ward Beecher
“How fare you, Aleck? It’s an age since I saw you! What are you doing for a living, old fellow?” “Well, a little of pretty much everything. I’ve been a marker in a billiard saloon; then I went up to Snake & Wolf’s, as a sort of clerk; and now I’ve settled down in business for myself. Call in and see me.” “What business? Where did you pitch your tent? What kind of business is it?” “Oh, it’s the universal-supply business.” “Well—it’s selling liquor.” “A grogshop? That’s a pretty business for your father’s son! Snake & Wolf keep a gambling-den, don’t they?” “Yes—though they call it a saloon of fortune.” “Why, Aleck, what’s got into you? You used to be above such things! You are going straight to the devil.” “Fact; I think so sometimes myself. Should like a better business; but it pays. A man must take care of his family.” We suppose that this excuse for wicked practices is as old as the flood. It is probable that there never was a villainous course that had any money in it, that men have not justified themselves in practicing, on the ground of supporting their families. But what kind of support is that? Has a father the right to prostitute his integrity for the sake of his children? What sort of bringing up will children get, whose bread is earned at the expense of their parents’ good name? If the children turn out ill, then the parent will have corrupted himself for the sake of destroying his children. But if, from some kind, overruling providence, the children grow up to honest manhood, what a shameful legacy is their father’s name! Food and clothes are very important, doubtless; but they may be bought at too dear a price. “Man shall not live by bread alone.” No man has brought up his children kindly who has cared only for their animal wants. Children need a father’s instruction in morals, his example in following all goodness, and his succor when they are over-tempted. Young people will have enough to tempt them without having a father as an example of evil-doing. No; no man supports his family well who earns his children’s bread by wicked practices. If a man may keep a dram-shop on the plea that his family must be supported, he may, with equal propriety, keep a gambling-den, or pander to passionate immoralities, or even steal and rob. There is no moral evil which may not be committed if this plea is sound. But the plea is unsound. It is a disgrace to make it, and still more disgraceful to follow courses which require one to make it. No man would like to eat the bread that Judas would have bought with his thirty pieces of silver. But, to betray morality, to undermine the virtue of society, to pursue a course that degrades one’s self, or one’s fellow-men, is to betray Christ in the person of the poor and weak. No man can afford to take home the wages of corruption. Men will perjure themselves; will defile their consciences; will commit petty frauds without number; will consort with the men that are pests to society, and then carry home the wages of their iniquity to feed a tender wife or sweet little children thereon. He would be a monster who should feed his children on carrion. He does worse who earns their bread by his own corruption.—Henry Ward Beecher. HE SENT THEM INTO HIS VINEYARD,
By Bonar
Shall this life of mine be wasted?
Shall this vineyard lie untilled?
Shall true joy pass by untasted?
And this soul remain unfilled? Shall the God-given hours be scattered,
Like the leaves upon the plain?
Shall the blossoms die unwatered
By the drops of heavenly rain? Shall I see each fair sun waking,
And not feel it wakes for me?
Each glad morning brightly breaking,
And not feel it breaks for me? Shall I see the roses blowing,
And not wish to bloom as they?
Holy fragrance round me throwing,
Luring others on the way? Shall I hear the free bird singing
In the summer's stainless sky,
Far aloft its glad flight winging,
And not seek to soar as high? Shall this heart still spend its treasures
On the things that fade and die?
Shall it count the hollow pleasures
Of bewildering vanity? Shall these lips of mine be idle?
Shall I open them in vain?
Shall I not, with God's own bridle,
Their frivolities restrain? Shall these eyes of mine still wander?
Or, no longer turned afar,
Fix a firmer gaze and ponder
On the bright and morning Star? Shall these feet of mine, delaying,
Still in ways of sin be found?
Braving snares and madly straying,
On the world's bewitching ground? No; I was not born to trifle
Life away in dreams of sin!
No; I must not, dare not, stifle
Longings such as these within! Swiftly moving upward, onward,
Let my soul in faith be borne;
Calmly gazing skyward, sunward,
Let my eye, unshrinking, turn! Where the Cross, God's love revealing,
Sets the fettered spirit free,
Where it sheds its wondrous healing,
There, my soul, thy rest shall be! Then no longer idly dreaming
Shall I fling my years away;
But each precious hour redeeming,
Wait for the eternal day! How will it startle and confound the wicked and the unbelieving to see one in the form of man sitting upon the throne of judgment, armed with the power of the almighty God! to discover too late that He whom they have rejected and despised has power to pronounce the dreadful sentence of everlasting exclusion from the divine presence! And how will it fill the righteous with confidence and joy to see, for their judge, Him who loved them and gave himself for them—who, in the days of his flesh was in all points (except sin) tempted like themselves; who, in all their affliction, was afflicted, sympathizing with all their sorrows, putting their tears into his bottle, noting all their trials in his book, feeding them with his body, refreshing them with his blood, that going through the vale of misery they might use it for a well, till he should come to present them faultless before the throne, washed and purified, and clothed in the white robes, the fine linen of the saints! And “when shall these things be?” and what the sign of the coming of the Son of Man? When men are least prepared, putting far off the evil day, scoffing most freely at those who deem it near, saying most confidently, “Peace and safety,” rejoicing in material progress, utterly regardless of spiritual decay. “Even thus amid thy pride and luxury,
O earth, shall that last coming burst on thee—
That secret coming of the Son of Man. Have not God’s judgments always taken men by surprise? Not because warning was not given, but because it was not taken. It was so in the days of Noah; it was so in the days of Lot. It will be so in the day when the Son of Man shall be revealed. Suppose this day were the very advent day—would it find us ready?—ready as the wise virgins? ready as the good and faithful servants? ready as the diligent steward? Would it find us with our hearts habitually fixed on the thought of his coming—our affections set on the hope of his kingdom? Or would we that he delay his coming, because we are not prepared to meet him?—The Churchman. Few fully realize what a powerful and controlling influence the periodicals we read have over us. They are either a feast of good things to our moral and spiritual natures, or a deadly poison. How many a youth is lost to virtue, purity, and morality, through the influence of a vicious newspaper; and we wonder how it happened! It is characteristic of the human mind to remember longest that which is least likely to benefit it. Who can measure the influence of first impressions in childhood? If your child reads or listens to an immoral or a vulgar sentence, the pure mind of that innocent one may be stained for life. Parents often do not put stress enough on the great importance of placing in the hands of their children a publication which does not corrupt or poison the minds of the young. No one can tell what an influence for good a wholesome religious paper has in restraining evil passions, purifying the mind, and ennobling the lives of our children; encouraging them to virtue, purity, and truth, and thus shaping the destiny of precious souls. O parents, do not pass over this matter lightly! Be wise in time; for great results often follow small beginnings. A dollar spent for a good paper is the best investment you can make for the spiritual well-being of your children.—Golden Censer. GLASS windows were used for lights in 1180. Chimneys first put up to houses in 1236. Tallow candles for lights, 1290. Spectacles invented by an Italian in 1240. Paper made from linen, 1302. Woolen cloth made in England, 1341. Art of printing from movable type, 1440. Watches first made in Germany, 1447. Telescopes invented by Porta and Janson, 1590. Tea first brought from China to Europe in 1501. Circulation of blood discovered by Hervey in 1610. Newspaper first established in 1629. Pendulum clocks first invented in 1639. Barometer invented by Torricelli in 1635. Steam engine invented in 1649. Bread made with yeast in 1650. Cotton planted in the United States in 1759. Fire engine invented in 1685. Telegraph invented by Morse in 1832. The promises in the Bible are not made to one act, but to the continued habit of prayer. It evinces more depravity not to repent of a sin than it does to commit it at first. A good man may be hurried away by temptation to commit a sin; but he will invariably repent of it afterward. To deny, as Peter did, is bad; but not to weep bitterly, as he did, when we have denied, is worse. One mark of a true convert is that he continues to repent of his sins after he hopes that they are pardoned. The true Christian desires to be saved from sin, and his hatred of sin, and repentance for it, increase in proportion as his assurance of Heaven increases.—Sel. THE truly independent man is one who acts from a firm conviction of the right, without reference to present popularity or future consequences. He may be in the minority, but, believing in the immortality of truth, he can afford to wait. He may suffer misrepresentation, and be deserted by friends, as well as attacked by foes; his faith may be put to a severe test, and his patience be sorely tried; but, unmoved by all these disturbing influences, he pursues a straight course, and comes out triumphant at last. It is not a conceit of his own importance, nor an indifference to the good opinion of others, which keeps him up. He may have humble views of his own ability, and a keen appreciation of the favor of other men; but above this is his love of truth and his faith in the right, and thus he is upheld. This is especially true in connection with religion. We need this genuine independence to carry us safely through the battle of life.—The Methodist. “One leak will sink a ship: and one sin will bar us out of Heaven.” Such is the declaration that we often hear; and as often as we hear it, we tacitly, at least, give assent thereto. But do not many who thus assent, show by their course of life that there is, lurking in their hearts, a secret skepticism in reference to the sentiment thus expressed? Else why the persistent clinging to some sin, the constant pursuing of some course, which is perhaps the only obliquity in an otherwise consistent Christian life? Such may be yielding to the false logic of temptation, pleased and charmed with the sophistry which proposes to grant them the indulgence of some favorite sin, and yet bring them out all right at last. They perhaps reason boldly with their own hearts what they would not like to express openly, that it cannot be that the Lord will reject them for one little sin; that they have given up many wrongs, have ceased from many sins, deny themselves in a great many respects, bear many crosses, and do much for the Lord; and it is not possible that he will reject them at last, and doom them to perish in the lake of fire, for one little sin which they so desire to retain, one little indulgence which they find it so hard to discontinue. Perhaps God will not reject you at last for that one sin especially; but do you suppose that you will come up to the Judgment with that one sin alone upon you? Do you suppose you can retain that one sin and keep yourself free from everything else to the last? Let us reason. The Lord wants the whole heart. The Holy Spirit requires an entire surrender. Yet you have some little idol in the heart, which bars the Saviour out. The Holy Spirit strives with you for the surrender of that sin; but you resist. It calls upon you to dethrone every idol from your heart; and you perhaps often sing, “The dearest idol I have known,
Whate’er that idol be,
Help me to tear it from Thy throne,
And worship only thee.” Yet you make a mental reservation in behalf of some little idol which you would fain persuade yourself is not of much consequence, and you can safely retain. The Holy Spirit continues to strive; yet you hold on to your sin. Will this state of things always continue? No. There comes a time when the Spirit will say, I can strive no longer. Then what position does this little sin assume? It becomes one of infinite magnitude. No one can charge blame upon the Spirit of God for finally ceasing to plead, when its pleas are persistently rejected. And you reject its pleas that you may retain that sin! You thereby declare that you set more value upon that little sin than you do upon all that the Holy Spirit proposes to do for you, and all the promises that are made to the overcomer. The Holy Spirit being thus grieved away, what follows? You are exposed to the enemy on every side. You cannot stand. Seven spirits worse than the first are ready to crowd in and take possession of the house you had kept so thoroughly swept of every sin but one. Rapidly you descend in the ways of evil; and when the day of retribution comes, you stand condemned, not then for one little sin, but as an unpardonable apostate, a monster of iniquity. So much comes from one little sin. Thus one little sin bars us out of Heaven. It may have been a tiny seed at first; but you cherished it; and cherished, it would grow; and, growing, its nature was to choke, root out, and cover, all else with its deadly shade; for sin, when it is finished, no matter how small its beginning, bringeth forth death. One little leak will sink the ship. Why? Because by that leak the ship is brought into identically the same condition at last it would have been in, had a whole plank been removed from its bottom from bow to stern. So through the avenue of one little sin, the sinner becomes as full of iniquity as though he had forever wallowed in its foulest depths. One little sin cherished keeps open an avenue between yourself and the enemy. Kept open long enough, he is sure of full possession. There is no safety till this is closed. For this, the Lord entreats, the Spirit pleads. Reader, beware of the one little sin. It may look little and harmless now; but it will develop into the deadly Upas; and when it reaches such a state as to alarm you with undeniable tokens of danger, it will be beyond your power to eradicate the evil or check its growth. Put it away now. Let the last sin go. Dethrone the last idol. Be entirely the Lord’s. Serve him with a perfect heart, and follow him fully; or you may as well not follow him at all. Among the many remarkable things of the past remarkable year, its meteorological phenomena are worthy of prominent mention. A person who has not been particularly observant in this direction, will be surprised at the number and striking character of these abnormal exhibitions of nature. A long article by Eld. D. T. Taylor, in the Boston Journal of Dec. 17, 1870, sets forth many interesting particulars on this subject. Not having room for the article entire, we glean from it the following facts. The order of nature has seemed to be in a great degree reversed; usually warm regions being remarkably cold, and cold ones warm. The winter on land was extremely mild; on the ocean as unusually severe. In January, dustmen swept the streets of Boston and New York. In Washington Territory, twenty-two varieties of flowers were gathered from an open garden. There was no snow from Massachusetts to Missouri. The country around Boston was plowed. Violets bloomed in some parts of New England. Flowers blossomed, and peas were two inches above ground, on Long Island. The papers pronounced it “June in January;” and the season was declared to be “the strangest in many years.” An examination of the records showed that January was eight degrees warmer than any previous one for forty-six years. In February, in Norwich, Ct., the green buds of the magnolia were an inch long, the 5th of the month, and Japan quinces began to open their blossoms. The 16th, a dahlia was seen in full blossom at Scranton, Pa., a rosebush full of buds at Easton, dandelions at Allentown, and grasshoppers in the field at Bethlehem. March 1 brought early radishes to the market at Alton, Ill., and April shone like May. Such was the climate all along between the parallels of 39° to 44°. This winter in our own country which appeared to be no winter, was declared on all hands to be abnormal, unaccountable, and long to be remembered. On the other hand, all over the ocean, the winter was unusually cold. Germany experienced the frigid climate of St. Petersburgh. Southward the cold prevailed unwontedly. Northern Africa felt it severely. Ice in the harbor of Brindisi, and frozen orange trees at Corfu, proclaimed it. The usual winter rains did not fall; a drought prevailed in Northern Africa, Egypt, and Syria; and the inhabitants were in despair at the novel phenomenon of their sunny clime being turned into a region of frost. The summer followed, hotter than any preceding summer for over a hundred years. Drouths were the order of the day in all the country from the Atlantic to the Mississippi. In Canada, the whole country became dry as tinder, and then experienced the ravages of a fire, such as no man living ever witnessed. The conflagration swept over and ruined twenty-four hundred square miles of the country between Prescott and Ottawa. A conductor between Providence, R. I., and Worcester, Mass., asserts that for five consecutive months his cars were not wet by rain. In July and August, the heat became frightful. The mercury had, in June, for many successive days, gone up above 100°. The wind felt as if coming from a land of fire. Roads became dust heaps, and many mills stopped for want of water. July 17, the mercury rose to 129° Fahrenheit. Hundreds of horses and men went down before the heat, struck dead as with the blast of the simoon. The heated term, usually short and sharp, was this year long and almost unendurable. The mortality of the city of New York, during these six burning weeks, reached the sum of 5832—one-fifth the average mortality of the whole year, crowded into forty-two days! July 22, in New York, forty-eight cases of sunstroke, nineteen, fatal. July 23, thirty-three deaths from the same cause; while the numbers thus struck down all over the land must be estimated by thousands. August 14, a hot wind passed over a four-acre field of cotton in Pomaria, South Carolina, and blasted it white and dead in a few hours. Prof. E. Loomis found from the records at Newport, R. I., that the four months of June, July, August, and September, averaged hotter than in any year since 1763, a period of one hundred and eight years. In Europe the heat was equally phenomenal, producing severe drought everywhere, and in some countries threatening famine. Crimson auroras were witnessed in their rarest grandeur as far south as Florence and Rome, producing alarm and being regarded as ominous of coming evil. The thermometrical ranges have been sudden and enormous. Sometimes the north winds have blown with great chilliness; and in an hour the wind changing into the south would feel as if wafted from a torrid clime. Everywhere, the seasons seemed to be mixed up in inextricable confusion. In Champlain, N. Y., where there never was a tornado before, three of these visitations have been experienced, with one hurricane, and three earthquake shocks. And while on the 3d of November a warm but furious rain storm occurred, accompanied with high wind, loud thunder, and lightning which struck in a dozen places in New England, only ten days later, there being no snow in the North except on the mountain tops, a snow-storm fell over Virginia, and ice formed in New Orleans. Meanwhile the papers have been full of articles headed, “Trouble in the Sun,” “Solar Spots,” “The Earth in Trouble,” “Nature Witnessing for God,” “Is the Solar System in Danger?” “The Coming Storm,” &c., &c. Every one seems to be looking for coming wonders, but none seem to know what is coming. Who can explain all these irregularities in the realm of nature? Thoughts on the Book of Daniel.
VERSES 1, 2. Also in the first year of Darius the Mede, even I, stood to confirm and to strengthen him. And now will I show thee the truth. Behold, there shall stand up yet three kings in Persia; and the fourth shall be far richer than they all; and by his strength through his riches he shall stir up all against the realm of Grecia. We enter now upon a prophecy of future events, clothed not in figures and symbols, as in the visions of chapters 2, 7, and 8, but given mostly in plain language. Many of the signal events of the world's history from the days of Daniel to the end of the world, are here brought to view. This prophecy, says Bishop Newton, may not improperly be said to be a comment and explanation of the vision of chapter 8. The angel after stating that he stood, in the first year of Darius to confirm and strengthen him, turns his attention to the future. Three kings shall yet stand up in Persia. To stand up, means to reign; three kings were to reign in Persia; referring doubtless to the immediate successors of Cyrus. These were, 1. Cambyses, son of Cyrus. 2. Smerdis, an impostor. 3. Darius Hystaspes. The fourth shall be far richer than they all. The fourth king from Cyrus, was Xerxes, more famous for his riches than his generalship, and conspicuous in history for the magnificent campaign he organized against Grecia, and his utter failure in that enterprise. He was to stir up all against the realm of Grecia. Never before had there been such a levy of men for warlike purposes; never has there been since. His army, according to Herodotus who lived in that age, consisted of five millions, two hundred and eighty-three thousand, two hundred and twenty men (5,283,220). And not content with stirring up the East alone, he enlisted the Carthaginians of the West in his service, who took the field with an additional army of three hundred thousand men. VERSES 3, 4. And a mighty king shall stand up, that shall rule with great dominion, and do according to his will. And when he shall stand up, his kingdom shall be broken, and shall be divided toward the four winds of heaven; and not to his posterity, nor according to his dominion which he ruled; for his kingdom shall be plucked up, even for others beside those. The facts stated in these verses plainly point to Alexander, and the division of his empire. See on chapter 8: 8. Xerxes was the last Persian king who invaded Grecia; the prophecy therefore passes over the nine successors of Xerxes in the Persian empire, and next introduces Alexander the Great. Having overthrown the Persian empire, Alexander “became absolute monarch of that empire, to the fullest extent it was ever possessed by any of the Persian kings.” Prideaux i, 378. His dominion was great, including “the greater portion of the then known habitable world;” and he did according to his will. His will fortunately led him, B. C. 323, into a drunken debauch, in which he fortunately died; and his vain-glorious and ambitious projects went into sudden, total, and everlasting eclipse. The kingdom was divided, but not for his posterity; it was plucked up for others beside those. Within fifteen years after his death, all his posterity had fallen victims to jealousy and ambition. Not one of the race of Alexander was left to breathe upon the earth. So short is the transit from the highest pinnacle of earthly glory to oblivion and death. The kingdom was rent into four divisions and taken possession of by Alexander's four ablest, or perhaps most ambitious and unprincipled, generals, Cassander, Lysimachus, Ptolemy, and Seleucus. VERSE 5. And the king of the south shall be strong, and one of his princes; and he shall be strong above him, and have dominion; his dominion shall be a great dominion. The king of the north and the king of the south are many times referred to in the remaining portion of this chapter. It becomes therefore essential to an understanding of the prophecy to clearly identify these powers. When Alexander's empire was divided, it was divided toward the four winds of heaven, east, west, north, and south; these divisions of course to be reckoned from the stand-point of Palestine. That division of the empire lying west of Palestine, would thus constitute the kingdom of the west; that lying east, the kingdom of the east, that lying north, the kingdom of the north, and that lying south, the kingdom of the south. The divisions of Alexander's kingdom,21with respect to Palestine, were situated as follows: Cassander had Greece and the adjacent countries, which lay to the west; Lysimachus had Thrace, which then included Asia Minor, and the countries lying on the Hellespont and Bosphorus, which lay to the north of Palestine; Ptolemy had Egypt and neighboring countries, which lay to the south; and Seleucus had Syria and Babylon, which lay principally to the east. During the wars and revolutions which for long ages succeeded, these geographical boundaries were frequently changed or obliterated; old ones were wiped out, and new ones instituted. But whatever changes might occur, these first divisions of the empire must determine the names, or we have no standard by which to test the application of the prophecy. That is, whatever power at any time should occupy the territory which at first constituted the kingdom of the north, that power, so long as it occupied that territory, would be the king of the north; and whatever power should occupy that which at first constituted the kingdom of the south, that power would so long be the king of the south. We speak of only those two, because they are the only ones afterward spoken of in the prophecy, and because, in fact, almost the whole of Alexander's empire finally resolved itself into these two divisions. Cassander was very soon conquered by Lysimachus, and his kingdom, Greece and Macedon, annexed to Thrace. And Lysimachus was in turn conquered by Seleucus, and Macedon and Thrace annexed to Syria. These facts prepare the way for an application of the text before us. The king of the south, Egypt, shall be strong. Ptolemy annexed Cyprus, Phoenicia, Caria, Cyrene, and many islands and cities, to Egypt. Thus was his kingdom made strong. But another of Alexander's princes is introduced in the expression, “one of his princes.” The Septuagint translates the verse thus: “And the king of the south shall be strong, and one of his [Alexander's] princes shall be strong above him.” This must refer to Seleucus, who, as already stated, having connected Macedon and Thrace to Syria, thus became possessor of three parts out of four of Alexander's dominion, and established a more powerful kingdom than that of Egypt. VERSE 6. And in the end of years they shall join themselves together; for the king's daughter of the south shall come to the king of the north to make an agreement; but she shall not retain the power of the arm; neither shall he stand, nor his arm; but she shall be given up, and they that brought her, and he that begat her, and he that strengthened her in these times. There were frequent wars between the kings of Egypt and Syria. Especially was this the case with Ptolemy Philadelphus, the second king of Egypt, and Antiochus Theus, third king of Syria. They at length agreed to make peace upon condition that Antiochus Theus should put away his former wife, Laodice, and her two sons, and should marry Berenice, the daughter of Ptolemy Philadelphus. Ptolemy accordingly brought his daughter to Antiochus, bestowing with her an immense treasure as a dowry. “But she shall not retain the power of the arm;” that is, her interest and power with Antiochus. And so it proved; for some time after, in a fit of love, Antiochus brought back his former wife, Laodice, and her children, to court again. Then says the prophecy, “Neither shall he [Antiochus] stand, nor his arm,” or seed. Laodice, being restored to favor and power, feared lest, in the fickleness of his temper, Antiochus should again disgrace her, and recall Berenice; and conceiving that nothing short of his death would be an effectual safeguard against such a contingency, she caused him to be poisoned shortly after. Neither did his seed by Berenice succeed him in the kingdom; for Laodice so managed affairs as to secure the throne for her eldest son, Seleucus Callinicus. “But she [Berenice] shall be given up.” Laodice, not content with poisoning her husband, Antiochus, caused Berenice to be murdered. “And they that brought her.” Her Egyptian women and attendants, in endeavoring to defend her, were many of them slain with her. “And he that begat her,” margin, “whom she brought forth;” that is, her son, who was murdered at the same time by order of Laodice. “And he that strengthened her in these times;” her husband, Antiochus, as Jerome supposes, or those who took her part and defended her. But such wickedness could not long remain unpunished, as the prophecy further predicts, and history further proves.