Your ShelfYour Projects

Review and Herald, Vol. 18, No. 23.

Guidance of Nature

Review and Herald

Nov 5, 1861

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Nov 5, 1861

Guidance of Nature.

By John Norton Loughborough

BY J. N. LOUGHBOROUGH.

While laboring to enforce upon the minds of the people the importance of giving heed to the precepts of the Bible, we are often met with the statement that "nature is a sufficient guide, and in fact the only revelation that God has made to his creatures." But we conclude this is not so; for if God reveals himself only through nature; and if those who profess to be guided by reason and nature are following such revelation, then we must certainly conclude from their various and contradictory views and course that the revelation of nature is a contradictory revelation.
If we are to judge of the revelation of nature by the acts and belief of those who profess to be guided by nature (and this must be a just way of judging), we shall find that the religion of nature has a variety of gods, and its forms of worship are as various as the fancies of its worshipers. We find one class worshiping the sun and moon and hosts of heaven. Another have the river Ganges as their god. Others bow in reverence to a crocodile or other inferior reptiles. Even the more enlightened among the heathen nations, and those also who profess to be skilled in the principles of the philosophy of nature come to discordant conclusions in their reasoning from nature, for the simple reason that nature furnishes them no standard by which to try their reasonings. Sometimes their philosophical deductions lead them to the conclusion that there is a future state; again they give it all up and admit that they can tell nothing about it. So it was with ancient heathen, and so with modern free-thinkers.
Seneca says the Stoics equaled themselves to the gods; for the gods, they affirmed, "are what they are by nature; the wise man is what he is by his own industry. Again they say: 'The gods excel not a wise man in happiness, though they excel him in the duration of happiness.'"
Socrates, who at one time told his friends that when they buried his body he should "go to be among the gods," seemed afterward to lose this confidence, and his principles of reason led him to other conclusions. Just as he was about to die he said, "I hope I am now going to good men, though this I would not take upon me peremptorily to assert; but, that I shall go to the gods, lords that are absolutely good, this if I can affirm anything of this kind, I would certainly affirm. And for this reason I do not take it all that I am to die, as otherwise I should do; but I am in good hope that there is something remaining for those who are dead, and that it will then be much better for good than for bad men." Again he said, that though he should be mistaken, he did at least gain this much, that the expectation of it made him less uneasy while he lived, and his error would die with him, and he concluded thus:
"I am going out of the world, and you are to continue in it; but which of us has the better part, is a secret to every one but God."
Here we see an illustration of the uncertainty of the religion of nature. As its principles were mainly drawn from the reasonings of the people, it left them in a blank uncertainty as to the future, and they have to admit that how it will be, "God only knows." This is frankly admitting that the revelation of futurity from nature and reason are but blank uncertainties.
We cannot refrain from contrasting with the above, Job's hope: "O that my words were now written! O that they were printed in a book! That they were graven with an iron pen and lead in the rock forever! For I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth; and though after my skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God; whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not another." Job xix, 23-27. What a contrast in these cases. Socrates' hope is like a drowning man catching at straws, but Job's is fixed in a foundation so sure that it is knowledge. He says, "I know."
Again, on the unsatisfying nature of a hope based on reason alone, we will instance the last moments of Voltaire and Edward Gibbon (author of decline and fall of the Roman empire). Says Voltaire: "Who can without horror consider the whole world as the empire of destruction? It abounds with wonders, it abounds also with victims. It is a vast field of carnage and contagion. Every species is without pity pursued and torn to pieces, through the air, and earth, and water. In man there is more wretchedness than in all other animals put together. He loves life, and yet he knows he must die. If he enjoys a transient good, he suffers various evils, and is at last devoured by worms. This knowledge is his fatal prerogative. Other animals have it not. He spends the transient moments of his existence in diffusing the miseries which he suffers; in cutting the throats of his fellow-creatures for pay; in cheating and being cheated; robbing, and being robbed; in serving that he might command; and in repenting of all he does. The bulk of mankind are nothing more than a crowd of wretches, equally criminal and unfortunate; and the globe contains rather carcasses than men. I tremble at the review of this dreadful picture, and find it contains a complaint against providence itself. I wish I never had been born."
I look on the above as a strong plea for men to understand God's will by a written revelation, although penned by Voltaire for altogether a different purpose. Were nature our only guide, and the deductions of reason our only hope, we might perhaps join in the doleful strain of Voltaire. But when we consider that this lamentable picture is for the most part of those who reject the Bible, and among those who are professedly guided by nature and reason, we conclude that nature's guidance comes quite too short of the mark. With the Christian, who puts his trust in God and his word, what a different feeling we find. He has the "love of Christ which passeth knowledge" as the Lord grants him his blessing
in copious showers, until he is "filled with all the fullness of God." Eph. iii, 19.
With Voltaire we might contrast the experience of Paul. "We glory in tribulations also." "I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that shall be revealed in us." And again he says, "For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory; while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal." Rom. v, 3; viii, 18; 2 Cor. iv, 17, 18.
Gibbon in his declining moments said: "The present is a fleeting moment; the past is no more; and our prospect of futurity is dark and doubtful. This day may possibly be my last; but the laws of probability, so true in general, so fallacious in particular, still allow about fifteen years. . . . I will not suppose any premature decay of the mind and body; but I must reluctantly observe that two causes, the abbreviation of time, and the failure of hope, will always tinge with a browner shade the evening of life."
We may be allowed to avail ourself of a contrast with the above, used by Mr. Wm. Plummer, in his "Bible True," in the case of Paul. "I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand. I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge shall give at that day; and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing." 2 Tim. iv, 6-8. The unbeliever in trouble is a reed shaken with the wind—he is tossed with the tempest and not comforted. But he whose trust is in the living oracles of Jehovah, even when sorrow betides him, stands
"As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form, Swells from the vale and midway leaves the storm; Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, Eternal sunshine settles on its head."
This professed revelation from nature as we have already intimated is to a great extent imaginary, and for this reason has led men to believe in no God, or to the belief that everything is God; that dead men are gods, or others, that all the gods there are are dead men. One professes to learn from nature that God is all power, another that he has no power at all over man. One of these blasphemous reasoners a few months since said: "If there is a God, I have rights. I have a right to life, liberty, and happiness, &c., whether he is pleased to grant it or not;" and to conclude his harangue of darkness, declared that he could "look God in the face and assert it."
About as good a take-off of their mode of reasoning as I have seen, is in a verse that was found written on the tomb-stone of Hume:
"Beneath this circular idea, Vulgarly called a tomb, Impressions and ideas rest, Which constituted Hume."
The natural tendency of following this professed revelation of nature is to sin. This we seefully illustrated in the lives of its advocates.
"Aristippus maintained that it was lawful for a wise man to steal, commit adultery, and sacrilege, when opportunity offered; for that none of these actions were naturally evil, setting aside the vulgar opinion, which was introduced by silly and illiterate people; and that a wise man might publicly gratify his libidinous propensities." Also read the following from Horne's Introduction to the Bible, Vol. i, p. 25.
"Lord Herbert declared, that men are not hastily, or on small grounds, to be condemned, who are led to sin by bodily constitution; that the indulgence of lust and of anger is no more to be blamed than the thirst occasioned by the dropsy, or the drowsiness produced by lethargy.
"Mr. Hobbes asserted that the civil or municipal law is the only foundation of right and wrong; that where there is no civil law, every man's judgment is the only standard of right and wrong; that the sovereign is not bound by any obligation of truth or justice, and can do no wrong to his subjects; that every man has a right to all things, and may lawfully get them if he can!
"Lord Bolingbroke resolved all morality into self-love as its principle, and taught that ambition, the lust of power, sensuality, and avarice may be lawfully gratified, if they can be safely gratified; that the sole foundation of modesty is vanity, or a wish to show ourselves superior to mere animals; that man lives only in the present world, and is only a superior animal; that the chief end of man is to gratify the appetites and inclinations of the flesh; that modesty is inspired by mere prejudice; and that polygamy is a part of the law or religion of nature. He also intimates that adultery is no violation of the law of nature; and that there is no wrong, except in the highest lewdness.
"Mr. Hume (the immorality of whose principles is displayed in his Private Correspondence recently published) maintained, that self-denial, self-mortification, and humility are not virtues, but are useless and mischievous; that they stupefy the understanding, sour the temper, and harden the heart; that pride, self-valuation, ingenuity, eloquence, quickness of thought, easiness of expression, delicacy of taste, strength of body, and cleanliness, are virtues; and, consequently, that to want honesty, to want understanding, and to want strength of body, are equally the subjects of moral disapprobation; that adultery must be practised, if men would obtain all the advantages of life; that, if generally practised, it would in time cease to be scandalous; and that if practiced secretly and frequently, it would by degrees come to be thought no crime at all!!!
"Mr. Gibbon, one of the most decent of modern infidels, has given a biographical account of himself, and what is the result of the moral portrait there exhibited? Amid all the polish and splendor of literary culture, not a single line of moral beauty is perceptible. There is 'no fear of God, no reverence for sacred things, no regard for the welfare of the human race; but the most heartless and sordid selfishness, vain glory, a desire of admiration, adulation of the great and wealthy, contempt for the poor, and supreme devotedness to his own gratification.'
"Both Voltaire and Helvetius advocated the unlimited gratification of the sensual appetites, and the latter held that it is not agreeable to policy to regard gallantry (that is, unlawful intercourse with married women), as a vice in a moral sense; and that, if men will call it a vice, it must be acknowledged that there are vices which are useful in certain ages and countries! In other words, that in those countries such vices are virtues. Rousseau, a thief, a liar, and a debauched profligate, according to his own printed 'Confessions,' also had recourse to feelings as his standard of morality. 'I have only to consult myself,' said he, 'concerning what I do. All that I feel to be right, is right. Whatever I feel to be wrong, is wrong. All the morality of our actions lies in the judgment we ourselves form of them.'
If some of those professed infidels have had regard for morality it has been owing more to their early religious training than anything they have learned from nature alone. And this is well expressed in the following letter from Ben Franklin:
"FRANKLIN'S LETTER TO PAINE.
"Thomas Paine sailed from this country in 1787 to visit France the second time. Soon after he arrived there, which was three years before the death of Franklin, he wrote the first part of his 'Age of Reason.' He submitted the manuscript to Franklin for his inspection and opinion, and received the following answer, which was printed in Niles' Register, Vol. xxx, p. 397.
"Dear Sir: I have read your manuscript with some attention. By the argument it contains against a particular Providence, though you allow a general Providence, you strike at the foundation of all religion. For without the belief of a Providence, that takes cognizance of, guards and guides, and favors particular persons, there is no motive to worship a Deity, to fear his displeasure, or to pray for his protection.
"I will not enter into any discussion of your principles, though you seem to desire it. At present, I shall only give you my opinion, that though your reasonings are subtle, and may prevail with some readers, you will not succeed so as to change the general sentiments of mankind on that subject; and the consequence of printing this piece will be a great deal of odium upon yourself, mischief to you, and no good to others. He that spits against the wind spits in his own face. But were you to succeed, do you imagine any good will be done by it?
"You yourself may find it easy to live a virtuous life without the assistance afforded by religion. You have a clear perception of the advantages of virtue, and the disadvantages of vice, and possess strength of resolution sufficient to enable you to resist common temptations.
"But think how great a portion of mankind consists of ignorant men and women, and of inexperienced, inconsiderate youth, of both sexes, who have need of the motives of religion to restrain them from vice, to support their virtue, and retain them in the practice of it till it becomes habitual, which is the point for its security.
"And, perhaps, you are indebted to it, originally, that is, to your religious education, for the habits of virtue upon which you now justly value yourself. You might easily display your excellent talents of reasoning upon a less hazardous subject, and thereby obtain rank with our most distinguished authors. For among us it is not necessary, as among the Hottentots, that a youth, to be raised into the company of men, should prove his manhood by beating his mother. I would advise you, therefore, not to attempt unchaining the tiger, but to burn this piece before it is seen by any other person, whereby you will save yourself a great deal of mortification from the enemies it may raise against you, and perhaps a good deal of regret and repentance.
"If men are so wicked with religion, what would they be without it? I intend this letter itself as a proof of my friendship, and therefore add no profession, but simply subscribe,
"Yours, B. Franklin."
The question is asked by many why do those who follow nature as a guide run into such gross errors, and wickedness? The simple answer, I conceive, is this: that those who profess to follow nature, in reality follow self. Instead of having any real fixed principles to follow, in the end they claim, as one writer above, that "whatever they feel to be right is right," &c. They war against the Bible, simply because it wars against self. Its injunction is, "Deny thyself!" This they cannot submit to, and so war against the word. Perhaps you and I think we are safe from such a snare. "Let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he fall." Our only safety is to deny ourselves and take up every cross, or in the end we may be as hardened as any against the word of God. "Because they received not the love of the truth that they might be saved, God will send them strong delusion." Deception is in the world, and that for God's saints, unless they are faithful. Remember our only safety is to deny self, and take up every cross. God help us to prove faithful.
Battle Creek, Mich., Oct. 29, 1861.

The Life-battle.

By Cuyler

"So fight I," says Paul, "not as one that beateth the air. But I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection." The literal translation is, I strike under the eye, making it black and blue. This is a boxing phrase indicative of the sharpest, sternest efforts at self-mortification. As one who should say—I conquer my fleshly appetites by violent and re-iterated blows, and bring them into subjection. I lead my body along as a conquered captive. It is a beaten antagonist. My wicked, lustful nature is thus vanquished, "lest that by any means when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway."
Here is a tremendous warning to every one of us—a warning founded on our double danger—first from evil appetites of the body, and also from evil affections of the heart. Paul, the heroic apostle of Jesus, so felt his actual danger that he tells us that he bruised and beat down his sensual passions, lest having saved others he might himself be finally lost. In the phrase before us he especially refers to the bodily appetites. "I keep the body under," i. e., I smite it under the eye! Paul—like other men of energetic make and ardent temperament—was very probably tried with strong temptations to excesses of the passions, both physical and moral. He has not chosen to let us into all the secrets of his character. He knew nothing of the modern pseudo-science of phrenology; nor would he have been one whit the wiser if he had. He does not tell us how often "acquisitiveness" tempted him to pocket the "collections" sent up to the saints at Jerusalem; or how often he fell through the sore stress of his "destructiveness," his "amativeness," or his "combativeness." Such jargon he leaves for modern empirics in the mysterious science of the mind.
But methinks I see the wrestlings of a stern and furious struggle between the holier and the baser natures of one of God's heroes in that profound and plaintive seventh chapter of the epistle to his Roman brethren. I seem to see a stout soldier of the cross, with uplifted arm, and swollen sinew, crying out "ὑπωπιάζω σῶμα"—I beat down my baser self. I give no quarter to my lusts. I strangle my appetites till they grow livid in the face. I vanquish my inner foes that God may make me stronger to vanquish his foes without me. Lest, having saved others, I, Paul, the converted blasphemer of Damascus, should only prove to be a pitiful wretch and castaway.
For Paul claimed no immunities from danger through his position. That a man is a professed minister of the Lord Jesus is no assurance that he may not be cast into hell. He has "like passions" with his fellow-men. The same ravening lusts that have decimated the bar and the senate-house, have left their blood-prints on the pulpit stairs. Along the whole track of ministerial biography, there lie strewed, here and there, the bleaching bones of those unhappy victims who fell a prey to the spoiler. Paul, to be sure, never fell. To the last he kept his faith, and the integrity of a godly life. And the simple secret of this continence and this constancy I read in these brave words, "So fight I, not as one that beateth the air. I keep my body in subjection, lest that by any means when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway."
Shall we restrict the scope of this life-battle to sensual appetites alone? Paul did not; he extended it to all the wicked propensities of his mental and moral nature. The war which everyChristian has to make must be universal and unsparing on the whole brood of interior passions. The sudden insurrections of anger—the malicious whisperings of green-eyed envy—the acid tongue of censoriousness—the clutchings of greedy covetousness—the restless cravings of unsanctified ambition—the subtle sophistries of deceit—the uprisings of bigotry and spiritual pride—all these and every other like them in the great rebel army of the heart, must be met with the same indiscriminate "war to the knife." He who would keep his conscience clean, and his life holy, must wage this life-battle without compromise and without quarter.

I. Let us offer a few concise rules for the conduct of this spiritual life-battle. Our first counsel is—beware of the silent marches which the flesh will steal upon you. We are fearfully and wonderfully made; the combination of body and spirit is such that each one re-acts upon the other in a manner that is most direct and yet most mysterious. The encroachments of the "flesh" upon the spiritual nature are astonishingly quiet and insidious. The cravings of healthy appetite may gradually lead to the excesses of gluttony. Put a knife to your throat. Tampering with so-called innocent stimulants has sent many a professor of religion to the grave of the inebriate. The cup of coffee led to the glass of wine; the wine to the brandy; and the brandy to perdition.

With all possibilities of self-indulgence come temptations. Luxury steals silent marches on Christians when prosperity brings within their reach a fine equipage, or high living, or splendid establishments. There is hardly a Christian in New York who lives when worth ten thousand dollars a-year just as he lived when hard toil gave him only one thousand or one hundred. Men change their habits gradually; not suddenly. A man may be converted in a moment. Backsliding is the process of months or of years. By degrees tippling grows into intemperance; by degrees the social evening entertainment prolongs itself into the midnight frivolities of the rout, the ball-room, and the play-house; by degrees a church-member exchanges the prayer-meeting for the opera. Beware of the silent marches of the enemy.

II. If you find that the contact of certain persons and places is dangerous to your weaknesses, then avoid those persons and places, cost what it may. If you are temptable by a wine-cup, then keep out of convivial company. If you have tendencies to run mad with over-mirthfulness, then stay away from those circles in which you are tempted to turn the Christian into the harlequin. If the sight of a picture or a person invariably excites libidinous thoughts, then look somewhere else. It is not every young Christian who can be trusted even to walk through certain streets in our great cities. A "besetting sin" may lurk in that very street.

A man’s besetting sin is the one that jumps with his inclinations. Does he love ease? Then he always interprets those Providences in his own favor that allow him to sit still, or to enjoy his hammock. Does he love flattery and éclat? Then he imagines that he is working for God, when he is only working for human applause. Here is a dangerous foe; all the more so from its wearing the honest guise of a friend. Look out for selfishness. It is the "old Adam" lurking behind every hedge. Like Southern slavery, it will only keep the peace on condition of having its own way. If not, then its stiletto is unsheathed in a moment. It is a polite and plausible, but a godless spirit. Keep no league with it. A Christian is never safe unless he is continually collaring every evil passion of his nature, and forcing it into unconditional submission.

III. Finally, put on the whole armor of God—the shield of faith, the breast-plate of righteousness, and the sword of the Spirit. Leave no spot exposed. Ahab was wounded through the joints of the harness. In the heat of the conflict look to Jesus the Captain of your salvation; and never surrender. Toward the sunset of the long bloody day of Waterloo, when the surviving remnant of the old Imperial Guard were summoned to lay down their arms, the scarred veterans of fifty victorious fights cried out, “The Old Guards can die; but they cannot surrender.”—Cuyler.

THE SUNNY SIDE.

Dr. Johnson used to say that a habit of looking at the best side of everyevent is far better than a thousand pounds a year. Bishop Hall quaintly remarks, "For every bad there might be a worse, and when one breaks his leg let him be thankful that it was not his neck!" When Fenelon's library was on fire, "God be praised," he exclaimed, "that it is not the dwelling of some poor man!" This is the true spirit of submission—one of the most beautiful traits that can possess the human heart.

Words Added to the Scriptures in the Common Version.

Italic letters are used in the common version to denote the words and phrases, which have been added by the translators to complete what they supposed to be the sense. Many of these are mere human additions to the words of inspiration. A few examples will make this plain.
In the 19th Psalm, David, contemplating the glory of God in the material heavens, exclaims:
“Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night showeth knowledge.”
But lest this might impart an erroneous impression, he adds,
“No speech! No language! Their voice is not heard! but their line hath gone out through all the earth, and their words to the end of the world.”
As Addison says:
“What though nor real voice nor sound Amidst their radiant orbs be found? In reason’s ear they all rejoice, And utter forth a glorious voice, Forever singing as they shine The hand that made us is divine.”
But in the common version this idea is completely changed by the addition of italic words, making the psalmist say:
“There is no speech nor language, where their voice is not heard.”
In Matthew xx, 23, our Lord says:
“To sit on my right hand, and on my left, is not mine to give, but for whom it is prepared of my Father.”
The meaning here is plain. Christ gives it only to those for whom it is prepared by the Father. This meaning is completely changed by the words inserted in italic, which make the passage read:
“It is not mine to give, but it shall be given to them for whom it is prepared of my Father.”
By these words it is represented that Christ has not the power to give, thus contradicting his declaration that all power is given to him in heaven and earth.
In many passages the word man is inserted, limiting or destroying the sense of the original, which is none or no one. In John x, 29, our Saviour says of his sheep, “No one is able to pluck them out of my Father’s hand.” Our version makes it, “No man is able. So in Hebrews x, 12, the word man is inserted, where it is not in the original.” The manhood of Christ is not here referred to, but his priesthood.
2 Cor. iii, 3: “Ye are our epistle written in our hearts, known and read of all men, manifestly declared to be the epistle of Christ,” is changed by inserting the useless and perverting words, “For as much as ye are.”

The Vantage Ground.

TIME gives Christian pilgrims many a vantage ground—successive posts of observation from which they may look back on the way they have tediously trod, and forward along the track of their heavenward pursuit. Moses had his observatories when he stood on mount Sinai, and on mount Nebo. From the one he looked not only ahead, across the desert way, but across the Red Sea cleft as a high way from the land of bondage. From the other he gazed wistfully into the goodly land, and gratefully over the path of his forty years’ wanderings. Each score of years brings the diligent traveler Zionward upon some vantage ground, whence he may take a wide survey of his past and his future course. He can see far back to his starting point—and to the shadowy regions beyond that, when he was without God and had no hope in the world. He recalls the lowly, feeble, trembling state of his soul at the moment he set out, a day of small things truly, when he despised himself for what he had been, and was despised by others for what he was, and when he stood between Egypt and the Red Sea—just stepping into the deep, with terrors all around him—fleeing from the pursuing clamoring world, seeking refuge in a kingdom unknown to him, that looked very much like a desert. But after years of progress, from the high places of Zion appearances and prospects are vastly changed. Ten or twenty years place the once wavering saint on a firm vantage ground, and give him solid footing, and broad vision. Thirty years from the dawn of the Christian Era lifts one high up on some heavenward Nebo, whence the land of promise is discernible,
“And just before the shining shore We may almost discover.”
Dimmer and more distant seems the starting point than the goal, from such an eminence.
In the retrospect as thus surveyed other paths appear besides the one taken by the beholder, devious paths in which have walked those who up to that point of divergence strolled as children in the same green meadows. When Moses looked backward from mount Nebo he saw to the base of Sinai, and along the winding track his eye rested on the places where rebellion, or murmuring, or limiting the Holy One, provoked God’s wrath and over all the plains lay the bones of the slain of God’s people, thousands fallen in the wilderness. So after forty years’ journeying upward, what melancholy wrecks, what monumental ruins mark the diverse ways taken by one’s early but heedless companions! How many victims of intemperance, of covetousness, of ambition, of procrastination, of thoughtlessness, of pleasure, of pride! Let the pilgrim press on from one vantage ground to another, from mount Sinai to mount Nebo, from mount Nebo to mount Sion. There let him rest; for there hath “the Lord commanded the blessing, even life for evermore.” From that “holy hill,” whereon is the Lord’s house, what views, what visions! An observatory above the stars; a mount to behold God on, and to see Jesus as he is.—Ob. Evangelist.

Words in the Common Version Mistranslated.

THE number of words and phrases in the common version that do not express the meaning of the original, have never been accurately computed. Dr. Conquest lately published a Bible with twenty thousand emendations. Some of these alleged amendments undoubtedly are changes which do not introduce much improvement, and others may be regarded as doubtful, but the great body of them are those which commentators and other scholars have proved to be needed to express the meaning of the Hebrew and Greek. Any one who has examined the revision of Job by Dr. Conant, and carefully compared it with the common version, must be convinced that the errors of the common version are far more numerous than is indicated by the work of Dr. Conquest. A few examples will show their character:
Matthew vi, 25. "Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink."
This inculcates an improvidence about temporal matters, which would bring confusion and distress into every household. The meaning of the original is,
Be not anxious, etc.
Matthew v, 25. "Offend." This word frequently occurs in the New Testament. The original word never means to cause offense, but to cause to fall, entrap, to allure to sin, etc.
Acts vii, 45. "Jesus" is put for Joshua.
Matthew xxiii, 24. A typographical error, substituting "AT" for out, gives the idea of an attempt to swallow, instead of that which the original furnishes, "straining out."

FEET-WASHING AND SUNDAY.

ONE is taught in the New Testament in plain language, yet almost universally rejected or neglected by the Protestant churches. The other is nowhere taught in the New Testament, yet it is almost universally observed by the same churches. In the one the cross is avoided contrary to the word. In the other, tradition and popular custom are followed without the word.
John xiii, 12-15: “So after he had washed their feet, and had taken his garments, and was set down again, he said unto them, Know ye what I have done to you? Ye call me Master and Lord; and ye say well; for so I am. If I then, your Lord and Master, have washed your feet, ye ought also to wash one another's feet. For I have given you an example, that ye should do as I have done to you.”
But very few of our first-day friends can see proof for feet-washing in these words of our Lord. But what a relief they would experience if they could find a tithe of the proof for Sunday-keeping. Suppose the above quotation from John spoke of the first day of the week as follows—So after Jesus had observed the first day of the week as the Sabbath, he said unto his disciples, Ye call me Master and Lord, and ye say well; for so I am. If I then, your Lord and Master, have observed the first day of the week as the Sabbath, ye also ought so to observe it; for I have given you an example that ye should observe the first day of the week as I have done.
Could Sunday-keepers find in the New Testament similar language to the above, they might hold a jubilee over the fact that sacred scripture sustained them in following on in the cart-rut of human custom. But no such language relative to first-day observance can be found in the New Testament.
Continue reading: SCRIPTURE ACCOUNT OF THE FLOOD, VINDICATED