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Review and Herald, Vol. 23, No. 9.

Adventism

Review and Herald

Jan 26, 1864

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Jan 26, 1864

Adventism.

By R. F. Cottrell

Letter from R. F. Cottrell, to N. V. Hull.

Eld. N. V. Hull: My dear friend. It is but recently that I received your letter through the Recorder; this will account for my not noticing it before. I will notice some of the important points.
You endeavor to make it appear that the views maintained by us, as a people, respecting the nature and destiny of man, are, in their tendency, atheistic. We believe that man is mortal; and we have very good reason for thus believing; for the Bible thus characterizes him, in plain terms and without reserve. "Shall mortal man be more just than God?" Job iv, 17. "This mortal must put on immortality." 1 Cor. xv, 53. You give what you call the atheist's creed on this subject, as follows; "Man is mortal, soul and body." You then claim that your charge against our theory is "proved beyond a peradventure." In reply I observe,
1. Atheism is "disbelief in God's existence." Till you shall show that our theory tends to disbelief of the existence of God, your charge is not sustained. This you cannot do. The material universe is a proof of God's existence. The existing facts that men and animals live and die, do not disprove it. That sin entered into the world, and death by sin, only goes to prove that the God of the Bible is the God of the universe. You have failed, and must ever fail, to show any tendency to atheism in our theory.
2. But perhaps you will say that we hold a doctrine that is held by atheists; and that therefore your charge is sustained. This seems to be your meaning. But if holding views in common with atheists proves that we are tending to atheism, then others besides ourselves will find themselves tending that way. You believe that man's body is mortal; atheists believe the same; therefore your views are atheistical in their tendency. I do not present this as a fair argument, but only to represent the fairness of yours in its true light.
3. I now present for your consideration the true atheistic creed, attested by the national council of "Infidel France." It is as follows: "There is no God; and death is an eternal sleep." With both parts of this creed, we, S. D. Adventists, take issue. We say there is a God; and death is not an eternal sleep. Is this atheistic? We do hold that man sleeps in death. So does our Bible. The instances are so numerous where death is represented under the similitude of sleep, that I need not quote any of them to a reader of that Book. Both the righteous and the wicked dead are therein represented as asleep. Is this atheistic? But while we admit that death is a sleep, we deny the atheistic assertion, that it is an eternal sleep. It will be broken by the resurrection, for "there shall be a resurrection of the dead, both of the just and unjust." It is well known that we, like the writers of the New Testament, make the resurrection one of our most prominent doctrines. Indeed, no people, since the days of the apostle Paul, have placed a greater value upon the resurrection than we. He made man's future life depend wholly upon the resurrection of the dead. Said he, "If the dead rise not, then Christ is not raised; then they also which are fallen asleep in Christ are perished." 1 Cor. xv, 16, 18. He continues, "If in this life only we have hope in Christ," (which would be the case, but for the resurrection,) "we are of all men most miserable." Is it atheistic to place the same value upon the resurrection that Paul did? Again he says, "If after the manner of men I have fought with beasts at Ephesus, what advantageth it me, if the dead rise not? Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die." Verse 32. Had Paul believed that he had an immortal soul which could be saved in Heaven without a resurrection of the body, doubtless his sagacity could have discovered some advantage accruing to him from his sacrifices and sufferings in the cause of Christ, should the body never be raised. But he could see none, and, consequently, but for the hope of the resurrection, he would, "after the manner of men," that is, the infidel Epicureans, say, "Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die." (See marginal reading.) Paul's faith in the resurrection was the very thing that kept him from adopting atheistical sentiments. Is it not possible that the same faith may save us from such tendencies?
The second point in your letter which I notice is that which relates to the literal principle of interpretation. He that has truth on his side can afford to be fair. He is willing an opponent's views should be fairly represented. Then he will meet them with manliness and candor. But when a man has no arguments with which to meet an opponent's position fairly stated, he generally builds up a position for his opponent, and then makes an exhibition of his skill in demolishing it. Such, I am sorry to say, has been your course respecting "literalistic interpretation." You are aware that no one takes the ground that every word of Scripture is to be understood in its literal sense. The Bible abounds in parables, symbolic representations and figures of speech. All that any sane man means, when he claims the literal principle of interpretation, is that no mystical or hidden meaning should be attached to the words, but that they should be taken in their most obvious sense, or, in other words, the Bible should be interpreted by the same rules by which you would interpret any other book. You will recollect that I stated the matter in this way, while conversing with you at Alfred Center, in July last, and cautioned you against the very course you have pursued. You were perfectly aware, therefore, while battling against a position that nobody occupies, that you were beating the air.
Now if you have any rule of interpretation different from mine, why did you not present and maintain it? It is evident you have none which you would venture to maintain. I am still confident that there is but one rule of interpretation; and I am not tenacious what it is called whether literal, obvious, natural, or sensible. It is that by which every book, the Bible only excepted, is interpreted by all classes of readers.
The strength of your argument on this point will appear by an application of it to matters of difference between us. Thus; various figures of speech are used in the Bible; therefore when God threatened death to man, in case he should sin, he meant eternal life in misery. But when Jehovah passed sentence upon man, after he had incurred the penalty, he defines death to be returning back to the earth from which he was taken; and after this we read, "And all the days that Adam lived were nine hundred and thirty years: and he died." In a figure of speech life may be put for happiness and death for misery. But does this mean that Adam was happy for nine hundred and thirty years, and then suffered eternal misery? No! life and death are used in their primary or literal sense in these first chapters of Genesis, and in no other sense. The theological sense of which we hear so much at the present day, was not then invented; and better had it been, had it not been invented at all, and had men been left to exercise a little common sense, in the interpretation of what God has revealed to mankind.
When you come to the subject of visions, you enquire, “How shall I write?” It would have looked much better, had you brought forth some reasons, founded on the inconsistencies of the visions, and thus enlightened your readers, by showing their fallacy, if you could do so. But instead of this, you only attempt to sneer them down, comparing them to Joe Smith’s Mormon Bible, and reiterating your former opprobrious epithet of “vagaries” and adding to that the contemptuous term of “twaddle.” Had you brought forth some strong argument against their truthfulness, I should have had something to which to reply; but as it is, I am only reminded of the very just observation of another; namely, it is very difficult to answer a sneer. If the visions are false, they carry their own condemnation with them. Will you show your readers why they are false, or will you be content with the cheaper course of merely answering them with a sneer?
My mind runs back to the days of the infant Saviour, and I fancy I see good old Simeon take the babe in his arms, and, in all simplicity of faith, bless God for the fulfillment of his promise to Israel and to himself; and I also see Anna the prophetess, one whom the proud doctors might call a “simple woman,” coming in stooping with age, and speaking of the infant “to all them that looked for redemption in Jerusalem.” I fancy I can see that grave doctor of the law sitting by, and as he witnesses what is passing, his lip curls with scorn as he remarks: The old lady is “a sort of clairvoyant, so that to herself her visions possess a sort of reality. How far, in the judgment of charity, she may be indulged in her delusion, I will not pretend to say.” “But when the utterances of this simple woman, are made the exponents of the words of Jeremiah and Daniel, then what? Scarcely could presumption and blindness go farther! But how convenient. First frame a new and peculiar theory, or take an old and exploded theory of scripture interpretation, and then, to save yourselves from the force of well-directed criticism, which would demolish your pen at a single blow, get insured by the heaven-born (?) utterances of a prophetess, who shall come in the sacred name of inspiration, and thus scouting all learning and discarding all wisdom, put the sanction and seal of Heaven itself upon the new invention.
“But pray how are we ever to settle disputes in theology in this way? We meet at great disadvantage. Let us bring to the discussion all the learning of past ages, and patient investigation of the present, but of what avail? You know you are right,” &c.
To this the humble believer in God’s word might reply: God has promised certain things, through his ancient servants, the prophets. He is now fulfilling those promises. And while he is fulfilling his precious promises, he gives to some a measure of that same spirit with which the prophets were inspired, and they speak forth the praises of God, for the fulfillment of his word. This is not intended to settle disputes in theology between doctors and lawyers, or between Jews and Samaritans; but to aid humble inquirers and believers in the word of promise, to an establishment in the faith that the great Author of the promises lives and is faithful to his word.
While the unbelieving Jews could, to justify their unbelief in Jesus, say, “We know that God spake to Moses, but as for this fellow, we know not whence he is,” Jesus could reply: If ye believed Moses, ye would believe me, for he wrote of me.”
Now, my dear friend, nothing has happened in these days, in the development of spirit manifestations, whether true or false, that was not foretold by prophets and apostles. They “wrote” of them; both of the true, and of the false. Do you believe their writings? How is it that you class together things that are directly opposed to each other? You sneer alike at the false and the true. Do you tell the people that modern spiritualism is a fulfillment of the predictions of scripture—that these spirits are the “spirits of devils working miracles,” that are deceiving the world and preparing them to be gathered to the battle of the great day? Do you raise the warning voice against it proving from the Scriptures what it is? No! as long as you hold its fundamental doctrine, the immortality of the soul, you can do no better than to meet it with an incredulous sneer.
It is no wonder to us that “the world should be wheedled” by spiritualism, when the great mass of religious teachers are so far from meeting it with scripture argument, that they build the track upon which its car is running. Where is the feeling of responsibility which ought to rest upon the professed teachers of God’s word, to meet, with scriptural arguments, this sweeping delusion, which bids fair to cause the world to reject the Bible; and that too, at a time when they are looking for the conversion of the world to the truths of Christianity? Do they think that spiritualism is harmless? Why this apathy? Are they inclined to believe it, because it accords so well with their theory of the state of the dead? Why so mute in respect to this monster of iniquity, while at the same time, they are all stirred up to oppose Adventism and brand it as infidelity? Is spiritualism no evil and Adventism a great evil? You say, “Your labor to produce in the public mind the conviction that the end of the world is nigh, even at the doors, in only limited for evil, by the ill success attending it.” What terrible consequence would follow, should men in general believe that the Lord was soon coming? Would it lead them to irreligion and rejection of the Bible? No! the word promises his return; and his children wait its fulfillment, while scoffers are saying, “Where is the promise of his coming?” What evil has the Advent doctrine wrought in us who believe it? Does it cause us to transgress God’s commandments? This is what spiritualism is doing for its votaries: and where is the remedy? Who are they that raise the voice of warning but these same Adventists, that would, in your view of it, if they could, ruin the world?
Oh, that God would help you to open your eyes and see; to discern where infidelity is; and that you might feel the responsibility which rests upon you, as a teacher, to expose infidelity and defend the truth.
I did not intend to say half so much; but “our mouth is open unto you, our heart is enlarged,” and it is hard to find a stepping place. Be assured that I have “set down nothing in malice,” but that all has been prompted by feelings of the most sincere friendship. I do view your position as dangerous; and God knows my heart when I say, I would rejoice in your salvation. I can say of S. D. Baptists as Paul said of his kindred according to the flesh: “My heart’s desire and prayer to God for Israel is, that they might be saved.” And bear with me, if I go a little further, and say, “I bear them record that they have a zeal of God, but not according to knowledge.” I believe the doctrine that we as a people are teaching; and I believe that nothing but a firm belief that the Lord is at hand and that the very foundation of spiritualism is a lie, will be able to save us, in the great crisis that, as all can see, is just before us. Then, while I speak with plainness, believe me as ever, your friend,
R. F. COTTERELL.

The City of Gold.

I LOVE to read of the city,— The beautiful city of gold! And my heart is sick, and mine eyes are dim, The glory to behold Of the new and holy Jerusalem,— The beautiful city of gold!
How fair and pure she shineth, As a bride arrayed for her love; Neither sun nor moon is needed To lighten her from above,— For the glory of God doth lighten her, And the Lamb is the light thereof!
Her walls are of precious jewels, And wondrously builded for height; Twelve angels stand at the twelve gateways, Each gate is a pearl most bright,— And the gates of the city are never shut, For the city knows no night.
Lo! a voice, as of many waters, Pours forth from that blood-washed throng! They are chanting the ceaseless anthem, They are singing the glad new song,— "Salvation, and honor, and blessing, To the Lord our God belong."
They are come out of great tribulation, No more hunger or thirst to know, For the Lamb in the throne shall lead them Where the living waters flow; From their eyes all tears he wipeth, And wherever he goeth, they go.
Oh, fair and wonderful city,— City of gold and light! Already thy shining portals Gleam on my spirit's sight, In the dark and solemn night-time, In the solemn and stilly night.
Oh, fair and wonderful city,— City of gold and light! When shall thy ravishing splendor Burst on my longing sight! When shall I leave these robes of shame, And walk with thy saints in white?
Let the way be long and weary, And dark with terrors untold, I will count it all joy and gladness, If it lead me at last to behold The city of light and glory,— The beautiful city of gold!

The Good Shepherd.

By Mary F. Maxson

At the close of a beautiful summer day, being much fatigued, I retired to my chamber and sank down upon a sofa beneath my window. As I lay watching the departure of twilight, the gathering of the darker shades, and the hanging out of the lamps in the dome of heaven, I became absorbed in deep meditation, and was soon lost to all around me. And presently my reverie was broken, by hearing a sweet voice singing,
Jesus my Shepherd is, 'Twas he that loved my soul, 'Twas he that washed me in his blood, 'Twas he that made me whole; 'Twas he that sought the lost, That found the wandering sheep; 'Twas he that brought me to his fold, 'Tis he that still doth keep.
And as the sweet voice died away in the distance, I closed my eyes and soon fell asleep. Visions of surpassing loveliness burst upon my view, and ravished my senses. I was standing upon the brow of a hill, gazing with rapture upon the scene of beauty before me. Oh, the grandeur, the loveliness, the sublimity, of that scene, I can feel, but never describe! Below me were "green pastures" interspersed with "living fountains," whose pure waters sparkled in the gorgeous sunlight, like diamonds and gems. And there amid the "living green" lay the "still waters" like rainbows of silver enshrined in emerald.
As I stood lost in wonder and admiration, a voice of heavenly sweetness broke upon my ear, saying, "I am the good Shepherd, and know my sheep, and am known of mine." I then knew that I was in the heavenly pastures, where the good Shepherd leads his weary, way-worn flock. He entered the fold, and a shade of deep sadness passed over his countenance as he saw that one of the "little ones" was absent. Presently he appeared staff in hand, and said, "I must go into the mountains and seek that which has gone astray. I must bring the wanderer back."
All at once I knew I was the wanderer he was in search of, and instead of finding myself in the beautiful place where I thought I was so recently, I was far away in a dreary land, sitting upon the edge of a deep precipice. On either side of me were dark, dense forests, filled with beasts of prey. The earth was slowly but surely giving way beneath me, and I knew that I should soon be dashed to pieces on the rugged rocks below. In despair I raised my eyes to heaven, but the sight that there greeted me only increased my agony. The sky was shrouded in thick darkness, and at that moment a peal of thunder shook the earth. The lightning flashed from east to west, illuminating the dark forest with one livid glare. The wind moaned and shrieked piteously around me, and the rain descended in such torrents that I came near being swept into the yawning gulf at my feet. With despair deep, dark, and keen, I exclaimed, Oh wretched creature that I am! who shall deliver me? and where, oh where, shall I find shelter from this furious storm?
At that moment I heard footsteps approaching, and a voice behind me said, "A man shall be as a hiding-place from the wind, a covert from the tempest, and as a shadow of a great rock in a weary land." I turned to see who it was that had spoken those sweet words, and the form of a stranger greeted me. The features and voice I knew not, and with a cry of anguish I bowed myself to the earth. When I looked up, the stranger stood by my side, and oh, the look he gave me I shall never forget! In tones of tenderest pity and love he said, "My child, long have I sought you. I have followed you over mountains and hills, through valleys and forests, and at last I have found you, and am come to take you back to my fold. Will you go with me?"
As he uttered those words, the vail fell from my eyes, and I knew that the stranger was none other than my Shepherd, my kind, though neglected, Saviour. I withdrew myself from him; for I felt that I was too vile to be near one so pure and holy, and in anguish replied, I would gladly go back with you, but I am so unworthy, so sinful, and have wandered so far from you, that I dare not hope for forgiveness. But it will be a consolation to my poor heart to know that you pity me. In tones of mingled sadness and love he replied, "I am not come but to seek and save that which was lost." But, Lord, said I, the way is so strait and narrow, so full of perils and dangers, that I dare not undertake the journey. And I have been so long in this terrible place without food or shelter, that I have no strength. I am so weak that I cannot follow thee. He gave me a look of undying love, and replied, "My strength shall be made perfect in thy weakness. My grace shall be sufficient for thee."
As he uttered those melting words, I bowed my head and wept. When I again looked up, I saw a huge cross standing by his side, and knew that it was for me to carry. And in tones of deepest anxiety I exclaimed, O Lord, must I bear that cross? I never, never can. It is so large and heavy that I know I shall sink beneath it. Is there no other way? Can I not follow thee without carrying that cross? He replied, "Whosoever doth not bear his cross and come after me, cannot be my disciple." I looked at the cross again, wondering if I could ever bear it, and shrank from it with feelings of dread. My Saviour read my thoughts, and in a grieved tone said, "Ungrateful child! This cross is nothing in comparison to the one I bore for thee. I left my Father's beautiful home, became a man of sorrows; wore a crown of thorns, a robe of derision, and bore the shameful cross—all, all for thee. And wilt thou shrink from this little cross—this little hour of grief and pain? Unless thou wilt bear the cross, thou canst not wear the crown. But if thou wilt bear the former with patience, thou shalt soon wear the latter in triumph."
At these words I approached him, fell at his feet, and with the deepest joy exclaimed, O my blessed Saviour, I will follow thee whithersoever thou goest. Lead me through any danger, any sorrow, any and every trial, only keep me close to thy loving heart, and I will ask no more. He gave me a smile full of heavenly beauty and love, clasped me in his arms, and exclaimed, "I will never, never leave thee, nor forsake thee." With joy I clasped the hand of my gentle Shepherd, and commenced the perilous journey. My happiness was so great that ere I was aware of it, I was singing,
The Shepherd sought his sheep, The Father sought his child; They followed me o'er vale and hill, O'er deserts waste and wild; They found me nigh to death, Famished, and faint, and lone; They bound me with the bands of love, They saved the wandering one.
But a feeling of sadness stole over my happy heart as my Shepherd said, "I must leave you for a little while; but I will not leave you comfortless. I will pray the Father, and he shall give you another Comforter, even the Spirit of truth, and he shall abide with you forever. I will not leave you long, but will come again and receive you unto myself, that where I am, there ye may be also."
That promise, and the blessed assurance that I should dwell forever with my loved One, gave me so much happiness that I awoke. But I knew that my dream was all true. I knew I had been just such a wanderer, and that just such deathless love had saved me. I felt the presence of my precious Saviour, and knew that he was near me. The sweet words, "I will not leave you long," went ringing through my soul like a chime of silver bells; and my heart, which for long months had only responded to the low, measured march of death's dirge, now beat quick and joyful to the glorious, lofty strains struck from angel lyres.
Lone wanderer from the fold of God, return, return. Long has the good Shepherd wandered o'er the cold mountains, "his locks wet with the dews of night," in quest of you. Do not longer elude his search, but come, oh come and find shelter 'neath the wings of his love. Do you not hear him saying, "Return unto me, and I will return unto you; I will heal your backslidings and love you freely?" Can you longer wander in the dark wilderness of sin, and grieve such deathless, yearning love? Have you not drunk from the cup of sin long enough to know that it sends only anguish and sorrow to your soul? Yea, it is as a fire kindling around your heart, that will consume your life, unless it is speedily quenched with the dews of divine love. You know there is no joy, no peace, no happiness, true and lasting, to be found, only in Jesus. Then why will you not come back to him? Why will you longer grieve his tender, pitying love?
And you, poor sinner, who have never known the precious Saviour's love, I beg of you to come, taste and see that the Lord is good. His favor, his love, his approbation, is all that is of any real value—all that is worth living for. And the time will soon come, when you would rather have one approving look from him, than many a world like this. Oh, do not longer delay, but give your heart to Jesus now. Remember that time is short, and what you do you must do quickly. The day of God's wrath is hastening on, and soon it will be here. And in that terrible day there will be but two classes. One will with joy exclaim, "Lo, this is our God! we have waited for him, and he will save us;" and the other will take up the sad lamentation, "The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved." To which class will you belong? Now is your time to decide. Oh, I beseech of you to give your heart to Jesus. He will shelter you from the storm that is about to burst upon the ungodly, and at last will lead you to the heavenly pastures on the glorified plains of the new earth.

Scolding.

Do not scold. It does no good. Not that you should not upbraid, reprove, or condemn. Scolding refers to the manner and spirit of speaking, not to what you say. The same words that, uttered in one way would give pain, spoken in another would give pleasure. You may reprove, yet in meekness—upbraid, yet kindly—condemn, and do it in pity. Scolding indicates anger, impatience, irritation, contempt and ignorance of one's self. It is nature uncultivated. It partakes of the low, savage and barbarous.
As low and degrading as it is, it manifests itself too often in what is regarded as cultivated and refined society, and even in the religious. Ministers sometimes scold at their people, and think it faithfulness; yes, and there has been seen anger and madness while pouring out the vials of wrath on the heads of the wicked. If the people are not devoid of common sense, they should not be scolded, they should be reasoned with,—if they are, they should be borne with patiently. When ministers scold, they prove themselves in a low spiritual condition! How would they like to have their people scold at them?
Parents frequently scold at their children, husbands to their wives, wives to their husbands, masters and mistresses to their servants, employers to the employed, teachers to their scholars, editors and correspondents to their readers, and thus on through all the relations of life.
Many a woman has had her heart broken by the rough words of her husband, and many a man has sunk in despondency and has lost his mind by the snappish, waspish temper of his wife. Children have become discouraged by being chided often by their parents, when perhaps the parent's spirit has caused in their children that which they so severely condemn. Parents transmit to their children their own temper, and they can see in the conduct of their children a proof of the truth of God's word,—"visiting the iniquities of the fathers upon their children."
Children are pained when chided. They feel keenly the unnatural manner of their treatment, and yet, such is the force of example, that when they grow up, instead of being corrected by what they have seen and suffered, fall into the habit of their parents.
Time and space would fail me to tell all the evils which grow out of the habit of scolding. It is of itself an evil deeply felt, which should at once be overcome, especially by professed Christians. This may be done effectually by observing the following things:
1. Resolve that you will ever speak in a gentle and pleasant manner. Your will has great power over your words, which you may exercise as you are disposed.
2. Speak in a low tone of voice. Loud words excite anger, both in yourselves and others. Words spoken very low will calm yourself and others, if your pent up feelings seem ready to burst out into flames of rage. Try it, ye hasty ones.
3. Ascertain your own manner of speaking, for you may scold or wound when you may not intend it. Perhaps such a wrong manner of speaking may spring from a diseased body, or from earnestness of will. If you are not unkind, you should guard against seeming so, for in either case you give pain.
4. When your children ask the reason of commands, tell them, if it be proper, but if not, tell them so. Tell them there is a reason, and avoid giving them the impression that you are acting simply from your own arbitrary will.
5. Consider when you see others' faults, and have provocations to anger, your own forgetfulness, mistakes and infirmities, and ask, before your feelings find expression, how you would like to be treated as you are tempted to treat them. And never forget that we excite in others the same spirit we ourselves exercise. Rather excuse than censure the faults which you see, and encourage to do better next time; for we do a great deal better by praise than blame.
6. Those whose prerogative it is, should give commands in a dignified manner, and generally in the form of a question. Thus, if you say to a servant, "Will you please to do this?" you put him on his dignity, and he is seemingly granting you a favor, but really obeying your commands.
Beautiful and pleasant are the families where kind words are the rule. Sad and exceedingly repulsive, where the members snap and snarl at each other. It is said that "a thing of beauty is a joy forever." Opposite,—a thing of ugliness is a grief forever. Kindness and love will make the face of ugly features radiant with beauty, while a face of the most beautiful features grows dark and fiendish by scolding.—Herald of Gospel Liberty.

Faith and Prayer.

By A. S. H.

BRO. WHITE: I copy the following lines for the Review thinking they may comfort some lonely afflicted heart. A. S. H.
WHEN dark clouds are gathering o'er us, Let our hopes be fixed above; When life seems all dark before us, Let us seek our Father's love.
He's all pity and compassion, We are prone to go astray, He will still each rising passion, He will be our guide and stay.
Can we doubt God's power to shield us Since the thorn-crowned Jesus died? Since his blood was split to heal us, Need we stronger proof beside?
There are joys too pure to perish, They are won by faith and prayer; Joys that Christians shrine and cherish, When the heart is worn with care.
Come, ye sad and tired and weary, Come and taste the bread of life; Friends may fail, and life seem dreary, There's a balm for care and strife.
Seek for gems all pure and peerless, Set in diamonds bound to shine; Faith will never leave thee cheerless, Prayer will soothe the down-cast mind.

Big words.

Big words are great favorites with people of small ideas and weak conceptions. They are often employed by men of mind, when they wish to use language that may best conceal their thoughts. With few exceptions, however, illiterate and half educated persons use more "big words" than people of thorough education.
It is a very common but very egregious mistake to suppose that long words are more genteel than short ones—just as the same sort of people imagine high colors and flashy figures improve the styles of dress. They are the kind of folks who don't begin, but always "commence." They don't live, but "reside." They don't go to bed, but mysteriously "retire." They don't eat and drink, but "partake of refreshments." They are never sick, but "extremely indisposed." And instead of dying, at last, they "decease."
The strength of the English language is in the short words—chiefly monosyllables of Saxon derivation—and people who are in earnest seldom use any other. Love, hate, anger, grief, joy, express themselves in short words and direct sentences; while cunning, falsehood and affectation delight in what Horace calls verba sesquipedalia—words a "foot and a half long."—Journal of Education.

Destitution at the South

DESTITUTION AT THE SOUTH.—A correspondent of the St. Louis Republican, writing under date of Chattanooga, Dec. 9th, says ;
"A visit to the provost-marshal of any post in this vicinity, or indeed anywhere along the border, is sufficient to satisfy any one that the stories of southern destitution have not half been told. At Bridgeport, a few days since, there were forty-seven applicants for food, only three of whom proposed to buy, the remainder being entirely destitute—alms-seekers. They were followed in some instances by a great number of children, half naked and half starved, whose features appealed to the sympathy far more, effectually than words. Some of them, though under five years of age, had not tasted a morsel of food for thirty-six hours, and had been living on little for months."
Continue reading: The Seven Times of Lev. xxvi