GENESEE EVANGELIST.—WhoIe No. 719. f§«*f*3». ■■ For the American:B»sbyterian. LINES Written upon receiving a cane cut from the hanks of the Jordan. BY J- TRANCIS BOURNS, H. D. I take it in my trembling hand, This tribute from the Holy Land, A thrill lives in it—’'tla the; spell, The banks of Jordan’s chronicle. The Jordan I—Was It thy charm’d wave That nursed this joy for met Thy breath that fanned It in the sun; -* Thy dews it drank when day was done', Thy voice that spoke to all its leaves, Till they sighed as when a spirit grieves Along the drowning sea. O river! Thine the memories are, To heir such honors from afar j But why along thy immortal shore, Broods melancholy evermore! Stern as thy-tiiloln harvest time, ' Chilled by the mountain snows, Seemed thy rebuke from age to age, Till lot from far in Divlnest page, Thy glory burst again sublime,. . And now the river of every clime, The Jordan onward flows. God speed the herald hands who bear The tidings of salvation there i To plant the cross whereon the crimson’d trfee Dropped the first fruits of immortality. Faii.ADEi.rßiA, January, 1860. For the American Presbyterian. LOWS ANGUISH. “Blessed Heaven! there is no parting there”—last record in father's diary. Oh shall we meet again beloved, Shall we e’er meet again 1 My heart Is weary! oh beloved, With this sad parting pain j This weary weight of we—oh God 1 This dreary parting pain! Nay 1 was it ail a dream beloved, A fairy, fleeting dream, So beautiful, yet false, beloved, A meteor’s golden gleam ! Dear love I cannot bear to know Joys are not what they seem. Have I not walked through life heloved, So near thy beating heart! My very thoughts are thine beloved, No! no! we must not part; How fearful is the wound it leaves Oh Christ!—Grief’s iron dart. Does speak of “precious hope,” beloved, Sweet hope in " future years,” The glorious sun of faith, beloved, Seen through our failing tears } I cannot see the sunlight now, , Here ’tls so dark with fears! The how of promise! oh beloved 1 Our God will not forsake, Though we In hitter grieG'heloved, Are faint and desolate, Poor dove! fold not thy drooping wing, The Storm Will not abate. Christ will not leave thee, my beloved, Cling closer to His side, Through fearful tempests His beloved So sweetly shall.abidef " Storms cannot shake this wondrous rook, Dear refuge! where we hide! God bless thee, oh my best beloved, What anguish hath this hour — God keep thee! keep thee! dear beloved, My fair, frai!, smitten flower: Oh sinless, suffering one! thy voice Shall stay grief’s dreadful power. Light in this darkness, my beloved, It is His voice I know 1 The Master calleth!—precious love, { cannot weep to go! Sweet one! there is no tear in heaven! There comes no parting woe. Now kiss mine eyelids gently, love, So softly down to rest; And lay thy young bright head, beloved, Once more upon my breast— ’Tis but a little while!—oh Christ! We meet among the blest. For the American Presbyterian. NEW ARGUMENT FOR THE SABBATH. A late number of the “Sunday School Times” contains a notice of a work by Dr. West, of Philadelphia, in support of tbe claims of the Sabbath, in which tbe Doctor is said to have ad vanced an argument entirely new in support of tbe position, that the Christian Sabbath is in fact the same day of the week with that of the Jews. The new argument is this: “The sun and moon stood still, at the command of Joshua, about four teen hours, —and, in the days of Hezekiah, the sun returned ten degrees on the dial of Ahaz, which is the same as the lengthening of the day ten hours; which time added to that gained in the .case of Joshua, makes just one day of twenty-four 1 hours!” None will be disposed to say that'this is in fact a neio argument. But % e question as to whether it is a good one, or "whether it proves what it is sup posed to, is an open question, and admits of being examined. Admitting, for the sake of .the argu ment, that the day had been lengthened in the two cases referred to, so as to amount to what the Dr. is pleased to call “the creation of a new day,” the question is, What shall we do with it? If so, the Jews had about seven and a half days for a week, from tbe time of Joshua to that of Hezekiah, and from the days of Hezekiah down to the present, they have had eight; so that, in fact, they did not keep the Sabbath daring the period referred to — have not kept it a't all since the days of Joshua, and Christians have never kept it yet. . Another consideration. If the Dr., instead of discovering that “a new day had actually been created,” had contrived to lose a day, the conclu sion which he reaches would not have been as palpable as it now is. The Jew, then, might have been convicted of a mistake os to the of tho week which they were observing; and the Christian, basing Ins calculations on those, of the Jow, has been actually observing the seventh day, or Jewish Sabbath; so that.:the Christian alone is right; but by mistake, or we-have here in sacred chronology an equivalent to that in gram mar, where two negatives make an affirmative, or more correctly, two mistakes make—What shall we call it? a correction? Will two errors make a truth? . ; . The Dr., it seems, has. obtained,a-reputation, at lenst in the eyes of some, for “a-knowledge of the scriptures." Perhaps, it is so; but certainly- his error here must be attributed to that which Christ accused the Sadducces of. In the first place, the validity of the Christian Sabbath consists in the fact, that it is the first day of the week,' or, in other words, the day on which Christ arose from the dead: a day which has been observed - from that day to this, in commemoration of that event. It commemorates the great work of redemption, ■While that of the Jews, who have never believed in any thing of this nature, commemorates the work of creation. In the second place, the object of the Sabbath, whether Jewish .os Christian. Let us look at the event which it commemorates. The Jewish. Sab- Lath commemorates the work of creation ; the Christian, that of Redemption !. I would be glad to see a. hypothesis, either by Dr. West, or any body else, that will bring. these two objects to gether and make them one. -All labor, therefore, in the direction of this new. argument, is worse than lost. : The best or most you can make of the Doctor’s argument seems to be this: either Christians or Jews, or iofA, have been laboring under a mistake, 10l these 1800 or 3000 years! This “new ar gument,” if it proves anything, is likely to prove too much. But we have a faint recollection of an old adage, which says; “ Those argnments which prove too inuch, prove nothing.” ~~~ But the difficulty-attending the Doctor’s “ar gument” is further back than this. No such event as that which he has based it upon ever occurred. If he will go to the trouble of a careful investiga tion, (on the supposition that his knowledge of the Hebrew is such as to admit of it,) of Joshua x. 12 -15, (which, is the passage that he refers to,) he will see, ■without fail, that the whole is neither more nor less than a case of hold interpolation: he will find the passage, verbatim, et literatim, et punctu'atim, in the Book of Jasher, chap. 68, etc., with as much more of a similar character as he can dispose of, in the course of several “new argu ments.” Let the Doctor or anybody else turn to that passage, and notice, in the first place, that it is poetry —verses 12, 13, 14, and 15, all poetry — right in the midst of gravdst prose; and in the midst of itself, he who inserted it, as if conscience smitten for what he was doing, pauses and tells you where he found it, and where you may find it, viz.: in the Book of Jasher! And there you will find it if you look. Then—the close of the 15th verse—“ Joshua returned and all Israel with Hint unto the camp at Gilgal.” But verse 16 says they remained at Makkedah to complete the victory. Now if you will be kind enough to place your hand over the verses I have named, (verses 12, 13, 14, 15,) you will read a connected and consistent account of the whole campaign; at the close of which, (which is the close of the chapter) “JoshUa returned, and all Israel with him, unto the camp to Gilgal.” The other passage we have riot time to explain, but can only say there was no lengthening of the day; there was a lengthening of the life of Heze kiah, and a miracle wrought to assure him that his life would be lengthened; but what that rnira- ele was, cannot now be determined, perhaps. In taking leave of the Doctor and his argument, we beg leave to remind him that the Sabbath does not rest on such a foundation as that: and that if he will wait a little, there will be a book before the public, in Which ‘those passages and -several others like them are disposed of in a most satis factory manner. At any rate, we will engage that he will never think to build an argument on their supposed validity. Z — a. For the American Presbyterian, PIKE, N. Y. “ Dear Presbyterian : — I wanted to just whisper a word in your columns about the “good things” which the Lord has done for the Presbyterian Church' in Pike, New" York. The church was organized as a Presbyterian Church, but soon lapsed into, an Independent Congre gational Chnrch, and while in this state grew constantly weaker, until its spiritual power and influence for good were nearly gone. But, about three years ago, it returned to the simple but beautiful and scriptural order of the chnrch, by the election of a board of Elders, and uniting with the Presbytery of. Genesee. Since then, every month has witnessed aii upward step in its progress. One precious revival brought over fifty to her altars, and a gentle revival influence, like the dew upon Herruon, has been experienced much of the time since. Our communion sea sons have been increasingly interesting for the past two years, but probably no one has been so fnll of a tender, precious interest as that of the last Sabbath. Onr meditations in the'morn ing service were upon those words of tender, loving inquiry in the Canticles: “ Tell me, 0 thou whom my soul loveth, where thou feedest, where thou makestthy flock' to rest at noon ? ” and it is not too much' to say that thmchhrch felt the attractive power of infinite love upon her heart, drawing her sweetly to her Beloved. Quite a number from other congregations of onr chnrch were present, increasing the interest of the occasion to ns, while their souls were re freshed at the banquet, their hearts encouraged, and their hands strengthened to carry on the Master’s work in their own congregations. An affecting incident, showing a reviving in terest in God’s covenant with his people, was that of a wife and mother, who brought alone her children to the altar for the solemnities of baptismal consecration. Six of our youqg people, who have been brought to Christ by tbe blessing of God upon the ordinary means of grace, (among which we give no inferior place to family and Sabbath School Instruction,) publicly took the vows of God upon them by a profession of faith. You would not be surprised, dear Presbyte rian, if a pastor’s heart were much encouraged by such evidences of the Divine favor towards his people. Talk of a pastor’s life being mo notonous, and dull, and dreary 1 We want some flitting shadows to assure ns that we are not al ready on the "shining shore.” If you could have looked in upon ns a few weeks ago, when/for one day and two nights, our dear people poured in upon us a continual ■ shower of good things,—if you could have seen those beautiful evidences of confidence and love, presented by our young people and Sabbath School children, —things that we can hardly : talk about now without.wiping our spoetacle glasses,-—I suspect you would almost have en vied ns. I only hope these things may not spoil us, but may be incentives to more earnest, self denying, and successful labors in the Master’s vineyard. The'First Presbyterian Church of Wiscoy,- our youngest sister, not yet a year old,—is making encouraging progress in bnilding a house of worship, and every thing seems to promise PHILADELPHIA. THfgPAT, FEBRUARY 23, 1860. for her a steady and permanent growth. „ The region of country south-west of us, occupied by the lately erected Presbytery of Genesee Val ley, begins to show signs of its tillage in the - aqtiyjties of a growing church life. Presbyte rianism is not indigenous to that soil, but the brethren who have the care of it there are de voted to their work,, and will give a- good report of themselves in the future history of the church. . ,T was providentially present at a recent meet ing of those brethren, to examine and install Rev. Mr. Stewart as pastor of the church in Franklinville, —a church that has been a long without a pastor, but is now encouraged to hope for enlargement, and all those glorious things spoken of Zion. The Presbytery also examined, with a view to ordination, a Mr. White, a graduate of Prince ton, who is preaching at Cuba. His examina tion was sustained, but the* ordination service deferreA to_ some .other time. I hope the church in Cuba may be able to settle him as pastor. Probably the brethren of that Presbytery did not think there was a 1 ‘ Chiel among them taking notes,” and much less that he would “print them; ” and although they are doubtless able to speak of their doings for themselves, yet I’ll tell them that my watch-tower is almost within hail ing distance, arid as I look out on their field, I have a “moralinability” to refrain. D. R. Pike, Feb. 9th, 1860. JOHN CALVIN. The Boston Recorder is giving a series of articles, on John Calvin. We take the follow ing extract from;the last-number: - Though Calvin gave out the doctrines of the gospel in a more clear and consistent system than did the other leading reformers, he differed from them in no point of substantial importance There were some slight differences between Lu ther and Calvin, chiefly connected with the sub ject of the sacramental controversy. Both agreed in the main doctrines of the gospel—-the Trinity, original sin, election, and justification by faith alone. Both ascribed‘regeneration to the Holy Spirit alone." But Luther brought ; out these doctrines less clearly and forcibly, and left a less profound impression of them upon his branch of the church, so that succeeding gene rations of Lutherans fell back npon a theory more like the Arminian. Both Galvin and Lu ther made the imputation of the merits of Christ the ground-work of the Reformation. And yet it is a significant fact, that just this imputation is the thing which the new theology of the pre sent day spends its main labor to remove. Cal vin does not, in form, state the imputation of Adam’s sin to his posterity, but be involves it, by finding, the sin of Adam in the child, making it, in the eyes of God, as deserving of punish ment as if it had actually sinned. The sublime spirit of Calvin delighted in fix ing its steady gaze on the eternal justice of God, and piunged without fear into the abyss of His righteonsness, knowing that hjs Redeemer lives. Through that daring severity through which he seems to have taken every thing away from man, he incurred the of those who are una :blWr!'fo'ri working;?’ oF’TffsThiriffi-f So he was naturally Indignant when men spoke contemptuously of his doctrine; for he knew he had both facts and Scripture with him. Aud He knew that the experience of .every believer taught that we can become free from sin only through the grace of God, and that conscience accuses us of sin without attempting to explain its origin, and while it knows that we are not, in our own resources, able to escape from it. So Ke could not understand the objection raised against his doctrine, that it destroyed the freedom of the will,’or that there could be a freedom of will In man not conceded by this doc trine. So far as the will is free, this doctrine vindicates its freedom,’ . His system: carries with it a lively remembrance of the - original freedom to good, which was lost in the fall, and maintains a freedom to evil existing after the fall—-even using the term freedom in the sense, in which it was then used, as involving moral ability as natural. But the power, the moral ability to do good, which is in us as bound and captive, is set loose only by God’s grace. So Calvin, maintaining a natural, but not amoral ability or’ freedom- to-do good, in applying his : doctrine to practice, insists; more strongly than tligse of any other school on the necessity.of strict obedience. And hence it is, that Calvin ism, even in the departments of Christian duty, has higher enforcements, and is generally esteemed a more strict and energetic system than any other. And those who denounce some of its doctrines as giving license to sin, are obliged to confess that wliat they hold in theory does not obtain in practice, but that Calvinism, in fact, binds its believers in stronger bands to hold them to a godly life than their own, ; Cal vin’s system, indeed; holds that grace must first operate on those who are asleep and dead in sin, and awaken the first apprehension of the beauty of holiness, and the first desire to call upon God, or a longing after Him. But as soon as this happens, as it often does uncon sciously, tjie man’s active powers awake, and the redeeming process goes forward. The man, supported by answers to his own prayers, or those of others, loosens his will from" bondage more and more, till, in the completeness of his ■ sanctification, he becomes as free’to good as God is free. ; Perhaps Calvin erred, and perhaps his sys tem has a distorted appearance to some, because he erred in dwelling disproportionately upon those 1 doctrines—though all true—which set forth the sovereignty and grace of God, and not enough on those which involve the natural free dom and Responsibility of man—enough to pre serve; the, balance. If there be an.error here, it grew from the necessities of his work. He was tasked, to the utmost of his zeal and talents, to root np the wretched notions of the Pelagians. So he failed ,to put his doctrines, though tone, in the light which would meet the conscious ness of the sinner touching his freedom. The difficulty here is—the sinner feels himself to be free: Yet, so to speak, he cannot grasp his freedom/ and carry it to a result in holy obedi ence; He is conscious of being free, and then incorrectly assumes that he must have the power of taking the good or evil part, and arbitrarily determining his own course. But such a free dom is inconsistent with the structure of mind, or the nature of a moral being; and the evil in clinations attaching to fallen man forbid it. Here even the. sinner’s conscience deceives him, because he- is. not conscious of what is in fact the desperate force of his inborn corrupt incli nations. And the difficulty Calvin did not suf ficiently meet; and -it was left for Edwards to supply this deficiency of Ms system. Yet who has produced a work in such a line with fewer deficiencies ? Who has, on the whole, taught the truth as it is in Jesus with greater power and Buceess ? And it becomes us here to give thanks to Him who made these great lights, for His mercy endureth forever. Patience is a sublime virtue. The truest heroism in human; life is that private heroism which shears with calmness inevitable ills, regard less of .the consolations of a fruitless sympathy, arid Without the- soothing -consciousness of public attention. -’me , : - : : i-va rafFAkILT. PARENTAL and disoipline a retj : - . GIOU| »VtY. - ' ~ We have dmretofore-ftMn the ground that au thority to govern the faoSpf is vested in the parent for religions ends. It iis'a distinct and peculiar power, differing entirel|tm>m mere instinct or natural affection;;and thequvestitut'e is constantly guarded and solemnized bjf.the most awful moral sanctions. The point yte mainly wish to treat here is, the moral pbliga&n binding on the pa rent to exercise'this potbeqkit the family for feli- The exerbisS of- parental authority and government is bfteiipviewed as an optional prerogative, always l.auddl when judiciously put forth, but the want of it viewed rather a? a weak ness than a sin, rather as jii excusable fault than a culpable* offence; WBlpwe wish to urge here is,' that parental authority! put forth with all the wisdom .and: discreetness :»ie parent possesses, is just as much religious t,fluty, just; as much a matter of .moral obligation, as feeding, clothing and . the j jupt as touch as praymg; helifevihg,':iBßf|Suing the cross. = ! Crod has uofclbffe these at the" option of the parent to usifor st§n#g;lect, He has inter posed express grapiojis. covenant promise to their ,cxerasey and guarded against neglect by some most awful tbreat enings contained in his Word. The soul of the child will largely be reqtiited at ,the hand of the parent, and the parent is |hen- clear only when he has used faithfully for thes salvation of the child, all the means the Creatorltias placed in his hands for this end. • *• •] •’ ' ; * We do not just now aiijpto speak of all the pa rent can and ought to dp, but; only of this pop point, pfe right use of gmiernmenlal authority. First of all, turn to fhe word, of God, and see the language and tone of dMjfe precept. Gen. xviii., 19, “Por'l know Abraham, that he- will COM SI AND HIS .CHILDREH ABD fexs household after him, and thisy shall keep the way of the iord.” Dent, xxxii., 46, “ Set yot^,hearts unto all the' words which I testify unto you thisday, which, yi shall cobi mahd your children to » no, all the J words of this law.” .. : Prov. xix., IS, “.Chasten thiy son while,theie is hope, and let not thy soul spare for Ids crying;” ■' Prov, xxili.j IS, 14, “ tyUMiold not correction from the child, for if thou' beatest, him with the rod, he shall not die. Thou,shait : beat hiifi with the rod, and shalt deliyei; hisooyl,” , Prov. xxix.,l7, “ Currectlhy son, and he shall give thee rest; yea, he shall givepjeiigfit unto thy soul-” Prov. xxii., 6, “ the wav he should go, and wbeh* he old depiTvt Troth’ft. Verse'l6, Foolishnete' up in the heart of a child, but the rod of correction shall drive it far from him.” ' . ... . • Prov. xiii., 24, “He that spareththe rod, hateth his son} but he that loveth him,chasteneth him betimes.” Pi'OV. xxix., 15, “ The rod anil reproof give wisdom; but a child left to himself brineeth his mother to shame.” Isa. xxxviii.j 19, “ The father to the children shall make known thy : truth.” : Eph. yi., 4,'« Ye la.thers,'provoke hot your children to wrath; but bring them uptih the.nurtufe and admo nition of the Lord.”.: , . * DehL vi., 6,7, “ These words whieh l command thee this day, shall;be;in thyiheart; and .thou shall teach them diligently unto thy children.” These passages, with numerous others, touch ing the same point, harry upon the face of them a tone of authority,, and positive command. The obligation of exercising parental authority, in order to carry out the commands to instruct, and disci pline children, is too : obvious from the nature of the case to require an argument. Relax this au thority} and there" is ‘no-'security that-t;:e com manded will bO-fttlfilled; on the contrary, there is a certainty they,will not be performed. The child, left to.himsei|’,AiH never perform them. The parent is not only as administer is ceptor ftr-Ty. - v , ?ito-Oxereise the authority f in °^ er tO;eontor& V j housd 3 ™ e P r “® r -* l . n d observance .of religion, of,the parent, hot the caprice of the cmld, ( 3s to govern. Religion, in deed, is not harshly to be forced upon the mind.— The child is to be chmmenced.with, in earliest in fancy, . and;directed by <gentie means, according to its capacity and years., Authority, may be used without severity, or harshness, or. awakening fear and timidity, or producing disgust and repulsion. But with tenderness there must be firmness, sin cerity, seriousness and perseverance. Religion is cheerful, not gloomy, inspiring the feelings of re verence, gratitude, .benevolence,-praise, faith, hope and love, not those of dread, fear, sullenness and aversion, and the wisdom of the paretit, no less than his piety, shhnld manifest itself in the mode of.applying-instruction,and discipline. The chief difficulties -arise from irresolufeness, impatience and instability in ,the pajent, and from, com mencing too lata in liffi} Wheri the child lias no f t fixed habits of self-will and vicious indulgence,-but ofiirreligijffi also. ■ The first duty of lße;teKild is submission, and to this, end the first and constant, aim of the pa rent should be directed.. Submission is a broad word.—lt is .riot only the. yielding a point to pa rental authority}'which-might be secured from fear alone, but the yielding in. the spirit of reve rence, inward affection,- a'nd-confidence in the pa rent's-goodness lt. is not always that the child has a perception of the fitness of a command, or has a heart inclined to it, yet by proper teaching' arid' difepline- it will- learn to submit’ from* motive »fs personal confidence in the parent, and from, on the .moral duty of obedience., If-these, at any. time fad, authority should always be interposed to enforce the rule, mildly but firmly. The authority Of all law is : represented iu the penalty.' Law, aside from the sanctions tof rewards.: and punish ments,,is mere ethics, and promised . reward .and penalty, unfuifilledsoon sinkthe lawintocontempt. The power to enforce obedience upon the unwill ing, marks'the distinction between siinplygood adviee, and government^,anditis this - single cir cumstance, . viz.,: : theupjtiioation of authority to .enforce good counsel an4jinake.it.effectual,, where-. in ail the art and wisdom'and the" nature itself of government consist. where Grid holds 1 the parent .resporisjblo'-} first for the diligent instruct ion of the child, secondly, for the enforce ment of.conformity ;tO;,sueh religious-duty; and habit as belong, to the,-order of • a religious- house hold," and the Christian’ training of .the- child. The child should be taughi religious irnth, t 6 pray, to attend upon religious worship,- to cultivate habits of piety, to formtnbM distinctions, to de tect and resist temptation,; to; fulfil its duties to superiors, to the. family, .ayid to.alj, under, the sanc tion of religious obligation, the intelligence of the parent is to perform to the child the offices of a personal-intelligence, which the child has not. In every thing else the parent acts for., the .child, as occasion requires, till' the latter has , reached mature personal.discretion and.accountability; in religion also, and pre-eminently 'here, does this law of parental obligation obtain. -We often get a glimpse of the sacredness of duty and the importance of obedience, by reverting to the consequences of neglect. The estimates which God places upon obedience, are thrown out in startling intimations in .the judgments he dispenses upon 1 disobedience. "Penalty is always the Oppo site to the due rewatiShof righteousness. The excellence and obligation, of; the precept; are put in contrast with the The example of Eli is full qf jldmonition. *tJe was at once the high priest arid the chief magistrate of the nation. The vilene§S of his two sons is re corded in 1 Samuel; 2d*fehapter. For sins which merited: death by tho law of- Moses, he gently re proved them, and he said to them, Why. do ye such things? for I hear of your, evil dealings by all this pfeople. Nay, my Sons} for it is 1 no good report that I hear} for-ye make the lord’s people to transgress.” The advice of Eli was good, and his admonition pertinent, but ; it, gentle, and withal was not backed up ,with Authority. The pwful judgments of God upon House are revealed in ; the second, third, and fbutlEchaptera. God says to Samuel, “I have told; Eli- that I will judge his house forever, for the iniquity which he knptyeth} because Ms sons, made themselves vile, and hje jlestbained them not. And therefore I have sworn unto the house of Eli, that the ini quity of Eli’s house shall not be purged with sacrifice nor offering for ever.”—l Sam. iii., 13, Id. King. David,-with all his goodness, lacked in parental apthority, and it. brought upon him, through Abs.alom' .arid Amrion and Adonijah, a train of disaster and' disgrace. Of Adonijah who usurped the throrie after Absalom, it is said, “ His father had not displeased him at any time by saying, Why hast thou done so?” These negleets were always visited with characteristic judgments, and became the occasions of deep peni tential sorrow; ■ - This authority of the head of the family extends to all members of the household, i’be religious duty enjoined upon Abraham and his./children, was equally required of all the servants and strangers of his household.—Gen. xviii; 2> 13. The commandments binding upon “the son and the daughter,” were to be equally enforced upon “the man servant, and the maid servant, arid upon the stranger” residing airiong them.—Ex. xx., 10. The example of David in fashioning his household arid court, faulty as he was, in some of his own children, is worthy of all imitation.. “ I will walk within .my house with a perfect heart,” says he. “He that worketh deceit shall not dwell within my house; he that telleth lies shall not tarry in my sight.” See the whole of Ps. ci. The family is an empire, a unit in its interests, and the authority of the parent is held responsi ble to .God for its protection against corruption from the disorder and irrcligion of foreign elements temporarily Brought within its precincts. In this there is nothing peculiar to the duties of a parent as a ruling officer; all Church and; civil Govern ment rest on the same principle—wherever governing power is vested for the good of others, rOmissness arid neglect are nothing else than ai perverted use of it. Northern Christian Advocate. v THE HOME OF LUTHER. A correspondent of the Rochester Democrat and American, writing froth Dresden, furnishes an interesting account of the home of Martin Luther, as he found it in a-recent visit to Wit tenberg. He tells ns that the old oak tree, where the great Reformer, three hundred and forty years: ago,: burned thePapalbuH, withrits golden seal, is still standing by the roadside, with a fence around it. His description of the old University buildings is evidently that of an enthusiastic observer. These buildings, it will be remembered, were formed out of the sti ll more aticieDt Augustine Convent, where Luther lived after bis marriage. His .room remains unal tered, except by the hand of time. By the win dow are still preserved the two .plain board seats on which Martin and his Trad supped, with the broad window-sill for a table. Here, too, is still seen the three-story black stove of.modelled clay, with numberless panels and curious alle gorical devices, designed by old Martin him self. In another room is the professorial desk, from which Doctor Luther used to expound Aristotle, which is also covered with enigmati cal devices, for which Luther seems, to have had a natural taste. Most of his symbols, however, were of easy interpretation, and pointed some religious truth. One of his rings, for instance, bore a cross stamped upon a heart. On his monument; in the Wittenberg market place, are these words, from -Luther’s paraphrase of orie of David’s Dsalriisr festo, Burg Ist unser Gott,” or, as the Scotch version has it,—- “The Lord our God is a strong tower.” On the other side stand these immortal words of his:' - - “Ist’s Gottes trerk, so wird’s bestelien; . Ist’s Mencben werk, wird’s untergehen.” In English; “If it, be the,work of God, it will endure; if of man, it will perish.” The wisdom of these lines was evidently sug gested to the mind of Luther by Gamaliel’s re mark iri the council respecting the accused apos tles, that “ if. their teaching was of men it would come to naught;' but if of God, it could not be overthrown.”, What a volume of wisdom these words contain ! If they were, more generally acted upon by the theological Gamaliels of our own day, who deem themselves appointed of God to fiunt down imaginary heresies, rather than to preach the simple gospel of onr blessed Lord, how much time and temper , might be saved 1 Few men have probably ever lived who invested with more ‘dignity the doctrine of “every man minding his own business” than Martin Luther. ' Returning to his room in the University build ings, we may add that the writer above referred to infers -that Martin drank a great deal of beer, a conelnsion which lie arrives.at from- the size of his beer-mug, which is still preserved. A very curious history of another of his beer-mugs is also told. Peter the Great,.when he visited Wittenberg, took a. fancy to the mug in ques tion, and even condescended to ask it as a gift. On finding that fils wish would not be gratified, he indignantly grasped the beer-mug and dashed it to pieces on the floor, exclaiming that if Peter the Great could not have it no one else should. The pieces, however, are religiously.’preserved, and Peter only made them the more val liable. The old semi-barbarian Qzar of all the Russias left his autograph on the door of Luther’s study, at the time, in white chalk, which is-preserved to this day, under a glass protection. The Castle Church, in the town, is still standing,.to the doors of which Luther nailed the ninety-five theses,,and defended them from the .pulpit; and under the stony pavement of this edifice 1 his re mains are deposited} by the side of those of his brother,* Melancthon. Over their tombs are two simple brass no Inscription; upon them but their names and the dates of their death. ’ , AVARICE. ;It is not so easy to account for the fact that the vice of avarice Commonly increases with age where it has. been one of the characteristics of the man in hid better, days/ or that it often .springs jip in the bosom .of an old man as a new trait of charac ter/ in cases Where it had in no way distinguished his' earlier years. Perhaps the true solution is to be found in the fact that, though it may, have ex isted in middle/life, either ,in. the germ; or in the development; yet .it was then kept in comparative subjection because the man was in a condition to satisfy its cravings, or was able, from day to day by his labor, to meet his own wants and the wants of those dependent, on him. In old age : the power of accumulating by tori has passed, away. The old man can add nothing to what he has already gained, and the exhaustion in the supply of his own wants, and of those who may bo de pendent on him, is felt by him to be constantly lessening what ,had: been accumulated,in his better years. By; a : natural:.illusion -of-the,mind, the man, forgetting: that he is old, .and that he will pass,away long before all ,is gone? looks ifi rward to the time every grain shall,be earned away from thelheap,. apd when he .will-bo, penniless. If he "cannot ; board, bemoan, at. least endeavor to retain; or, if-he.cannot .addlhjfebor' i 0 what he has, the desire to do it may manifest itself in the meanest forms of avarice and parsimony, and this becomes often the main and, the-melancholy cha racteristics of an old man. To learn the art of growing old is, then, to discipline the mind on . this point;/ to form ; early hiabits of. liberality, and to ..carry . them: forward resolutely., in , advancing years. A‘ What avarice:, in ,an old man,” says Cicero, .“ can propose to iteelf, I' canhot* conceive,;, for can anything be more absurd than, in propor tion as: less of our journey ireinaihsf to; seek a greater supply of provisions?” AN AMERICAN’S ACCOUNT OE THE An American officer on the “ Powhaltan” writes to the Boston Courier , from Jeddo, Japan, October, Bth, 1859, as follows— “ But what shall I say of this greatest and niost singular of ail cities ? A volume is needed to describe it, without attempting to give its history. I have read of old Ninerai and Babylon below the ground, and seen and handled the works of art which have been disinterred atd created so much .admiration on both sides of the Atlantic; but one living Jeddo, above the ground, is worth a hundred old fogy cities below it. I cannot give you,an idea of it, It is so unique, so unlike every thing except itself, and so impossi ble,. as you will think- I have seen several places of interest' and maintained a cool head, but I was bewildered and confounded when I saw this. It is situated on; the western shore of this charming gulf, twenty miles wide by twenty-four long, to which the Lake of Tiberias is nothing, except in the memory of the sacred feet which once trod its shores. It stretches for twenty miles, and more, along a beach of a semi-circular form, with ite horns turned outwards, and along which a street extends, crowded with bioeksof stores aod.houses, and teeming with'moving crowds; while shop keepers, artisans, women -and children, seem equally numerous within doors, and at the doors. Indeed, a dozen or fifteen miles might be added to the length of the city in this direction, sinee there is nothing but an unbroken succession .of towns and Villages for this distance, which are as populous and well built as the city itself.' In crossing the. city from the shore to the western outskirts, I have walked two miles and a-half, and then proceeded on horse-back for ten miles more, making twelve and a-half in the whole, while in other places it may be wider still. Ac cording to the lowest estimate, the city covers an area equal to seven of the New England farming towns, which were usually six miles square. And all is traversed by streets, usually wide, well con structed, perfectly neat, arid crossing each other at right angles— streets lined with houses and stores as-compactly as they can be built, and crowded with moving or stationary masses, as thick as in our Washington street, or New York Broadway, at least for considerable distances. The population is .estimated generally at three miUionsj which-Mr. Harris,.our minister; thinks is no exaggeration. - Eor my part, judging from’ what I have seen when I have crossed the city from side to side, I .should be willing to add as many millions more ; for the living, moving masses, seen from sunrise to sunset, and everywhere the same, fairly seemed "beyond computation. One city, as large as seven fine towns in Berkshire county, .and containing a population three times as largo.as that of the whole State of Massachu setts ! That is enough to think of for a moment. Several streams run through the city. I counted five, .though.one or two might be canals. The largest is about twenty .rods wide, over which a well-constructed bridge is thrown, from which distances are, measured to all.parts of the. empire. It is the mile-stone of Japan. Boats arid junks, by means of these rivers and canals, permeate all parts of the city. There is nothing magnificent in architecture; most of the houses :being of one story only, though some are of two, and. are ,plain, though always peat, both within and without. Some of the palaces of the Daimais, or heredi tary princes, however, are an exception; one which I happened to see being of exquisite beauty io Jib? iStrueture.jniJhe, sp?ciouSi.c(*irtjbefore. it> and in the gateways, and trimmed and trained bushes which made, the hedge,., and the dwarf trees planted in front to adorn it.‘ The Imperial quarters occupy the centre of the city,, and. are. situated on an elevation from'which you have a distinct view of a great part of the city. These quarters.are called, the citadel, and are surrounded by a deep and wide moat, and a massive wall, whose eireumferenoe is bight or ten wiles. No one is admitted unless a dignitary, or high, minister, or foreign ambassador. One gate was open, through which I could; look within; but saw , nothing but houses. Tail cedars spread abroad their branches, giving all the signs of life which were to be seen in this imperial solitude and prison. But the whole: was massive and im posing, .evincing a high degree of art and civiliza tion. No walls-surround the city, no towers and fortresses rise up withirf;: nor did I see so much as a gun or a solitary soldier, ■ The striking peculiarity of the city is its nume rous tall trees withiuxnriant: branches, and groves, sometimes of acres, which gives to the .entire city at many points, the air of a forest. There are, also, in so large a territory, swells, and even con- 1 siderable hills, perched on the summit of which, and half buried iri the solemn trees in which it is embowered, a. fine Buddhist temple’ is sure to peer out, the fairest spots in,creation being:selected for the worship.of the.devil. , • .RELIGION A BUSINESS. ■ How,few deal practically with the divine pre cept, “It is good to be zealously affected in a good thing. ’’ And yet, the, earnest man we all admire! Indeed, a “live ” Christian is always an object of high esteem. We go to such a one for counsel. There is a general looking np to him,, and he. becomes by universal consent “knjgb ted”, with a title of no small honor. His zealous activity, and pious energy, win for him the epithet, “a pillar of the Church.” No im perial gift can equal this—no “Cross of the Legion of Honor” so honorable as this distinc tion of one that is zealous for the cross of Christ. . The other day, we spoke in commendation of an active Christian brother, to one who was Content to take things himself in an easy, dog trot way. “Ob ! yes,” was 'the answer, “he makesa business .of it.” • : That was just it. Here,was the secret of his Christian influence. Religion was with him a “business.” He was not unmindful of certain “promises to pay,” such as, “Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life.” He viewed, religion as a “paying thing;” hence he had ah. eye to the time when he should “retire” from activity in the Church militant. Nor were his calculations based on any Pelagian “tables of interest.” He “went into it” be cause he,lik;hd it; or in better words, he had a love for ,his calling. .Thus he “invested in stock” such as cannot depreciate, for he laid up “treasure in heaven.”' ■ > j But he made a business of it. Now it is to be remarked of such, that though often the humblest of men, there is a spice of shrewdness in their dealings. None, are, more watchful for opportunities, hence often Creating surprise, be cause often “catching men with guile.” “Why, ft beats all, you can’t dodge him !” says the poor sinner, whose heart has been softened by his personal appeals. . We . happen to. know a good old'elder who has this trait’ of making a business of his reli gion? He bethought oneday of anagedstnner; “I’ll go straight off and see him. It’s high time he comes to Christ, for death will soon ,come. to him.” , So, with business.promptness, off he went, and rnet the old .man on the road. "Ah I neighbour. C——, I was going to’ybiit house tb'kee yoti, in order to converse with yon about'your soul.” “ Why, Mr. V——, this is Strang?'you knOw I am; not superstitions. But I started,for the village, resolved to go by the,way, of, the ,aven,ue; and,’despite myself, I oame this way after all.' Now, had j goie the Way I intended; I should have been put of your reach.” Andso.the good elder bad: this hoary sinner on-the hip,:and,in a! bnßinessway,set about recruiting him for the kingdom. CITY OE JEDDO. VOL. IY—NO. 26.—Whole No. 191. And this making a business of religion— how, it exhibits the noblest heart-traits of the Christian man. I apprehend that religion was something of a business with Jeremiah. It seems to have energized his very soul with bene ficence. His solicitude was such as coaid not be abated by any caution against “making too much ado,” from any of yonr formal model-de portment Christians. So long as the dense ranks of humanity are crowded with infatuated candidates for perdition, to be. busy for the spi ritual welfare of men, is the highest species of benevolent activity. “He made a business of religion.’? How Christ-like! It is the true imitation of Jesus. " Wist ye not I mast be about my Eather’s business?” Eellow-Christians, be up and doing. Don’t be a sleepy disciple. The kingdom of heaven suffereth violence.- True to your calling, be a worker in the great soul-harvest-field,- The Church needs live /men, and line women, earnest hearted ones, who make a business of religion. The Bible, from Genesis to Revelation, recog nises a present God in all the operations of nature, accomplishing His all-wise purposes through the medium of natural causes, and human and spiritual agencies. “My Bather worketh hitherto/’ said the Saviour, “and I work,” Any philosophy which sets aside the providential’ government of God, ex tenfiing to the minutest details as well as compre hending the most general laws, is neither wise nor Christian. Prof. Agassiz, in a recent lecture, ut tered some thoughts worthy of universal notice: . There is behind them, arid anterior to their ex istence, a thought. There is a design according to which they were built, which must have been conceived before they were called into existence; otherwise these things could not be related in this general manner. Whenever we study the general relations of animals, we study more than the affi nities of beasts. We study the manner in which it has pleased the Creator to express His thoughts in living realities; and that is the value of that study for intellectual man; for while he traces these thoughts as revealed in nature, he most be conscious that he feels, and attempts, as far as it is possible for the limited mind of man to analyze tbe thoughts of the. Creator, to approach, if possi ble, into tbe counsels that preceded the calling into existence of this world with its inhabitants; and there lies really the moral value of the study of nature; for it makes us acquainted with the Creator in a manner in which: we cannot learn him otherwise. As the Author of nature, we must study him in the revelations of nature, in that which is living before our eyes. But there is an argument now brought forward, which is . very specious, and about which I will say a few words. Man knows how to modify ani mals. He knows how to raise the particular breed which he wants. He knows how to fatten sheep and how to breed sbeep. He knows how to produce animals that will have the best leather. If he desires it, he has the means of doing it. In what way ? Just by selecting from his stock those individuals which have the qualities most promi nent, and using them as a breeding stock, and perpetuating in them those peculiarities which are most marked among domesticated animals. And every gardener knows how to produce new fruits and vegetables. All these things can be done, by men. The next argument is that nature has the same mode of .procedure, arid will accomplish the same objects. Mark the - diiFeren ce. In the one ease men act with a purpose, and are Watehful of the end. In the other It is accident and chance. Now we: have seen that throughout nature there are combinations which give evidence of a plan; we have seen that there is an agency at work oh a thousand fold more powerful scale than any man in the farm or garden, hat yet it is an agency. It is mind, in both eases; and if man can improve his .cattle, it is because he has mind, and the more intelligent a farmer is, the more successful will he be. But if he leaves the weather and the seasons to make his plans, he will see ’ that nature in its wild elements will not improve his farm, any more than nature will produce any new race. And so I say that nature teaches us everywhere the direct intervention of one intelligent Being- Supreme and All-Powerful—who exercises a deli berate will, according to a fixed plan; and that we may see in the study of nature another revela tion of Him whom we .have learned otherwise to love and adore; and .that museums should be.no longer considered as libraries of works of nature, hut as libraries of works of God, in which we may read his thoughts, arid become more familiar with Him as the Father of all things; and as institu tions meant for that purpose, I say that museums should receive the patronage of all civilized na tions; and I hope to live on long enough to see the time when every school shall have ite little museum, as it now has Its little library. The ability to be alone is a great ability. Is it not peculiarly important for the gospel minister, upon the acquirements of whose heart and brain such vast interests depend? At the same time, every church member should be taught its impor tance for himself. The ability to be. alone (we can mean, of course, only alone in regard to the presence of human beings,) with pleasure, felicity, and effect, is an ability not as easily attained or retained as some may suppose. Doubtless, Satan is ever ready to infuse an irksomeness and gloom into the soul in retirement. To remain half-an hour resolutely and passively alone, shut up with God, is such a grand security for his intimate, en lightening, and invigorating manifestations, that Satan plies all his powers -to prevent it. Satan is not. so much opposed to set seasons of hurried prayer, which modify, rather than remove business or social perturbation. He is not so much opposed to merely an intellectual glance each morning at a short Psalm or half a chapter of the Bible, espe cially if it be followed by an hour’s heart-plunge into a newspaper. He is not so, much opposed; to an exciting discussion or controversy in the social group on the current topic in the public mind. Nor would be be inueh opposed to solitary reverie, which continue flights of fancy or throbs of emo tion, started, in the busy world under his guileful influence. Bat Christian solitude, especially if daily, systematic, obtaining the force of a habit, Satan will spare no pains to prevent. His envious malice is committed against it as against the sight of the soul’s intimate familiarity with the Source of bliss; and the reader and writer must be reso lute and watchful, or be kept short of it. Christian Advocate and Journal. Dyspeptic Christians—The N. Y. Examiner says: ‘‘The dyspeptic*Christian finds mailer for de jection, not only in his own evil propensities, (that, any one may do,) but in the low state of Zion, the terrible wickedness of the people among whom he dwells, the unfrequenev of revivals, and the small success of missionary efforts, and he goes mourning all.his days. Another man of healthy stQmaeh and buoyant temperament, finds always occasion frv re joicing and while he is as devotional as his saa\3ea brother, accomplishes far more, and presents to : the world tiie character of a happy Christian. W e have often listened to sermons, Which we are satisfied, would never have been-written, had their authors rode a hard-trotting horse an hour every morning, or taken two or three hours of vigorous enjoyable exer cise every day. ; Religion should make a man physi cal as well as moral laws. Half the gall, the bile, and the bitterness of theological controversy is due to a .disordered stomach. A mfiii can do without his own approbation in stkiicty; but he must make great exertions to gain it when alone jewithout it) solitude is, not to be en dured. GOD IN NATURE. A MINISTERIAL ABILITY.
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