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.