GENESEE EVANGELIST.*.-Whole No. 723.;
THE SHEPHERD’S CARE.
, DBA* Bno. Me An's:— i'. !
It Is partly due to your Salutatory that I have just
•written the following rhymes. I know not .that they
hstte any merit; yet, I know that tf they.he4„heen m
our Hymn Book, they would hare been sung more than
once, in public worship, during the few years.of .rty
ministry. It seems to me that the ministry is meageriy
set forth in our book. I preach on education for the
ministry, full onoe a year. I celebrate the anniversary
of my installation as often as it returns. Ordinations
and installations are not uncommon services whence;
the ministry is a topic which claims some variety. The
last of the four hymns in the Prayer Book ought to be
In our Psalmist. Should yon sea fit to publish, the lines
I have written, they may possibly prompt some one to
write a good hymn on some aspect of the general-sub*
ject’i and I think that any one of nine tenths of the vo
lumes in my library, is not worth one.really good hymn;
such, for Instance, as, My faith looks up : to thee,l
would rather he the author of this hymn) than the autbor
of any one volume that any one of the three great
Doctors Alexander has written. Your neighbors
“Stand up, Stand up for Jesus, 1 ’ is another meritorious
hymn—we stng it almost every: week in some of our
meetings. Fraternally, r .
The pastor’s Ufa is peaceful, , v ,
f HU charge, the shepherd’s teres
He feeds his, flock with wisdom,
He lifts the voice of prayer.
He leads Ip venlant pastures,
And by the silver rills,
That murmur sweetly flowing
From everlasting hills:
How beautiful on mountains,
The herald’s feet appear,
Proclaiming the glad tidings—
Salvation, peace are here.
So beautiful the pastor’s,
In sandals well bedight,
Beyond the bloom of roses,
Or sheen of lilies white.
The gospel’s preparation,
And readiness for peaces - -
In these he journeys heavenward,
His fool steps never cease,
Till aU hU charge afe folded:;
Within the Saviour’s breast,
Or he with all his fathers,
Is gathered to his rest.
Till on the mount of glory,
Amid the holy throng,
He praties God, his Saviour,
In one eternal song.
f§Otsi!«!Sp<W&e«tt.
THE EAST DAYS OF THE REV. ETHAN
OSBORN.
As “the memory of the just is Messed,”, it af
fords us pleasure to treasure up their utterances
and their acts. Especially is this true'of their last
sayings, and their last frames of mind/ before
making an exchange of worlds. If they have been
those who have long served the Church, and been,
her favorites, their last days are regarded as a part
of the heritage of the Church, and, if not preserved
in her records and history, are at least treasured
up in the hearts of her members. Their hearts
make au indelible record of them in ! their me-
mories.
prominence in the Church, that are so dear to .the
hearts of thousands, .as the Bey, Ethan, Osborn.
He was not widely known,bu6hewas mpst dearly
beloved at home, Almost the only records that
were made of him were made on the hearts to
whom he was endeared. Henee sad thousands col
lected to take the last look at his remains, and see
them deposited in that “house appointed for ail
living.”. Onr churches. have lost men, whose
reputation was woricl-wide, and. yet their fune
rals failed to be attended by such a vast concourse
of sorrowing ones, as came to pay, the .last
tribute to his memory. It was no cold, formal'
tribute, paid, because a great man had fallen in
Israel, but it was the heart’s tribute—the sad office 1
of affection.
The race of the Rev. Ethan Osborn was com
paratively a long one: lacking but three months
and twenty days of being one hundred years.
His pastoral relation with the First Presbyterian
Churcb of Fairfield, New Jersey, continued from
1789 to 1844; and bis ministerial earner oyer
seventy years. So happy had been his entire
pastoral relation, that, I believe, I may in truth,
say, he died without an enemy, and almost all
tenderly loved him. His friends were oonfined to
no single sect, for all esteemed him. The friends
of Jesus were bis friends. The universal feeling
was, that he was a good man; as Bueh gopd
men loved and respected him, and no tongue durst
utter aught but his praise. It would have been
perilous to a man’s reputation to have done other
wise.
As many have eulogized him, written and
spoken of his life, we will make a brief record of
the last months of his life, and of his death.
For some years past, owing to a fit of sickness,
his memory had so completely failed, that Ke had
scarcely any recollection of any thing eaTthly, ex
cept those things which had' transpired in his
youthful days; even the number of his own chil
dren were forgotten by him, but he never forgot
Jesus—he never forgot to pray, and pray very
frequently—he never forgot to feel for souls perish
ing in sin, and to plead with and for them. His
intellectual man was greatjy impaired: it was a
mere wreck of what it had been; but his spiritual
man did not suffer by the infirmities
old ago. I believe that it isran interasjtihg ; fact,
that while extreme old age and its infirmities often
prostrate the intellectual powers, they seldom im
pair the spirituality. It seems to be proof
against the ravages of time.
For nearly eighteen months prior to his death,
he was afflicted with restless and painful nights,
yet he never spoke a fretful or impatient word;
and when free from pain, he was so cheerful that
those who only saw him occasionally eould
scarcely realize that he was a sufferer. So great
was his affliction, that he often said, “Oh, f am
in a pitiful condition! Wearisome nights are ap
pointed unto me, I am afflicted like Job; but
Job’s friends stood aloof, while mine ore.always at
hand, and ready to do all they can to alleviate
Notwithstanding his age, infirmities and, shat
tered memory, he not only remembered the fast
days, appointed by the Church a few months be
fore his death, but he strietly observed them.
Having taken a slight breakfast, he would take no
more food until night, and then very little. Being
unable to attend church, he spent the fast days in
Btrictly devotional exercises, himself directing the
portions of Scripture to read, the hy mas to be sang,
and making some remarks. Some of the pbrtions
of Scripture which he selected, were tho fifty
eighth of Isaiah, and tho seventh and eighth
0
■ ii if o
chapters of Jeremiah, arid the first and third parts
of the flfty-fhsst Psalm were snog.
During the precious revival, with which God
Was‘pleased to bless the church of Fairfield the
winter before his death, his heart was so deeply
iu the work, that at all hours in the night, he
might be heard pfeadmg with God to carry on that
blessed work. His spirit was so much in the re
vival, —he was so much absorbed in it, that he
really thought that his bodily presence had been
in it. Hence he would at'times tell the family;
how he and the pastor of tho church had con:
versed with the,inquirers. Dear man of God, it
was not his fault, that he was not personally in
the work, pleading with sinners to be reconciled
to God, and pointing the inquirers to the Saviour.
His spirit wW willing, it was only his flesh that
was weak. P rhaps no one entered more heartily
into the work—perhaps no one prayed more fer
vently for it. Weak, infirm and afflicted as he
was; hi# ititflflse interest for perishing sotils drbyh
sleep from his eyes, and caused him to spend the
silent, lonely hours of the night wrestling with
God. The bnrden of souls caused him to spend
many a sleepless hour. May; we not have the
pleasure to believe,-that in those sleepless hours,
“as a prince he had power with God, and pre
vailed t” There may have been the secret of some
of the church’s power with man.
It is mysterious, why one, who could not re
member any thing worldly for five minutes, should
have remembered God’s glorious work iu Fairton
so well. It shows where his heart was—-what lay
nearest to it. The worth of souls, and their sal
vation, had an interest to him far transcending all
earthly things. The glory of God, and his Messed
Cause, could not be.forgotten by him. They were
too deeply engraven on his heart to bo effaced in
time or in eternity.
. We are informed, that, “for some months be
fore: his death, his' heart was wonderfully drawn
blit in prayer, for his neighbors, bis church, the
neighboring churches, and for ministers; and
many times through the night bis low; voice could
be hehrd, pleading for them with tears.”
A great burden of his prayers, untila fewweeks
previous to his death, was for the salvation of sin
ners; but then God seemed to say to him, it is
enough—your work is done—-let them alone—pre
pare to come home. His prayers henceforward,
were mostly for himself, that he might be freed
froin all sin, and fully prepared for his heavenly'
feat. : His last burden for others bad been borne
—his agonizing prayer for them had been put up
—his work for others was done. He seems to
hear the call, come home, come home. He appears
to see the peaceful harbor heaving in sight, and
he prepares to enter in. Also the Stormsfrom the
adversary, which usually assail the heavenly
mariner as he nears the port of peace, began to
descend upon him. The powers of darkness,
knowing that they have but a short time, give vent
to their malice. They do their worst, before he
is forever beyond their reach—worry him, whom
they cannot devour. Those malicious fiends are
the dark valley in' peace. (It seems' to be a valley
peculiarly haunted by fiends. Heneeit is so fear
ful to pass through it; and fearful indeed is it to
that soul, who has no Jesus with him in'the val
ley—no everlasting arms around him and under
neath him.) He who has fought those wily fiends
many a hard battle by the way, may expect ano
ther at the end of the way. “It is enough that
the servant be as his master;” the master had to
endure “the hour and the power of darkness,”
just at the end. Father O. had his dark hours,
when near the end of bis race; Like his Master,
the powers of evil assailed him. He must have
one more victory before he enters into his rest.
But He, who had been with him through the long
journey of life—lie, who hath said, “I will never
leave thee, nor forsake thee,” did not forsake him
in his last conflict with his malignant foes—Jesus
was with him in the valley; and hence, he soon
came off victorious—overcame them through the
blood of the Lamb, and could
Father 0. had conquered Satan, but he had not
conquered death. Before that relentless enemy
he fell; hut fell peacefully, joyfully, and in full
hope of that morning, when he will triumph even
over death. The agonies of dissolving nature were
very severe, hut it was only nature that felt
death had no terrors for him. His body was
racked with pain, but he had great peace in his
soul—the everlasting arms were underneath him.
We are informed by that friend,; who had so
long, so kindly and tenderly watched over; him,
“That on the last Sabbath of his life he was very
restless. On Monday he was better, and quite
cheerful; hut as usual a restless night was ap
pointed to him. .. On .Tuesday morning, after
taking some breakfast, he slept till toward noon.
When he came out of his room, he looked unliVo
himself; his face was full, without a wrinkle, his
eyes bright, and he walked erect, singing and re
peating, ‘O happy, happy, my happy home! Oh,
what a glorious King is. Jesus’! : What words can
express the blessedness of the saints'in glory!
The apostle John saw them stand on a sea of
glass, which was both pure and safe, perfectly
transparent, yet they would not sink; and they
sang a new song.' With a great deal more in the
same happy strain.” Another individual speak
ing of that same happy day, said, “He was sing
ing all day, just like a bird,”
“After dinner ,he sat with his head, and his
eyes fixed upward, singing for two or three hours,
loud aqd clear, without regard to time, hut oil the
words were praises. He sang the following verses,
along with others.
» O glorious boar t ’ O blest abode!
! T shall be- near; and like my God;
And flesh and sin no more, control
The sacred pleasures of the seal.
“Smile at,6»tan’s rage.”
Praise, everlasting praise be paid.
To Him who earth’s foundations laid;
Praise to the God whose strong decrees,
Sway the creation os he please.
I’ll praise my Maker with my breath,
And when my voice is lost in death,
Praise shall employ my nobler powers;
My days of praise shall ne’er be past.
While life, and thought, and being last,
Or immortality endures.
Joy to the world, the Lord is come,
Let earth receive herKiog;
Let every heart prepare him room,
And heaven and nature sing.
Join all the glorious names
Of wisdom, love, and power, .
That ever mortals knew,
That angels ever bore;
All are too meau to speak his worth,
Too mean fo set my Saviour forth.
I'itii auki miA, mr
: l ,
“ Occasionally he repeated passages of Scripture
in the same tone of voice; one of which.waß the
language of Stephen, ‘I see the heavens opened}
and .the Son of man standing on the right hand
of God.’ He took but little notice of any thing,
until he was invited to supper, when he promptly
replied, 'Yes, willingly and thankfully.’ He
drevrhis chair to-the table, and after having asked
a blessing, be sang, (a thing, which he had never
been known to do, when at the table.)
‘ My flesh shall slumber in the ground,
’Till the last trumpet’s joyful sound j
Then burst the chains with sweet surprise,
And in my Saviour’s image rise. l
; “During the evening he continued in the same
happy frame, and several times requested a favor
ite hymn to be sung: such as, •
‘ How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord,
Is laidfor your faith in his excellent.word!
What mote, can he saythanto you he path said 1
YoUj Who unto Jesus forrefiigehave fled.’ 19
Afterward, when racked on a bed of pain, this
same hymn was sung in his presence, and he at
once became calm and peaceful, as though en
during no pain, and continued so during all the
time of singing the hymn. It seemed to soothe
and ease the agonies of the body.
■ On that happy Tuesday evening, “Having re
tired to bed, he repeated, the words of Watts, in
bis Divine Songs,
‘Not more than otters I deserve,
Yet God hath given me more;
For I have food while others starve.
Or beg from door to door.*
“He then for some time spoke of the many bless
ings he had enjoyed through life, and closed with the
words: 'My early home was a very pleasant one,
and since I left my father’s house, the lines have
fallen to me in pleasant places,’ &c. . Through the
night he slept but little, and often spoke of his
children and relatives.
“The next day he slept easy during the most
of the forenoon, after which his restlessness re
turned with a difficulty of breathing. His phy
sician gave him medicine, which relieved, his
breathing, but nothing oould ease bis distress.
About twelve o’clock that night, he expressed his
belief, that jfcie should soon have a happy release
from pain ancf sin; and spoke Words of comfort to
his family. From that time, though he tried to
speak, we could only distinguish such words as,
‘Jesus—triumph—joyful—heaven opened —saints
in bliss—mysteries revealed—glorious manifesta
tions,’ and other expressions of like character,
showing that though he had intense bodily suffer
ings, ' his peace was as a river.’ At one time
being heard to say, ‘The valley—the shadow,’ he
was asked is the Shepherd with you in the valley ?
He replied at intervals, 'Yes—good Shepherd—
Jesus—Deliverer—faithful to the end.’
“Friday morning, he expressed the desire to
depart and be with Christ. He then made a
strong effort to address those around'bim, saying,
‘My Christian friends, for the last time’— but
nothing more could/be understood.”
~, Doubtless, God, .angels, jind spirits, of, jqsf meg
mase perfect.understood more. It was his last
address, short indeed, bq£the will was taken for
the deed, and he ; was taken home. Truly “ his*
ruling passion was strong, in death.” And what
was that passion ? It was the passion of a Chris
tian. His last audible words showed what lay
nearest his heart.
In view of his happy, triumphant death, who is
not ready to exclaim, “ Let me die his death, and
let my last end fie like his; let my last utterances
be like his.” Reader; would you not rather die
his death, than that of the greatest statesman onr
country has ever known ? \Ybuld you not rather
have your last words ’like his, than like any of
earthiggreat ones? Would you not? To die his
death, you must live his lifel
He was a Christian. It was his greatest, honor,
that he was a Christian. . As the Christian minis
try was the greatest honor that could be conferred
oh him on earth, he delighted in it, and in its
duties'. It was his delight to preach Christ, and
him crucified —to warn men to “ flee from the wrath
to come/’, and to lead them to submit to Christ.
Hence that Jesus, whom he delighted to honor in
his life, did not forsake him in death, but sustained
him, Comforted him and honored him in death,
and will honor him in eternity. Reader, would
you have the same honors in death, and in eter
nity? If so, follow him as he followed Christ.
, Fpr the American Presbyterian.
, REGENERATION.
, The inspired definition of this great change
of moral character and disposition, which our
Redeemer has assured us is essential to enter
ing the kingdom of God, (John iii. g—s,) is,
that we are “Born (or begotten) not of blood,
nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of
man, but of God.” (John i. IS; James i. 18.)
As “ the carnal mind (or will of the natural
man) is enmity against God,—is not subject to
his law, neither indeed can be,” (Bom. viih- 7,)
ir must be considered as opposed to that change
which consists in reconciliation to God’s law.
How, then, can we consider “ this birth (to be)
voluntary” oh the part of the natural or carnal
man? Moreover, if it is.so, is he not bom or
begotten, in part at least, “of the will of man,”
which is contrary to John i. 13? If this change
is voluntary on the part of the natural man, As
the change is of a holy nature, the will of the
natural man must be holy, which is to suppose
that a corrupt tree can yield good fruit. To
will or desire a. holy change, is itself holy will
ing or desiring. It appears to be both most
rational and scriptural to consider the carnal
will as opposed to the change, until actually
changed by the Holy Spirit of God. If other
wise, what necessity is there for a change ?
Every Christian, indeed, is “willing to be
such,” but no man is willing to be a true Chris
tian until the day of Christ’s regenerating
power. (Ps. cx. 3.) The unrenewed may have
a selfish desire for what they suppose to be ne
cessary to their salvation, but a willingness to
be a real Christian is a willingness to be holy,
and can never be the exercise of an unholy heart.
As no animal exercise or function can precede
the principle of animal life, so no spiritual ex
ercise or function can precede the principle of
spirituaf life, imparted in regeneration by the
Holy Spirit of God. The carnal mind, so far
from co-operating with the Holy Spirit in the
simple act of regeneration, acts in opposition,
if at all, until it is actually regenerated,. As
the moral character of the human mind must be
either carnal or spiritual, the change
effected by the Spirit to b*4»stantaneous.
In this case, the infinite and sovereign grace
of God precedes, “We love him because.he
first loved us,” and choseus in Christ Jesus,
“before the foundation of world.” (Eph. i.
3.) In harmony with this precious truth, we
are informed that some of the hearers of the
gospel at Antioch than others,
not because of their owiijsuperior virtue or will
ingness, but because “.they were ordained to
eternal life.” (Acts xiii. 48: See Acts xvi. 14.)
Lydia's willingness to receive the truth of the
gospel in the love of it, was the effect of the
Lord’s opening her heart fo do so. It is true,
indeed, that we have nd . evidence that the
Lord has chosen us, until w£ by renewing grace,
have actually chosen him. ■ such is our de
prayijty,; and the enmity"€l% carnal mind
against God,if the :t ®bTC¥ot)Sd never choose
us, to save by regenerafsfg power, until we
choose him, we should newer choose him. Our
carnal minds, are so at enmity with God, we
should always prefer, sin ; to holiness, and the
world to God, to our just and eternal condemna
tion. “if, any man is in /Christ he is a. new
creature; .old.things , are passed away ; behold
all things'are become new; and ail (the)
things abe.of God.” (2 Cor. v. IT, .18.)
An English writer, from whom you published
an interesting extract in one of your late issues)-
Mr. Editor, complains of deficiency, in the conver
sational faculty among the <(pomen of our time.
This deficiency's an obvious fact to many minds,
and his attributing it to-the||lose studies at hmne
after school hours, to which young women are
often subjected, is, to a degree, doubtless
j ust. Butithereare ? id^^^4B^p|^>eraiting,against
the acquirement} on thei^ of coUversatiOhal
ability; and one of very considerable potency,-we
take to he the unfortunate disposition and practice
with young women to devotS most of their spare
time to works of fiction. - .p >
It will surprise him who for a moment reflects
how large an amount of thisftsubstance or shadow,
rather, may be taken : into kjie mind without any
perceptible increase in its growth. The literature
of fietion yields, unquestionably) a large amount
of excitement of a certain ki&d. Like some other
stimulants, however, it leaves-its victims in a state
of mental vacuity. If it happens at times to par
take less of the sensation -|ype, we shall find it
still wanting in all those quhlities best calculated
either to enlarge, to invigorate, or to enrich the
mind, fiction is essentially, unsuggestive, and
instead of stimulating the-thinking or the reason
ing faculties, actually disposes to -somnolency and
languor. . • - \ • - . -
In the “ Book Table ” of One of our public jour
nals, we find the following imparks on a new work
of the class!to"whieh we ®ieT[Sci3enW
of the story are fitted to each other with much
skill of - literary joinery; and inasmuch as the au
thor is a merciful man, and has • readers also who
ought to be merciful, and can make his characters
turn out as he pleases, we have always the com
fortable assurance from the start, on taking up
one of his’books; that ■ all the persons-to whom we
are introduced will come Out right, and that what
ever the complications and catastrophes may be
or may threaten, the curtain will- descend at the ;
last page on at’least a dozen most blissful weddings
with spinster aunts and ■ bachSlor uncles; all rich
and good-natured, and overflowing equally with
love, friendship, and felicity ; so it is in the book
before us, and if the people who are therein de
scribed did not live together comfortably after he
left them, it was not because our excellent author
had not done them the very amplest justice, in
making them all both good and lueky before th§y
passed from his hands!’’ ,
This certainly hits the-promi
neut features ofa vast pumb irof thebo'okswhich
so engross the leisure,-dufori inately, of the young
women of the present day. "at is plain that books
of this character are betjp.calculated to satisfy,
than to stimulate the mind:
The reader finds in their perusal everything
finished to his hand. All is performed by the au
thor, and that so thoroughly, that the reader has
only to keep his eyes cipen; it will be just as well if
his mind goes fast asleep.
There may be, and doubtless are exceptions, but
as far as we have observed, we have generally
found those minds the most insipid and hollow
which have i mbibed the most of this food;
James Boggs.
Fiction even if it does r.ot contaminate, in otter
words, if it be what is called; moral fiction, brings
little indeed, we think, either to warm the heart
or elevate the sentiments.
That class of fiction termed the best by some—
we mean that which is based on the actual persons,
or events of historic record—yields but meagre re
turns for'his 'perusal, who seeks to enrich his
memory with topics the purposes
of conversation. For real know
ledge, he will find that the license usually taken
with facts, and the' false lights which it throws'
over characters and scenes, but lead to bewilder
and dazzle the blind; , and this to such a degree
as to make it scarcely doubtful if it be not a serious
misfortune, that the actual facts, e vents, and per
sonages of history should ever have been pressed
into the service of fiction.
It has been wittily and truly said, that no
watches so thoroughly deceive us as those which
are sometimes right. Gould anything be more ap
plicable than this, to what are ; usually denomi
nated “historical novels'?”
Truth to all, but prominently to the young, is
of the most .vital importance; and the real and
practical in all periods of life, and for all purposes;
are of vastly higher value than the romantic and
the visionary. Besides, the practice in early life,
of reading for the mere amusement of the fancy,'
inevitably leads to the ultimate avoidance of read
ing whatever fails to who enter on
life accustomed to naughtshgt trifling and shadowy
themes, will with
those of real solidity and-impoirtance, when these,'
as they must, present themselves in their turn.
Works of fiction, it might be supposed, would
furnish conversation, if not with others, at least
with those who are themselves accustomed to their
perusal, but strange to say fiction dpes not even per
forui this office well!, The leading hits, the salient
points of; a ; few, or of a jmniber ..df quaint; or
striking characters, startling adventures, or wild
Rifel', 'iIARCH 22, 1860.
Respectfully submitted, t.
CONVERSATION AND READING.
scenes, by repetition, Soon ‘pall on - the minds of
those to whom, from previous perusal, they are
already familiar; and we can scarcely conceive,of
a more dreary punishment than that of two con
firmed npvel readers, condemned exclusively to
each other's society for any length of time, with
no other mental aliment than the re-hash which
their memories might be able to reproduce from
this unsubstantial source.
The readers of fiction, as a general thing, sur
render themselves entirely to its dramatis personae
and the scenes described, while the author of the
illusion with all his creative power, holds nothing
like so important a place in their estimation as
punch bears, in relation to • his puppets, in the
minds of 'his auditory, or the cook, who furnishes
savoiy viandt, in the mind of the epicure.
Nothing can come of, nothing; and how should
% of -conversation, which is in itself an
elegant as well as a useful art, he the result of a
mental training like this?
We have known a certain species of conversa
tion to grow out of a constant feasting on facetious
fiction, if that can be called conversation, which
is, com posed a]mosfcsolelyof light and laughable
anecdotes, ion mots and puns. We have oceasion
ally met persons addicted to a habit of this kind,
w ?!9> ev S r . straining after something farcical: or
ftnny,.seemed; to imagine, .that ceaseless,cachinar
fWP P BS . tk B :9nd and aim-of alksocial/jntercourse;
and that to be able to maintain perpetual hilarity,
wherever thcy.appeared, was to shine. But in any
circle, anecdotes introduced,neither for, embellish
ment nor illustration, jbut as the staple of talk, by
no . means, make a .bearab.le entertainment, much
less conversation, except for the shortest possible
period of time, or for the most frivolous of all
vapid people. ~..
.It-were a most valuable service to the young,
Mr. Editor,, for some. : one of sage, experience in
theyplume of,-life an.dj in -books, to present some
wisp counsel on. the. pelgction of works suitable to
develop and energize the mind, andto enrich the
memory with thoughts, ideas, and- themes adapted
tp'occasional and varied conversation. The, sub
ject seems, to us well worthy a volume; but- if
some one or more, sir, of your own able editorial
staff cpnld be induced to devote the time requisite
to a series of short articles in - your columns, on
helps ,to ,conversation, -they-could- not fail of
awakening interest, or.of being alike welcome and
useful. . ; ,
There are, some, it, is ; true, oil whom - the best
precepts pud the.sagest advice are as .treasures cast
upon quicksands,;al,wiays.lopt,; - ,Bu|, there are others,
amo.ng-yqur youth .of-generous,impulses, and with
ardent -desires iforiJmprovement, op; whom a few
well-digested hints- of this nature would by no
means.be thrown away. M.
For the American Presbyterian. '
THE TIME IS SHOET.”
of |3 in one of our
Saßbathischb'drclassesinthis'city, answered the
questions of his teacher so readily, was so well
acquainted with Bible history, that it was evi
dent his parents were doing their duty; towards
him in the important matter of home religions
instruction. ... .. ...... -
,He liyed;near i me,.,and as-his-father was a.
qpiet reserved map,belongingto, the chnreh,. put
not known- as. prominent at all*. I felt -that jt was
both possible andagood thing, to be faithful in
tliq more retired duties of life, .as -well as to be
forward, and to “let your light shine’’ more
luminously., A few.evenings since, -that father
went, across the street to see a sick neighbor,
one who had-kept his room for four long years.
He prayed wifch the sick man, and deft him. One
week after that evening the sick man-bad died
And was buried, and a darkand desolate place too
was the home of the faithful, praying Christian
father that night. The wife was there, bowed
with grief, the children all mourning, and kind
friends were there, treading noiselessly through
the house. They had come to assist in convey
ing to the cars'all that was mortal of him, who,
one week before, went in full health and vigor
across the street to pray with his sick neighbor.
A sorrowful party accompanied that stricken
family to a town in the interior to bury that
beloved husband and father.
He had come home from his business feeling
ill, the next evening after his visit to the sick
neighbour, and in less than five- short days his
spirit went to heaven, having left earth within
a few hours of the departure of his neighbor
across the way.
' When he found he was dying, his pastor was
sent for, to whom he gave the blessed evidence
that all was peace.
Is not this a solemn call to you,'dear parents,
to be faithfnl in the instruction of your children
at all times, never waiting until they grow older,
until their minds are better suited ko receive in
struction ; for like the quiet, faithful parent men
tioned above, one short week from to-day may
find yon befog carried to the' house appointed
for all the living? Have yon a sick neighbor?
Don’t wait until he grows worse, to be sent for,
but go at once, and perforin yonr duty as a
Christian to him —a faithful prayer and conver
sation with him may be blessed to the saving of
his soul, and you and'he may have the blessed
privilege of entering heaven together. In a
single word, it may be too late. Yon may be
no more of earth.
“Brethren the time is short,
be ye steadfast, unmoyahle, always abounding
in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye-know
that your labour is not in vain in the Lord.”
■.V G. W. M.
KEYS OF THE HEARTS.
There is a key to every man’s heart—though
some have conibination locks, and it requires both
skill and patience to open them. Yet in every
man’s heart—as in that tiny mechanism of. Swiss
invention—there sleeps a little bird of song, which,
can you but learn to wind it aright, will start up
at your call and imitate the notes of love that you
have been taught of God. It is worth years.of
toil to teach that bird the song of heavenly love.
“All the little mean work of our nature,” says
Mrs. Stowe, applying to the heart a figure from
housekeeping, “all the little mean work of our
nature is generally done, in a small, dark closet,
just a little back” of the subject in which we pro
fess to be interested. We do not suffer our mean
ness to come to the light even of our own, con
sciousness—if wo can help that. But when we
find ourselves parrying off some appeal for -kind
ness, giving way to some prejudice against others,
inventing excuses for disregarding them—however
plausible all this may seem to us —it is a most
unhappy frame off mind—this'is not love at work
-—but. some lurking selfishness, in the dark closet,
is pulling: the wires, confounding moral distinc
tions,-and perverting all good and generous affec
tions;: :
THE ITALIAN QUESTION.
~y Every item of news from Europe seems to indi
cate that this question, just now the most absorb
ing in the, political ,circles of the Continent, ap
proaches ,a crisis. What the- solution of it will be,
no human foresight. seems to be able to divine.
It may be in favor of “liberty,” and open the
way for,the spread of thb truths of the Christian
religion, and the enfranchisement of the human
mind;, and it may also be the opposite, and rivet
the. fetters of despotism more firmly than ever
oyer, the Italian people. - .
The active elements of the solution seem to be
the following: the London Morning Post of Feb.
3, says that “a virtual alliance has been effected
between England and France, for the settlement
of Italian affairs, ’’ not by treaty, but “from the
fofee of' circumstances, and that it already begins
t 6 produce its consequences—that it is determined
that no intervention shall take place in Italy, and
that the people shall be left to their own devices-.
The French troops are to be withdrawn from
northern -Italy and from Rome at a convenient
opportunity.” Now, if this resolution can-be ad
hered to, it is evident tliat the question would
soon work, out its own solution. The curse of Italy
has been the presence of foreign or mercenary
troopsj keeping the people in subjection to their
rulers. Left to j herself, she would before this
time have been free and united; and will now soon
inevitably and surely be free and united, if the
resolution of France and England can be main
tained.
But there, are elements of opposition to contend
with, the effect of which cannot be foreseen or cal
culated. The Pope has come to a full stop, and
apparently made up his mind to die by it, or to
remain as he is—in possession of his "temporal
power—like the fat woman and the police-officers,
when she sat down, and said, “Well, if you want
anything of me, or want me to go anywhere, you
must move me.” lie does not mean to
give up any of his provinces; indeed, lie is "in
danger of becoming very conscientious, and saying,
“They belong to the Church and not to me, and
I cannot consent to give them up; it is impossible.”
In this state of mind on the part off the old man,
no, solution of the Italian question is feasible, but
a violent one: It will be necessary to forqe him,
or he will do nothing in the premises. .The Em
peror’s advice he will not take.
Rut force applied in such a case is a dangerous
experiment.. It may be fatal in many ways. Arch
bishop Hughes says there is; “a key which, if the
Pope only touches it with one of his little fingers;
would convulse kingdoms and provinces;”: and,
from therstate of things in France, it would seem
as if the Pope will not fail to touchthiekey, if it
becomes necessary to his interests Wdo so. Louis
Napoleon is a shrewd man, but. he may find the
elements of strength brought against Mm more
formidable than he supposes. Let us see what
they are. There; are eighty bishops and arch
bishops—several of the latter being cardinals, and
boldingseatsas members of the “Senate;” there
are forty; thousand priests, or cures, and assistant
cures, who have charge of parish churches and
“chapels-of-ease;” there are forty seminaries of
learnipg, of various grades,, in which there is a
large numbet'of .students, directfy under the con
trol of the priests and bishops; besides, there is an
increased and increasing number of monks and
nuns in the religious houses; in a word, Catholi
cism at this moment is in a better situation to
make a struggle for any of its favorite aims, more
formidable and successful, than at any time since
the conclusion of the first Napoleon’s days. It
has spread; its roots, strengthened itself, and flou
rished to a wonderful extent. It knows its power,
and evidently rejoices in it. It- is even confident
and menacing, maintaining a bold front and a de
• termined .position ; and this has never been more
clearly manifested than during the last few weeks.
The danger of the Pope’s losing the Romagna
seems to have been the occasion of all its threaten
ing demonstrations, and is earnest. Every possi
ble engine of disturbance seems to have been put
in motion, for the purpose of making a formidable
opposition. Addresses to the Pope have Been pre
pared and: Signed by hundreds of thousands of*
men and women of all classes. These addresses
have, been published apd widely circulated, with,
the purpose of encouraging those who sympathize
in the movement. Their servility is extreme and
surprising, even for the Ultramontane clergy of
France; in fact, to any one who cherishes personal
self-respeot, the sentiments they' express are. re
volting. We give a few sentences from, one of
them: “Your rights do not come from man; you
did not acquire them by violence or iniquity. , You
are the most legitimate and kindest sovereign on
tlie earth. What your people suffer ought not to
be imputed to you, but to themselves, and those
who seduce them. For ourselves, your Fre ich
children, we believe that your authority cannot be
defined, except by yourself; and we accord to you
all the rights which you give yourself. Who more
than -you will. love justice, respect the people’s
rights, and cherish the poor ? Your independence
is the salvation of human liberty. If the Pope
was ho longer king'the cross would be torn from
every crown, and nothing could save the world,
which Would soon return to the worship of idols.
O Father! 0 King! 0 most holy and immortal
victim I On oiir knees, full of faith, full of love,
we beseech your benediction, which strengthens
our souls.” - • ■
In addition to this, many pastoral addresses and
pamphlets, evidently from clerical pens, have been
published and circulated through the whole em
pire, calculated to inflame the passions of the fa-
Datic, and encourage resistance. Sympathy is
sought, too, and has been expressed in Ireland,'
and even in the United States—with how much
effrontery and bad logic, we have shown on a
former occasion.
Now, this seems clearly to indicate a disposition,
on the part of the French Catholics, not to sur
render the temporal power of the Holy Father
without an effort to preserve it, if possible. Whe
ther the Emperor will be so kind as to concede to
John Hughes the “tea years’’ be demands for
the friends of the Pope to make provision for him,
before he leaves him to the tender mercies of his
own people—the people to whom he has been such
a kind and excellent father, according to his ear
nest adulators among the French clergy—we pre
tend not to determine. He seems, however, to
accept, not unwillingly, the conditions of therfight.
He has silenced the Ultramontane paper,' L’ Uni
verse in Paris; and, though we have been told it
will be transferred to Brussels and continued, it
will be easy to keep it out of France in any quan
tities- Single copies may be smuggled in in spite
of the police, but-they will. necessarily be single
ones, and hence effect but little, in comparison
with what it might have done, but for his inter
dict. He has, besides this, more than intimated
to the Pope his intention of defending him only
in the city of Home, or of withdrawing his troops
entirely. It is even stated that* Gmta Wecbhia is
being fortified, with the express view of there sta
tioning the troops whieh'have so long occupied
tbecity of Rome, and enabled the Pope to live in
the Vatican; so that they may be ready to operate
anywhere, as required in the progress of the dis
pute.
In the meantime, an outbreak has beeu threat
ened iu the city of Rome itself; and it has become
necessary-to patrol the streets at midnight, in
oydey to prevent mischief—clearly indicating that
Pope’s subjects differ, iu. opinion with -the;
French prelates, on the subject of Ms government
YOL IV.—NO. 30.—-Whole No. 195.
and the paternal protection which he gives to the
poor. _ Surely, there are enough of them, in all
conscience; under his eye, to exeite his compassion
and call out the kind feelings of his excellent
heart. And their cries are importunate, likewise,
enough to move him to action, if he be so kind
and benevolent.
In Naples, the tyranny is becoming every day
more. grinding and intolerable, causing the op
pressed to pray almost for a return of the days of
the infamous Bomba.' How long they will he able
to tolerate it, and not strike, even when the iron
is forced into their very bones, no one can predict;
but if the North and South unite in one vigorous
effort for liberty and union, the poor old feeble
Pope will be able, with all his.friends, to make but
little resistance. He is trying, in the meantime, to
stir them up by allocutions and encyclical letters to
do something—what, he probably does not himself
clearly perceive—only he means to wait, and if he
cannot uphold, his temporal power, be buried under
its ruins.
It -is also said that Savoy is to be annexed to
France; if so, then the word will go forth to the
provinces of northern Italy, “Annex to Sardinia.”
And if it is to be left to the people to say who
shall rule them, Victor Emanuel will soon find
his sway extending over the whole of the beautiful
peninsula. Our Arch. John says, “There was a
king of Rome who did not reign;” but he is not
sure, nor are we, that there: will not soon be one
who will do it, even to the Eternal City itself.
Things, certainly, at, this moment, favor such an
idea. ; '
There seems to be a determination, on the
part of a certain class of thinkers'and writers,
to paganize our language. They have thought
it good for themselves to renounce, or stand
aloof from, Christianity. But they dislike to
be called infidels. We do not wonder at their
dislike. The word has not a pleasant sound.
It is a name which associates the wearer thereof
with persons whose memory, has no very sweet
savor with a large part of the community. But
we cannot consent to the transnbstantiation of
a word, so as to give us. an entirely new mean
ing with the same vocalization.
The word infidel is an old word in onr lan
guage. It is found in the English Bible, and
there expresses the sense in which it has ever
since been current- —an unbeliever in the Chris
tianreligion. “Be ye not unequally yoked to
gether with unbelievers: for what fellowship
hath righteousness with unrighteousness? and
what communion hath light with darkness ? and
what concord hath Christ with Belial? or what
part hath he that believeth with an. infidel?”
2 Cor. vi. 14—16. The same word ( apistos )
is rendered “unbeliever” in the first, and “in
fidel” in the last clause. It'would not’be diffi
cult to. sho w .that this has been the generally
accepted signification of the word.
There are two ways in which the established
use of the term has been struck at. The Latin
infidelis means “unfaithful.” Some writers
have undertaken to turn the English substantive
into an adjective, with the Latin sense. When
a man of some' notoriety as a professional phi
lanthropist was called an infidel, his friends voci
ferated, “Infidel to what? In what lawful re
lation has he been unfaithful ?” Perhaps they
did not know that they were talking nonsense,
but it requires some charity to think so.
v A usual policy is to treaMhe imputa
tion of infidelity as implying atheism, and to
answer it by proof that the person so described
is a theist. But everybody knows Tom Paine
as an infidel, and Voltaire as another, though
neither of them was an atheist: Or, the appel
lation is assumed to charge declared irreligion
—hostility to religion—and is met with proofs
of a reverential disposition; kind temper, and
decorous speech; as if a man could not reject
Christianity, and still- have praiseworthy traits
of character.:
Mr. Bayard Taylor recently eulogized Baron
Humboldt’s religious'character. He admitted
that,the great’man was not. a Christian in his
faith and worship, but maintained that his na
tural piety was pare and pdwerfnl enough to
dispense with the help of the gospel. What
Mr. Taylor’s religious opinions are, we do not
know, nor; are. we concerned to inquire. Per
haps he thinks the Christian religion necessary,
or, at least, highly advantageous, to ordinary
mortals. But he evidently thinks that some
men are quite as well off without it as with it.
He insists, .however, that he was “defending
Humboldt from the charge of infidelity,” by
“stating Ms belief that a deep religious feeling
formed the basis of: his character.” But Mr.
Taylor, in Ms travels about the world, and in
his converse with literature, must have found
Out long ago that a a kind of religions sentiment
may exist without a Christian belief. Every
human being has religions instincts. Shelley
not only rejected, but reviled the gospll. But
he has been called a “natural devotee.” Was
Humboldt anything more? “He that is not
with-me,” said Jesus, “is against me.” There
is no exception; even for a Humboldt. If he
did not believe in the truth and authority of the
Ghristiah religion, he was an infidel.
It is saidjsometimes that the term is one of
reproach.* It may be so, but whose fault is
that? The term merely states a fact. If the
opinion of the comm unity concerning infidels as
a class is not flattering to them, the opinion has
been formed with no want of opportunity to
estimate correctly the valne of their services to
■society. Those who think fit to cast in their
lot with them, -must be content to bear the re
proach, until they can wipe it out by demon
strating, if they can, that the world is better off
without than with the gospel.— Examiner.
The Rev. Dr. Tyng is discussing topics per
taining to Sunday-schools in familiar letters to the
Independent. The doctor’s last letter gives the
following, timely hints concerning family culture:
“ Many families have I seen who were fixed in
the sentiment, that the Sanday-scbool was not
needful for their children, and that even greater
benefits would be lost by sending them thither.
The simple result has been, that these children,
though in some eases belonging to Christian pa
rents, and I believe conscientiously instructed at
home, have grown up free from any influence of
mine, or of the ministry, or of desire therefor,
and, as a rule, voluntary strangers in maturity to
the blessings of a day and a church which they
had never been accustomed to love in their youth.
I have mourned over this error in occasional de
terminations with exceeding sorrow —longing to
see every child and youth in the Church in actual,
constant connection with blessings which I have
been perfectly convinced could elsewhere never bo
supplied. I would entreat Christian parents to
feel and to consider rightly upon this subject; and
while in their prayers and efforts at home and in
secret, they seek for the highest spiritual welfare
of their children, to perceive and acknowledge
how blessed add valuable is that helpful agency
which the good providence of God has prepared
for their aid and success .in the Sunday-school.”*
WHAT IS AN INFIDEL?
FAMILY CULTURE.
DAILY DUTIES.
Sum up at night what thou hast done by day;
And in the morning what tboii hast to do.
Dress and undress thy soul. Watch the decay
And growth of it. If with thy watch, that too
Be down, then wind up both.. Since we shall be.
Most surely judged, make'thy accounts agree.
Herbert.
Christian Intelligencer.