GENESEE EVANGELIST.—WhoIe No. 727.
SPEAK NOT ILL.
Nay, speak not iltl a kindly word
Can never leave a sting behind:
And, oh 1 to breathe each tale we’ve heard
Is far beneath a noble mind.
Full oft a better seed is sown
By choosing thus the kinder plan:
For if but little good be known.
Still let us speak the best we can.
Give us the heart that fain would hide,
Would fain another’s faults efface:
How can it please e’en human pride
To prove humanity but base!
Not let us reach a higher mood,
A noble sentiment of man:
Be earnest in the search of good,
And speak of ail the best we can.
Then speak no ill, but lenient be
To others’ fallings as your own i
If you’re the first a fault to see,
Be not the first to make it known,
• For life is but apassing day,
No lip may tell how brief its span;
Then, oh! the little time we stay,
Let’s speak of all the best we can.
Ma. Editor, —I was very much interested in these
lines, which I recently saw on a tomb stone. Judging
that others might be pleased with them, I transcribed
them, and hand them to you. The lady has been dead
more than thirty years. J. B.
Underneath these stones doth lie,
As much of virtue as could die,
Which when alive did vigor give
To as much of beauty as could live.
Ye who have Wept o’er genius in its bloom
That faded daughter withered In the tomb, .•
Who love to linger where the mourner weeps,
Oh come and shed a tear where Martha sleeps.
Comstum&etitt.
For the American Presbyterian.
INDIA.
PREVALENCE OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE.
Messrs. Editors: —Some years ago, the
American missionaries in Western India wrote
as follows, viz.:
“Among the young men of this country, the
desire for education is very strong, and is daily
becoming stronger. What they principally seek
is an English education. They regard it as the
avenne to success and influence. We may find
fault with that desire; we may.exert ourselves
to make them do so; the fact remans. We
cannot overcome it. We should inenr odium
by attempting to do so. And having the ap
pearance of being something providential, it
commands our respect. India is awakening,
and, like a Caspar Hauser, needs to be taught
every thing. The young men wish to know not
only western theology, .but every thing western.
“Gtod has.a high purpose to fulfil in regard
to India. And in the passion for Englishedu
cation, and in all the peculiar circumstances of
this people, we must discern his workings. His
hand is in it. The way in which he has chosen
to accomplish his purposes may be different from
what we expected, and different from what we
desired. But we mnßt fall in with his plans,
when once indicated, or we must suffer the pe
nalty. We may kick against the pricks if we
will 5 we may row against wind and tide till we
ard weary; but our blind Obstinacy will avail
us nothing. God has, in a most remarkable
manner, given India into the hand of England,
and the -English language-and English litera
ture have here a high destiny to fulfil.”
These views of the American missionaries are
becoming speedily and remarkably verified in
India. They were not the sentiment of the
American missionaries only. The convictions
of European missionaries on this subject have
been equally strong, and perhaps they :r have
yielded to the current, and availed themselves
of the providential facilities thus furnished for
prosecuting their work, with less hesitation and
constraint than the American missionaries have.
It was not a question with the missionaries
whether the Hindus should have a knowledge
of the English language and the western sci
ences, but whether they would make the intense
desire of the Hindus for these studies a means
of bringing them under Christian teaching, and
winning them to Christ.
It was entirely evident that the Hindus would
learn English, and gain the knowledge tbeyde
sired. The question pressed upon the mission
aries,—Shall we teach English and the sciences
in our schools,: and thus bring the intelligent,
high caste Hindu youth under our teaching and
influence, or :sball we make it necessary for all
such youth to study in schools and colleges
wholly under infidel and heathen influences, and
confine onr labors to the lower castes
Most missionaries felt the necessity of doing
what they could to make this strong passion
for English and the western sciences subservient
to the higher objects in preaching the gospel.
Those who turned their efforts in this direction
have had the joy of seeing then! highly success
ful, and a good number of Christian converts
gathered into their churches from these higher
and more intelligent classes of Hindu youth.
The passion for English continues, and this
language is every day becoming more Univer
sally prevalent in India. It is already the com-
mon medinm of intercourse among the different
nations of India. When educated youth from
the Punjab, Calcutta, or Madras visit Bombay,
they find access to their countrymen there only
through the medium of-English. And the same
Is trne when educated yotung m,en from Bombay
visit other parts of India. A young Hindu
from Calcutta recently visited Bombay, and was
invited to address an audience of Kis country
men there. He did so, with much ability, in
the English language. Their vernacular lan
guages were unknown to each other, but in the
English they found a common medium.
Tracts, books, and sermons, in every one of
the vernacular languages, are limited inruse and
circulation almost entirely to a particular pro
vince or kingdom. ' The same in English find
readers among all the different nations of In-
dia, and when native newspapers and periodi
cals shall aspire to universal patronage among
, all the people of India, they will be published
in the English language.
Were not the missionaries right ? Is there
1 hot something manifestly providential in this
passion for English, and its increasing preva
lence throughout India?—a language which un
locks to the Oriental mind the treasures of true
science and the choicest literature, and is more
thoroughly impregnated with the principles of
the gospel than any other living language of the
globe. Ought not missionaries to avail them
selves unhesitatingly of this Christian language,
and the valuable facilities it Offers, in prosecuting
their efforts to evangelize the 200,000,000 of
India? R. G. W.
‘ For the American Presbyterian.
NATURE THE SOURCE OF POETIC IN-
SFIRATION.
There is, probably, noplace in the world where
the cultivation of the land, and what is called
landscape gardening, is carried on to so high a ;
state of perfection as -in England. The English
study nature intentiy, and seem to have an exqui
site sense of her graceful forms and harmonious
combinations; It is On account of this devotion
to nature that England has furnished so many
poets. The poets of other countries have become
acquainted with thegeneral charms of nature; but
the British poets seem to have studied nature
minutely, to have-revelled-in all her hidden trea
sures. The rustling trees, the gurgling brook,
the humble violet, the spotless lily, and the glis
tening dewdrop, all have been seen by these close
observers, and wrought out into-some charming
tale or moral.
Thomson, it is said, was accustomed to wander
whole days and nights in the country among the
bills and groves, and thus be -was enabled to write
that beautiful poem—“ The Seasons.” Milton
was no less.acquamted with nature than Thomson,
and drew his -most -striking images from nature
herself. In Cicero's poetry—for he wrote some
poetry —we do not find any traces of that fire and.
fancy which so mark his oratory. was not
deficient in art or philosophy; but ; in his-?knowT
ledge of nature. Thus it is, why the poet always
selects for his haunt some secluded spot, sur
rounded by all that is grand and inspiring in
nature.
The examples we have produced, show the im
portance of the poet’s acquiring extensive -know
ledge of nature. By this we, do not wish to be,
understood as-placing no importance to science,,
art, or philosophy,,as a source of poetic inspiration,
but, on the-contrary, it.isrof the utmost importance
that the poet should be sound in his philosophy,-
and versed in the sciences. Astronomy, espe
cially, qpens a boundless field for the imagination.
But we do mean to say, that nature is the great
source of poetic inspiration, and that all who have
excelled as poets have studied her most carefully;
they hav.e found in her Becret charms which are
unseen by the careless observer. It is too true,
that there -are only a few who can find enjoyment
in wandering alone through the green fields, by
the, daneing brook r and-amoDg thegroves,-touched
by the finger-of frost; that so many pass along
without even looking up to see a beautiful sunset,
that gorgeous picture, painted, and spread out
over the heavens, by our Maker, for man to view.
It has .been said, that it is sufficient, without
exactly copying nature, that the poet should ’con
form to popular opinion or general sentiment;
but as the great aim of poetry is to please, and as
nothing unnatural can give pleasure, it ought to
conform, as much as possible, to nature. The
poet is, however, sometimes allowed to deviate
from nature, and, by the aid .of fancy, to embel
lish it.
As it is from the study of nature that the artist
:s enabled to make the dull, cold canvass expand
with life, so, in no less degree, nature gives life
and beauty to the , verse. We cannot honor too
much the genius of the artist that enables him to
paint an enchanting landscape, and also to place
before our weepihg eyes the form of beloved
friends j but is not the genius of him who can
sketch the conquering hero on the memorable
battle-field with his pen, and color them with rich
figures and striking illustrations, more to be ad
mired? •
is said that the poet is born a poet. True;
the germ, that which by proper culture will grow
and hear golden fruit, is born in the poet; but
let that- germ be uncared for, and left to grow
wild, without any grafts of nature in it, it will
bring forth nothing worthy of notice. You may
say there has been but one Milton, or one Shak
speare: may not there have been many on whom
nature has bestowed the same gifts, but whose
after training has been such as to kill even genius?
The poet must have first the poetic element in
him, and then, by the aid of a careful
nature, he will he able .to write that which will
live with the world. C. M. W.
For the American Presbyterian,
QUERIES.
Messrs. Eds.— Queries, doubts, .and- fears,
sometimes arisSln my mind—strange, perplexing,
unpleasant thoughts, which I would not harbor.
Hence, I propose a few of them to you, hoping
that some one skilled in theology may forever
expel them by the sword of the Spirit.
Some years ago, there was a city minister
lodging with me, who was a slave to the “weed.”
Its daily use-seemed to be well nigh as necessary
for him ashis daily food. He even acknowledged
to me his inability to preach well without it.
Hence, it seemed to be an indispensable to the
success of his religious services. But on one
occasion, I was under the necessity of placing
ray bead -nearer to his than was agreeable, and his
■breath smelled worse than an .ordinary carrion.
It was indescribable. I believe it was unlike any
thing except its own kind. An unpleasant thought
occurred to my mind, can the Holy Spirit enter
in and dwell In a .place so filthy as- ,bis body?
for I could not help judging from the smell that
such -must be its character. But thoughts so
disagreeable I would not harbor. Yet thespiritual
character of the .man and. my. olfactories seemed
to be at variance.
Again, we have learned ministers, and even
D. D’s., of whom I am credibly informed, that the
sick dislike to have them enter their rooms.
These brethren, doubtless, are not aware of the
fact, or they would be cautious where they go;
but their ignorance does not mitigate the evil.
A habit which-all pronounce “filthy,” has dis
qualified ;them for a very Important duty. Are
? they glorifying God by the use of tobacco? Do
they use it to the glory of God ? Can a habit
which is “filthy” be Christ-like?
PHILADELPHIA, THWjjDAY APRIL 19, 1860.
My olfactories frequently inform me of Chris-,
tians whose breath is more offensive than ordinary
carrion. Ido not like the use of that word, but
I cannot think of a better. The apostle Paul
prayed for the Thessalonians: —“And the very
God of peace sanctify yctu wholly; and I pray
God your whole spirit, and soul, and body, be
preserved blameless unto the coming of our Lord
Jesus Christ.” ’ 1 'Thess. v. 23. That verse
teaches the sanctification of our entire being—the
body as well as the spirit. Then in the case of
every Christian there ought to be a process of
sanctification going on—a sanctification of, not
merely the inner man, but also of the outer.
But with many, a process of earrionization—par
don the word—seems to be going on. The breath
very much belies them, if some such process is
not going on. Their breath has become unen
durable, and is continually becoming more so.
Is such a body being sanctified ? Certainly, if
the spirit is being sanctified, the body.cannot
The breath forbids such an idea. If the spirit is
santified and the body is not, by-and-by what will
become of it? Can it enter heaven without
sanctification? Gan a defiled thing enter that
holy place? Or can the spirit -enter the new*
Jerusalem, while the body is shut out as a de
filed thing? Is that which is being utterly un
fitted to enter the sick-room, being fitted to enter
heaven?
Again, Paul says—PCor. Hi.-, 16, 17: “Know
ye not that ye are the temple of God, and that
the Spirit of God dwelleth in you? If any man
defile the temple of God, him shall God destroy;
for the temple of God is holy, which temple ye
are.” There are a great many whose breath is
very deceptive, if they are not defiling the temple
of God—their bodies. To my olfactories, they
seem as much like a defiled thing as anything
on earth, and if they are not defiling the temple
of God, I do not know bow they can do it.
When .the spirit is a> wholly, sanctified, and shall
be admitted into the new: Jerusalem, what will
become of that defiled temple of God? For
what place will it be fit? Will God destroy it?
If the sick cannot endure it in their room, and
even the well wish it at -a respectful distance,
would it be a proper subject for heaven ? •
We are told of fleshly lusts which war against
the soul. From the’manner in which this lust
wars against the body, is there not danger lest it
may affect the soul? -
I should love to lear n .from some erudite D. D.
if it really does leave the soul untouched, so that
the-soul’.s sanctification is going on, while thebody
is becoming worse than bestialized?
As our life here, is short, these questions are
important, and I should love to have my mind
set at rest. Should some good brother enlighten
my mind on these points and others which are
intimately connected with them, I shall be
thankful to him. And doubtless it will be quite
a reljef to many eonseiences, .for i .believe there
aremaay who Kaye their douhts about .theirbeing
able to glorify God in the use of tobacco. -
Querist.
CHANGES.
- Mrs.'Bailey—or the widow,” as she
was sometimes called—was a friend -df my mo
therj ahd a; particular admiration of mine. I
admired a certain air of matronly dignity she pos
sessed.; I admired her rich dark hair, her still
beautiful complexion, 'her white plump hands, her
earnest, sincere manners and conversation, en
riched with good and tasteful reading. ‘
. Just,before I -was married I called to say fare
well, a-udto try to-tell her how affectionately and
how pleasantly she would be remembered. I
found her in her sitting-room, surrounded with'all
that wealth could buy, and an exquisite .taste select.
She was .in a state of Joyful .and loving expecta
tion. Her only child—her handsome Aon—was
to be home that day from college; a" graduate,
full of honors. .
. I knew Ralph well; a,generous,-chivalrous boy;
no'thought.of meanness could be associated with
him; sobrave, so free-hearted, withal such a gen
tleman. ! Well I remember how she lodked that
day; how her large, dark eyes swam with tears;
how she started when the door-bell rang, although
she knew that it was much too soon. * ;
There was the large rocking chair placed near
the glowing grate, his new embroidered dressing
gown thrown over its back. His gay slippers
placed ready. A vase of choice hot-house-flowers
filled the air of the room with a spirit-like fra
grance. For Ralph had been ' journeying-after
leaving college, and, as his mother said, all the
little things he loved to see, will be grateful and
comfortable, after (travelling in this snow, for it
was snowing—large, feathery flakes, coming down
with a swaying, wave-like motion, gently falling,
and then dissolving—like onr dreams—when the
bare earth conics in cbntatA. 1
, I left "the rich 'room, with Its beat .and delicate
-fragrance, and passed out to face the snow—and
my own fnture.
Years have gone by. I have been working out
my destiny. How well, .that ponderous book,
(the last book ever to be opened,) will reveal.
-Care, and the sharp tooth of time have been at
work.
Another city and another home. After you
have looked at my children, and I have exhibited
them, and am sure that you appreciate the wit
and (talent and the uncommon ability of, my
“jewels,” I will take you to look at my old
friend. Not to the old/splendid mansion you :
have seen her mistress of, but to one of the poor
est courts in a city-very narrow—squalid, is not
too-strong a term. It snowed just at this time,
.many years ago. It is.snowing now, hut not as
it did then, in large soft flakes, but-in large crys
tallizations; ragged, and with stinging edges ;
driven fiercely by a biting wind, it whirls and
eddies, and blind.s.ypu in its fury.
But we have reached the court. The snow has
not fallen like loving spirits, and covered with its
pure veil all of the meagerness of that place, bat
it- has been blown into heaps, and drifted into
corners; and the pale gleam of light that issues
from the window of the last house, shows just
enough of this for heart and eye to take in. Look
through the window. There is poverty, but
: clean poverty. An old stove with just coals suffi
cient to be called a fire; a sinall piece of rag car-'
pet, just large enough to hold the plain square
( table, at which sits an old woman, sewing up
stockings for weavers. She is sewing rapidly—
almost nervously. : Her thin bands show eyery
vein. That one does not shine
upon “rich dark hair,” |r the beautiful full bust,
or the bright countenance-that woman once pos
sessed; “age should ha^fepithered : her,” and it is
time for the “silver threag.’’ to, have come. , But oh,
not as now. Those large eyes are sunken deep;
her clothing meager, not sufficient for heat; but
clean, so clean that you see she must have been a
lady. There is nothin grin that room but the
bed, and the table shell's sewing by, and one
.chair—poor, cold, and .dreary. As the. wind
rises, it has that cruel, chill whistle, indicative of
intense cold. She leaves her chair, goes to the
window, and listens and anxiously; then
walks to the mouth of the court, her gray .head
made still whiter by the snow; returning, she
murmurs, “It is too cold for him to be out; if he
should fall coming home, without being seen, he
would die of cold.” “She resumes ,hcr large
needle and begins to seM. IJ&t she weekend'
tvembles. 'cSv*? **' ‘
One or two more journeys to the street, and
she puts on her bonnet and poor shawl, to" go after
him. She knew his haunts —-has often gone after
him. The police on “til at round” know her,
and often say, as she passes—“poor thing.” She
has several squares to battle with the. piercing
wind. Arriving at the first drinking-house, she
is almost blind and deaf, with the conflict. The
bar-keeper knows her, andlher errand, tells her, no.
Ralph is not there. He ifid left some hours ago.
Alone? Yes —alone,- —Y must find him. She
knows she has often found him, at another place
some distance off. But shswiust find him; should
he fall, he might die in the show—he is so en
feebled and broken by dissipation; * She thinks
of his boyhood; how he lofred the snow; how joy
ously his blue eyes shon#at the first flake that
fell; his eager enjoyment of the sledging and
snow-balling; she remcmlfers the great snow man
he made in the yard; hqjgr huge and grotesque it
looked; and Oh! with a thrill memory re
calls that once,-when-hel|||sbomelnthe evening,
how sad he looked, as he,;told her of a drunken
man he had seen falling and refalling in the snow;
how the poor wretch had cut his face, and left its
bloody mark upon fhe sn’Sw; and how he feared
he would not got safely hSine;—she remembers,
too, how, in his sleep, he cried out, and when she
went to him, he told her that he had dreamt that he
saw the man—dead—lying in a pile of snow; and
how it was only with carets she could quiet him;
With this rush of memory and emotion, she
hurries along; sometimes walking backwards;
sometimes seeking refuge4n door-ways, to escape
the storm’s furious sometimes falling;
sometimes breathless andvpattting. She at last
stands in the wished-for door. The bar-keeper,
usually surly and cross, seems touched by her pale
face and her exhaustion; tells her that Ralph is
not there; that he has gonfe some rime; tells her,
with a somewhat human, voice, to come in and
shake, off the snow; butyhe -hurries away, and
'4B*"' » - *• •'A <—
pleadingly implores the’first policeman she meets,
to look out for Ralph.. She is forced to ask the
assistance of tlio next ojjte for herself.
Yes!—Ralph had left the drinking-house—
very, oh! very much bewildered with liquor
—reeling and confused—blinded by the wind and
snow —he turns the wrong street—goes farther
from home. In passing a ; deserted house, with
att area—a sudden whirl and gust—he reeis—
loses his balance —and falls -with his drunken
weight into the area.
The wind abates. -The snow* falls more'gently
down, and shrouds him. The cold flakes fall upon
his open blue eyes, and they do not shrink ; kisses
with its pure cold embrace the lips so fondly
pressed; the cold flags, and not a mother’s breast,
pillow that once innocent baby-head.
BEHAVIOUR m CHURCH.
We lately called the Attention eff our reader 8
to the importance of in their attend
ance at the appointed place of worship. We
beg leave to throw out [a few thoughts as to
that deportment which is becoming those who
are engaged in the worship of Almighty Godl
We propose in these remarks simply to give
a few hints, in the hop! that they may prove
useful to some who may, through inattention,
not have adverted to some matters about which
we wish to say a word. ;
And here, in the first'placc, we would say to
you, Christian reader, make it a rule, when you
reach the house of God, to proceed forthwith to
your pew. It is, in our view, very unseemly for
persons to be standing in the church-yard, or
about the church-doors. Such a practice is
certainly a very poor preparation for the solemn
exercises of the sanctuary.
After having reached your seat, should the
services not have commenced, let it be your con
cern to spend what yon may have in the
way of lifting up your heart to God for his
blessing upon the holy jexereises in which you
are about to engage. We have often had our
heart saddened in )oqk|ng. over a'worshipping;
see of serious-|
ness on the part of Abuse who were about to
draw near to God in Ine most solemn acts of
worship. We have sometimes Occasionally no
ticed persons on taking their seats, bowing the;
head, or placing the hand upon the head, in
which act we recognise an .expression of devout
feeling; and whenever it has been seen, it has
always had a most liappy effect upon us before
rising to lead the exercises of the sanctuary. It
cannot be doubted that, if congregations were
more generally impressed with a sense of the so
lemnity of the occasion on which they meet as
a worshipping assembly, such manifestations of
devout feeling would be much more frequently
witnessed.
The deportment of persons daring the exer
cise of prayer is often very different from what
it ought to be. The outward posture should be
attended to by persons when engaged in this
exercise. We have various approved postnres
mentioned in the Scriptures, such as standing,
kneeling, and prostrating the body. The pos
ture observed by our church in public assent
biles Is that of staudizig. It is Jiot our;object
at present to discuss the propriety or warranta
bleness of any or all of these outward formst,
What we wish to impress upon the minds of our
readers is the importance of uniformity in this
matter. IV e cannot but consider it as very im
proper for some to sit while others are: standing.
Of course this remark does, not apply to the
aged and the infirm. But it ,is well-known that
these are not the only persons who are charge
able with this departure from the usage of Our
church. In connexion -with this we would re
mark, that we have sometimes been not a little
pained in witnessing the indifference which many
manifest daring this solemn exercise. They
seem .to forget that the minister is only their
inotitK to God, and that it is their duty as well
as his to engage in the exercise. How un
seemly to see persons, after having listened to: a
few introductory sentences, turn their backs
upon the speaker, put their arms akimbo, and
continue, during the service, staring at every
object which can possibly engage tbeir attention,
until the service is closed! How improper is
such a deportment! How utterly inconsistent
is it with that reverence which should manifest
itself in those who profess to be addressing the
Majesty of heaven!
If we look at the conduct of some persons
during the preaching of the word, we shall often
see much that is very improper. There* are
those who sleep during the greater part of this
exercise. Yes, we have seen persons from
whose conduct you might suppose that they
came to the house of God for this very purpose.
The speaker will not, perhaps, be through the
introduction of bis discourse before the eyes of
some about him -are closed, and their heads
hanging, or very comfortably lying back against
the wall of the bouse which, no doubt, the
sleeper finds to be very convenient. Sometimes
the speaker is blamed 'for not* keeping persons
awake. We'are willing, that be should have a'
ebf'thifbla’m^; but it : i*4 sometimes ;the case
that the sleeper will not-giv.e him a. chance to
keep him awake; for be falls asleep before the
preacher can be properly said to have entered
upon his subject, and as for waking up some by
a lively and animated manner of speaking,—
why, it is altogether out of the question. It
only seems to increase the somnolency of some
people; or if they should happen to open their
eyes, the next moment will find them closed
again. . Christian reader, leaving out of view
the sinfulness of such conduct, one would sup
pose-that a sense of good manners would be suf
ficient to keep persons from indulging in it.
We are aware that a great many plausible ex
cuses are urged on behalf of sleepers, but say
what wc will in defence of such persons, their
conduct is highly unbecoming. Let -them re
tire early on Saturday night, eat light dinners,
pray to. God before coming to his bouse that
tbev may -be able to give attention .to his word,
and when .they bear the text announced, let
them endeavor to' stir up their souls to hear
what God will speak by bis servant,—let them
do these things, and we- are persuaded'that ef--
forts of this kind persevered in would not fail
to effect a radical and lasting change.
Had we time, we would like to say a word
to a class-of .persons wh’oj although they do not
sleep, yet seem to listen with the utmost indif
ference. It matters not what may be the sub
ject of .discourse,—the agonizing sufferings of
the Saviour, .or the terrors of the judgment-day
—there is still the same appearance of listless
indifference; Let such persons bear in mind
that, if their manner is a true index of the state
of‘ their .feelings, their heart is far from being
in such a frame as it should be; and if this be
not the case, this manner is very improper. It
is discouraging to the speaker, who supposes
you to be paying no attention to what he is say
ing;- for it is hard to convince any one who is
addressing a "person with his eyes half shut, or
wandering about through the house, that he
either hears or regards what hp.is saying. But
this is not all. It has a bad effect upon the
rest of your fellow-worshippers; and more than
this, it is displeasing to God, in whose presence
yon are, and who is addressing his message to
you. Persons who act in this way may say
w'hat they please; we cannot persuade ourselves
that they ino.w . how-.they, ought to behave in
the '_■* - ' '*•
How improperly, too, do persons sometimes
conduct , themselves during the time the bene
diction is being pronounced! They seem to
look fdr this part of the Divine worship as
though it ifvere jusj the signal of dismission
from the sanctuary. Accordingly, you will
sometimes see persons placing one hand on the
pew;door, with their hat in tbe other, just ready
to start as soon as the Amen escapes the lips of
the minister of God. Nay, you will sometimes
see them, during this solemn exercise, adjusting
their garments, or those of their children, as
though the consequence of being detained one
moment in their pews, after the benediction has
been pronounced, would be of the most serious
character. Christian reader, this is very im
proper.- There is no exercise more solemn, and
none should strike the mind with-greater awe,
than that of the benediction. It recognises the
doctrine that there are three .distinct persons in
the Godhead, —that each of these sustains dis
tinct offices in the scheme of redemption,—that
they are all present in our religious assemblies,
4nd;that the blessing and agency of each are
necessary to the success of religious ordinances.
When such is the import of the words uttered
in this exercise by tbe minister of God, with
what solemnity and awe should they be uttered
by the speaker and heard by the congregation!
HagaS,
We have felt inclined to call the attention of
our readers to these things, feeling that they
are too; mueh overlooked by professing Chris
tians. Religion is a serious, solemn thing, and
those who observe its forms should have a cor
responding behaviour. ■ Their whole deport
ment should show that they realize the presence
of the great God of heaven and earth, before
whose bar they must shortly appear. Let our
conduct, then, in God’s house here below, ever
be such as to indicate that we are seeking pre
paration for a place in that house hot made with
hands eternal in the heavens!
A traveller in the'east relates that a pilgrim
joined in their caravan who had long been en
gaged In Journeying from one to another of
those places held sacred by Mussulmans. It
had been one of his religious acts to gaze con
stantly at the sun; His eyes'had become nearly
blind, and the muscles of his neck rigid in that
position. Still this earnest but deluded seeker
for salvation continued the destructive practice.
Christian, you are bid to look to the Sun of
Righteousness and .be not blinded, .but blessed
with increase of sight. - You have looked to
him, and . been hayJed.'from' death. You must
continue to look'uiitb him for all that you need
to sustain, to promote, to perfect the life im
planted in your soul. Paul says, “Let us run
with patience the race .that is set before us,
looking (into Jesns, the Author and Finisher
of our faith.” Happy is it for yon, if your spi
ritual muscles are already become fixed with per
fect steadiness in that position. He that look
eth back is not fit Cor the kingdom of God.
While we gaze steadfastly at the sun, other
objeets fade from our sight. So let us gaze at
Christ, the Sun bf Righteousness, and the sin
ful attractions of earth will fade away and be
forgotten before His supreme glory.
This phrase is applied frequently to certain
young men who are following a fashionable
course of life, attended with more or less dissi
pation and extravagance. Bnt with great, pro
priety this term may be applied to all those who
are hurrying through* life,—overworking the
brain, and giving but little rest to their body
or minds. Carlyle very truly remarks, that
“the race of life has become intense; the run
ners are treading upon each other’s heels'; wo
be to him who stops to tie his shoe-strings!”
What a fearful amount of “wear and tear” to
the nervous system is therein every department
of life! What a continual strife is there in
every community for wealth/—for distinction
and for pleasure!. How much disappointment
and envy may be found rankling in the breasts
of.many persons ! Dr. Arnold, of Rugby, used
to say, “It is not work that injures a man; it is
Christian Instructor.
LOOKING AT THE SON.
LIVING FAST.
vexation that does it.” It is this “fast living”
in Our country which produces so many of the
ills that flesh is heir to—it undermines the con
stitution-breaks down the nervous system
produces premature old age and shortens'life.
A SHORT SERMONTO SEXTONS.
WHICH MAT BE OVERHEARD BY ALL CHURCH
OFFICERS.
Dear Brethren : —You occupy an impor
tant offiee in the Church of Christ, which is the
kingdom of God oh earth; An ancient'saint,
with a crown on his head, said he would rather
be among you than dwell in the tents of wicked
ness. Very honorable, then, is your offi.ce.
This is the firstly of onr sermon. Let us now
pass to , ' ,
Secondly. Very useful may your post be
also. No man in the congregation can more
i«ffec'tually stupefy Ihe^.preaeberj;.no.
-iphr*>effectha|jy pnt. to
yon, brethren,'tho importance of good dirt It
is next important in the Worshipping assembly
to the good Spirit from on high, of which the
holy Scripture roaketh it the emblem. As the
Lord hath the gift of the latter, so the sexton
hath of the former. If' lie givet.h it not, the
thoughts pf the preacher Bag, and the heads of
the hearers bow in worship to the false god,—
Morpheus. Keep idolatry out of the church,
brother sexton. There was a band of old saints
once, who were called Iconoclasts, because they
tore down idols and cast: them out of the tem
ples. The temples of our land are degraded
by the worshippers of Morpheus; sextons are
the champions to make a crusade against this
abomination.: They could purge the .land of it
if they would. Dp, then, brethren, and expel
this;heathenism. Do you ask how it shall be
done ?
1. Up with the windows at seasonable times.
. 2. Especially keep .open, a little, those near
est thepulpit, during the whole service. • The
preacher will repay you by better sermons.
3. Manage this matter with skill; blunder
not, as some in your honorable office do, by
having the windows either too much open, so as
to chill the hearers, or not open at all, so as to
stnpefy them. Distribute the ventilation in small
drafts all along the casements;
Again. Never freeze the congregation,by neg
lecting the fires; begin them early, to make sure
the comfort of the temple; it is better to begin
too soon than too late, for when there is too
much heat it can be relieved by ventilation;
when there is not enough, ventilation has to be
lost without remedying the deficiency. How
many ,in your honorable functions, brethren,
have .thus robbed the Lord df the worship of an
entire assembly? Remember, that with your
peculiar honor is connected peculiar responsi
bility, and we must all give account.
Again. Men in honorable posts should al
ways have courtesy up to their honor. A sex
ton should be a model of politeness; he should
move with alacrity, accommodating every body,
and when he cannot accommodate them, show
ing that he feels the privation more than they
do. Next in importance to a good preacher in
the pulpit, is a good sexton at the portal; his
smile lighteth up the multitude; his whisper of
courtesy openeth the ears of the people for the
trumpet s sexton is out of. his
place; he is beneath its, gracious honor, as much
as a bear .would be, guarding the,palace-gate of
a king.
Application. And how, brethren,' let him that
hath ears to hear, hear this message. Harden
not your hearts against it. He that hath
sinned in these yespects, let him sin no more, but
make haste to repent. Let all our temples on
the coming Sabbath show that the word has
been fitly spoken, and the seed has fallen into
good and honest hearts. The Lord add his
blessing. Amen.
WASHINGTON IRVING’S FAME.
The poet, W. C. Bryant, recently delivered a
.fitting eulogy on Irving before the New York
.Historical Society, from which we take the Closing
paragraphs:.
“I have thus .set before you, my friends, with
such measure of ability as I possess, a rapid and
imperfect sketch of the life and genius of Wash
ington Irving. Other hands will yet give the
world a bolder, a more vivid and exact, a more
distinctive portraiture.' In the meantime,' when I
consider for how many years be stood before the
world as an author with a still increasing fame —
half a eentury in this most changeful of centuries
—I cannot hesitate to predict for him ft deathless
renown. Since he began to write, empires have
risen and passed away; mighty captains have ap
peared on the stage of the world, performed their
part, and been called to their .account; wars have
been fought and ended, which have changed the
destinies of the human race. New arts have been
invented and adopted, and have pushed the old
out of use;, the, household economy of half man
kind has undergone a revolution. Science has
learned a new dialect and forgotten the old; the
chemist of 1809 would be a vain babbler among
his brethren of the present day, and would in turn
become- bewildered in the attempt to understand
them. Nation utters speech to nation in words
that pass front realm to realm with the speed of
light. Distant countries have been made neigh
bors; the Atlantic Ocean has become a narrow
frith, and the Old world and the New shake hands
across it; the East and the West look iu at each
other’s’windows. The new inventions bring new
calamities, and men perish in crowds by .the re
coil of their own devices. War has learned more
frightful modes of havoc, and armed himself with
deadlier weapons; armies are borne to the battle
field on tbe.wings of the wind, and dashed against
each other and desiroved with infinite, bloodshed.
Wo grow giddy with these rapid ceaseless muta
tions: the earth seems to reel under our feet, and
we turn to those who write like Irving for some
assurance that we are still in the same .world into
wbieh we were born ; we read and are quieted and
consoled. In bis pages, we see that the language
of the heart never becomes obsolete; that Truth
and Good and Beauty, the offspring of God. are
not subject to the changes which beset the inven
tions of men.; We become satisfied that he whose
works were the deiight of our fathers, and are still
ours, will be read with the same pleasure by those
who come after us.
. »If it were becoming at this time and in this
assembly - to, address. our departed friend, as if in
his immediate presence, ! would say : Farewell,
tfcou who hast entered into the rest prepared, from
the foundation of the world, for serene and gentle
spirits like thine. Farewell,'happy in thy life,
happy in thy death, happier in the reward to
which that death was the assured passage; fortu
nate ,in attracting the admiration of the world to
thy beautiful writings; still fortuuate in
having written nothing which did not tend to pro
mote the reign of magnanimous forbearance and
general sympathies among thy fellow-men. The
brightness- of that enduring fame which -thou- hast
won on earth is but a shadowy symbol of that
glory to which thou hast been admitted in the
world beyond the grave. Thy errand upon earth
was an errand of peace and good-will to men, and
thou art now in a region-where hatred and strife
never enter,, and where the harmonious: activity
of those who inhabit it acknowledges no impulse
less noble or less pure than that of love.
Candor, in some people, may be co.npared to
lemon drops, in which the acid predominates over
the sweetness.
VOL. IT—NO. 31.--ffliole 199.
1. I need to rest I work hard from Monday
morning, till Saturday night, and Sabbath is al
most the only rest I get. A man must rest
sometimes, or be will kill himself. Even a
steam-engine, made of brass and iron, must have
time to cool, and clean, and tighten screws.
Au omnibus .horse, that will last five years if al
lowed his Sabbath rest, will die in three years’
constant work. Every year of Sabbath work
shortens a man’s life seven. Why should I sell
my life for any man’s money? ' I won’t work
on the Sabbath.!
3. I have a soul to save I must die some
day. And after death I must- give an aceo'hnt
to the God who gave me life for the nse I made
of it. It stands to reason that I ought to try
to learn what lie wants me to do, and that I
ought to try to do it. But how can a poor fel
low who is off to work at six, and hard at it all
day, learn any thing about religion, unless be
learns on Sabbath ? And if a man keepS him-
lifeihis ignorance won’t
save his soul. It won’t do to say, when the
train arrives, “I didn’t know the time, and am
not ready.” It is my business to know. God
gives me, the Sabbath that I may have time to
learn, if I lose my Sahbath I lose my soul. I
won’t work on the Sabbath !
I WON’T WORK ON THE SABBATH.
3. I have a mind to cultivate. Almighty
God did not make me only to eat, and drink,
and work, and die. A horse can do all that.
Nor is making money the chief end of a man.
Of what use is money, unless a man knows how
to use it? A horse may draw a dray load of
money after him, and be none the better of it.
It is not the money but the mind that makes
the man, and the Sabbath that gives the time to
improve it. French Emperors, Austrian des
pots, and Carolina slave-owners know this, and
to prevent men from thinking they bribe or cheat
their slaves out of the Sabbath. But lam nei
ther a Carolina negro nor a French peasant.
If I do work hard for a living, I am just as good
a man, and as well entitled to all the rights
God gave me, as any rich merchant or railroad
director in the land. I calculate you have not
got money enough in all your railroad compa
nies between this and Bunker’s Hill to bnv me
foryour negro, and Iwon’twork on therSa€Sdtm~-
4. The working-men of America had better
look after their rights, or they will soon lose
them. The price of liberty is eternal vigilance.
1 he law of God gives the working-man the right
to rest on the Sabbath. His law is, “ Remember
the Sabbath day to keep it holy. Six days shalt
thou labor, and do all tby work. But the se
venth is the Sabbath of the Lord thy God; in
it thou shalt not do any work; thou, nor thy
son, nor thy daughter, nor tby man servant,
nor thy maid-servant, nor thy cattle, nor the
stranger that is within thy gates.” The law of
Ohio ratifies this right to the working-men of
this State. But bold, bare-faced attempts are
made to trample on these laws, and rob the
working-man of his right to rest, and even to
have the State law which secures this right re
pealed, that rich men might make money out of
the lives, and liberties, and souls of the work
ing-men of Ohio. Money is powerful; but,
thank God, we have the ballot-box, and are not
yet fools enough to vote away our own liberties.
I won’t vote for any man who will repeal the
law which secures our right to rest on the Sab
bath l
Charlosl’hitip, Farmer,lllinois.
(PECULIARITIES OF THE EARLY
PREACHERS.
When -a bishop or preacher travelled, he
claimed no authority to exercise the duties of
his functions, unless he was invited by the
churches where he attended public worship.
The primitive churches had no idea of a bishop
of Rome presuming to dictate to a-congrega
tion in. Africa. Nothing, however, was more
common than such friendly visits and sermons,
as were seen in practice. The churches thought
them edifying. In case the bishop was sick or
absent, one of the deacons, or sometimes a short
hand writer, used to read a homily, that had
been preached, and, perhaps, published by some
good minister, and sometimes a homily that had
been preached by the bishop of the church.
We have great obligations to-primitive nota
ries, for they very early addressed themselves to
take down the homilies of public preachers.
Sometimes the hearers employed them, some
times the preachers, and sometimes themselves.
For this purpose they carried writing tablets,
waxed, and styles, that is, pointed irons, or
gravers, into the assembly, and stood round the
preacher to record what he said.
The deacons, placed themselves round the pul
pit, arid before sermon one of them cried, with
a loud voice, Silence, Hearken, or something
similar. This was repeated often as necessary,
I suppose at proper pauses, when fhe preacher
stopped. Their manners were different from
ours; but,-really, our manners want some of their
customs. It might do some drowsy folks good
to be alarmed every five or ten minutes with,
Mind what you are about! Let us listen!
Attend to the word of God!
The fathers differed much in pulpit action;
.the- greater part used very moderate and sober
gesture: Paul, of Samosata, used to stamp with
his foot, and strike his thigh with his hand, and
throw himself into violent agitations; but he
was blamed for it by his cotemporarfes. They
thought his action theatrical, and improper in a
church; and yet, in every church, the people
were allowed, and even exhorted, to applaud
the preacher, by shooting and clapping their
hands at the close of a period, as at the theatre,
or iu a forum. The first preachers delivered
, their sermons all extempore, and they studied,
; whole they preached, the countenances of their
auditors, to see whether their doctrine was un
| derstood.
Sermons, in those days, were all in the vulgar
tongue. The Greeks preached in Greek, the
Latins in. Latin, for the preachers meant to be
understood. They did not preach by the clock,
so to speak, bat short or long as they saw oc
casion. Augustine used to leave off when the
people’s hearts seemed properly affected with
the subject. He judged of this sometimes by
their shouting, and at other tiroes by their tears.
Their sermons were usually about an hour long,
but many of them may be deliberately pro
nounced in half an hour, and several in less
time.
Robinson’s Dissertation on Public Preaching-.
The sick-room contemplations of a religious
mind weave all life’s meaning and mystery into
the fabric of goodness and love. _ Sickness, as we
commonly esteem it, is a calamity. It is a ca
lamity. It is a calamity according to our measure
of etyl. No one in his right mind would pray to
be prostrate with, disease. But there are many
who from the depths of a blessed experience can
thank God that they have been. You may talk
about health as you please. You may extol it as
the richest blessing which descends upon our
mortal lot, and justly. But I ask any one who
has ever had a profound experience of sickness —
of sickness exalted by the holy influence of reli
gion—if he would exchange those-experiences for
the health which they cost him?
Bew Horatio Stebbins.
Fear is a prodigious magnifier, especially when
it has be'ed excited by any unusual object. No
traveller ever saw a small tiger*-no landsman ever
-experienced a gale afrsea ;thafc was not a tornado.