GENESEE EVANGELIST.—WhoIe No. 759.
oltivE•
SHEAVES OF TIME'S HARVEST
BY lILIMABETB 0. VIIOIIT.
Time passed his hand o'er the brow of youth,
And ploughed deep furrows where once 'twat; smooth,
Then he wrote great lines of thought and care
In the place of the smiles it used to wear;
Then sprinkled the ebon looks with gray,
And faded the light of the eyes away,
And the reaper smiled at the mourner's grief,
As he gathered home this:ripened sheaf.
Time stood by a forest dim and old,
As its thousand years Were well nigh told,
And its fallen kings lay mouldering there,
Where the gray moss swung in the ohilly
From ocean to ocean's distant shore
That trackless forest shadowed o'er;
But a nation toils where those wild•wood leaves
Were garnered once with that reaper's sheaves.
Time stood on Baalbetee giant well%
And paced through proud Palmyra's_balle,
An 3 like the echo of his tread
Came funereal wailinge for the dead;
And now the desert blasts alone
Sigh o'er each fallen monaroh'o throne—
The only spirit abroad that grieves
Over those long since gathered sheaves.
Yet waiteth not that reaper dread,
For the flower to wither and droop its head,
For he cuts with hie sickle sharp and keen,
The golden ear and the leaflet green.
The babe that sports at its grandsire's knee,
And the gray old man alike takes he,
The starting bud and the withered leaf,
He gathers to add to hii well-grown sheaf.
The rose-tinged petals together rolled,
And the bud untwisting each fragrant fold,
The flower on its stem scarce fully blown,'
He bears with' his sheaves to 'his harvest home:
The youthful while hope still paints on the air,
Visions of glory enchantingly , fair,
The reaper gathers nor heeds our grief—
se has need, perhaps, of this blooming sheaf.
Alone that silent reaper stands •
And binds his sheaves with his bony hands,
And he scans the field of his harvest o'er •
As he scanned it a thousand years before—
And he laughs as he•watebes•the puny toil
Of those whose labors he makes hie spoil,
For the world and its creatures, like autumn leaves
He bindstogether—Time's harvest sheaves.
For the American Presbyterian.
CHEAP WAY OF DOING GOOD.
To our Church Members:
The luxury of doing good! Perhaps many of
your readers have but little knowledge of Ws lux.
ury—nevertheless it exists, and may be enjoyed.
There may be some who would not hesitate at the
expense, if they knew of the tohere and the how it
might be attained, Believing that there are some
who are ever ready to engage in a good work, '
when the way is pointed out, the writer wishes to
indicate one among the many; and it is the fol
clawing, in which he has enjoyed the luxury above
indicated,, as any one may suppose from the ex
tracts below. Thinking that in no way, at: so
small an expense, could he do more - geoid, and I
give more constant plea ure,Altant knarrentlis' N g 1% . 1% ,-
. ligicrus paper weekly into the families of some of
our pastors, unable to subscribe themselves, be
determined to supply twelve such with the " Amx-
RICAN PRESBYTERIAN."
Returning to his house after an absence of some
two months, he found an accumulation of acknow
ledgments on his desk, from Which the following
are extracts:
Please accept my grateful acknowledgments for '
your great kindness and liberality to one so un
worthy of your favorable notice. May the Lord
reward you abundantly for your remembrance of
me, and the supply of my great need, in this re
mote part of his heritage. I cannot r express the
interest and importance which I attach to the
AmERICAN PRESBYTERIAN as a source of religious
information, as well as, also, a faithful and efficient
organ of our branch of .the Church of Christ. I
most sincerely wish it could be introduced into 1
every family to the laud. Again I would thank
lyou for your renewed kindness, and may the bless
lag of our Heavenly Father rest upon you," &o.
" I shall receive it as a token of great kindness
and genmosity. I have had the reading of three I
or four copies already, and am very much delighted
with the paper. It is just the paper we want in-
ttoduced into all our families. Oh, that I could
get every family in my congregation to take it. I
feel that a paper of the right stamp is a great help
to a pastor in his work."
"Scarcity of money prevented my subscribing
for it before this. Accept, dear sir, my hearty
thanks, and may the blessing of Him who declared
4 a cup of cold water only to one of His little ones
in the name of a disciple' should not be without
reward, be yours," &c.
"Though unable to be a subscriber to the AME
RICAN PRESBYTERIAN, I know it and value it
highly as a standard paper of our branch of the
church. Please accept my hearty thanks, there- I
' , -)re for your kindness. My little flock am gra- ,
Illy acquiring a strong interest in the operations ,
I Boards of our church, and I trust are enjoy
a measure of the smiles of the Head of the
irch."
I have before this seen a number or two, and
I pleased with it, but did not feel able to,add it
my list of weekly visitors. I receive it with
', pleasure, and with many thanks to yourself
is weekly visits through the coming,year."
I am under many.obligations to the , goodpeople
Jiladelphia for assistance in time of need; And•
jou have added to the favors already bestowed,
lhall feel that I owe- my Master a. great debt of
itude, and shall try to serve. his cause with
zeal and fidelity. With my best wishes and
.rs for you and yours, .I am," Ito.
• Please accept my sincere thanks fore such a
.ecioum gift—one at the present time doubly
ized, because I have been under the necesaityof
ing without my usual amount of religious read
lg. It affords me great pleasure to see the in
•eased interest for our branch of Zion. Again
I we assure you that I appreciate the mission of
' AMERICAN' PRESBYTERIAN:"
" I take this method of acknowledging your
ndnesa towards me. Please accept my thanks for
favor I have•received at your betide. Though
may never be able to requite you, dear brother,
trust the Lord will. God bless you, dear bra.
in Christ."
These are but exudate. Now, 'Messrs. Editors,
there is not eitxury returned- in thew for the
II pittance paid for the subscription, the writer
@nonfat of luxuries. The prayers, the kind
ics of these servant:. of Christ Bro. - worth to rthe
er a thousand times the subscription price.
fact that the writers are all strangers to him,
1 not diminish• in the least his pleasure, as-they
all friends of His Elder Brother.
there not many others who would enjoy
the writer this luxury of doing good/
A MratottANl,
. E. W. Whelan, late principal of the Mis•
-
Inatitution for the education of the blind, pro
to establish a Magazine for the benefit of this
`,tinate elms.
For the Anieticall
IMPORTUNITY IN, PRAYER.
BY REV. THOMAS WARD WRITE.
It is not said men should pray when they retire
to rest, and when they arise and go forth to the
duties of the a sy; it is not said they should pray
when God's afflictive hand is laid heavily upon
them, when adversity rudely sweeps away their
fond anticipations and oherishid hopes, when dan
gere gather thick and dark , around them, when
perplexity and anguish tear their heart-strings,
when difficulties rise frowning 'before them; but
that they should"pray 'always: "pray without
ceasing," (1 Thess. v. 17;) MEN 01JOilT AEWAYEI
TO TRAY AND NOT TOI'AINT, (Luke 1;) that
is, their hearts should be altars "from whiab should
ever ascend, morning, D . OOll indmight, the • sweet
and holy incense of prayer.
I. God's character should .lead's to importu
nity in prayer.
1.. We know that he is a being of loving-kind
ness and tender mercy; that he is more willing to
grant his Holy Spirit'to those who ask him, than
earthly parents are to grant good gifts to. their chil
dren, (Luke xi. D.) That while our nearest and
dearest friends May bedune tired of our frequent
applications for favors,
fie loies our Importunity,
And makes our cause his care."
2. His justice should also lead us to pray with
importunity.
We all know with how much fear and .trembling
we approach into the presence of one in whose
character for justice we have but, little confidence,
to seek a redress of our wrongs. We have no
guarantee that such a one will either listen at
tentively to our petition, or, if he do listen, that
he will decide properly or answer promptly. Not
so with God. "Justice and judgment are the ha
bitation of his throne," (Ps. lxxxix. 14.)
8. He is also a God of truth. "A God of truth,
and without iniquity art thou," (Dent. xxxix. 4.)
In his holy word he has promised that we, shall find
him if we seek him with all our, heart. "Ye shall
seek me and find me when , ye shall searoh for me
with all your heart," (Dent. x. 29.) And this
promise he will most assuredly keep.
Lunenburg, Va.
THE S. S. BIBLE SOCIETY OF THE THIRD
CHURCH, PHILADELPHIA
TWENTY-MOND ANNUAL . REPORT.
From the minutes of the meetings of this so
ciety, appended to the printed proceedings of the
twenty-first anniversary, it will be recollected that
the President and Secretary had resigned their
respective offices—declining re-election. The so
ciety, however, in the exercise of its superiority,
withheld its release;, and it affords us great plea
sure to find that, though removed by distance
from our school, and, in his church , relationship,
laboring in another branch,of the vineyard of the
Lord, Mr. Whilldin is here ttlgysmillipg as
17=fr;e:L Frett; ' 4ll.Al.ooennitcrtr -- ne , Nor alsa - eb::
pirated from us, by distance, we . were compelled
reluctantly. to part; for the office of Treasurer,
which he filled for years with great advantage to
the society, required, more , than others, personal
presence in the school. We trust, however, that
our late Treasurer has been sueceeded by one
whose heart is no less warm in , the Bible cause.
It may be further recollected, in reference to
the progress of the society, in 1859, that while
a most verdant spring gave its hopes of fair pros
perity, and summer flowers bloomed in almost un
wonted beauty, our autumn came with a harvest
less abundant in sheaves than our - spring in.buds.
What shall be said of 1860? Did it trace its
commencement through green pastures, and be
side the still waters? Has a genial sun cheered
its summer path? and has no blight in autumn
withered its fruits? The result will best be seen'
from '
THE TREASURER'S ACCOUNT.
Balancaon hind at the end of the year, $216.97
Paid into the treasury of the parent society
for fointeen life memberships in favor of
Rev. r.. E. Adams, D. D., Rev. A. Cook
man, David J. Kennedy, George Griffiths,
Robert C. Geddes, Randall T. Hazzard,
Henry K. Bennett, Samuel Mercer, Jr.,
John H. Aikrnan ' Mrs. Margaret Brown,
Miss Caroline R. Farber, Miss Mary Bart
lett, Miss Virginia L. Harris, .Miss Mary E.
Work; 210 00
Balance, 6 97
Collections in 1860.
By thelnale board of managers, 6164 91
By the female board of managers, - 115.24
Interest account, 4 05-4254 20
$261 17
Disbursements for printing, stationery, erc.,
in 1859 and 1860, • 29 77
Balance now in hands of Mr. Ivins, Treasurer, $231 40
It was feared that so marked a declensien as
appeared in 1859, might perpetuate an unfavora
ble influence over 1860; and certainly, on minute
inspection of
_the collections of each quarter, are
to be found considerable traces of such an influ
ence passing over three-quarters of the year; yet
in the final quarter, or we may say the harvest
months, a pleating change distinguishes the close
With' brightened feature& The aggregate of 1860'
4xeeedi the total collections of 1859 by the - sum
of 880 84; and we trust a still brighter day` is
breaking, when with renewed - ardor and energy,
our managers 'go forth on the duties of another
year to gather trophies worthy of the cause in
which we labor; gratifying to the Philadelphia
Bible Society, whose delegates meet us once 'again
on this anniversary occasion, and 'of which our
society is an humble auxiliary; and honorable to
Old Pine Street Church,' which, through our
acency, appropriates, in multiplied donations and'
subscriptions, its only public contribution towards
sustaining the universal distribution of theprinted
Word of God.
Has the land in which we live, or the world at
large, ever experienced a crisis in which the Bi
ble, "God's holy book of truth," was more needed
than at this moment?
"Westward, the star or empire wends its way;"
and here, men, of almost, every, nation and. lan
guage, blend into one. Eastward, princedoms
and kingdoms are overturned, and the sphere for
Bible literature, almost everywhere, is being
widened, and that with prodigious rapidity. In
the midst of all this there reigns much disorder.
With the advent of every good•principle on freSh
ground, now as- ever, stands the "great red dra
gon" ready to devour. Who shall doubt the is
sue? "And there was war in heaven. Michael
and' his angels fought against the dragon; and•the
dragon fought—and his angels, and prevailed
not; neither Fas their place found any more in
,heavetr. And the• dragon was, cast out." "They
overe,ame Ititn by the , blood of the lambi and by
PIULApELERWH - Taq*AtJNOT,E3v3ER: 29,18.60.
the word Of their testimony" the battle-ground
MIS irensterred from heaven to earth; and men,
'in place of angels, became the, combatants of the
great adversary. Christ, the great captain of our
salvation, rides amongst the inhabitants of earth
as weThas in the minks of heaven; and on earth,
as in heaven, the ireit,'dragon, "that old serpent,
- called the Devil, and Satan, which deceiveth the
whole World," is to be Vanquished "by the blood
of the Lamb, and: byte Vord'of their testimony."
Our - little Society may change perpetually its offi
cers and managers. While the institution lives,
and passes:into other -hands, these,contributions,
to the cause of truth, however small one year or
great another, , need not cease as long at the walls
of this, ancient church edifice stand erect, and God
is the 'glory in the midst.
4 ", The beams, which shine on Zion's hill,
Shall lighten every land;
Thi King Who feigns incSidenili
114 Worldi coininsind."
Philadelphia, November-18,.'1860.
Poi the Auleilezin Presbyterian.
A. 1: 0. P.ll.
APPROPRIATIONS FOR 1861.
.Missionary Nose, Boston, Nev. 13,1860.
A resolutien, adopted by the• Board at the close
of, its last annual meeting, expressed the hope that
"the Prudential Committee would see their way
clear to appropriate $370;000 for the coming year,
and that "the filen& of the cause" would endea
vor "to raise $400,000, that sun" being desirable,
for the proper growth and development of the mis;.
sions." This vote was taken after a frank and
earnest discussion; and it seemed to harmonize the
views of all. The Scene which followed, will not
soon, be forgotten. Three thousand persons, lay
their simultaneous uprising, avowed their convic
tion that the time hid'crime for attempting greater
things in behalf of a perishing world,. Should the
promise of that hour be fully realized, it Will ever
be memorable in the history of the world's resto=
ration to Christ. , _
In making the appropriations forlBBl the Com
mittee have deeply felt their personal responsibi
lity. Prior to the last financial year, (during
which many speoial contributions were made,) the
donations from churches and individuals had not
reached, in fifteen years, the sum of $270,000. It
is not safe to expect the legacies in any one year,
to exceed $50,000. Nor is it safe to anticipate
any considerable amount from other sources. But
these two sums (amounting to $320,000) would
leave Ira far below $370,000. At the very out
set; therefore, the Committee are met by this ques
tion : "Is an advance of $50,000 (upon the dona
tions prior to last year) to be . regarded as proba.
ble? Iday it become the basis of our appropria
tions?"
There is still another question, looking, how
ever, in the opposite direction. "Shall no provi
sion be made for the normal and healthful growth
of the missions? Even with an allowance of
$370,000, this will be impossible. New positions,
however important allii desirable, must remain un
occupied. Our present Stations - cannot be worked
with the best economy and the highest success.
On the other hand we have before us it is
supposed, a year of unusual prtict ent gy„l4W r
vests v. - 11*kt •treiti22os •
emerging fromits severe depirairsiori; our Mann:
factures are ,bnoyant and hopeful: It *ill ..be
much easier for the friends of - the Board to in
crease their donations to $320,000 in 1861, than
it was to give $265,000 in 1858 or 1859. With
a resolute purpose, indeed, there would . be .
no dif
ficulty in raising $400,000.
In these circumstances, the Committed have
yielded to the most pressing claims of the mis
sions. They have granted, not what is really
needed, but what clarinet be withheld' without se
rious curtailment and loss. They have granted
nothing for enlargement. The existing stations
are- still without , the means of prosecuting their
work to the best advantage. The Committee have
appropriated $370,000, the amount suggested at
the annual meeting. In so doing, they supposed
that they should have the' cordial approbation of
the churches. They supposed, moreover, that
they were combining, as far as practicable, that
prudence which the past has taught, them, with,
that faith whicirtheir friends encourage them to
exercise: They are sure that 'they do not go be
fore the ability of the churches. They are sure
that they fall behind- the providence of God.
It is,with no ordinary solicitude that they turn
to the constituency of the Board, and inquire (1)
whether the grant-which they have made is to re
ceive a practical sanction; and (2) whether an.
additional sum may be expected, so that' the ne
questionable4emands-of the enterprise may beduly
honored. _Much has been said in regard, to the
hazards and evils of a frequent indebtedness.
More, nriech more, might hive been said. We
have felt the!argument and we know its strength.
But there are other hazards and evils- which, nust
not be forgotten. failure to profit by victories
which we have dearly won; the loss of golden op
portunities; the discouragernents of missionaries;
checking the faith and zeal of : their native" bre
thren; giving countenance 'and' courage to -their
enemies;—such things, surely; hive a platain- this
large problem.
We must be excused: for asking, whether it is a
light matter for churches, honored and hlessed as
ours have been, to fail in a question of the clearest
and highest. duty. Let any intelligent'disciple of
Christ look out:upon the heathen. world. Let 'hini
survey,its appalling, hopeless ruin? :,Let-him listen
to those voices which are coming to us from.the
ends of the earth; pleading `eVer for the bread of
life.. Let him contemplate those majestic changes
which the God-of missions-is constantly evolving,
in the interest of, his own ; great work. Let him
review the history of, this enterprise for-the last fifty
years, and see what Wonders - have been achieved,
notwithstanding the tardy aridscanty cooperation
of his people. Let him watch the dawning of that
day which is soon to fill the earth with the glory,
of Irrimanuel. Let him reckon up the obligations
of these American churches, growing out of their
history, their prosperity; their abounding facilities
for making known, in all lands, the unsearchable
riches of Christ. And then let him inquire whe
ther it is safe for us to do so Attie. Are there
not, just here, hazards and evilS, which should
rouse us from our lethargy,- arid make us say,
"We are verily guilty concerning our brother ' in
that we saw the anguish of his soul, when he be
sought us, and we would not hear?"
lint let us forget " these things which are be
hind." Let us inaugurate the second half cen
tury of our history, with a strong purpose to de
vise liberal things, the Lord helping us, for the
honor of his Son.. From this time forward, let
the word "debt" have no place in our vocabulary.
Let us look rather to him, who, though_ he was
rich, yet for our sakes becathe poor, that we through
his poverty might be rich. Often - have-we:utteted
the prayer, "Thy. kingdom come." Henceforth
let us LIVE it.
In behalf of the Prudential .
Committee,
R. ANDERSON,
S. B. TREAT Secretaries of the
,
.A. B. C. P. _AL
G. W. WOOD,
FILTHY LUCRE.
If a man has solemnly sworn to devote himself,
body and soul, to the spiritual welfare of men, that
vow fairly includes his money, as well as his talents,
tittle, and health ; unless, perhaps, money is con_
sidereal by spiritual'persons as so worthless a
thing that it is not fit to be given' to God. •
- s • ' • ' '
31011,04D1ED.
Of Mohammed, it kperhapS difficult, to form a
suitable estimate. It that be evident, we think,
to most careful and so et. , thinkers, that Carlyle's
view of him is too' fay iable, as that of most au
thors is unreasonably i vere. Indeed,' Carlyle, in
-his most inasterlyskete ;Professes to "say all the I
,d
'good he can of him," passes hut 'slightly over I
the evil, palliating wh he can. One theory is,
that this wonderful ini‘n was insane, which, we
take it, only amounts an acknowledgment that
the theorist could not ' 'derstand him. Another
tt
supposeshim a sheer • mpostor, laboring fo'r his
own'aggrandigement,ran -jute:l:rang revelations to
cover his own impost, s and vices. This we
must also reject, if fo 'no other
,reason than for
the fact of the prodigiou conitruetions of Moham
med—the wonderful Its ofhis religion—so
i
many of- hem-exeellent '4, Aman who so wonder
fully advances society, .., cannot .consider as a
sheer impostor. Was.lte e tprpanthnsiststlthen,avith
a large infusion of, the ktr atic? Too wise for an
'enthusiast, ton huniatie ? th ' lateral, a'fer, anatic.,
Was he a pure refdrur ' Certainly not. ' , How
shall we, then,-estima ~,hbri? To do . se 'aright,
we must consider What 40 Wes—almost destitute
of education, a wild A, with, a mighty intel
lect and nothing to sat'
, y. it;
,perfectly dissatis
fied with the follies' of e religion he found at
if
Mecca; that he therrelleq lon' trading expeditioni
into Syria and elsewhere in early'life; and that he
had some opportunity 4 f intercourse with Jews
and Christians. We inttt remember that he did
not commence offering , is professed revelations
till he was forty years ofl 'age, and that for some
fifteen years afterwards his life was one of hard
ship and difficulty, that though in his earlier man
hood continent apparently , it was in about the last
fifteen years that Henna listless - may be properly
ti
charged upon him, viz.: from towards his fiftieth
year till his death—for l he ,died at sixty-three.
We must remember the winciples alio religion, I
not as compared with our pure Christianity, but
with the miserable remnant of Sabeanism left in
his time. 'ldolatry he Orfectly and utterly abo
lished, and, iqttodonced fasting, rigorously for a
whole month in the ,'pear, required „prayer five
times a day, and one pilgr t image, at least, to... Mecca
in a marea life-tithe. --4W-,;sets apart one-tenth of
the income as the proftertir of - the, prior, fdrbids
wine and spirituous liquors, and swine's•fiesh, and
teaches constantly: r and wiAla peat earnestness, the
doctrine of one God only. ~.t. also-teaches that
the Jewish prophets wereonany of them truly in
spired, as well as onr, Sgrieonr, but. that he (Mo
hammed) was se'nt to per.'fect what was:remaining.
He allows true Mussulmans four, wives, extended
his religion by the sword„never attempted to work
miracles, inculcates a sensual paradise, and a ter
rible physical hell for the ; wicked, but keeps the
doctrine of retribution steadily before his follow
ers. We are to eonsider,what he found Arabia,
and what the Saraeenic empire grew to be. - And
we shall find the !lineation as to what Mohammed
was, by no means one to be disposed ,of in a few
phrases. If we were to• give an opinion, it would
be this—That Mohammed's own mind Was never
very clear in, regard to religion; that. he never
perfectly understood what.he was, nor what he in
tended to be; that he was,hurried on by an, irre
sistible impulse, partly 4 % dis g ust at the folly of
idolatry, partly of A glitlk..• • of the truth as dis
cernedin the Jewish anii ' Kristian religions,,
sled.min
4„the,rgfieetr, , ; ‘ ,.. 1 , a ,„,?,1 araose.nr his ort_
• •ivel.k.cd,:-pri': - rsi'l aftibitienTaa - fie - saw
something of the brillians i i reer before him; that
a desire for, Arab greatness ? , rude patriotism, was
no ineensiderable element in his character, and
that he deceived himself in regard to his own
character and ,privileges, perhaps quite as much
as he deceived Others: .It seems, that he plainly
saw that he Was establiihing a system far better
than the one previously exiatent, and in the chaos
of the feelings Of the most fervid Arab character,
he might perchance believe himself inspired, while
when the sceptre of dominion which to him seethed
universal was stretched out, it would, have been
Wondrous indeed if he had not grasped it, and in
fine, his false religion was a, mighty instrument, in
the hands.of God to accomplish his divine pur
poses. If, therefore, it be asked, was Mohammed
an impostor, enthusiast, fanatti l or reformer, we
would be disposed to say aornethiog of all; but
that, he was a man of consummate ability, such as
the world has seldom seen, is clearer than any
thing else in relation tohini. "kahould be j added
that he seethed to die, in the full
in prayer'
of the
truth of his religion, engaged prayer .
and other
acts of devoti&t.,.'
, „,,
Mohammed's eafeer oceonquest commenced in
Arabia,: riciTiVnaltbegirraings his army increased
to immense numbers. H 4 gained, one victory af
ter another, until in a' slfort ir4ot all Arabia was,
, -
at his bidding. Presently Persia submitted, and
during his life he had fought against the armies
of the Roman Emperor, Written to Ifirn, urging his
conversion, and the Mohammedan empire extended
from the EuphrateS to the head of the Red Sea.
We have not space te enter into a particular, ac
count of the Saracenic conquests. They spread
eastward to the Indus, and the 'proud empire of,
the Abassidee had ite seat a - m Ong, the splendors of
Bagdad. All Syria submitted; the Holy Land
became theirs; the ruin's of t Cinthr, of Persepolis,.
of`Petra, resounded to iheietrined tread.
,Their
swift dromedaries. and 661 1 bathed steeds pre
sently drank the waters of tie Nile, reposed un
der the shadow of the pyrath di, and were stabled
amidst Karnak and Luxor. stretching westward,
they over -ran, like an array of locusts, Nubia; and,
Mauritania,.and again die* . 4n by the fallen co
lumns ofCarthage. ,l'ounding what we now call
Tripoli, 'and Tunis; Algiers, ,Fsea ., ,, arid: Morocco,
they rushed onward; till the iraves Of the Atlan
tic, the only barrier - that:Jou/Id resist their pro
gresh, mingled - their "foal e ,lite'cheinping of
Ili
their fiery coursers"'Altlk tiak , frititer bends
suppliant 'to the fierce leade,"A, drop yonder
straitli-a fair and fertile'regidia, - the home of the
vine and the peniegratiate,...e ~h ere you may, ex
changetheselands for - Pen:Petal verdure, and the
stnt, broken streams of tEk t .tridg . k of Atlas, for
the 'Ehro`atiii the Tagil* the *aro, and the Gna
dalquiver." "'slain," "It'ia the will' of God,"
and the western Christian he a, for the first time
that fearful'war-cry g'
Which ru fel. centuries in
the ears of the chivalry of urope, when they
Night for the sepulchre of Christ—" Allah it Al
lah! Allah hu!" Spain imbthits or her few gal
lant patriots take refuge in the nor:horn mountains,
arid Granada under' the Othinkyades, amidst the
whispering grovels of her Alinuribra, becomes the
Bagdad of the -West. But from the heights of
the Pyrenees, it is reported" that the Mediterra
nean has been seen, breaking in sunny •
•waves•upon
a silver shore. "What - Pill Ye 'tbe land ?"' "The
infidels, commander of the' faithful, call it Fran
ck." "Shall we thither?" "Allah nebar,--:"
"GO is great." And they are across the Pyre
nees, and at the gates of Marseilles. They are
over Sicily. They have landed in Italy: Rome
trembles. ,
We pause to glance 'over the brilliant scene.
Has not, the Almighty re,deemell hivpromise to
Abraham, that labmeet shall ge a mighty nation?
rs not his character well drawn—his hand - against
every man? Does he not dwell in the presence
of his brethren? From the 'far distant Bassora
and Bagdad, to Cordova andq+ranada, the deli
cate, tracery of the Saraceniq architecture delights
the eye, and from every slender tuinaret sounds
forth, five times a day, "There is no God but
GOD ! To prayer! To prayer!" 'The crescent
has filled its horns, and its splendour is full
orbed.
Presbyterian Quarterly Ret,lete.
LOrd Palmerston was 76 year of age cin
Satur
day, the 20th of Outobei.
REALITY IN RELIGION
You. have hid enough of thouohts: you seek for
things. You have wearied your soul with specu
ations anent things Divine. You seek the Divine
things thentselves. Long trains of religious.ratio
cination; full schemes of religious doctrine; the
tracking and tracing of the mutual connections of
truth with truth; their cross-lights, and side-lights,
and harmonies;—in all this; perhaps, you are no
mean proficient. And considering that the fall—
while it has removed all spiritual light from man's
mind, and all spiritual love from his heart—has
left all the constituting elements of rationality and
reapansibility, it is not amazing if even the natu
ral man be found capable of great proficiency, in
reasoning on the statements of Divine revelation,
and constructing well-ordered schetnes of doctrine
from its contents.
For, let us bear in mind what it is, precisely,
that the natural man is disqualified fdr. "The
.natttraliniatr *MO - di not the things of'th i e' S tint'
of God; for they are foOlishness , unto him: neither
can he know them, because they are, spiritually'
discerned," Cor. ii. 14.) "They,are the things',
of the Spirit of GOff which he cannot receive;
which he'cannot know; which are 'foolish to him;
-very discernible, but not by him; very' real in
themselves, but not to his apprehension. It is
not said that he cannot reason concerning Divine
things.
What is it that eye 'hath not 'seen, nor ear
heard, and that hath not entered into the heart of
man? his the things which. God hath prepared
for'them that love him, (1 Cor. 9.) What is it
that the. Spirit searcheth and revealeth? The
deep thing's of God, (ver. 10.) What is it that
no man knoweth save the Spirit of God, and he
to whom the 'Spirit unveils theni? Again, the
things of God. The things of God knoweth no
man but the Spirit of. God, (vet 11.) For what
end 'is it that we receive,, not the spirit of the
world, but the Spirit which is of God? That we
might know the things that are freely given us of
God, (Ver. 12.) And what is it that the very
doctrine—the speech of inspired men—envelops
and contains, rendering it imperative that their
speech be inspired indeed; for otherwise why
sliciu/d- it carry such contents?. Again, the an- .
swer is, the things of God. "Which things also
we speak not in the words which man's wisdont
teacheth"—the Divine wine would , burst such
bottles of man's construction—" but in the words
which the rioly Ghost tem:halt," (ver. 13.)
The things of God: the deep things of 'Godi
the' things of the Spirit of God! Stich is • thO
Apostle's language •most persistently.
And is such emphatic phraseology not full of
meaning?—rnore especially, when thus so -care
fully repeated, when thus so continually clung to?
Doubtless it is. And it fastens down our atten
tion on the precise nature of that inability which
the Apostle then goes on (ver. 14,) to predicate
of• the natural man; namely this—that however
much, and logically, and with perfect accuracy,
you. may reason anent Divine doctrines, you can
not, without the Spirit, receive nor diseern,—you
can neither grasp nor see,—Divine things:
The dodtrine of forgivenesi, we shall say; who
can tell. how profoundly you may study it; how
acutely you may argue it; how clearly you may
teach it; how instructive to others your statement
and exposition of it may be? Forgiveness—as
a topic of speculation—may be one among, the
thoughts of your mind; and Itrthitk. light;
~erea..ar;
1 -4-trattirwaai- - you may-possibly do great justice
to the theme. But forgive / ness as a privilege
actual and real forgiveness; forgiveness, to be ac-,
tual and real; must be not one of the thoughts .of
your spirit, but one of the thoughts of God's Spi
rit; one of those thoughts of peace and not devil
which he kikoweth that be thinks concerning you,
ixix.'Ti;) the thoughts of God, not tran
sient and inefficient like your thoughts, but sub
stantial, effectual, eternal; the thoughts of God,
which in their self-realizing substantiality are wor
thy to be called "the things" of God. Forgive
ness to be real must be' one of these 'things of the
Spirit- of God; and, in that view, •without God's
Spirit you cannot discern it. As a mere thought,
or doctrine, or scheme of thought, in your mind,
it is altogether unreal; an abstraction; a shadowy,
unsubstantial; airy nothing. Scanned and studied
to eternity it would leave you unforgiven still.
As ,one of the things of God—real, and that may
be grasped and held fast—you are forgiven when
you see it and receive, it.
Adoption in like manner, you may deal with,
merely as a:doctrine, giving it a lodgment aniong
your thoughts. And you may master all its de-'
tails and • bearings still it may remain to
_ But .
you 'As an actual reality; as an act of
God's free grace; a real transaction, conferring
real privilege and pleadable right; it is among the
things of God—those things Which the natural
man receiveth not, neither can be know them.
Aid it is this dealing with Divine doctrines, to
the exclusion of the Divine things 'Which the
faithfulness of God has enshrine& in them, that
leaves Aso many with a religion destitute of the
element of reality; and destitute, therefore, of
power and comfort and refreshment..
- Christ's Presence in the Gospel History. -
THE
,SPIRIT THE AUTHOR OF REALITY
IN RELIGION
To see this, let us consider in what the sense
or feeling of reality consists;—the conviction and
assurance of reality or realiSm, in any field or
sphere, whether material or mental; whether of
art or science or trade; whether in camp•or coun
cil; in a mord, in any pursuit or interest cogniza
ble by man. Into' what must we finally resolve
oirr'conviction of reality? To What must we ulti
mathly trace . up that impiesaiori or assurance?
Clearly- 4 metaphysinal speculation' apart—to a
certain correspondence 'between the object'appre
hended• and the subject apprehending; , a,ocrmin
accordancy,or sititableness. Between the
qualities' , of t mattei, for instahee, and the senses
of the. hunian body by Whic,h perceive these
qualities; there is: a certain correspondence or
adaptation, by reason of which matter becomes to
us necessarily, in our apprehension,, no shadowy,
abstract, ' airy semblance, but an actual, existent,
real thina b . `Betstre'en the' phenomena of sound
and the human ear there is a relation which inevi
tably begets the conviction that the sounds I hear
are real; not ideal and, imaginary, the echoes of
dream-land. If they be musical sounds,—the
pirformance on a Many-stringed instrument of
one that can handle it well,—`-they will be real to
me only is sounds, and not as music, unless I
have a mental sense or faculty, a musical ear or
taste, corresponding, to their quality as musical; .
as the literal ear is adapted to their more general,
character as sounds merely. Why is it that, to
the merchant, prices, and markets, and rumors of
markets come home with All the impression of in
tense reality? It is because there is a corre
sponding habit and character of mind in such a
one. There is a relation and suitableness between
the sabjeet mind and the object presented to it;
in virtue whereof the impression of reality sprin'gs
up immediately when subject, and object come to
tmther.
And it is so in every sphere of knowledae or of
con templation.
If, therefore, the character and glory of God—
his authoritative claim to your love—yohr exceed
ing sinfulness in refusing it; if the fact of your
condemnation,—the substitution and righteous
nes.s of Chri.t,—his redeeming love and faithful
ness; if forgiveness of sin,—adoptio
of God's 'countenance-the joy,,k l f on
and the ,
comforts of his SpiriCjk„k , :::3,'
holiness—the goodness of God M* - andithe re
wards; of his favor: if these ark # as. yet but
shadows and ideas and unrealit*, it As because
between your spirit and theseiings of'd.od's Spi
rit there is no suitableness 'n'eLlitrinci•relation
true answerableness or adaptation or coriespon
deney.
But• the Spirit of the Lord can give these things
great reality in your estimation and conviction.
For he can establish a glorious correspondency.
Between these objective or outward "deep things
of God," on the one hand; and your mind, as the
active subject _engaged in contemplating and deal
ing with them, on the other; the Spirit can create
a and, blessed answerableness. He has
these Seep things of God in his keeping. They
are his own,—" the things of the Spirit." He
has your spirit in his keeping also, and at his full
and sovereign disposal. He can frame it into the
very image and charanter and glory of God. He
can fashion it into the very figure and mould of
God's holy law, and give unto it the leading attri
butes and tone of "the deep things of God."
And then,—when the character and glory of
God are outwardly presented to your mind, itself
now formed inthat 'sameglorious eharacter;—
when the ,authority of God is held up to you in
imposing that same holy law which is now within
your heart; and sin is held up to you as the trans
gression of that holy law; and Christ's atoning
blood and surety-righteousness, as magnifying
that holy law; and forgiveness, with acceptance,
even complete justification, as following from that
holy law having been magnified and made honor
able;—the sovereign love of God, also, as origi
nating all this redemption, and the light of his
countenance as following in his train; with the
peace that passeth understanding, and the joy
that is unspeakable and full of glory, and the
hope that maketh not ashatned, and the rest that
remaineth; oh! then, because of the exact cone
spondency between your inner man as formed
anew of the Spirit, on the one hand, and these
things of the self-same Spirit, on the other, there
is in all your soul an impressioni—not inferential,
but direct; not the fruit of reasoning, but intui
tional; inevitable also, and ineradicable, as well as
immediate;—that you are seeing and receiving,
that you are discerning, handling, grasping, the
things of God; • things that are real indeed, even
as, no thing's can be more real, yea, none so real
"for the things that are seen are temporal, but
the things that are unseen are eternal," (2 Cora
iv. 18.)
Christ's Presence in the Goebel History.
A QUAKER MEETING.
BY REY. THEODORE L. OUYLER
- An accomplished literary friend of Coleridge
and Wordsworth once forwarded a package of au
tographs to our friend, Dr. and when he
was asked NS' ha t Am6rican specimens he wished in
return, he = replied, "There are but three Ameri
cans whose autographs I care to possess. One of
them 'is George Washington, whom I honor; a
second is Benjamin Franklin, whom I admire;
the third is John Woolman, whom, have:". This
is the same drab-coated brother, whose quaint epis
tles Charles Lamb prescribed when - ke said, "Get
the writings of John Woolman by heart, and
learn to love the early Quakers." It were an easy;
thing to love John Woolmaii. The man who once
detected a vagabond neighbor in the act of steal
ing eorn from his granary, and sent him away with
the kindly reproof, "Friend, I am sorry that thee
should steal my corn, when if thee had only told
me that thy family were in need, I would have
ginen-thee all thee wantsatineh a maw-would;
be likely to win more hearts than gentle Ella's.
To this day the name of Woolman is held in holy
reverence through all the quiet platitudes of West
Jefsey;---among the shaded lanes of Haddonfield,
and under the cool sycamores of Burlington, he is
reckoned not a whit behind the very chiefest of
the apostles of Quakerism. He never defiled his
lips with 'an oath, or a wee drop of wine; with a
"Yes, Sir," or a whiff of tobacco. He never lost
his temper. He was as innocent of powder as one
of the shepherds on the Delectable Mountains.
No slave tilled for him his sandy acres, even in
those days when the sweat of the bondman mois
tened the soil of old Jersey. The white silk of
his good bite's parabolic bonnet was not more de
void of stain than his meek, gentle, placid, unam
bitious life. And at the present day, whenever
we meet, on the banks of the Delaware, a smooth
faced, patriarch, broad-skirted and wide of brim—
a man who seems to have expelled every trace of
passion from his countenance, and every particle
of dust from his strait garment—we think that we
see the harmless drab ghost of good John Wool
man.
To most of our Western readers a Quaker meet
ing would be a novelty. For the Quakers are but
:few in numbers, and constantly becoming fewer.
They lack the oversight of pastors to keep the
flocks together, and the attractive power of a re
gular eloquent ministry to draw new recruits to
their ranks. The children are drawn away by the
attractions of the Sunday-school; and as they grow
up they find it more tempting to listen to the ani
mating music and varied eloquence of a church
service, than to sit on a bare bench in an unpainted
meeting-house and listen to—silence! Like all
bodies that have ceased to be aggressive, they have
ceased to grow; the, thine is not far distant, per
haps, when the sight of a Quaker bonnet, or of a
coat cut in- the style of William Penn's ' will at
tract as much attention on the street as the appa
rition of a cocked' hat and knee-buckles-do in our
day.
And yet, for one, I should sincerely lament the
dying out of the Orthodox Quakerism. For the
Hieksite wing of the denomination—who, for the
most part, deny the divinity of Christ and the ne
cessity of an atonement—we have no sympathy,
and would feel no regret at the extinction of their
org i anization. But among the hard-working, free
giving, long-suffering Christians of our age in 13ri
tain and in America, the Orthodox "Friends" can
point to some of ft& noblest specimens. Their
writings are full of unction. Their hearts are full
of love- to God and Irian. Their hands are full of
alms-deeds and reformatory labors. What nobler
specimen of the practical Christian could any sect
show than such as they? Nor' is a Quaker meet
ing so barren and unprofitable -as many might
imagine. "Nothing-plotting, uninischievous sy
nod! convention without intrigue! parliament
without debate !" as Charles Lamb cloth style it—
how often have we gone in on "fifth day" to re
fresh our spirits amid the soul-soothing brother
hood! No bell sounded. from the steeple, for
steeple there was none. No sensation-subject an
nounced in the secular prints drew together a
gaping multitude. Panctual at the hour, a couple
of hundred decorous men and women gather in a
plain, square, unpainted room—every one of them
apparently habited by the same tailor, and hatted
by the same hatter. Tranquil and herd-like they
sit together—"forty feeding like one." For a
half hour they bathe' in silence. A long breath
hedonics audible; and the buzz of a bottle-fly
against the window is a distinct .and palpable
sound. It is the solitude of society. Soul con
versed' with soul without the intervention of the
lips;—may we not hope that many of these mute
worshippers are conversing with God?
At length a spare, stooping veteran rises from
the bench of elders, and laying aside his oversha
dowing beaver, in a slow, nasal tone utters the
words,." Thou wilt keep in perfect, peace him whose
mind is stayed on - thee! He is a "'public friend"
e., an acknowledged preacher of the denomi
nation. A few eyes are furtively raised-towards
the speaker, but the great majority bend a steady
abstracted gaze toward the floor. The venerable
man addresses his remarks to those who are " con
trited in spirit," and tells them that when he
has sat under the shadow of the Almighty wing,
he has ' , felt the income of sweet peace, and - all
ereaturely fears had fled away."- In a chanting
tone this strain of tender exhortation is kept urfor
twenty minutes, and, the pale spirituelle face of
the'patriarch is again hidden 'under the overspread-
VOL. V.—NO. 14.—Whole No. 231.,
ing hat. Another long silence is broken by a low,
sweet voice that wails forth its petition like .Han
nah's before the altar at Shiloh. Her melting pa
thos of voice—that excellent thing in woman—
hushed the house till you could bear the rustle of
a pocket-handkerehiet She prays for the bedew
ings of the Holy Spirit upon the meeting,—for
steadfastness in rebuking the vanities of the world
and the flesh—and concludes what seems as much
a devotional chant as a prayer, by a touching ap
peal for "all who are in the bonds of the oppres
sor." The official record of the meeting would
probably read something like this—" Dear A—
B— was favored to deliver an address under
the covering of the Divine love, and after he sat
down, R— 8— T— sweetly concluded in
supplication."
At the last Friends' meeting that we ever at
tended, a marriage. took place. The parties had
" passed meeting" some weeks before, and now
there was a crowded assembly to witness the nup
tial ceremony. It was'evident that many of the
world's -people.had, been attracted by sheer curi
osity—and their perpetual buzz quite disturbed
our reverential friends, and drew some reproving
glances from the bench of elders. Before the
bench sat the plighted pair, in most immaculate
Quaker costume. "Every Quakeress is a lily,"
says Elia; and tiro bride that day was a lily from
the King's garden. For nearly an hour we all
sat in solemn silence, broken only by the whispers
of the idle spectators. After waiting so long a
time for the motion of the inward monitor, the
bridegroom slowly drew off his gloves, and gave his
band to his fair companion; they rose up in their
places, and we can barely hear them say, "I, Mar
tin Midsummer, do, in the presence of this assem
bly, talc.; 'Dorothy Dale to be my lawful.wife until
death shall separate us." The meek bride repeated
faintly another sentence of the same import; they
resumed their seats, and the simple ceremony was
concluded. Nothing remained but the signing of
a huge parchment certificate by the friends pre
sent; and as we wdnt up to enroll our autograph,
a venerable Quaker said to us, "Friend C ,is
not this a right honest way to get married?" We
replied that it certainly was, and hinted to him
that, for want of a parson, Adam and Eve must
have been married pretty much in the same way.
There it much in Quakerism that we admire
and love. We do not sympathize with their scru
pulosity in regard to dress; and in reading the
life of John Woolman, we found the devotional
current of thought too often broken by allusions
to the color of clothes and the fashion of furniture.
We differ widely from them in regard to the bind
ing authority of the Christian sacraments. We
lament that the stereotyped twaddle about a "hire
ling ministry," once better employed against the
Fox-hunters of another age, should still be „rppeated
against the laborious self-denying ministrf of the
modern Evangelical churches.
But it is pleasanter to think of our coiricidences
than our differences. It is grateful to sit at the
feet of Gurney, and hear him talk of " Redemp
tion"—to go on foreign pilgrimages of charity
with Daniel Wheeler and William Allen anitSte
phen Grellet—to feel the trumpet-thrill of Whit
tier's appeals for freedom—and then to remember,
that at the open gates of the New Jerusalem, all
their garniture of sectarian hue shall be gently
laid aside for the white raiment of the saints,
which-shall be worn by all of= Christ blood-boight
children
It is known to our readers that the colony of
French converts from Ron3anisru, of which Father
Chiniquy was the leader, has connected with the
Old School Presbyterian Church. Since then,
contributions for their temporal and spiritual good
have been made by various denominations, consi
derable sums even coming from Christians in
Germany. A large commodious church was built
for them, excellent pastors were procured, and it
was thought the colony was in a prosperous con
dition. A correspondent in a late number of the
'Presbyterian,' however, gives a gloomy picture
of its distracted and threatening condition. This
he chiefly charges upon the unbidden interference
of the Baptists and Episcopalians, who, it would
seem, considered themselves equally entitled to a
share in the fish that were supposed to have been
caught in this Gospel net. Books and tracts have
been circulated against infant baptism, and also
in favor of the peculiar tenets of the Episcopal
Church. The converts not yet being deeply
grounded in. the truth, and innocent of exegetical
and theological polemics, were naturally thAirt
into confusion by the conflicting array of Biblical
and Ecclesiastical criticism which was showered
upon them. The result is that quite a number
are returning to the Catholic Church, while others
are drawn off by the intruders, as they are called,
who have commenced services with the view of
leading ,the poor bewildered colonists out of their
wandering mazes into a clear and certain path.
The correspondent seems to have his fears that the
success of the enterprise is in imminent danger. -
Hitherto, we have been mere looker on in
Venice," so far as this Chiniquy enterprise ie con
cerned; which some of our respected brethren of
other churches may perhaps think is little to our
credit. We could never speak of it with the same
unqualified enthusiasm and praise as many of our
exchanges did, for the simple reason that we re
garded the whole movement as an experiment.
We have no doubt that many members of the
Romish Church need a Reformation of life and
faith; and of course we believe that Protestantism
is superior to Romanism, or we could not consis
tently remain in it. We wish God speed to all
Evangelical Christians who by proper scriptural
means can convert Romanists to a purer faith.
Our suspicions of the ultimate success of this en
terprise were not because we could see no need of
it, abut on accoont of the diffleulties it involved.
If may be'a coMparatiVely easy matter to instruct
a single Romanist in the Protestant religion, and
train him in its devotional practices—but to re
ceive a whole colony at once, hundreds of men,
Women and children, who have been trained and
imbued from earliest childhood in the peculiari
ties, prejudices and, principles of their belief, and
transmute them into Protestants, is not such an
easy matter. It is all very correct to speak of the
almighty power of gospel truth, and its efficiency
to transform the heart; but even admitting this,
we yet must say that the renovation of such a
mass, thoroughly vanquishing their prejudicei---
not only teaching them what is wrong, but also
what is right, and, get them cordially to believe,
adopt, and practise it, is a Herculean task. Every
student of Church History knows how these
wholesale conversions worked in the early church,
how the abrupt influx of tLe Barbarians overloaded
her with an unwieldy mass of material, fresh from
their groves and heathen altars, which even the
Divine leaven of Christianity did not thoroughly
penetrate and transform. And it is the remains
F ., .
of that gorgeous process of imperfect ass i m il at i on
whieb, according to the teachings of Protestant
ism, constitute.the corruptions and imperfections
of the Romish Church.
MINISTERIAL HUNTING.-A correspondent of
the Louisiana, Boptis4 - asks.--"What think you
of a pastor who takes up so much of his time in
hunting deer, as to fail in making appropriate pre
paration fur his pulpit labors ?" The Baptist an
swers—" First, if he is led on or encouraged in
his propensities fur the chase by his deacons a.nd
other influential members. we'think he is seine
what excusable. Secondly, If he is not pro;, ,
perly supported by his churches, and bunts to ob
tain meat fur his fa:Lnily, we think he is decidedly
justifiable. Thirdly, If' he hunts to the extent
named merely for the love of hunting; we think
he is far out of bis duty, and should be kindly ad
monished, and, if he persists, dismissed."
THE CHINIQUY COLONY.
German Reformed Messenger
Independent.