Tol. Tin. So. 1. —Whole No. SOu. THEN AND NOW. I know not if the days gone by Have been more purely spent, :-, Yet this, I know, they seemed more bright, More pleasant as they went; ‘ And hope was tinged with such fair hue, That future hours seemed fraught With beauty, and with happiness Those hours have never brought. I know not if the smiling skies’ Were then more dear to me, And yet they do not seem so fair ■As once tndy seemed to be. : The sunlight sparkles on the stream, As when I was a child, Yet cannot now beguile my thoughts As they were than, beguiled. . .. How far it Seemed—that narrow bound Where earth and heaven meet I Ah I childhood’s fancies are too fair For anything S 6 fleet. And thoughts crowd up, as years come on. And earth seems all too cold For those warm yearnings that arise Within the feeling soul. The skies seem bending all around To close our sorrows in: The eye of faith can hardly pierce Above the world’s rude din : - And silent moments that recall l’he thoughts of earlier days, Are green oases ’mid the waste Of all'Our worldly ways. THE LIBERTIES OF GENEVA. SEVENTH PAPER.—DEATH OF LEVRIER. “I may be deceived," says D’Aubigne, "but it appears to me that the narrative of the strug gles of the first huguenots might be entitled: History of the founder* of modem liberty. My' consolation •when I find myself called upon to describe events hitherto unknown, relating to persons unnoticed until this hour and taking plaoe in a little oity or obscure castle, is that these facts have, in my opinion, a European, a universal interest and belong to the fundamental principles of existing civilization. Berthelier, Levrier, [Huguesj and others’have hitherto been only Genevese heroes; they are worthy of being placed on a loftier pedestal- and of being hailed by society as heroes of the human race.” One of these heroes, whom we gladly do out part 1 to canonize, has already been disposed of— Berthelier. His martyr-death at the hands of the bastard bishop, our readers doubtless remem ber and admire; The duke of Savoy residing in Geneva, with his wife and new-born son, as if he had no other capital, plotting—for ho dare not proceed too violently on account of the Swiss—the overthrow,of the liberties of Geneva, finds the upright and immovable judge, Levrier, so great an obstacle to his plans, that he deter mines on his downfall. First, however, he tried the effect of friendly advances. Levrier replied respectfully. But when Charley was encouraged to insinuate: “You know that I am sovereign lord of Geneva, and that you are my subject;” he found that he had made no impression on the sturdy jurist. “No, my lord,” he quickly re plied, “ I am not your subject; and you are not sovereign of Geneva.” Henceforth Levrier was in the eyes of the duke as Mordecai to Haman. His death was inexorably determined. His friends saw it and earnestly admonished him to fly. He persistently refused, resolved to stand by the liberties of Geneva to the last and die in their defence. He was seized by the duke’s emmissaries returning from service the evening before Easter Sunday, March 12th, 1524, and carried to the Castle of Bonne within the terri tory of Savoy. Here, in complete isolation from Geneva and from mankind, in the very place in which he had rejected the duke’s preposterous claims, it was determined that he should pay the penalty of his republican bluntness. Great was the agitation and consternation of the people at this kidnapping of the hero of Genevan independence. A deputation was sent by the council to the duke to intercede for the noble captive. We will let D’Aubigne tell’the rest of the story in his own thrilling words. THE ALTERNATIVE REJEOTED.-THE EXECUTION. Charles was not a hero; the emotion of the people disturbed him, the energy of the patriots starteld him. He determined to make an advan tageous use of his perfidy by proposing an ex change: he would spare Levrier’s blood, but Geneva must yield up her liberties. ‘Go,’he said to Maurienne, ‘and tell the syndics and councillors of Geneva that, full of clemency to wards them, I ask for one thing only: let them acknowledge themselves my subjects, and I will give up Levrier,' The Savoyard bishop carried this answer to tho syndics, the syndics laid it before tho council, and Charles calmly awaited tho result of his Machiavellian plot. The deliberations were opened in the council of Geneva. When there are two dangers, it is generally the nearest that affects us most: every day hoB Its work, and the work of the day was to save Levrier. The ducal courtiers flattered themselves with this well-laid plot. But the citizens, in this supreme hoUr, saw nothing but ther country. They loved Charles’s victim, hut they loved liberty more; they would have given their lives for Levrier, but they could‘not give Geneva. , ‘ What! acknowledge ourselves the the duko’s subjects!’ they exclaimed; ‘if we dp so, the duke will destroy our liberties for ever. Levrier himself would reject the proposal with horror.’—‘To save the life of a man,’ they said: one to another in the council, ‘we cannot sacri fice the rights of a people.’ They remembered how Curtius, to save his country, had leaped Into the gulf; low Berthelier, to maintain the rights of Geneva, had given his life on the hanks of the Rhone; and one' of the citizens, quoting the words of Scripture, exclaimed in Latin: 1 Expedit ut units rnoriatnr homo pro po~ pula, et non tola gens pereat ‘ The duke calls for blood,’ they added: ‘let him* have it; but that blood will cry out for vengeance before God, and Chavles will pay for his crime.’ The coun cil resolved to- represent to the duke, that by laying hands on Levrier he robbed the citizens of their franchises and the prince of his attri butes. Maurienne carried this answer to his Highness, who persisted in his cruel decision: ‘ I must have the liberties of Geneva or Levrier’s life.’ On Sabbath morning, the 11th of March, three men were in consultation at the castle of Bonne, and preparing to despatch Levrier. They were Bellegarde, sufficiently recovered from his fall to discharge his : <commission and simulate a trial ; a confessor intrusted to set the * John xt. 60 i *lt is expedient for us that one mftn should die for tho people } and that tho whole nation perish not.’ 0 accused at peace with the Church; and the exe cutioner eonqnissioned to cut off his head. His Highness’s steward, who had received instruc tions to have it over ‘in a few hours,’ ordered the prisoner to suffer the cord—‘nine stripes,’ says Michel Roset: ‘ not so much from the ne cessity of questioning, him,’ adds Bonivard, ‘.as for revenge.’ This ducal groom (we mean Bel-, legarde) felt a certain pleasure in treating un worthily a magistrate the very representative of justice. : ‘Have you no accomplices who eon spired with you against my lord’s authority?’ said he to Levrier, after the scourging. ‘ There are no accomplices where there is no crime,’ re plied the noble citizen with simplicity. There upon the Savoyard .provost condemned him to be beheaded, ‘not because he had committed any offeuqe,’ says the judicial documents, but be cause he was a ‘ lettered and learned man, able to prevent the success of the enterprise of Savoy.’ After delivering the sentence, Bellegarde left Levrier alone; . Shortly after Bellegarde’s ; departure the con fessor entered, discharged his duty mechanically, uttered the sentence: Ego te dbsolvo-r- and with drew, showing no more sympathy for his victim •than the provost-had done. Then appeared a .man with a cord,:,; it .was the executioner. It was then ten o’clock at night. The inhabitants of the little town and of the adjacent country Were sleeping soundly, and no one dreamt of the cruel deed that was about to out short the life' of a man who might have shone in the first rank of a great monarchy. Bellegarde had no cause to fear that he would be disturbed in the aecom lishment of his crime; still he dreaded the light; there was in his hardened conscience a certain uneasiness which alarmed him. The headsman bound the noble Levrier, armed men surrounded him, and the .martyr of law was conducted slowly to the castle yard. All nature was dumb, no thing broke the silence of that funeral proces sion; Charles’s agents moved like shadows be neath the ancient walls of the castle. The moon, Which had not reached its first quarter, was near setting, and shed only a feeble. gleam. It was ; too dark to distinguish the beautiful mountains in the midst of which stood the towers whence they had dragged their victim: the trees and houses of Bonne were scarcely visible; one or two torches carried by the provost’s men, alone threw light upon this cruel,scene.. On reaching the middle,of the castle yard, the headsman stopped and the victim also. The dneal satel lites silently formed a circle round them, and the executioner. prepared to discharge his office. Levrier: was calm: the peace of a good conscience supported him in this dread hour. He thought of God, of law, of duty, of Geneva, of liberty, and of the legitimate authority of St. Peter, whom ih the simplicity of his heart, he regarded as the sovereign of the; city. It was really the prince-bishop whom he-thus designated, but not wishing to utter.the name of a prelate,whom he. despised, he substituted that of the apostle. Alone in the night, in those sublime regions of the Alps, surrounded by'the barbarous figures of the Savoyard mercenaries, standing in that feudal court-yard, which the torches illumined with a sinister glare, ,the heroic champion of the law raised fiis eyes'to heaven and said: ‘By God’s grace ! die without anxiety, for the liberty of my country and the authorityof St. Pater.’- The grace of God, liberty, authority—these main principles of the greatness of nations were his last confession. The words had hardly been ut tered when the executioner swung round his sword, and the head of the citizen rolled in the castle, yard. Immediately, as if : struck with fear,, the murderers respectfully gathered up his remains and placed them in a coffin. ‘ And his body was laid in earth in the parish church of Bonne, with the" head seperate/ At that mo ment the moon, set, and black darkness hid the stains of blood which, Levrier had left on the pavement of the court-yard. 1 Calamitous death,’ exclaims the old Oitadin de Geneve , ‘which cost upwards of a million of Savoyard lives in the cruel wars 5 that followed; in which no one re ceived’ quarter, because the unjust death of Levrier was always, brought forward.’ ; There is considerable exaggeration in the number of Sa voyards who, according to this writer expiated Levrier’s murder by their death. The crime had other consequences—and nobler ones. A.E.O. RELIGIOUS WORLD ABROAD. The Revival in the North of Ireland having been, tested, by its fr,uits through four years, may now be regarded as placed beyond dispute. In the report on the state of Religion to the Irish General Assembly, it was stated that persons who at the time of the Revival were viewed as partakers of true conversion, “have almost uniformly turned out to be such in reality!” At the Private Conferences on the State of Reli gion, held during the mornings of the first week this statement was abundantly corroborated; and these meetings themselves furnished the happiest evidences of the high spiritual tone and spiritual reality that pervade the Church. British Army Chaplains are now, since 1859, divided into four classes. Those who have com pleted twenty years’ service belong to the first class, aud have the rank and pay of colonels; those who have served fifteen years belong to the second class, and are ranked as' lieutenant-colo nels; those who have served ten years enter the third class, aud have the rank of majors; all un der ten years’ service are comprehended in the fourth class, and have the rank of eaptains. The chaplain-general enjoys the rank of a major-gen eral in the army. A* the present moment, there is ohe chaplain of the first class, twenty-one chap lains of the second class, tour chaplains of third class, and sixty-one of the fourth —in all, eighty seven chaplains. This list does not include the acting chaplains in India, who are paid by the local-government, and, being non-commissioned, can he dismissed at.any time. The, commissioned chaplains are subject to all the Articles of War; they inay be tried by court-martial and cashiered the same as any other officer. It is scarcely ne cessary to add that certain acts of misconduct which society is only too ready to condone in the qase of a young officer, would at once lead to a chaplain’s dismissal from the service. It is but justice to add that no such a case, so far as we know, has ever occurred. Bible classes, taught by chaplains, arc now to be found in every camp and garrisoutown. Commanding officers, in order to encourage the attendance of tho men, usually exempt the members of these classes from evening parade. The Army Scripture Readers serve as a medium of: communication between the chap lains and the men. There are now more than sixty readers in the employment of the United British Army Scripture Readers and Soldier’s -Friend Society. South Australia.- —In this far-off colony, for many years past, the State has left every Church to stand before the wurld unpatronised; and I believe the united testimony of the Christians of ail denominations is that it is best so. I could gather testimonies to this from the highest dig nitaries of the Church of England. They admit that their fears have not been realised-—that the previously unworked mine of Christian liberality has yielded better results than ever they dared hope, A correspondent says:—Upon the whole, we can confidently affirm that there is no portion l of tho Empire iu which tho clergy bear a larger GREAT BRITAIN. PHILADELPHIA, THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 3, 1863. proportion to the population, or in which there is more regular attendance oh the instructions of. the Gospel; than in South Australia. Austria. ■ Recent Reforms. —since the defeats of - Ma genta and Solferino, in 1859, the young Emperor Francis Josephunder the advice of the late prime minister,; Metternich, has been pursuing a steady cource of Reform in the administration of the affairs of his Empire. Says the Christian World: The Concordat with the Pope of 1855 has been annulled—marriage has been made a civil insti tution, and is no longer in the hands of the ( priest alone—the schools are taken away from the con trol of the Jesuits—the rights of conscience are conceded—religion is no longer a test for politi cal preferment, and the Bible, in all languages, may be freely imported for sale into Austria. So. sincere is the Emperor, that a petition of the Diet of the Tyrol to have that province excepted from the operation of the law enfranchizing Pro testants, has not been granted. On the other hand, the Emperor has given to the Protestants a place of;worship in Vienna, has allowed the ut most freedom of speech, and that publicly, in eulo gizing Gustavus Adolphus, the great champion of Protestantism in the thirty years’ war. Still fur ther, Herr Von Sehmerling telegraphed, last year, to the Austrian delegates in the Gustavus Adolphus Society—-the great Protestant protec tionist and home-missionary Society for Germany —that they might, if they pleased, invite that body to hold their next meeting in Vienna: and farther still; the Moravians have been permitted to commence: Protestant missions in Austria. Truly the world moves! Even Austria has made more unexpected progress in the two years end ing last Dee. than any other portion of the globe. FRANCE, The Emperor. Napoleon,, warned by the remits of the late election in Paris, has chosen a minis try more liberal and more in sympathy with the people. The new minister of Public Instruction, M. Duruy, was a man little'known, but is said to be a Warm partisan of the University, it decided foe to the Catholic party, and consequently his elevation has been looked at with an evil eye by the clerical press. He has begun his career-by a very significant act: the restoration of the Lyce ums of the philosophical class, which had been sac rificed to conciliate the priestly party when the government depended upon its aid. We have here a hint of the present animus of the powers that be. which enables us to fortell a change of political course as to the Roman question. The, predecessor of Duruy, Rouland, always opposed the Protestants in their Educational and Evan gelistic efforts. Some negotiations, however, which were in progress with the ex-minister looking to the restoration of Synods in the Re formed Church and which were going on swim ingly, have been interrupted by the change, and may be delayed for months. , There .is a present aid pressing need of this return ’ to ah’organized and constitutional existence, especially in view of the undisguised rationalism of a number of the Reformed pastors. The following “mot” of a Roman prelate is currently quoted: “If the- French remain in' Rome,-they destroy us ; if they leave it, we perish.” The alternative is certainly a very formidable one., A Mosque is to be erected in Paris for- the use of the Arab regiments-which now; form part of the garrison. In Algeria it js forbidden to col porteurs to sell Bibles to Arabs, for fear of poli tically indisposing them by religious controversy; the priests of Rome are equally prohibited from proselytising them. How will Christiana reach these interesting men in Paris ? It must prob ably be by word of mouth, for few among them can read. ITALY. Education. —There.are in Italy nineteen Uni versities, and the aggregate number of students attending these during the session just closed was 5515. There are 250 Lyceums, the attend ance at which has been 14,281 students; 138 Seuolc Teeniche,.with 7265 students. The .at tendance at the elementary schools during 1861- 82 (the report for 1862-63 is not yet published) gives an aggregate of 459, 273 males, and 341,- 929 females; total, 801, 2.02 scholars- This year there will be considerable increase. , Decided Progress in Naples.— The Neapolitan correspondent of a paper in Genoa, says it is a fact that Protestanism is making great strides in Naples, and exhorts the priests, if they would not see themselves abandoned-altogether to make haste to reconcile’ themselves with; the people, and no longer dream of robbing , them of their most saered rights viz!, Rome aq capital, and ab juration of the temporal power by the Pope. He mentions, with high approbation, the schools of Marquis Gresi, and as an example,of the attach; meat of the scholars, says, that a bigot urged on by her confessor to induce her god-child to withdraw from Cresi’s female school, attempted to persuade the child with gifts and caresses, at first, and when that proved unavailing, got into a fury, knd murdered the child with a knife ! Cresi has just returned from Geneva, where he has been, or dained to the ministry by Dr. Merle Daubigne and others, under whom he studied theology some years ago. Don Amhrogio. —There is a priest now in Turin, named l)on Ambrogio, who preaches in the public squares to the people, with great energy and boldness, against the errors of the Church of Rome, exhorting the people to read the Scriptures. I believe he professes still to be a Roman Catholic, and not to have left the Church. He has been apprehended scores of times by the police, ; and led to prison with hand cuffs on, but next day he is always at bis post again preaching to the people. The clergy of Turin have. warned their, flocks against going near Him and the result has been that he is now attended by multitudes. M. Meilief’the pious Waidensia-n pastor at Turin, endorses Ambrogio. Gen. Beckwith and the Church Government of the Vaudois. —The late Gen. Beckwith, a British officer, is well known as having been the ardent and highly successful patron of schools, colleges, churches, and the general interests, of the Wal denses. He foresaw a quarter of a century ago, the profound relations likely to be. held by this single pure church of Italy to the Evangeliza of the Peninsula, • and he labored earnestly to prepare it for its high mission. He died about a year ago, having lived to see his Christian foresight fully justified and his labors rewarded in the prominent part which the Yaudois were at once enabled to take in the great missionary movement to which Italy was opened. Iu one enterprise, however he failed. Some fifteen years ago, he tried to prevail upon the Vaudois Synod to change its Presbyterian form into a sort of Episcopal, by appointing its moderator for life. The body of the Vaudois ministers took his pro posal into serious and prayerful consideration; but however desirous of giving their benefactor a proof of their cordial affection and confidence, they unanimously declared that their conscience did not admit of such a modification of their Church government. The General then left the valleys and stayed away for two years. His de parture was generally ascribed to his feelings of dissatisfaction, and 1 found that this explanation of his two years’absence is still held good by many. Au intimate frihnd of the General, how over, who shared his full confidence, assured me that his departure at that time had nothing to do with his disappointment regarding the case of the moderator. The Exiled Protestants. —The solemn step taken by the Evangelical Alliance in favour of our brethren in Spain has hot been without re sults. The presence in Madrid of eminent men belonging to every section of European Protest tantism, the organs, righteously aroused, of the universal conscience, must have-had weight in the decisions of the Spanish Government. The Gorrespondencia , more or less the avowed organ of the (Jourt, says under date of May 20th. “The Queen has deigned to commute the sentence to the galleys pronounced upon,, the men convicted of Protestantism by the tribunal of Grenada, changing .their penalty int,d banishment of an equal duration, and afterwards subjecting them to the inspection of theipolice.” MatamOris, in formed of the decision in his favor, asked with noble' solf-forgetfulneßS: "and those at Malaga?” The number of those banished for the cause of the Gospel is seventeen: six, confined daring three years in the dungeons of Grenada and Malaga; eleven, condemned'for contumacy. In the list of the accused ohe Treads, not without surprise, the name of apious ; ypung girl, Made moiselle Marin. They cannot fail to meet every where with-sympathy and welcome. Matamoros was seized With a serious illness after his arrival, at Gibraltar, caused by the rigors of his prolonged captivity. His health requires great care. Denmark. Union of Churches.—Separation of Church and State.— -Since the marriage of the Princess Alexandra and the Prince of Wales, a movement has ' bee'n started for a more intimate union between the Scandinavian .and' the Anglican Churches. ; In various journals of the Church of England, the opinion is enunciated, that a time is.come in which it is necessary to pave the way for an “ apostolic union between the English and the Northern Churches/’—*-A more dubious project has been starllSj suggest by another po litical event, which, has recently given impor tance. to Denmark, the election of Princess Alex andra’s brother, under’ the title of George I, to the throne of Greece. Among a small clique in Kjertenminde, Saaland, a “Greco-Danish’’i so ciety , was formed' on . the Ist oj L 'June of this year, of which the object was the diffusion of Christi anity within the Mohammedan territories,. by the joint operation of the Greek and Danish Churches. The most vigorous exertions are now being made for the complete separation of the Church and State; and if.unexpcoted events do not intervene, the movement will be success ful. The greatest difficulties will arise from the ecclesiastical property which the State appropri ated to itself at 1 the time' of the Reformation, and of which the Church will demand the restitution, as, indeed, necessary to her in case she is to be come self-governing. , missionary. The Mohammedans'. Their Conversion the ultimate object of Missions m Turkey. —The Con- ’ stantinopie Mission of the American Board, in, a recent meeting after discussjjm passed the fol lowing:— that we consider all our labors for nominal Christians' in our field aS having for their great, and ultimate end the evangelisation of the large Moslem population of Turkey: that we, as American Missionaries believe ourselves providentially called to this work, and that the time is fully come for more direct and more ear ' nest efforts for Mohammedans. India.—The Bash Missionaries in Bombay. — A' correspondent writes: In one respect these missionaries stand out from those of other socie ties known to us, namely, by. their very moder ate personal expenditure. The expenditure of forty-seven brethren and . twenty-five sisters for a period of fourteen months, was 47,281 rupees, about 1000 rupees each family, or less than sev enty rupees (7f.) per mensem. The expense of living is much less where they are stationed than in Bombay; but it is evident that they practise a singularly rigid economy. And one result is, that two, three, or four missionaries are sustained where one only would otherwise be, and as the society, like most others, is straitened for want of means, we see not how any one can do other than rejoice in‘the grace of*'self-denial given to them. ' Tinnevelbj is still a prosperous mission. There have been 261 adult baptisms in three months. With growth there is health: as an evidence, we have the efforts made by these Churches towards selfisustenan.ee and missionary enterprise.; They collected among themselves last year more than 800 rupees, with which they paid half the salary of their native teachers', and helped the itineracy of the mission amongst the heathen; A very in teresting work is going on amongst the slaves of Travancore. Four congregations have been gath ered and consolidated. China.—Dr. Lockharts Hospital at Pekin.r— All classes of the people and officers of Govern ment of every rank have applied to the hospital. Chinese, Manchoos, Mongols, Thibetians, Coreans and Mohammedans, natives of the capital and Kashgar and other regions to the west, have been attended to. The number of patients attended to during the fourteen months and a half that the hospital and dispensary have been opened is 22, 144 individual cases. The Object of the hospital is twofold: one is directly to benefit the people by healing their diseases, as .a branch of mission ary work iu this heathen land, and thus endea vouring to win their confidence by showing them that it is,intended to do them good; the other is to use. tlie influence thus obtained as a means of directing their attention to Jesus Christ the Son of God and Saviour of the world. KNOWLEDGE OF GOD NECESSARY TO SALVATION. My mind has been a good deal impressed with the fact that to know God is life eternal, conse quently, not to know him is death eternal. Spiritual and eternal death do all their fearful work, because men are ignorant of God. They know not what a God they have. They not how good, kind, merciful, loving and forbearing he is. They know not what he has done for them—what he has provided for them—what he has promised to them, and what he will do for them; or they would trust in him. They would not be afraid of him- The common theory is, that God is good. Yon can scarcely find a man who believes there is a God, who will not say that he is good; but how few hearts feel and know jt. Alas, too frequently it is mere theory —theory which the heart does not believe. Why is it so? Their hearts do not know God; indeed their heads know very little about him. How few read the Bible as much as they do other books! How few know and think as much about God’s promises as they do other promises I How few value them above “ thousands of gold and silver!” And in proportion as the Bible is a neglected book, God is an unknown and in proportion as he is an unknown, he is an un trusted and an unloved God. They cannot trust him, they cannot love him. They may so fear him, so dread 'him, be so fearful of his wrath, that they may even wish they had never been born; or they may wish they were any thing else, rather than a man—any kind of a beastj rather than a man who'shall answer at the bar of God. Why do they have such feelings? Why are they afraid of the wrath of God? Why does fear rather than love influence their hearts and lives ? They are' too ignorant of God to confide in him and love him. We .are naturally afraid of strangers. We cannot trust them. They’ are strangers to God—know him not. ‘. They have heard a great deal about the wrath of God —a great deal about the judgment. Their conscience also .tells them that they are sinners—very guilty sinners; and here the thoughts of God only excite • their fears. He stands up, before their minds as a Being of terri ble majesty, and terrible justice. His justice is only clothed with terrors. Hence, they try to drive all thoughts of God from their minds. Instead of striving to know him, they strive to forget him, and to forget their own conduct toward him. But in proportion as we know God we find that there is in him, 1 every thing to love, and Nothing to fear, any more than a ehild has anything, to fear from the best of parents—that indeed in him, there are the feelings of a father’s heart—all the love ahd all tbe goodness of a father's heart, that in him there is every thing that calls for trust, unwavering confidence and love. Hence we may add, the heart that knows God Kill confide in him. It’cannot do other wise. The heart that knows God, will be thank ful that he has been born. He will thank God that he is not a brute animal, incapable of know-' ing, loving and serving him. We see then the folly, loss, guilt, and danger of neglecting to be come acquainted with God. Also the know ledge of the goodness of God, and of all that he is, leads men to repentance, Bom. 2: 4, and no thing else will do it. It is not the knowledge of sin—not the knowledge of hell—-not of the ter rors of the law—not the fears of the world to come —not the accusations of conscience—-no thing that men nor angels can do—nothing, no thing, but the knowledge of : God will lead the guilty sinner to repentance. No man will ever truly repent until {he knows something of the goodness of God; something about his promises, : something of his love and mercy. When the heart warms to know what a God it has, then re pentance is voluntary, if is not forced, but if is as free as the flowing forth of water from a fountain, free as the repentance of a loving child. Indeed, know God, and you.cannot do otherwise than repent, you cannot do otherwise than love, trust, and obey Him. J. B. Jfcfecftntif. THE GOLD-DIGGER IN THE SEA. “All that a man hath will he give for his life.”— Job ii. 4. Convince a man that the only way to save Ms life is to part with his limb, and he does not hesitate an instant between living with one limb and being buried with two. Borne into . the operating theatre, pale, yet resolute, he bares the diseased member to the knife. And how well does that bleeding, fainting, groaning sufferer teach us to part with our sins rather than our Saviour 1 If life is better than a limb, how much better : is heaven than sin ? Two years ago a man was called to decide between preserving his life and parting with the gains of his lifetime. A gold-digger, he stood on the deck of a ship, that, coming from Australian shores, had, as some all but reach heaven, all but peached her harbor in safety. The exiles, had been coasting along their native shores, and to-morrow husbands would embrace their wives, ehildren.their parents, and not a few realize the bright dream of returning to pass the evening of their days in happiness, amid all the loved scenes of their youth. But, as the proverb runs, “there is many a slip between the cup and the lip.” Night came lowering down, and with the night a storm that wrecked ship, and hopes, and fortunes, altogether. The dawn ing light but-revealed a scene of horror—death staring them in the face. The sea, lashed into fury, ran mountain high—no boat could live- in her. One chance still remained. Pale women, weeping children, and feeble and timid men must die; but a stout, brave swimmer, with trust in God, and disencumbered of; all impedi ments, might reach the shore, where hundreds stood ready to dash into the boiling surf, and save him. One man was observed to go below: He bound around his waist a heavy belt filled with gold, the hard gains of his 1 ife, and returned to the deck. One after another he saw his fel low passengers leap oyerboard. . After a brief but terrible struggle, head after head went down —sunk by the gold they had fought so hard to gain and wefe so loth to lose; Slowly he was seen to unbuckle his belt, His hopes had- been bound up in it. It was to buy him iand, and ease, and respeet—the reward of long years of hard and w eary exile.—What hardships he had endured for it!—The sweat of his brow, the hopes of day and the dreams of night were there. If he parts with it he is a beggar; but then, if he keeps it he dies. He poised it in his hand; he balanced it for awhile, took a long, sad look at it, and then, with one strong and desperate effort, flung it far out into the roaring sea. Wise man! It sinks with a sullen -plunge 1 and now he follows it, not to sink, but, disencum bered of its weight, to swim—to beat the bil lows manfully, and, riding on the foaming surge, to reach the shore. Well done, brave gold-dig ger!—Aye, well done and well chosen; but if “ a man,” as the devil said, who for once spoke God’s truth, “will give all that he hath for his life,” how much more should he give all he hath for his soul ? Better to part with gold than with God—to bear the heaviest cross than miss a heavenly crown. PIETY OF THE FATHERS. There was an ardor and an intensity to the piety of our fathers which their sons, are in danger of losing. It was the corner boundary of their spiritual inheritance among the other tribes of the Lord. They held daily intercourse with God. They asked direction and wisdom of him continually, and they expeeted to receive, and they did receive his guidance in their spi ritual affairs and in their temporal affairs also. Their prayers for . protection and wisdom by day, and defense by night, were not forms and eeremouies, but they were earnest and sim ple petitions, sometimes calm and sometimes vociferous, but still fervent and trustful. On a journey and about their daily employ, in ordi nary and extraordinary circumstances, they sought and received the guidance of the Spirit. Their warm-heartedness toward their breth ren, ;and their glowing, ardent affection, for the cause of the Master, were proverbial and con vincing. They were sometimes, it is said, dog matical, and sometimes acrimonious in defense of their doctrines, but were they not compelled to defend their views against the ridicule and bitterness with which they were attacked-? , It is said! that they were eeeentrie. Perhaps they were even to a fault., But we would father have their eccentricities and their singularly holy zeal and ardent charity, than to be ; in all respects'free from; singularities, or, which is the-, same thing, be just, like the world in-character and behavior. Let us bury the,,xeigemhrance, of their faults and imitate their viftuesi Times' have changed. There is more union in the Christian world than in their day, and more knowledge. our opportunities allow us to improve on their economy and methods, , let us do so; but how careful , should we be to preserve this ancient landmark, their spirit uality. FroM their doctrines -we'have riot de parted. Let us cling to their spiritual-minded nesSi—Morning Star.; na A SABBATH IN GLASGOW. Glasgow is thei great commercial city of Scotland. It, contains, including its,- suburbs,, about four hundred■ thousand inhabitants.., The,, streets, especially in the newer portions, are broad, and the buildings are latge and substan tial. There are on every hand evidences of wealth and liberality. On the West and .South are elegant parks, kept with scrupulous , near ness. On the East stands the Necropolis, used as a cemetery. The central and most imposing monument is erected to the memory : of John Knox. On the top of the monument is a statue of the “lion-hearted# reformer, holding in his right hand the Bible, whose trptbs he so fear lessly, and successfully enforced. Near, by is the Cathedral in which he once preached, “the old rookery ;»Hvhicb he wished palled down, hoping, in his fiery zeal, thus to obliterate every vestige of Popery. If his counsels had prevail ed, Glasgow would have lost its proudest and, grandest specimen of architecture. .. ‘ It is a city of churches ancient aha modern, their spires and towers aro seen in every diree tion. When the bells strike the hour of'Service, Argyle, its; .peat thoroughfare, with its: subja cent . streets, swarms; with, men, women and children, hurrying to their place of worship. On , Sabbath morning’l found myself in this throng, and went’ out to the-West end "Of the city, to the' Free Church College, to hear Dr.- Buehanan. He is;in stature, little above the medium height, , and compacfiy built, He bps a large f&t'foreh«»i. ..'[fils hair is.white. He read' his sermon tolerably well:' It was an Ox position of the parable of the. Sower; plain and direct in statement: His analysis of the first: three classes of hearers mentioned in the para ble, was thorough,and masterly. The junity of Ms diepurse was admirable., [He does,not greatly move yoiilr emotions, but briiristructe you. His house wris not more than half-filled. At two o’clock, I went to' the old Tron <ohutch; where Chaimers first, spoke so that the whole, Christian world heard Mm.. Here, are the same, straigiit-baeked, narrow, uncushioned pews til which Ms' audience sat‘ and were entranced by his utterances, i Here is the Same high, round pulpit, about:four or five feet in diameter, with an oak sounding board jutting out over it, where he stood and f poured forth his fiery eloquence. I fried to imagine the crowd of his day, rushing, along Trongate; packing this venerable house from the outer doorway to the 1 pulpit stairs, and during the . hour of preacMng leaning- forward and hanging breathlessly on. the lips ; of the mighty man of God. But all save the .church edifice is changed. The house was not half filled, yet many of those present were the poor, the very class that, Chalmers, labored with such zeal'to bless and whom he most rejoiced ,to meet in the plaeetef prayer. It was my pleasure also to visit a Sabbath school of about two hundred and fifty scholars. These children "were well instructed and ready in answering questions on the Old Testament scriptures, a department of Biblical, study much neglected by us. The superintendent of this school asked me if I belonged to the Free Church in America. “Certainly,” I replied, “ we are all free church there.” “Are there churches in your country supported by the Government,” said be? “No sir,” said I, “ each denonainatioh’ of Christians cares for itself. We sustain all bur churches by individual contributions.”"l. bad told him that I ,was from, Missouri, and he. thinking, I suppose, that Missouri .belonged to the would be Southern Confederacy, introduced me to a friend, as a gentleman froM South America/' He appeared, .however, to be an excellent su perintendent, but like many men here had never taken the. pains to :look into, our history, sup posing, of course, that, there is very little worth, knowing out of Great Britain.' I found an interesting prayer Meeting at the church of: Dr; McCall. He is absent-recruiting! his health and strength, and his-church holds, eaeh week, a special- prayer, meeting, that, on his return, his labors may, be greatly.blessed in the salvation ,of souls. . The prayers were most simple and heartfelt, real pleadings with God, with ah evident expectation of an answer. ;: laone end of the church edifice .there isadoor in the outer wall; passing through it you stanjl; in a stone pulpit,; on.the outside, facing the street. Here Dr. McCall has been accustomed to preach to the crowds of the city. The Ca tholic priests complained that he obstructed'the street by this service and the. City Authorities silenced this pulpit. It is, however, a .by street, little traveled by carriages, and the service in commoded no : one but the priesthood. The pul pit still remains, 'and will speak again'at some future day. . ;. : i • This church is engaged in. the “ territorial ” system of labor commenced here, by Chalmers. This system was scouted, by many of his breth ren, while he lived, as impracticable, needing,' it was said, his genius and power to make it effec tual. ißut while his body moulders in the tomb; it is b.eing successfully pr.osecuted in jthe city where he began it. Ho rests from his labors, but' hid works follow him: —Christian Times. THE ALMOST CHBISTIAJST. ; BY KEV. TIIEO. 1,. CUYBER. There is a vast difference between longing;,to be better, and resolving in God’s strength tq be come better. The gamester, may go home after midnight from the scene Of his insane; excite ments cut to the heart with .remorse. He ‘may make,the most piteous , confessions to ,his heart broken wife. But he does not burn uphi, pack of cards, or,set : his face like a.hint against that door which’is to him the gateway to the pit. i The inebriate, waking' Out of his debauch; curses his bottie and curses himself. He envies his temperate and prosperous neighbor, and, says in bitternes of spirit, “Would that I were a sober man again!” But this longing is not enough. This sighing after reform does not,bring it. The gamester must slop gambling, or else he, is not saved. The inebriate must stop drinking—must quit the company of drinkers, arid must pledge himself before his Maker 'to touch not'or taste not the sparkling poison. The almost reformed GteNESEE KVAX(IBUST. —Whole, Xo. 902, are noi reformed. They are still'on the devils side of the dividingline between right and wrong. It is well for them that* they ; copse back, toward the line ; but they must cross it, and have their feet firmly planted on the side ,of virtue; before they are safe. . Precisely so is it with the impenitent j3oul. The almost Christian is n&t a 1 Christian. He is pot where ChrislOrids him He; be. is not where he confesses himself .that he ought to be r ,There is a clear distinct line of difference, between the, believer in Christ and the unbeliever; between him that servbth God,'and Mm that serveth Mm hot. On bne bide the Kao* is alienated from- God. r Thelaffeetions are set on money-getang, 0r... pleasgre.seeking,. or spine sort,of sin .and selfish ness—perhaps with a somewhat loosened grasp, but 1 still on’, something lbwer'klMhi God. There is'rib faith in Jesus, or loathing of kin;'or cruci fixion: of self.;’ And to all those: who are on the wrong, side of the dividing line, the grieved Saviour says : “He that is not for ine is against Me; he that gathereth not with me seattereth abroad.” '' ’’ ‘ 1 Perhaps the reader of this article is one of the almost Christians. : Many a time he has melted under .a moving sermon,: or trembled when the truth threw, its brpad glare into the very depths of his, soul. He was troubled. He went home thoughtful, and Wondered how others around him ebrild se’em' so frivolous and trifling. He did hot-care-to speak to any one;,- he sought re tirement; he opened his Bible; and perhaps attempted to pray for forgiveness, and for help to lead a better life. But he did not repent and forsake his'-favorite sins. He did not flee to Jesus.; He did' not give his heart to the Savior. He' ,-did not run as “Christian,” ran from the City of Destruction, stopping, his ears with his fingers, and crying out “Life—life —-eternal life!” The’ Sabbkth seriousness ended with the setting of the Sabbath sun. Monday rose on him and found bini just as worldly as ever, and the world justas,,clamorous.. ■as before. His business de manded.all. his thoughts and would have them, and he let it have them. He gave way to his old tempters, 'his old thoughts, his old habits of carelessness, unbelief and sin. He was almost ' persuaded to become a Christian; but if he were to. die to-night he would meet the doom of a,rejecter of Christ. : Every community is full of almost Christians. They know their duty. They intend at some day to do their duty. They often- reproach them selves bitterly for: their neglect; but there they are. . Some of them are fathers, and confess that they, are not getting the right example to their children. Some of them are mothers, and have often heard how beautiful and blessed it is for a mother to call her little ones around her and teach them the way to Jesus. . But alas 1 they have not gone to Jesus for themselves. And so they linger. Conscience says, Go to Jesus; go nowgive hiiri‘thy heart. But the world—love withiri says “Not yet, not yet; it will not do to- incur the ridicule of being ‘pious’; live close enough to the world to enjoy it, and yet close .enough to the church to step in when you hear. thefootsteps of approaching death.” Conscience' says; “Now is the Accepted time.” Sloth says; “Time enough yet; you can flee to- Cbrist any day you choose.’’ And so the soul floats along through the daily mercies of God, floats through Sabbaths innumerable, floats past the light-house which God has kindled to guide sinnCrs'to'heaven—-floats on, almost, hut not entirely persuaded to become a Christian. The Devil makes no objections to this. ■ It is pre cisely what he wants. The world makes no ob jections. It is not likely to give itself any un easiness if every one of its devotees went down to perdition. . ; Go°d friend! there is no promise to you in the Bible while you remain only an almost Christian. Gbd ; offers everythin// to the true believer and the follower of Christ; but riot one iota for this world or the next to the mere" intender to become ai, Christian.-,; Nor will it mitigate your con demnation in eternity in the slightest degree that you were once almost within the kingdom of heaven. It will increase your remorse and the intensity, Of your self-torment. Oh,. that almost l To be realizing to all eternity that ypu were almost within the the gates of glory—almost among the happy bands of the wMte robed and the rejoicing ones —almost before the throne of God and the-Lamb—-almost saved—oh 1 will not that word “almost” bite you like a serpent and. sting you, like, an adder? Friend, heaven was not reared for the almost C hristian. If you never become more than that, be assured that you can never reach iti/. And if you miss heaven, where ■ —in the name of a dying Savior — where will you 90? , , . • - BEARING THE CROSS. One pleasant sumteer eve, a poor, deformed girl had wandered alone to one of the public squares of P- . Seating herself beneath a tree, where she could see the fountain sending up its" playful waters, she forgot for a while her lone liness; but presently a party of young ladies came by, and one, in thoughtless merriment ex claimed. “Do look at the little wretch’s back!” All turned, and with curious eyes gazed upon her. I was seated upon an opposite bench; and as they passed on, marked the tears as they overflowed the eyes of the sensitive child. Approaching her I endeavored to speak consoling words, With a slight caress of her little hand,' and eyes blinded with tears, she looked up to me and said, “thank you, ma’am, for being so kind. My Sabbath school teacher says my cross, has been placed upon my back; but oh! kind lady, when the people look upon rise so proudly, and the boys call me ugly names, and the girls wont let me play with them,-theri I feel so badly, and cannot help cry ing. Do tell me, lady, will Jesus never take my cross away ?” ~ years passed by, arid once more at my board irig-hd’use T met the child now grown to woman hood. Her countenance was spiritually beautiful; but slip's till bore the. burden; of. her-childhood. Being together for some weeks,, an , intimacy sprang up between us; and one day, as we sat conversing;,‘.she.alluded to our first meeting. “My misfortune,” said, .she,, “was long a source of grievous unhappiness : but, thank God, there at last came to me an ''answer 'to my oft-asked question; Shall I never cease to . bear this cross ?” And, going to her portfolio, she handed me the following lines,, observing, “3Che last line has been nay consolation.” ' The tears will fall, O Father, When 1 see': •“ - pihose cuijpns glances ,r; | - ; Fixed on me. * How'long this erriss, my Saviour; must I bear ? “Until thine;eyes.no more can shed a tear.” The flesh will rise, O Father, When I hear Those rude, insulting words — Thebitter jeer, ' How long, O Lord, must I with treiriblingfear ? Ixll thou thesciimoeking words no more canst hear!” . , W.aye,my thoughts, 0 Father, Well I know. Oftimes neglects arc mine, rT ; For this deep woe, lopgi kind Parent,, must I check each sob? Until thy heart no more with pain can throb.” Then all my life, O Fatherj ' Teaoh me how ‘ Beneath thegallingcross To humbly bow, G tbe rod? “All trials cease in heaven, at home with God,”
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