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,”