<Piif family ifirrif.
TO ONE AT,: BEST.
BY THE AUTHOR OP “ THE SCHONBERG-COTTA
FAMILY.”
And needest thou our prayers no more, safe
folded’mid the bless’d —
How changed art though since last we met to
keep the day of rest 1
YouDg with thfe youth of angels, wise with the
growth of years,
For we have passed since thou hast gone, a
week of many tears.
And though hast passed a week in heaven, a
week without a sin;
Thy robes made white in Jesus’ blood, all glo
rious within.
We shall miss thee at a thousand times along
' life’s weary track, *
Not a sorrow or a joy but we shall long to call
thee back,
Yearn for the true and gentle heart, long thy
bright smile to see,
Fot many dear and true are left, but none are
quite like thee;
And evermore to all our life a deeper tone is
given,
For a playmate of our childhood has entered
into heaven.
How wise and great and glorious thy gentle soul
has grown,
Loving as thou art loved of God, knowing as
thou art known.
Yet in that world thdtf barest yet for those thou
lovedst in this n -u> i
The rich man did in torments, and wilt not
thou in bliss ?
For, sitting at the Saviour’s feet, and gazing in!
.. his face,
Surely thou’lt not unlearn one gentle human
grace;
Human and not angelic the form He deigned to
wear;
Of Jesus, not of angels, the likeness thou shalt
bear.
At rest from all the storms of life, from its
night-watches drear,
From the tumultuous hopes of earth, and from
the aching fear,
Sacred and sainted now to us is thy familiar
name,
High in thy sphere above us how, and yet in
this the same—
Together do we watch and wait for that long
promised day,
When the voice that rends the tombs shall call,
“Arise and come away,
“Hy Bride and .my, Redeemed, winter and
night are past;
The time of singing and of light has come to
thee at lastJ”
When tile Family is gathered, and the Father’s
house complete,
And we and thou, beloved, in our Father’s
smile shalhmeet. ', .
THY-’AGAIN.
“0, try again, father, try again !”
What a' sad, pleading voice uttered
the words! What a pale little face
was turned toward Peter Parsons as
he sat, his elbows resting on the beer
stained table, with haggard cheek and
blood-shot eyes, which told too well
the tale of how the last night had been
spent.
"It’s no use trying to give it up;
I’ve tried, and I can’t do it,” was the
father’s dogged, despairing reply. .“ I
know the drink will be my ruin; but,
if it were poison, I must have it.
There’s Mr. Barker, my employer, he
gave me warning yesterday ; he .said
he couldn’t stand &j habits any longer ;
said he was sorry to give me up, but
could have none but steady men to
serve him. There’s the third place
I’ve lost in the same. way. I know
the road I am treading; I know what
lies at the end on’t. I’m going to ruin
with my eyes wide open; but I can’t
help it, I must have the drink!” and
Peter Parsons let. his chin sink on his
breast, and looked the picture of a
wretched, degraded sinner. No won
der that he shrunk from looking
around him at what had once been a
comfortable home! Where was the
clock that had ticked so cheerily,
given as a wedding present to his
’ wife? Where,was the neat mahogany
press in which he had taken so much
‘ pride, bought with the savings of
' months of toil? Where was the val
ued old family Bible, which his father
and grandfather had used before him ?
All at the pawnbroker’s, pledged for
drink!
“I have tried,” Peter muttered to
himself, without raising his drooping
head; "the teetotalers, they spoke.to
me and urged me, and they made it as
clear as; day that half the misery in
the city came all along of the drink;
that with every penny which I threw
down at the bar of the tavern I was
joying my fare to the work-house, or
buying the nails for my coffin! They
got me to take the pledge, and I
thought the was over. I’d
given my word, and I’d keep it. And
for weeks all went on straight enough;
money came, in, comfort came back,
and my poor wife looked happy again.
But then I fell into sore temptation,
and it seemed as . if I’d no more
strength than a babe in the claws of
a lion. I woke one morning, one
wretched morning, to find my pledge
broken, my character disgraced, and
the habit of hard drinking fifty times
stronger than-ever.
“And I tried -again.” Thus the mi
serable man continued muttering to
himself, scarcely conscious of the pres
ence of the poor little girl at his side.
“’Twas when my Sarah laid ailing,
and I couldn’t bear to drink away the
comfort she needed so much. Two
days I abstained, but on the third ”
Memory was like a barbed arrow in
the heart of the miserable widower;
nis words were choked in his throat
and, instead of finishing his sentence,
he uttered a .heavy groan.
Esther dia. njot venture for several
moments to ‘ speak; tears were fast
flowing down her pale cheeks; she,
like' her unhappy parent, was tempted
to give way to despair; but the child
had learned in her Bible "Always to
pray and never to faint;” ( and though
THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN THURSDAY. SEPTEMBER 24, 1865.
her prayer had as yet seemed unan
swered, faith whispered to her, "Try
again.”
" Child,” said Peter, suddenly rais
ing his head and fixing his blearec
eyes on his daughter, "when once
a man has got into the reg’lar habits
of drinking, there’s nothing as can
keep him from it. It’s like a fever,
like a madness! Interest can’t do it,
resolves can’t do it, for no one on eartb
loved a wife or child better than I have
done!”
" Can’t God’s grace do it ?” faltered
Esther, almost afraid to speak out the
words.
"Don’t talk to me of such matters!”
cried Peter, starting from his seat anc.
'pacing up and down the room like one
who is restless from pain. "I used to
think on God once, but I dare not
think on him now; it is like going to
judgment before the time to think on
the anger of God.” '
"But mayn’t we think on the love of
God?” murmured Esther, with trem
bling earnestness “in’ her tone. "O,
father, dear father! let me say one
verse—only one little verse that the
teacher gave me last Sunday to learn:
'I can do all things through Christ
which strengtheneth me.’ She said we
could overcome .temptations through
Him ; have our sins forgiven through
him; - and that, if He gives us His
Spirit, we shall be more than conquerors
through ffiin /”•
"Go to your school, child; go to
your school!” cried Peter, half in
anger and half in sorrow. "Such
words may do well enough for such' as
ye; I’m too old to be learning them
now!” and seeing that his little girl
paused, he motioned impatiently for
her to leave him.
Esther dared speak no more, to her
father, but she could pray for him stil!
to. her God. As she slipped on her
rusty black bonnet and shabby cloak,
preparing to go to school, her whole
heart was full of prayer. “O, God
for the sake of. thy blessed Son, help
my poor father, save my poor father;
don’t let the enemy tempt him away !”
and before Esther quitted the house,
with a trembling hand she placed her
little Testament on the table. -Esther
had often done so before, in hopes her
father might read it, as he once used
to read the great Bible. Esther had
always found her Testament lying
exactly where she had, put it, unopenj
ed and untouched; but, in the spirit Of
faith and hope, she determined to try
again. •
And, this time, Peter Parsons took
up the book;; he could scarcely have
said why he'did so; perhaps it was
because he found any kind of employ
ment more tolerable than thinking;
perhaps he was scarcely conscious of
what he was doing, as he carelessly
turned over the leaves. His eye was
first attracted -by amame dike his own 1
It rested on the account of the Lord’s
appearing to His disciples, walking on
the waves of. the sea.
“ Ah, he, was a different Peter, in
deed, who saw that sight,” thought the
man; “he was a great apostle, and a
holy martyr besides —and yet, if I
mind me right of his story, ’twas more
than once that he failed and fell. I’ll
just look again at what is said in the
Bible about it,” and setting himself at
the table, Peter read out, half aloud,
making his comments as he proceeded.
“ Jesus spoke unto them, saying, Be
of good cheer, it is I; be not afraid.”
“ And Peter answered him and said,
Lord, if it be thou, bid me come unto
thee on the water. And He said,
Come. And when Peter was come
down out of the ship, he walked on
the water to go to Jesus.”
" Ay,” observed the reader, half
closing the book, “ he was a bold man,
Peter I He could walk on the sea,
just as I’ve known some men go on
straight and steady over temptations,
never, stumbling nor sinking, firm as
rock amid’all! I’ve known them to
have taken the pledge, and never
broken it once. Nothing would tempt
them to drink. But it isn’t every man
as can walk on the sea of temptation
like that—it ain’t in human nature.
And again the poor victim of in
temperance turned to the Holy Book.
"But when he saw the wind boister
ous, he was afraid; and beginning to
sink, he cried, saying, Lord, save me.”
Parsons stopped for some moments,
and remained with his eyes resting on
the last sentence, and his mind buried
in thought. '
“ What!'’ he muttered to himself,
“ Peter began to sink! he had not
strength to stand by himself—he—a
saint—an apostle had to cry out aloud,
Lord, save me! It seems that, full of
faith and zeal as he was, he was but
flesh and blood after all! I’ll read on.
I’ll see if the Lord came at once to the
drowning man’s help.”
“ And immediately Jesus stretched
forth his hand, and caught him, and
said unto him, O thou of little faith,
wherefore didst thou doubt ?”
Parsons closed the book, rose from
his seat, and again paced up and down
the room. -He did _ not utter a word
aloud, but if the thoughts of his heart
could have been read, they would have
been something like this:
“The Lord heard him, the Lord
cared for him, the Lord stretched out
his hand to save him when he had no
strength to save himself. There was
mighty love shown, and mighty power.
Is not the same Saviour able still to
save to the uttermost? Able to save,
but is He willing? What was it that
the Lord said to Peter—Thou of little
faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?
What if -I went to him straight, and
asked him to save me from sinking
going lower and lower down in the
depths of sin? Would the Lore
stretch out his hand to me—to me,
whom all the world despises— to me,
whom every one else gives up ?”
Again Peter went to the table anc
opened the little Testament left by his
praying child. The first verse ■on
which his glance fell seemed to, him
almost like a message sent to him
direct from God—
"There hath' no temptation taken
you but such as is common to men:
but God is faithful, who will not suffer
you to be tempted above that ye are
able, but will with the temptation also
make a way to. escape, that ye may be
able to bear it.”
“I’ll hold by' this promise,” ex
claimed Parsons, grasping the little
book as he spoke. “ I’ve tried to do
right,' but I’ve failed. I’ve wished to
give up sin, but the habit was too
strong for me. Now I’ll cast myself,
just as Peter did, on the mercy and
strength of the Lord, and, hoping for
the help of his grace, I’ll try again;
I’ll try yet again.”
While Parson’s pale little girl as
she walked along the gloomy streets,
was silently praying all the way for
her father, another little girl, in a com
fortable home, was pleading the cause
of poor Peter.
Mr. Barker, his late employer, sat
in his large red leather arm-chair, with
his feet on the fender, before a blazing
fire, with Clara, his youngest daughter,
seated upon his knee.”
" 0, papa, I wish you would try him
again, only this once !” said the gentle
little lady, holding her father’s banc
-fast imprisoned between both of her
own.
-‘.'And why should I try him again ?”
said Mr. Barker, amused at the earnest
tone of the little pleader.
“ 0, because of his poor little girl,
the best girl, mamma says, in the
school. She looks so pale, and-t-MP,
and sad—and I’ve heard that when
‘her mother was dying, Esther watchec.
and nursed her so fondly. It is not
her fault that her father drinks; it is
enough to break her heart!”
Clara pleaded, urged and entreated,
and at length won her parent tpnon
sent to overlook for this once the
offence of Parsons. Though shaking
hjs head doubtfully, and expressing
his belief that no good would result
from the trial, he agreed to send wore
to Parsons to call at his office on the
following morning.
I will not describe all the inwarc
struggles of Parsons, nor the difficul
ties, which he encountered from the
power of an evil habit. Often was he
tempted, often discouraged, often did
he almost give up in despair, 'But he
now\vjged; the word'of
weapon; and faith in God as his shield;
and. he found in the end that he who
resists the devil will make him turn'
and flee.
When thfe long summer days bac
returned Peter Parsons sat with his
child, as he, Had done on the morning
on which my story opened; but how
changed was the {appearance of each
from what it then had been! Parsons
no longer hung down his head, as if
ashamed to look his fellow man in the
face; his eye was clear: and steady;
his dress decent and clean ; and, in
stead of bitter tears, there were roses
on Esther’s cheek.
“ Oh, father, are we not happy ?”
she exclaimed.
"If I be happy h.re,” said Parsons,
looking with earnest thought into the
golden clouds above, “or if I’ve a hope
of being happy in' a better world that’s
to come, I think, my Esther, that under
God I owe it all to you. I was going
fast on the down hill road. I was
giving up all effort to stop, when your
prayers, and your words, and your
tears, arid the blessed book which you
out in my way, made me see that there
was hope even for me. They led me
to try again to get back to the straight,
safe path, to be a good father to you,
my child, and a faithful servant to my
God.”
BOYS WHO THINK AND BOYS WHO
DON’T THINK.
“ I didn’t think,” said a sm art-look
ing boy, one day, as he stood, with
downcast eyes, in - the , presence of a
grave-looking gentleman.
"You didn’t think, eh? Then I
am ruined because you are a thought
less boy. You may go, sir'” replied
the gentleman, in a tone of voice
which expressed both sorrow and
sternness.
The boy silently left the room. He,
too, seemed sad, and a tear glistened
in the corner of his eye. .
What is the matter ? What has he
done? I will tell you.
He was an apprentice. His trade
was that of a carpenter. It had been a
part of his duty to light the fire in the
shop half an hour before the men came
to work. One cold, windy morning,
he lighted the fire as usual; but, in
doing so, he left a shaving burning
outside the door of the stovei r It was
only one shaving. He didn’t think it
would do any harm, because it was
only a little shaving. But a puff of
wind from beneath the door of the
shop blew the shaving on the floor.
There it set fire to another shaving;
the fire spread, unperceived by the
h°y> until it reached a pile of shav
ings, and blazed up into the. room.
Then he started and tried to put it out.
But he was too late. It was beyond
his contol. He rushed out, shouted
“ Eire!” and alarmed the people. They
came, but could not save the shop. It
was burned down, and its owner, not
being insured, was ruined.
He was ruined because that boy
didn’t think.
THE OTHER WORLD.
BY MRS. HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.
It lies around us like a cloud —
A world we do not see ;
Yet the sweet closing of an eye
May bring us there to he.
Its gentle breezes fan our cheek;
Amid our worldly cares
Its gentle voices whisper love,
And mingle with our prayers.
Sweet hearts around us throb and beat,
Sweet helping hands are stirred,
And palpitates the veil between
With breathings almost heard.
The silence, awful, sweet, and calm,
They have no power to break;
For mortal words are not for them
To utter or partake.
So thin, so soft, so sweet, they glide,
■ So near to press they seem —
They seem to lull us to our rest,
And melt into our dream.
And in the hush of rest they bring,
’Tis easy now to see,
How lovely and how sweet a pass
The hour of death may be.
To close the eye and close the ear,
Wrapped in a trance of bliss,
And gently drawn in loving arms,
To swoon to that—from this ;
Scarce knowing if we wake or sleep, -
Scarce asking where we are
To feel all evil sink away,-
All sorrow and all care. ,
Sweet souls around us 1 watch us still,
Press nearer to our side;
Into our thoughts, into our prayers,
; With gentle helpings glide.
Let death between us be as naught.
A dried and vanished stream;
Your joy be the reality,
Qur suffering life the dream.
HOW TO HONOR A MOTHER.
In the north of Europe is a moun
tainous country call Sweden. Its win
ters are long, snowy and cold. Its
summers ars short] but very lovely
and sweet aired, especially in the val
leys between the high mountains.-
, The inhabitants of that country are
noted for their- industry, virtue, anc.
contentment. One morning, a long
while ago, a certain king of Sweden,
called Gustavus the Third, was riding
through a village in one of the,beauti
ful valleys not far from Stockholm,
the capital city. As he passed along,
he saw a young girl filling her pitcher
with water that gushed from the coo
rocks which overshadowed the road
-side. He stopped at the fountain anc
asked the girl for a drink, i She knew
not, the stranger,; but gracefully stepped
forward an d lifted the pitcher to his
lips as he sat upon his ' horse. She
was evidently very , poor, but her
kindness, so tenderly expressed upon
her countenance, together with her
-artless, unembarrassed politeness, at
once attracted the king’s attention and
touched his heart. Judging by her
appearance that she was a child of
poverty, he told her that iff she would
go to the city, he would find her a plea
sant home.
"Ah ! good sir,” answered the girl,
“Providence placed me here, and I
am not anxious to change my position
in life. lam content, and if I were
not content, it would be impossible
for me to accept your kind offer.”
“Indeed! Why not?” said the
king in some surprise. .
“Bee use my mother is poor and
sickly,” she replied.”
“ And.you remain home to take care
of her?”
“I am her only help and compan
ion,” said the girl, looking upon the
ground with a genuine modesty that
won the sympathies of her royal au
ditor. "I am happy in my lot, and
am thankful that I can take care of and
comfort the one so dear to me. No
offer, however tempting, could iriduce
me to .leave my mother.”
“ Where is your mother?” inquired
the king, becoming more and more in
terested in the noble girl.
"In yon little hut by the side of the
road,” said she, pointing toward the
rumble dwelling. It was a low,
thatched building, covered with moss
and vines, very neat and clean, but so
old and weather-worn that it afforded
rut a poor shelter in time of cold and
storms.
Gustavus alighted from his horse,
and foUowed the girl into the hut to
see her mother. JEfe found her sick
and suffering, lying upon a bed of
straw—a pale, thin woman—sinking
under her infirmities, and looking for
ward only to the grate as a bed of
rest. The king was almost overcome
at the pitiable sight, and said, while
tears came into his eyes—ah, ves, and
those tears were more beautifully radi
ant and glorious than the brightest daz
zles that ever glanced from his crown
of diamonds—
“I feel sorry, mother, to find you so
destitute and afflicted.”
. “Yes, yes,.my dear sir,” said the
lady, in a feeble voice; "but I am so
glad that God has given me an affec
tionate daughter. She is always try
ing to relieve me, and is my constant
comforter. May God in His love re
member her and bless her —my dear
child!” and her voice was choked
back by sobs, and her face covered
with tears.
The good king wept with the poor
widow. What a sight! How the an
gels of heaven hovered over that lowly
hut, breathing joy Unspeakable into
three hearts —the suffering woman’s,
the sympathizing king’s, and the filial
daughter’s. The monarch never re
ceived such a blessipg on his throne in
the palace, as there in the lone hut by
the wayside! He handed the daughter
a purse of gold, and directed her to a
better house where she and her mother
might be comfortable, saying, as he
departed:—
“ Go on, my young friend, in your
way of dutiful love and care, and you
shall lack for nothing while I have the
means to help you. X am your kins.
Farewell!”
Gustavus ever remembered the poor
family, and made provision to have a
sum of money regularly sent to the
woman for her support; and at the
mother’s death he presented the daugh
ter with a handsome fortune.
Young readers, not only for your
parents’ sake, and Christ’s sake, but
for you own sake, remember the com
mand, “Honor thy father'- and thy
mother.”— Child's Paper.
THE TWO HANDLES.
An ancient philosopher says, “ Every
cup has two handles, one white and the
other black, and. either may be pre
sented, according to the disposition of
the host toward his guest.”
The ancient philosopher referred to,
gives this illustration. A carrier man,
or in modern language, a carman, was
was seen in a green lane in the suburbs
of Athens, plucking the grass, and
giving it to his horse. This is the
simple fact, without any coloring.
However, a black handle was put to it.
For one person, who saw the man and
what he was doing, went into the city
and told an acquaintance this tale:—
“I have seen a shameful sight; a man
who had been sent to the city with
parcels from a distant place, though
he had money given him to purchase
provender for his horse, had impro
perly squandered away his money, and
has resorted to the expedient of pluck
ing grass to refresh his horse sufficient
for the homeward journey.” ■ This was
the black, handle of the occurrence, as
it conveyed the report of the action,
accompanied with the indirect accusa
tion of the double offence of dishonesty
to his employer and cruelty to his
horse.
Another person, an eye-witness of
the same fact, and who knew the man
and his circumstances, went into
Athens, and said to a friend:—“ I have
seen Anthrippon, poor fellow! he is
too poor to buy provender for his
horse, and instead of resting himself
while his horse was feeding at the inn,
he was working hard, cropping the
finest of the grass, and taking good
care that his beast might be well fed
at small expense, that he might save
the money to provide the necessaries
for his large and afflicted family.” This
is the same narrative with the white
handle, and this embraces the true
statement of the condition of the man,
and the virtuous motives by which he
was actuated. '
Now let every reader judge himself,
and see whether he is not prone to
present, or to take everything "by the
blackJiandle." It is a disposition al
together contrary to that charity, or
Christian love, "which suffereth long
and is kind, is not easily provoked,
thinketh no evil, beareth all things,
believeth all things, hopeth all things,
endureth all things.” A man of this
spirit, while earnest for the truth, will
always try to take things by the white
handle.
THE ADOPTED RABBITS.
“We have plenty of .cats now,” said
mother, ominously, as little Nellie
came in with great delight, her small
apron gathered up in her hands, and
four blind kittens mewing in it.
Jake understood that to mean that
they were to be treated to a cold bath
in the river; but nothing was said to
tender-hearted little Nelly on the sub
ject Ido not know what she would
have thought of her kind mother, if
she had known that she was a party to
any such transaction. So it came to
pass that there was a mysterious dis
appearance of the. young cats that
very night. Pussy was disconsolate
Over her,loss, and Mrs.
felt very unhappy when she heard her
calling them up stairs and down.
“ She will get over it in two or
three days,” thought she; “ cats never
cry f° r their kittens longer than that,
'hnd I am thankful they can forget
their'. sorrows so; well. I would not
have one killed for any thing, if she
went on this way a - week.”
“ Where can those kittens have gone
to ?” said little, Nelly, as she searched
in company with old pussy, “ up stairs
and down stairs and in my lady’s"
chamber.” But no kittens could they
find, and little Nellie comforted old
Heppy as best she could, telling her
that they would likely creep out of
some corner before long, glad enough
to see their mother.
As Jake, the enterprising farmer’s
lad, was prowling about the grove, ac
cording to Sis custom when off duty
he came upon a little rabbit’s nest!
Ihere were two tiny rabbits in it, and
their mother thought she had hid them
ever so nice, but I think Jake’s do<*
scented them out. D
“Hallo !” said Jake; "now I’ll give
old-Heppy a good dinner. Maybe it
will take her mind off from them
kits.” His own mind had been rather
ill at ease on the share he had taken
in the matter, particularly since super
stitious Aunt Chloe, in the kitchen,
had told him he would have nine mis
fortunes for every cat he killed.
So Jake brought home the rabbits,
and gave them to Heppy as a peace
offering. She took them up in her
mouth and carried them off to her old'
basket, one by one, and then what do
you think that cat did ? She snugged
down on her old carpet with those
rabbits, and kissed their faces and
smoothed their ruffled coats, and made
them just as much at home as if she
were their own mother. She brought
them up just as if they were her own
children, only she could never teach
them to catch mice. The little happy
family was the curiosity of the neigh
borhood.
fur % Jittb f uifo*
THY WILL BE DONE TN EARTH AS IN
HEAVEN.
xo. il.
We pray that this may one day be
the case, because it is not so now. The
devil tempted our first parents to dis
obey God, and ever, since he has kept
men trespassing God’s law, and diso
beying God’s will. The greater part
of mankind do not know, and never
ask God’s will about anything they do.
Their governments,their religions,their
family life, are contrary to the will of
God. It is not God’s will that men
should tell lies, or cheat, or swear, or
break the Sabbath. He has com
manded that they should not.- It, is
contrary to the law of God for men-to
quarrel, and covet each other’s pro
perty, and steal, and fight, arid kill
each other. It is hateful to God that
men should get drunk, and beat their
wives and children, and spend their
wages on liquor, and keep their family
hungry and in rags, or that people
should keep saloons to make their
neighbors' drunkards, or open gam
bling houses to rob them of their
money.
God shows how he dislikes such
things by fighting against wicked peo
ple. He makes them unhappy in their
own minds. He arranges things so
that a wicked man’s neighbors do riot
like him.. Then such. men generally
waste their money and have to beg or
steal. Many of them make themselves
sick by their disobedience to God, or
die of dreadful diseases. Some of them
break the law and are put in prison;
and some of them are tempted by Satan
to horrid crimes, and rebel against the
Union, and are shot down on the bat
tle-field. You heard lately how some
of these rebels against God and their
country became so wicked that they
murdered the President and were
hanged. Once a great number of them
rebelled against the Lord Jesus Christ
when he was here, and murdered him.
It is part of their punishment that God
gives them their own will, as they will
not obey his, and then they show every
body how wicked they are.
But he does not give them all their
will, else this world would be a horri
ble place. God rules over sinners, and
is wiser than the wisest, and stronger
than the strongest of them. When
wicked men make plots, and lay wise
plans, he laughs at their foolish wis
dom, allows them to show themselves,
and then breaks off their schemes in
the middle. He does with them as
General Grant did with the rebels in
the South. He breaks up their rail
roads, and burns: their bridges, and
destroys their provisions, and carries
away their cattle, and sets free their
slaves, that they might not be able to
fight against him. .Indeed all the cold
of Winter, and the bad harvests, and
the early frosts, and the sicknesses of
this world, are so many punishments
because men do not obey God. In
heaven they have no' such things.
There are no jails there, nor police,
nor guns, nor cannons, nor soldiers
shooting one another down there; be
cause they all do God’s will, and love
one another. When every person
here does God’s will, and loves his
neighbor as himself, there will be no
need for locks, and watchmen, and po
lice, and soldiers,- because men can
trust each other. And when God can
trust us to do his will, he will not need
to keep his police constantly watching
us, and his. courts constantly punish
ing us for our sins. But till that time
comes, he must keep us down under
military rule, because we will not gov
ern ourselves by his law. If we want
to make ourselves and our neighbors
happy, we must try to have God’s will
done on earth, as it is in heaven.
In order to do this we must know
God’s will and get other people to
know it. He has told us his will in
the Bible, and has made a short ac
count of it in the Ten Commaudments,
How many of you know the Ten
Commandments ?
In these Ten Commandments God
not only forbids us to do the very
things forbidden, but any others like
them, or which would lead to them.
He not only forbids us to murder, but
to get angry with our neighbors, be
cause anger leads to quarrels, and
quarrels end in murder.
When he foroids us to swear falsely,
he also forbids telling lies; and when
he forbids us to take the name of God
in vain, he forbids any kind of pro
fane oath, and all bad words.