MattlEgoOtutt.
DR. BRAINERD.
DEeB BBOTHER :—Earth is poorer
and heaven is richer, for one of the best
and noblest of men is gone from us and
is with God. This morning, as my eye
glanced over the 'despatches in one of
our morning papers, it fell on the lines,
" Dr. Thomas Brainerd, pastor of the
Pine Street Church in Philadelphia, is
..dead." The paper dropped from my
hands, and the words burst from my
heart, "0, what a loss; what a light
has gone out !" What a genial, broad
minded, catholic, spirited man has gone
from amongst us. I had known Dr.
Brainerd by reputation and his writings
for years—indeed, since 1837 ; and oc
casionally I had met him in the General
Assembly, but I had no intimate perso
nal acquaintance until 1863, when our
nation's struggle brought me to his
house. From this time our relations
were of the most friendly and intimate
character. My relation to the army and
various charitable associations connect
ed with the service, brought me fre
quently to Philadelphia, and in his
family I made my home ; and every
hoar I spent with him ended with but
one regret—that I had not known him
, Sooner. I have gone with himto the social
and religious assemblies of the Church,
bito the alleys and remote streets of
Philadelphia, where, we addressed on
the sidewalks, in school-houses, and in
churches, small groups and large con
gregaiions of colored people, urging them
to avail themselves of the hour for their
race and their country. I - have been
with him on many visits to the hospit
als, where-we endeavored to pour balm
into the, wounds of our' broken heroes.
I have stood by his. side in many gath
erings of loyal men, and in the darkest
-days of despair and gloom he spoke
such words, of cheer, of faith in God and
the right, of cotirege, as rarely fall from
human lips, and= sent forth thousands
with brighter eyes and spirits nerved
for every sacrifice. In these years of
our great nation's travail and, agony, the
pastor of the Pine Street Church was
the leader of that noble host of loyal
men and women whose munificent
charities and sacrifices for the army and
country have won for Philadelphia the
gratitude of millions. Were the soldiers
from other States,hastening to . the field
of battle, to be met, warmed and
Cheered, Dr. Brainerd was your voice
and hand. The profound admiration
that glowed in his words and face for
those who were willing to shed their
blood and lay down their lives for their
country, the benedictions of his religion,
~the reverence felt by him for the poorest
and- humblest man that followed the flag
-of his country, gave dignity in the eyes
-of the soldier to his mission, and sent
thim forth a more cheerful and courage
irons man. Were the wounded to be re
ceived and borne to the hospitals, Dr.
Brainerd was foremost amongst you,
who, with blessings and tears, prayers
and sympathies, softened the conches
and relieved the anguish of the sufferers.
Was there an hour when all hearts stood
still in fear; when a mighty, crushing
storm bewildered as all; -there was one
amongst you who. knew no fear, and
whose head rose far • above the darkness
of the tempest. Was there an hour of
great deliverance, when the power of
the enemies of the country was broken
forayer, and strong * men wept in each
other's arms; and all rushed as by a
common impulse before the sacred shrine
of American liberty, again, by one con
pent, Dr. Brainerd :expressed, in seer
likewords, your gratitude to God. In
'these scenes I ..would, one hour, most
. ..admire Dr. Brainerd's self-forgetfulness,
his indifference to fatigue; at:another, I
would most admire his eloquence, his
sympathy with man and magnanimous
generosity. Another day I was most
impressed with his far-seeing wisdom
and tact, his knowledge of men and
power, of silencing opposition and stimu
lating, to enthusiasm the lukewarm and
the wavering.
In those years there was a marvellous
growth in the . affections and spiritual
being of Dr. Brainerd ; his trials and sor
rows, exertions and struggles, deepened
his sympathies with human nature, and
made him love more earnestly all true
and good men. And whatever, like
broken,shreds, had remained of human
'weakasses, such as ambition, self-seek
ing, the love of ease, the fear of man,
repugnancy to those of different opinions
and faith, were all thrown off as unwor
-thy of the man: , Long before his • departure from us
the angels were weirifig above him his
robes, of light,
Such a man ennobled our, nature and
increased-our 'gratitude to the Gospel,
*hieh gives us the assurance that we
shall,meet him again, and know him and
love him forever.
Probably, there is reason for grati
tude to God :that in the fulness of his
usefulness, if not of his strength, he de
parted from us. It is best that such a
man should not gradually retire from the
thoughts and walks of those who have
revered and loved him. We will pray
more earnestly for his mantle, because
we saw it hanging fully and gracefully
on the shoulders of one not creeping into
silence, but in the fall glory of his min
istry.
May the stricken bat gifted widow
be spared to give us the memorials of
std-eventful but fruitful life. nlf the
Ohnreh mourne; what shall we say of
the irreparable Joss of ,bercompanitin of
thirty-five years ? How" k `l i thtely the
dwelling of joy! How silent the house
of gladness I May God comfort with
that vision of glory which we see only
brighter through our tears. J. J. M.
JOHN HOWARD, OR THE LIVING CHRIS
TIAN.
Life must have a proper aim, a spir
itual character, and godly results, to
fulfil its high commission. There are
various ways of occupying it, of spend
ing its opportunities, and of consuming
its powers ; but there is only- one way
of devoting it to its divine end, and for
fully enjoying the blessing which it is
capable of receiving. Many prefer the
course which gratifies the flesh, but dis
honors God and at last brings misery to
existence. Few only direct their lives
in the channel of Divine obedience and
realize eternal bliss. To live in the
highest and only true sense, is not
merely to breathe and maintain in health
and exercise the union of soul and body ;
it is to be animated by the Spirit of
Christ. It was Christ who first taught
the world " that life in every shape is
precious." Only since he came did
man build hospitals, stoop down to the
degraded, and send missionaries to the
benighted and lost. Only since He
came have men learned that God's im
age may be engraven upon the wreck
and offscouring of humanity, and that
none on earth are too far gone to be be
yond the power of the Gospel.
In the person of John Howard we
behold a beautiful exemplification of the
Spirit of Christ, If the question had
been asked, who of the young men in
the last century was to win a statue in
St. Paul's Cathedral as a tribute to his
philanthropic service, none would have
sought for him in a grocer's shop or
looked for him in that pale-faced boy
behind Mr. Newnham's counter in Lon
don. Yet such was John Howard in
his youth. The son of a wealthy up
holsterer, he was apprenticed to a whole
sale grocer at the usual age. Although
the business was not to his taste, he un
doubtedly derived much advantage from
the rigid discipline of his apprenticeship,
especially much of the accuracy in de
tails which enabled him to give such
clear statements of the condition of the
Buffering and point out the efficient
remedy. It was years before his hour
came and he found his true mission.
We can but glance at two or three points
in his life previous to his celebrated
career.
In the year 1752 or 1753 visit the vil
lage of Newington near London and you
find that the pale apprentice has become
a man of fortune, and though still in
feeble health, he devotes himself to sci
entific pursuits sand charitable deeds.
He is now twenty-five years of age, and
married. He takes decided ground as
a religious man, and without being at
all dogmatic, is an interested member of
the Dissenting Church in the place. He
himself started and headed a subscrip
tion for purchasing a house for, the
minister of the congregation. Such was
Howard at Newington, a kind-hearted
man of wealth, of whom few persons out
of the little village much knew or cared.
Glance at him once more a few years
after. Look into a filthy dungeon in
Brest, the naval port of France. There
upon the damp floor of the prison, with
only a little straw to protect them, lie a
considerable company of Englishmen,
sailors and passengers of a merchant
vessel bound to Lisbon and captured by
a French privateer. For forty hours
they are kept without food. Among
them there is a somewhat feeble-looking
man of twenty-nine years. It is How
ard. He is tasting the lot of the captive
in all its bitterness, and unconsciously
preparing himself for his holy mission.
Left a widower, with health impaired
and mind given somewhat to melan
choly, he looked to travel for relief, and
was led by his interest in the suffering
to visit the scene of the recent fearful
earthquake at Lisbon. His imprison
ment was not Of long duration, though
long enough to give him knowledge and
impulse.
We may now glance at his, position
in 1770, at the sober age of forty-three.
His home is at his favorite place, Car
dington, upon the farm bequeathed him
by his father. Fourteen years of varied
experience have passed, years in part of
happiness with a congenial companion,
years in part of sad bereavement. He
had travelled frequently in Englind and
on the European continent, and during
the year of which we speak had made a
continental tour. His mind was of the
most serious frame, and the beautiful bay
of Naples, to his soul, rather reflected the
glory of God than the effeminate beauty
oz Italian life. In Naples he made a
solemn dedication of himself to God and
put his name to a covenant between
himself and his Maker. In this spirit
he returned to Cardington. His mode
of lifelbr three years from our date was
retired, yet earnest and salve. He was
a good neighbor, a kind landlord, a
faithful Christian. He visited the poor,
gave them good counsel, and when ne
cessary, relieved their wants. In one
point he anticipated an excellent move
ment, which has of late made great pro
gress in England, and began to show
itself in this country. The owner of a
large property, he considered the poor
not as offering him plunder, but as claim
ing his protection. He did not, as many
have done, put up miserable hovels, fer
tile in rheumatism and fever, and rent
them at enormous prices, bat; erected on
his grounds neat and healthy cottages,
.and leased them on very moderate terms
peraons who would use them well.
He walked three miles to Church, both
THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 1866.
forenoon and afternoon, unwilling to
keep his servants front equal privileges
on that day. Yet, notwithstanding all
these things, the world knew little of
John Howard. His hour had not yet
come. Even at the sober age of forty
six, his great and immortal work was
before him.
The immediate occasion of directing
his attention to the cause so identified
with his name was his *ointment to
the post of High Sheriff. for` the' county
of Bedford. This office, alth.ough hon
orable and respectable, was one usually
undertaken by some affluent and , pro
minent man, who took to' himself' all the
dignity of the station and left, its labors
to some subordinate. Howard was not
the man to content himself with grancl
pageants and banquets to which the
high sheriff was usually called. Sera
pulously faithful to his duties, be took
an early opportunity to inspect the jail
of his county. He saw at once+that a.
state of things existed there that 'called
out his warmest indignation and pretest.
He was struck, first of all, by the outra
geous custom of retaining men'in prison
after their acquittal for the payment of
fees charged them for the time spent \in
confinement previous to their 'trial.
Anxious to abate this abuse, he biiesti
gated the condition of other jails, in the
hope of finding more humnneprececiptS;
and thus his career ,an,4,the prisoner's
friend began. This was in the y\r
1773.
The revelations of oppression 'auil
misery that constantly presented them
selves to him in his tour throUgh t,rigi
land, astonished himself as they did On
whole English public. The diseasel
vice and injustice that were connected
with the prevalent system, he carefallyi
investigated and boldly exposed. Th't
attention of the English Parliament wail
at once drawn to the subject:. Hoivard
was examined before the House of Com
mons, and a bill was passed abolishing
the obnoxious jail fees and providink for
the better health of the prisoners.
What to some men would have been
hailed as a triumph sufficient to crown a
life, with honor, was to him bat the
beginning of his work.
...lEleappedas it
were, to take the *hole ceris4 of human
misery, and after two years of observa
tion through England and Wales, and'
two visits of examination to the Conti
nent, he published his first grand treatise
on prisons in the year 1777. onr space
would not permit us to review or even
classify the forms of misery that he met
in the prisons of Europe. In Hol
land he found some ray of light, but
almost everywhere else the darkness
was unbroken. One incident is worthy
of notice, in his first visit to France, for
its high historic interest. At Paris, he
tried to obtain admittance into the Bas
tile, and actually passed within the orifer
gate. Bat an officer came out of the
guard-house with such a look of astonish
ment and threatening that the' Philan
thropist made his way back as quickly
as posible. What thoughts are sug
gested by this fact—Howard and the
Bastile I—the spirit of humanity en
deavoring to enter the dungeon of feudal
despotism 1 Humanity is repulsed, and
despotism triumphs with its moats and
battlements; •the captives in : the iron
cages were riot then to hear the voice
of a friend. How different themeeting,
some ten years afterward, at those gates.
Not gentle hurhanity, but terrifie re } vVnge
stands face to face :with fendal...des
potism, and the Parisian mob:razed the
stronghold of tyranny to the ground.
After having devoted more 'than
eleven years of his life to,the reforma
tion of the jails, and the imi4vement
of the hospitals of; his own'and foreign
countries, he -determined again to quit
his home on a journey fraught with
greater danger, than any, he had yet
undertaken. He now resolved to face
that most terrific of human ills, 'the
plague. Forth he goes on his heroic
expedition 'to the lazarettos 'or plague
hospitals of Europe. On this tour of
mercy he visited the Italian States, and
from thence passed by sea to Turkey,
in which country he examined the hos
pitals and prisons of Constantinople,
Smyrna and other places. Through all
he kept his faith and courage. In a
letter to a friend at this time,the.depre
cates the idea of having undertaken a
wild or chimerical enterprise, although
fully aware of the extent of exposure.
4g But I persevere," he says,. thrcnigtt
good report and evAl , report. know .I
run the greatest risk of my life. '< Permit
me to declare the sense, of mrmAnd in
the expressive words of De DOddiidge,
I have no hope in what I have be'en or
done. Yet there is a hope set before
me. In Him, the Lord Jesus Christ, I
trust. In Him I have , strong consola
tion.' "
Returning home in 178'1, he was sin
cerely troubled to find an. effort in pro
gress to erect a statue in token of his
services, and stopping this enterprise by
his entreaties, be gave- , ,himself :now to
the task of embodying his new re
searches, in a quarto: volume, on Laza
rettos.
Surely now his labors are at a close,
we cannot but say. Over sixty years
of age, with infirm health, he certainly
must give himself to rejtosii, , o4 pass
his few remaining Year's in de,r*arati've
leisure. Bat his book on Lazarettos :
gave indications of 'another journey like
the last. Look over his, journal kept at
this time, and we may understand his
state of mind. We find passages like
these, bearing date of Sabbath evening,
March 15, 1789:
"An approving conscience adds plea,
Sure to every act of piefyi'beneiogilbe,
and self-denial. It inspires serenity and
brightens every gloomy hour, disarming
adversity, disease and death. It is my
ambition to put on the Lord Jesus Christ
and have the same mind that was also
in Him.
" Health, time, powers of mind, and
worldly possessions are from God. Do
I consecrate them all to Him ?—so help
me, 0, my God!
" Oar superfluities should be given ap
for the convenience of others—our con
veniences should give place to the neces
sities of others—and even our necessities
give way to the extremities of the
poor."
Once more and, with a with a presenti
fuent - of approaching death, Howard
went fprth to study the nature of the
Plague in its most fearful haunts in
Russia, Turkey and the East. It is
sad to say farewell, even for a few
months, to anything that we love. There
was great beauty and pathos in How
ard's farewell to England—his home—
and his friends—a farewell forever. He
made his will and all necessary arrange
ments as to his property ; he even gave
directions for his tomb-stone, and forbade
any epitaph except the simple inscrip
tion of name, age, death, and the words
"My hope is in Christ." He visited
the pool in his neighborhood, passed
the evening before his departure in the.
grove planted by himself and the de
ceased one most dear to him, and on
the morrow he was on his way in search
of the pestilence that walketh in dark
ness.
Visiting all the chief prisons and hos
pitals on the way, he went through Ger
many, to St. Petersburg, and thence to
the borders of the Black Sea to Cherson,
where war and disease had accumulated
their horrors.. While the Russian army
were revelling in festivity for their vic
tory over the Turks, the philanthropist
was pursuing his holy vocation at the
bedside of the sick and dying.. His
hour came at last, as it mast come to all.
alled to visit a young woman sick of
ii alignant fever, and thus obliged to
ride a long distance, in the cold and wet
bn horseback, he was no longer proof
Ag ,,
against infection. Soon be was pros
t ted upon his bed. Calmly, even
ch erfully, he watched the app?oach of
delth. In a little while he was absent
from the body and present with his
Lord.
qhristian reader !
" Behold the lovely portrait and admire ;
Nor atop at wonder—imitate and live."
gtiortitaitt,truo.
THE CONVERSION OF SUMMERFIELD.
Summerfield, for a few years before his
conversion caused his father great anxiety
by his irregularities and dissipated habits.
The temptations of a city life were too
stronglfor his good resolutions, and fre,
quent &pees into sin lost him self-respect,
and awakened serious apprehension among
his Christian friends. But God had pur
poses of mercy toward him, and plucked
him as , a brand from the burning, to be
come a shining light in the world.
The place where he had first found peace
through faith in Jesus has a special inter
est. It was in the house of one who had
been a notorious sinner, but through the
grace of God had been recovered from a
life of vice. William Haughton was a
member of a little circle of mockers at re
ligion, calling themselves the "Hell-fire
Club." They made sport of sacred things,
and in their meetings revelled in all forms
of ribaldry and blasphemy.
Connected with a regiment of soldiers
stationed in, barracks in Dublin, was a pri
vate named Richard Mellen, one of those
easinest, heroic workers for Christ, of which
the. early annals of Methodism furnish
many examples. When off duty he was
incessant in labor to win souls, and among
the converts won by his affectionate zeal
was the wife 'of William Haughton. She
was a woman of resolute 'character, and
with a boldness which perhaps outran dis
cretion, invited Mellen to preach at her
house, in spite of the bitter, opposition of
her husband. He resented the liberty
taken in his house, and irritated by the
taunts of his associates in the club, swore a
terrible oath that he would turn the preach
`hr into the street.
One day when the house was crowded
he determined• to put the threat into exe
cution. He rose with a defiant look, and,
with a courage stimulated by liquor, ap
proached Mr. Mellen to thrust him out by
force. The preacher suspected his pur
pose, but felt no fear. With an unruffled
calmness of face, and a voice that never
trembled, he looked steadily at the approach
ing ruffian, and continued reading a hymn
for singing. The poor wife trembled at the
scene, and,,could only lift her heart to God
lin earnest prayer. The prayer was answered
quite otherwise than she had dared to hope.
•The•preacher read the words,
" If you tarry till you're better,
You will never come at all."
and these words were carried home to Wil-
liantilaughton by the power of the Holy
Ghost. He stopped suddenly in his for-
Ward movement, gave a loud cry, and fell
senseless to the floor. When he came to
himself he was humble and penitent, in
great agony of mind for his sins, and at
last found peace in trusting in Jesus.
He was a tool-maker by trade, and had a
large basement for work under his house.
This basement was at once opened for meet
ings; and becanie a great centre for effective
Christian labor, It was a spiritual birth
place for many souls. Summerfield was
attracted thither by reports of the gnat
change wrought in the profane drunkar d,
and came tn see and hear some new thing.
His impressible nature was touched; his
conscience, long uneasy, was agitated by
bitter remorse,; he felt the need of Chris
titui, prayer and sympathy; and at last an
assurance of a new birth brought hi m un _
, utterable peace. In this humble bmement
the eloquent priacher began his Christian
life by shouting " Glory !" and here his
first exhortations gave promise of that
wonderful sweetness and pathos which
clothed with power his brief ministry. A
cobbler's shop was the school where John
Angell James began to work for Christ,
and John Summerfield received his first
training for the pulpit in a tool-maker's
cellar. One learns from such instances
never to despise the day of small things.—
Watchman and Reflector.
SORROWS OF THE MINISTRY.
Lord, why are we commonly,sent on so
vain an errand? Why are we required to
speak to them that will not hear, and ex
pose thy sacred truths and counsels to the
contempt of sinful worms, to labor day by
day in- vain, and spend our strength for
naught ? Yea, we cannot forbear to com
plain; none so labor in vain as we ; of all
men none are so generally unprosperous
and unsuccessful. Others are wont• to see
the fruit of their labors in proportion to the
expense of strength in them; but our
strength is labor and sorrow for the most
part, without the return of a joyful fruit.
The husbandman plows in hope, and sows
in hope, and is commonly partaker of his
hope ; we are sent to plow and sow among
rocks and thorns and in the highway. How
seldom fall we upon good ground; where
have we any increase ? Yea, Lord, how
often are men the harder for all our labors
with them, the deader for all our endea
vors to quicken them; our breath kills
them whom thou sendest us to speak life
to; and we often become to them a deadly
savor. Sometimes, when we think some
what is done to our purpose, our labor all
returns, and we are to begin again: - and
when the duties we persuade to, come
directly to cross men's interest and carnal
inclinations, they revolt and start back, as
if we were urging them upon the flames or
the sword's point ; and their own souls and
the eternal glory are regarded as a thing of
naught. Then heaven and hell become
with them fancies and dreams, and all
that we have said to them false and fabu
lous. We are to the most as men that
mock in our most serious warnings, and
counsels, and the word of the. Lord is a re
proach. We sometimes fill our mouth
with arguments and our hearts with hope,
and think sure they now will yield ; but
they esteem our strongest reasonings as
Leviathan doth iron and brass, but as a
straw and rotten wood, and laugh at Divine
threatenings as he cloth at the shaking of
the spear.—Howe.
TRUTH ILLUSTRATED.
Some preachers have a delightful faculty
of illustrating truth, whether in the pulpi
or -in pastoral labors, by means of happy
and appropriate suppositions, employed by
way of simile or comparison. The late elo
quent and heavenly-minded Doctor Payson
possessed this faculty in an eminent degree,
and often used it with the most delightful
results in his faithful and affectionate min
istrations. Those who are familiar with the
history and writings of this holy man will
immediately call to mind a variety of instan
ces. One or two specimens will suffice for
our present purpose.
saye - DTretor Payson, "you
wished to separate a quantity of brass and
steel filings, mixed together in one vessel,
how would you effect this separation ?
Apply a loadetone,and immediately every
particle of iron wil attach itself to it, while
the brass filings remain behind. Thus, if
o -
we see a company of true and false prcofes
sors of religion, we may not be able to dis
tinguish between them ; but let Christ
come among them, and all his sincere fol
lowers will be attracted toward him, as the
steel is drawn to the magnet, while those
who have none of his Spirit will remain at
a distance."
Is it possible, I ask, to conceive of any
other form or figure of speech by which the
exact idea in the mind of the speaker could
have been more accurately or more forcibly
conveyed to the mind of the hearer. If
the object of true eloquence be, as has
sometimes been said, the imparting to
others the emotions with which we our
selves are agitated, then certainly compari
sons like the above must Iv a powerful aid
to the orator in the performance of his
task. .•
Nor was DoCtor Payson less happy in the
chamber of sickness or, the dwelliogs of
sorrow, in the employment of these illustra
tions for the solace of the disconsolate or
the bereaved.
"Suppose," said he, on one occasion, to
a Christian sufferer, who was almost in de
spair, because the influence of her bodily
a.onies so distracted her mind as to pre
vent her concentrating her thoughts on. the
Saviour as she wished—" suppose you
were to see a little sick child lying in its
mother's lap, with its faculties impaired by
its sufferings, so that it was generally in a
troubled sleep, but now and then it just
opens its eyes d little, and gets a glimpse of
its mother's face, so as to be recalled to the
recollection that it is in its mother's arms ;
and suppose that always at such a time, it
should smile faintly, with evident pleasure
to find where it was,--should you doubt
whether that child loved its mother or
not ?"
The application of the comparison, though
not expressed, was easily made by the afflict
ed sufferer, and we are not surprised to
hear that her doubts and despthidency were
gone in a moment.
Equally happy was he on another occa
sion, so painfully familiar to every sympa
thizing pastor—a visit to a weeping Rachel,
refusing to be comforted for the loss, of a
beloved child.
" Suppose now," said he, " some one was
making a beautiful crown for you to wear,
and that you knew it was for you, and that
you were to receive it and wear it as soon
as it should-be done. Now if-the maker of
it were to come, and in order to make the
crown more beautiful and splendid, were to
take some of your jewels to put into it,
should you be sorrowful and unhappy be
cause they were taken for a little while,
when you knew they were gone to make up
your crown?"
The mother smiled through her tears at
the thought that her jawel was taken from
her but for a season, and said, in meek sub
mission, " The Lord gave, and the Lord
path' taken away, and blessed be - thenama
of the Lord."—Rev. J. Dowling, RD.
THE LAW OF EQUILIBRIUM,
You are seated in a warm room, by
your wintry fireside, the doors and shutters
are fast, you have done your best to keep
the outside air outside, but there is a rush
of the outside air toward the key-hole, and
every other little frevice, and you hear th e
whistling effort which it is making to get
inside. But why this effort ? Why c an
not the outside air remain quietly outside ?
This is the reason. There is no equilib
rium between the outside air and the inside.
The temperature of your room is a great
deal higher than the temperature without,
and nature makes ceaseless efforts to restore
equilibrium. And nature receives this law
from God. There is the same effect in the
light as in the air. Exclude the light from
your room, and if there be a single chink
or opening, you will see the light in the
effort of coming, showing you that it would,
if you would allow it, make it as right
within your room as it is outside. The
same effect is in heat, and even greater.
The Psalmist, speaking of the sun, says,
" Nothing is hidden from the heat , thereof!'
You may shut up your house as you please,
the summer's warmth will get inside, even
as a person may exclude your truth, wh o
cannot exclude your love. Now this law
contains a voice within it from God. It is
from God. The law is spiritual. It works
in things material, but the law has its
power in spirit. All effort is in spirit, and
from spirit , it descends to matter, and this
is the fact and the law. There is in the
great spirit a stupendous working and effort
toward a spiritual equilibrium. As in
heaven, so in earth.
This is the way the tide of the great
spirit ocean rolls : Heaven rushes toward
all the key-holes and crevices of our world.
The souls of mankind are shut up against
the entrance of this tide of holy influence,
and there is no equilibrium between the
spiritual temperature of man and the tem
perature of heaven. But heaven presses
itself upon their souls, and strives by every
little inlet to effect an entrance. Why, all
the commotion and restless and heaving of
the nations have their origin in the laws of
the spiritual universe. Heaven, or pure
truth and good-will, are in the ceaseless
effort to descend—" as in heaven so in
earth ;" in this ceaseless effort to descend,
they throw into turmoil the opposite prin
ciples of falsity and selfishness ; and these
shaking of nations and thrones must go on,
until those principles fill the world which
cannot be shaken. Until the earth is as
good and true as heaven, heaven cannot but
go on in the energy of descent—the effort
cannot cease, then, until the earth is heav
enly, any more than higher waters can
cease to flow down to the same level; and
when they both have the same level they
-rest. So heaven will rest when the spirit.
ual state of our world is as it is in heaven—
in equilibrium.—Res. John. Pulsford.
CAST IRON PREJUDICES.
Some one applied to Aaron Burr, to know
the best way of influencing a prominent
man to adopt a certain policy.
" Has he argued against it ?" asked the
wily politician.
".Yes."
" Has he written against it ?"
" No."
" Well, then we may change him, but if
he had written it, it would be improbable,
for .a man seldom changes when he has put
himself in black and white."
"Does de facts contradict my theory?"
said an irate Frenchman to one who had
thrown some facts against his favorite
theory, "then so much de worse for de
facts.'
A certain writer on the Apocalypse, for
a low , ' n time refused to believe in the death
of Napoleon 1., because it destroyed his
theory of interpretation.
An article in Good Words has the fol
lowing incident of " cast-iron prejudices:"
—About half a century ago, a worthy old
gentleman was professor of chemistry in
one of the colleges at Aberdeen. He had
framed a course of lectures on his science,
which had enabled him decently aad com
fortably to discharge the duties of the
chair during a considerable incumbency.
In his old age, the received theory of the
constitutions of' salts began to be attacked
Humphrey Davy, and discoveries were
announced unsettling the opinion of all for
mer chemists. In the course of time, the
voice of the revolution was heard even at
Aberdeen, and a deference began to be
shown to it that troubled the worthy pro
fessor. But his Aberdenian caution stood
him in good stead. He would give his old
theories just as before, merely adding an
explanatory note : "There is a man called
Davy telling us now that all this is wrong•
He is `'a troublesome, man, Mr. Davy, a
very troublesome man; but we'll just wait a
while till we see." The dread of trouble
may often have to do with the reception or
rejection of religious proposals or practices.
PIETY PROMOTIVE OF UNITY.
The want of elevated sentiments of piety
does more to arm the sects against each
other than any amount of error that their
respective systems embody. Their uncharit
ableness, sectarian prejudice, the interfer
ence of their party interests, and other
evils of which a high degree of personal
religion is the only cure, oftener provoke
them to controversy thane their boasted
devotion to the cause of truth ; and there
are probably few cases in which the strife
would ever be .commenced should the par'
ties concerned;precede it with a long course
of earnest supplication together for the
guidance of Heavan, with mutual efforts to
unite in doing good as far as they algi d
agree, and 'with honest endeavors to a rrive
at the exact truth on the points at issue
between them. Impatient for debate, th ey
rush to war without allowing themselves to
reflect, that in all the most material pe' n '
of the Christian scheme, their views are
already, perhaps, substantially the same, or
at all events, much nearer alike than they
will be after becoming embroiled in contri
versy. If the duty, of,•controversy, there
fore, be not too imperative to allow our,
looking at consequences, or if the spirit of
these pugnacious prophets be not alio!:
their control, more enlarged views of tti
whole subject, and more elevated scull„
o lu f e tte of dis piety sensio c n o s ul w d ; n th "
embroil the Christian family.
wfahilichto hushthey 7:1;