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“OUT OP THE EAST.’”
BT STOCKTON BATES.
Out of the east comes up the mornißg sub.
Into the west he sinks, when da; is done.
The clouds, along the far horizon’s rim,
Gleam through the western twilight shadows dim ;
Tie changeful castles of the dying day,
Charm for awhile—then crumble to decay;
Or, flashing into flames of glorious light.
Illume the darkling pathways of the night..
Out of the east slow lifts the round-faced moon
Till in the zenith swings at night’s dark noon.
Far o’er the landscape fall the mellow rays,
The soft reflection of the solar blaze.
Into the west she passes from the sight.
Sooh as the eastern slopes arefbathed in light,
Nor lingers on the green or flowery lawn
To welcome with her smiles the rosy dawn.
Out of the east the conntless train of stars
Follows the sun into the western bars,
And, slowly disappearing,.melts away
As fades the taper in effulgent day/' •
The wheeling squadrons proudly seem to roam .
Beneath Night’s grand, o’erarching, saM'e douse,
While far along the northern flank, on high,
Auroral banners ware athwart the. sky.
Out of the east the wise men came to view
The infant Saviour, .whose bright star, they knew,
And followed, till the guiding beams at rest,
Reposed iipon the cradle of the Blest.
Then all the stars a glorious anthem raise
Of heavenly mußic and adoring praise;
While low the wise men, bowed in worship lie
Before the mighty Lord,of earth and sky.; ?
Out of the east the fierce Barbaric hordes,
With uncouth armor and unwieldy swords,
Swept o’er the earth like a resistless wave,
Crushing the nations that they came to save.
Into the west, wheTe proud Atlantic pours
Its,wrathful billows on tho.trembling shores,
They passed, usurping all the helpless land
From Persia’s Gulf to Baltic's frozen strand.
Out of the east, the little pilgrim band
Came, in'the Mayflower, to a happier land ;
Came from opression to be ever free,
Not feared the'dangers of a wintry sea.
Into the west they came and freedom found ;
And, at their sturdy axe’s ringing sound,
Primeval forests .fell .beneath.the blows .
And,cot and hamlet magic-like arbse.
Out of the east the current onward rolled,
Until it reached the land of wine and gold.
Along the swelling streams and western plains
New cities rose bedecked with lofty fanes.
Into the west, advancing sure but slow,
The mighty civilizing armies go,
The conquerors by the plough and not the sword,
Who make the west the “ Garden of the Lord.”
THE EESOUE.
Little Mary .Neale was fond of play, as in
deed most little children are. She often
wandered away from her father’s house
about the garden and even into the open
fields. One day her mother was very busy,
and Mary wandered farther than usual. On
and on she went until at length she came to
the railroad track. This track had been
covered with gravel, and the smooth, white
pebbles at once attracted her attention. So
she sat down between the rails, thoughtless
of danger, and began to gatherand play with
the pretty white stones. After playing
awhile she began to' feel drowsy, and then
she laid her head upon the iron rail and fell
soundly asleep.
While'Mary lay asleep and unconscibusbf
danger, the terrible locomotive with a long
train of cars attached to it, came thundering
along the track. A long way off the engi
neer who managed the locomotive saw some
thing-lying on the road, and as he kept his
eye fixed On the object he was horrified to
see that it was a little child. He at onee
blew his loud whistle, but the child did not
move. He gave the signal to put down the
brakes, and it was done. But still the train
moved on, and it seemed inevitable that in
another minute the child would be crushed
to death beneath the ponderous wheels.
But the engineer was a man of generous
and noble impulses. Hastily running for
ward along the side of his locomotive, he
fixed his feet firmly between the bars of the
cow-catcher in front, and laying hold of the
iron rail with one hand, leaned forward as
far as he possibly eould. Just as the loco
motive was ready to rush ujgon the sleeping
child,- and leave it a lifeless, bloody, and
mangled mass of flesh, this noble man, at
the risk of his life, seized her with his un
used hand and lifted her upon the cow
catcher unharmed. So little Mary’s life was
saved.
Do you. not admiro the v bravery of that
good engineer and his eagerness to save the
life of that child? But you, my young
reader, have continual opporturiities to do a
far-nobler-thing. Yon livein a world where
all are sinners, and where all who are not
followers of Jesus are in danger of per
ishing for eyer. You can do very much
if you have a heart to do it, to-point sinners
to Jesus Christ and persuade them to em
brace, him as a Saviour. Thus you may be
instrumental in saving souls from ; going
down to eternal death. And is it not a far
better thing to help save an immortal soul
than a mortal body? Oh try, my young
readers, to remember and to teel what aw
ful danger some of your young friends are
in, and do day by day, what you can for
their salvation.
You admire that Doble-hearted engineer.
And do you not think little Mary Neale and
her parents always loved him and desired in
every possible way to show their gratitude
to him ? Yet all that he did for Mary was
as nothing to what Jesus has done for us.'
The engineer only risked his life. Jesus laid
down his life of set purpose, and of bis own
will, in order to save us from enduring eter
nal death. He suffered in out place what no
man ever suffered or can ever fully compre
hend, especially while in this world. Ought
you not then to admire Jesus, and to love
him and to do all you possibly can to testify
your gratitude for the unspeakable blessings
he has purchased for you by laying down
his life on your behalf?
When justice by our sing provoked,
' Drew forth its dreadful sword, . ,
He gave his Boiil up to tlie stroke,
Without a murmuring words* -■
THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 26, 1867.
This was compassion like a God,
That though the Saviour knew
The price of pardon was his blood,
His pity ne’er withdrew.
—S. S. Visitor.
LITTLE MOLLIE.
How deeply the gospel is needed by the
children of the South is shown in the follow
ing from the Sunday School World:
About two miles from the meeting-house
I found an old lady with several grand
children living in a little log cabin. Whilst
conversing with 'them, “grandma” drew
fry in her pocket a “plug of tobacco,” and
took a large chew, and then turning to me
said, “Stranger, do you chaw?”'at the
same time me somfe. !Never
having used the weed, I respectfully de
clined.
Talking with a little girl eleven years
old, I found she was not only unable to road
but grossly ignorant of spiritual things. I
soon gained her
freely withme.teliihg medfwh'al to her was a
great loss, the death of her favorite “ Tabby.”
SaidT,:“ Molliekybu know ybu ihave ; tb:/die',
too.”
“Yes,” said she, “Ispecs I will when I
~ - u> j
‘*But, my dear, you thay die when you
are young., ,Yfh%t vyftTbecqme of you r when
you die?” " ’ ’
“ I reckon they’ll bury me up in the
ground as I did Tabby, and that’ll be all.”
“ Don’t you know,' Mollie, you have a
soi^,tjh^t,,cannot die,,n,oy be, bu.rie<Lup s in the
ground, but will be alive'when your body
returns tod list?- If you are good and love
Jesus, it will be happy with Him in hea<ven j
but if naughty and wicked, will, suffer in
the*BrBs’tlfai / 2^e''A^Sr , '4^ ,| SfflSi^.'”'*‘ rt " W
With a look of astonishment she said,
“ Why no, I never heard nothing about such
things. 1: 1 never knowed there/'was any
other world but this.”—G. S. Missionary re
port from N. Carolina.
“WHAT’S THE USE OF LIVING?”
That is what Susy much in, the
habit of saying- Bile didri't go very smooth
ly with Susy. ' She had a cross husband, and
sickly children, and was very poor. So she
often became discouraged; and as she re
counted her trials, sometimes to her hus
band, sometimes to her neighbors, and some
times only to herself, she would wind up
with the disconsolate question, “What’s the
use of liviug ?”
A good woman, who was going by her
cabin one day, happened to hear the sad
words, ajhd stopped to see who it was that
spoke. She looked in at the open door; and
there sat Susy in an old rocking-chair, lean
ing over, with her elbows on her knees, and
her head on her hands, her face clouded and
unhappy. The good woman looked steadily
at her for a moment, and then said, “J think
there’s great use of living.”
Susy started as she heard the words—for
she did not know any one was near, —and,
looking up, saw atvery.pleasant,. bright" face
gazing in upon her. The face smiled, and
then the lips began to speak. .. .. ...
“ I used to feel very much like you, my
poor woman; but, thank Clod, I’ve got all
over it now; for I Have found out what’s
the use. of living. It’s something just to
count up the good and beautiful things God
has given us. There’s this lovely sunlight,
and the pure, sweet air, the cooLshowers,
the trees and grass and vegetables and fruits;
Then tbere’s the nice still, dark nights to
sleep in when we are tired; and a husband
to work ”
Here Susy interrupted; “He’s a cross old
Jack.”
“My husband was eross once; but he isn’t
now. I think it was as much my fault as
his. When I left off fretting and scolding,
he got to be as pleasant and good-natured
as anj’body need to be.”
Susy opened her eyes. “ I can’t help
fretting,” said she; “for the children are
always ailing ” • ’’
“Just the way.mine were once, till I
learned to take care of them.”
“ Why, what did you do?”
: “I gave them very Bimplo food,—mush
and milk, bread and buttor, potatoes and
salt, rice, and such plain, nourishing things.
I put them to bed early, and had the room
well aired where they slept. I dressed them
warmly with flannel next the Bkin, and then
let them play a great deal in the open air.
I Jet them help me all they were able, arid
praised them every chance; I could get.”
“Stop, stop!” cried Susy. “I shall have
to begin all Over new. Where shall I be
gin?”
“ Kneel down, my good friend, and ask
the Lord to teach you .ho w to live so as to
•please him; and then I am Sure you will find,
as I have, that there’s great use and great
comfort in living.”— Freedman’s Journal.
"HOW MUCH DO I COST YOU?”
A little daughter, ten. years, old, lay on
her death-bed. It was hard to part with
the pet of the family. The golden hair, the
loving blue eyes, the bird-like voice-—the
truthful; affectionate child! How could she
be given up? Between this child and her
father there had always existed, not a re
lationship merely, but the love of congenial
natures. He fell on his knees by his dar
ling’s bed-side, and wept bitter tears. He
strove to say, but could not; Thy will be
done! ' It was a conflict between grace and
natnre, such as he had never before exper
ienced. His sobs disturbed the child, who
had been lying apparently unconscious. She
opened her eyes and looked distressed.
“Bapa, dear papa,” said she at length.
“ What, my darling?” answered her father,
striving for composure.
“ Papa,” she asked, in faint, broken tones,
“ how much-zdo I cost year ?”
“ Hush, dear, be quiet 1” he replied, in great
agitation, for he feared/delirium was coming
“ But please —papa, how much do I cost
you ?”
To soothe her, he replied, though with a
broken voice, “Well, dearest, perhaps two
hundred dollars (£40.) What then, darling?”
“Because, papa, I thought—maybe—you
would lay it out this year—in Bibles-—for
poor children—to remember me by.”
A beam of heavenly joy glanced in the
father’s heart: the joy of one noble loving
spirit mingled with its like. Self was for
gotten—the sorrow of parting, the, lonely fu
ture. Nought remained but the mission of
love, and a thrill of gratitude that in it he
and his beloved were co-workers.
Twill, my precious child,” he replied,
kissing her brow with solemn tenderness.
“ Yes,” he added, after a pause, “I will do
it every year as long, as I live. And. thus
my Lilian shall yet speak, and draw hun
dreds and thousands after her to heaven.”
The child’s very soul beamed forth in a
long, loving gaze into her fktber’s eyes; and
still gazing she' fell asleep. Waking in a
fe w min utes, she spoke in. a loud, clear voice,
and with a look of joy—
“Oh, papa, what a sweetsight! The golden
gates were opened, and crowds of ’children
came pouring out—oh, such crowds ! And
they ran up to me, and began to kiss me,
And call mo by a name, I can’t remember
what, it was, bpt it meant,,'Beloved for the
father's sake. 1’ ” .
.She looked.,up,-her eyes dreamy; .her voice
died into a whisper, “ Yes, yes, I come! I
come I” and the lovely form lay there un
tenanted of the lovelier epirit.' • : ‘ ?
John Lee. arose from his knees with a
holy triumph on his ..face.:. “ Thank God,”
said he, “ I ami richer by another treasure in
heaven !”— S. S.- Visitor.
TEUSTY HANDS;
Three-year old Freddie owned a pair of
very busy little /hands. Mam ma loved them,
—every one ofithe dimpled fingers was pre
cious to her; - but she did not love the mis
chief she often found them in; so she took
Freddie in her lap ’ bhe" day, and . Said to
him,—'. ... ..'
“ Are my Freddie’s little hands, trusty
hands ?” -
“Don’t know- What are t’asty tannies,
ma ?” :
“ Trusty hands, my love, are hands which
can be trusted—that on—to do
right, and not to do wrong. God gave my
sonnie these'hands to. do good things wi th;
and, if he does bad things with them, they
are not trusty hands. God cannot trust
them; mamma cannot trust them.”
“Not t’usty tannies when Freddie goes
to work-basket ?”
“No. Can Freddie think of any more
places where his hands haven’t been trusty?”
“ Yes : in tugar-bowl.” Mamma nodded
assent; and Freddie went on confessing his
sins, with a very thoughtful look.
' “Out titehen, too, thnnies went in flour,
in dough, in water-pail, in ’tarch, in clothes
basket, in cosl-tod,in ’t.ove-oven, when Fred
die burnt not t’usty tannies.”
“ Anywhere else ?” asked mamma, quite
startleifcat this revelation of what Bridget
had to put up with in her “ swate darlin.”
“ Not t’usty tannies in panty too.” con
tinued Freddie,: “ went into wice and wais
ins and minee-pie-meat and pepper,—‘naugh
ty pepper to difc in Freddie’s eyes and make
him cry :’ Bridget says so.”
“I must have a serious talk with Bridg
et,” thought mamma? “ I had no idea of
all this.” To Freddie she only said, “ Any
more sonnie ?” ; : ;
“ Freddie ’members lots; but Freddie’s
tired telling,” said three-years with a sigh,
and a mournful look at the fair plump hands,
“ Freddie’s tannies goin’ to be t’usty tan
nies now.”
That afternoon, Freddie’s mamma left him
aloue in the parlor a few minutes, but re
turned in haste, fearing her little boy might
be injuring something. She found him stand
ing before, the “ what-not,’’'his hands tight
ly folded, as he whispered,— •
“ T’usty tannies mustn’t touch.”
When his bed-time eamo, mamma said,
before he knelt to lisp his little prayer,—
“Does our heavenly Father see that the
hands he gave his little Freddie have been
trusty hands to-day ?”
“ Tried to be t’usty, ma; but Freddie for
dot when he pinched kitty’s tail a-piirpose,
and splashed all the water Out of the basin
onto hisseil.”
Then mamma had another little talk with
her boy, and he added to his usual prayer,
“Please, God, make little Freddie’s tan
nies t’usty tannies to-morrow.”
Freddie remembered better the next day;
and by and by, after a groat deal of praying
and trying,'the hands came to be perfectly
trusted anywhere.- I—G. 1 —G. A. F. H, in. Child at
Home, i
REMARKABLE EXAMPLES OF BIBLE
READiTO.
Many of the anecdotes compressed with
in the following paragraph it is easy to
verify; and every reader will acknowledge
the value of the lesson which they are in
tended to teach. Remarkable as some of
them are, not ono approaches -what is relat
ed, arid earnestly believed in the East, of a
famous Mohammodan; namely, that, during
his confinement in the prison of Bagdad,
where he died, he read over the Koran seven
thousand times!
Eusebius tells us of one who had his eyes
burned out in tho Diocletian persecution,
and who repeated in a public assembly the
very words of Scripture with as mucih ac
curacy as if he had been reading them.
Jerome says of Nepotian, that by reading
and meditation, ho hadmade his soul a
library of Christ. Theodosius the younger
was so familiar with the word of God, that
he made it a subject of conversation with
the old bishop as if he had been one of them
Augustine says that after his conversion he
ceased to relish even - Cicero, his, former
favorite author, .-and- that; -the - Scriptures^
were his pure delight. Tertullian spent a
greater part of his time in reading the Scrip
tures, and committed large portions of them
to memory. In his youth, Beza learned all
Paul's Epistles in Greek so thoroughly, that
when he was eight years old, he could repeat
them in that language. Oranmer is said to
have been able to repeat the New Testa
ment from memory, Luther was one of the
most indefatigable students of; the Bible
that the world has ever seen. Bidley said:
“The walls and trees of my orchard, couid
they speak, would bear witness that there I
learned by heart almost all the Epistles; of
which: study r , although in time a great part
was lost, yet the sweet savor thereof, I
trust, I shall carry with me to heaven:” Sir
John Harlop, a man of many cares, made the
book of God so much his study, that it lay
before him night and day. A French noble
man used to read three chapters of the Bible
every .day on his bended. knees, with his
head uncovered. Joshua Barnes is said to
have read a small pocket Bible a hundred
and twenty times over. : Boger Cotton'read
the whole Bible thrpugh t'welve times a year,
William llomaine studied nothing but the
Bible.for, the last thirty,or forty years, of his
life. John Boy'se, one of the translators of
our Bible, had read all the-Scriptures-before
he was five years did phis mother read them
through twelve times: " t have head'of more
than' one of whom it was said, that if the
Bij}le had been .lost, the whole might, have
been recovered from their memories. .In
short, was there ever' an eminent Christian
who was-not remarkable for his study of I
Scripture as he had opportuhity ? Wesleyan
Methodist'Magazine.
V THE BEAUTIFUL LADY. \
There is a gentle lady. Ter}’ fair; .
.Her looks are saintly and sjef voiceiswifei'K w
, She \viliks thfougfi all the town/ *
Nor fears to soil" her gown.
They say this lovely liitjy’s not afraid
Of any being that'thel.hrd has made ;
She sees bei* Father’s look
Within the ineaneVt nook.
And so she walks serene through'every 1 '
Where hunger struggles fierce with sin and pain,
And angry curses leap
In passion wild and deep; ;
She doeß not eyen tremble at the sight;
She stands afid gazes like a.lity’ itiiVe,
Till, awedto : peace, they see
Her spotless purity..
She ntays beside the couch when all have fled,
And jays upon her breast the dying head,
And sings away all fear
, With voice serene and clear.
She takes the little children in her arms,
And gives them hrentllo eat, and mildly calms
Their throbbing beans that beat,? ;
And wipes their bleeding feet.
Dear children, tell me will you go with her,—
This lovely lady, each her messenger,—
: And bid the orphans come ;
And have with her their home ?
Her name I think, is Charity below;
But when her bright, immortal wings do grow,
* The angels there above
In heaven will call her Love.
A BLIND LEADEE.
In -all State churches there are ministers
who, having no personal knowledge Of the
new birth, are unable to comprehend the
convictions of- an awakened soul, or to di
rect to the way of salvation by Christ. A
striking illustration of this is given in the
interesting Memoir of Rev. Duncan Dunbar,
by Dr. Chaplin. Young Duncan had an
overwhelming sense of sin, and seeing no
way of pardon, was driven almost to despair.
A friend writes of his feelings at this
crisis:
JL*
“ Toil must have heard of his awful state
of mind before he obtained peace through
the blood of the Lamb. He was in Montrose,
and one day made up his mind to commit
suicide, and thus put an end to his suffering,
as he in his desperation thought, and this
was his plan : to run along on the paranot
of the. bridge and then drop d'own, that it
might be thought an accident, as he avbs
known to be fond of daring and fearless ol
danger,”
' His pastor, a worthy man in the Scotch
church, was utterly perplexed by his mental
state. He said to him : ■ ■■
“The cause of all your trouble is quite
plain to me. Ye are the son of worthy
Christian parents, yourself an upright lad
bound to set a good example to your com
panions. Ye have been unfaithful, and God
is frowning on ye..,. At the next sacrament
come forward and 1 take your place among
the children of God, and after partaking ve
will be at peace I think.” & J
“After a little reflection, a new solution
of the mystery appeared to the minister,
and in a solemn tone he said, looking keenly
into his young parishioner’s eye, 1 Duncan
py hul, ye have always borne a good name
in the place and been a great favorite, and
all point to ye as an example for the young.
-But, I fear, from your present condition that
ye have deceived us all! Ye must have’eom
mitted some awful crime, which is torment
ing your conscience and driving ye to de
spair. If this is so, ye may confess it fre'-'v
to me, in the strictest confidence, and I will
still be your friend. What ha’ ye been do
ing, laddie r ..
“‘Nothing iq all my life, sir, that I wo :ld
not be willing my parents should know. It
is the sms of my heart, which none bat G( d
can. see, tnjr rebellion against Him, ihy re
jection of Christ, in short, my exceeding
Vilepess in his sight, which makes me wish
I had never been born! I am so full of sin
that I cannot see how God can possibly par
ing }et romain a j“Bt and holy Be.
, u The minister shook his head mournfully
.admitted that he sawnohelp, and dismissed
his soul-stechem guest: with tke cheering as
annnoe ; !I think ye are losing your mind
The light which the minister could no*
give was given by an old schoolmaster /
whom young -Duncan unbosomed his
and the Saviour then revealed to him k'
came to him the only source of hope for
vation and a constraining power to holim
of life. ,ess
ANECDOTE OF WASHINGTON.
Ex-President Van Buren’s recently p u ],
lished volume on political parties in t!i
United States contains the following letter
which narrates an original anecdote of Wash
ington:
Ogdensburg, 'N. Y,, April 80 th, 1857.
Hon. M. Van Buren:
. ,Dear B'ir:—DurLngthe session of the Pres,
byterian General Assembly in Cincinnati, hi
May, 1852, 1-dined twice at the hospitable
mansion of. Hon. Jacob Burnet, now de
ceased. He .was born ! in Hewark, V. J.. ; n
1770, and was the son of ißr. William Bur
net, who wasdn the> medical service of his
country through ; the Revolution
Burnet was acquainted with our early df s .
tinguished: statesmen, and bis conversation
was rich in the recollection of their manners
andleharacteis. He related an anecdote of
Waehingtdn, -which he had from the lips of
Alexander Hamilton.
When.tbe Convention to form a Constitu
tion was sitting in Philadelphia, in 1787. of
which Gen.‘Washington was president, he
had stated evenings to re eive the calls of his
fHenßsT’Tfran^ Hamit
ton, the former rc
m ai^Se\lJttfat f IWashibgton mis reserved and
aristocratic? even to Bis intimate friends, ami
allowed no one to be familiar with hi m .
Gouverneur mere fancy
and Be would bp as famutar with Washing
ton as with any of Lib dther fiiends. HaiaH
ton replied,—' .
“ If- you will, at bis next reception eve
•ning, geßtly slap him on the shoulder, and
say, ‘ My dear General, how happy I am to
see you look so well,’ asupper and wine
shall be provided for you and a dozen of
yonr friends.”
. ‘The challenge was accepted. On theeYe
nihg; appointed a jarge f number attended,
and at an early hour Gouverneur Morris en
tened, h<^fp<^>6hp*(^k;. ? b?inds J >laid his lef t hand
on WashiDgton’s shotilder, and said.—
“ My dear General, I am ~very happy to
sedyou look so well." • ;
Washington Withdrew his hand, stepped
suddenly back, and fixed his eyes on Morris
for several minutes with an angry frown,
until the latter retreated,, abashed, and
sought refuge in the crowd. The company
looked on-in silence. •
' At the supper, which was provided by
Hamilton, Morris said,—
“ I have wOn the bet, but have paid dear
ly for It, and nothing could induce me to re
peat it,” Yours truly,
John Pine.
MR. WADE AND JOSHUA 1. GIDDINGS,
Benjamin F. Wade and the late Joshua A.
Giddings used to be constant competitors at
the bar in “old benighted Ashtabula,” their
place of residence. In the early part of his
practice, Wade was defending a man against
an action of slander,; and, after having con
cluded a very effective speech to the jury,
sat awkwardly leaning backward, his feet
on the counsel table, and facing Giddings,
who was attempting.to he eloquent in behalf
of bis slandered client. “ Old Gid,” as he
was familiarly called, knew a little smatter
ing of Shakspeare, and now determined to
bring that great author to his aid.
“Gentlemen of the jury,” said he, with
much ardor,
“‘He that steals m'y purse, steals trash:
But lie that robs me 6f my good name 1 " —
(Ahem !)
At this point, to. his great discomfiture.
Shakspeare deserted him. He repeated,
But he that robs me of my good name'”
(Another pause.)
“ Takes that I never had,” whispered
Wade, as if prompting him, and so distinctly
as to be heard by all in the room.
A m 'd the laughter and his own confusion.
Giddings brought his speech to such a “lame
and impotent conclusion,” that his client re
covered but six and a quarter cents for hit
lost character.
POWER OF CHRISTIAN LIFE.
' There is one department of Christian evi
dence to which, no skill or industry of the
champion of revealed truth can do justice —
one also with which the skeptic is little de
posed to meddle. It is that which is spread
before ns in the noiseless and almost entirely
unrecorded lives of thousands of the faitliftd
followers of Christ. Ambitious of no dis
tinction, intent only on the Master’s service,
pursuing the even tenor of their way in the
discharge of common duties, their lives are
ennobled, and sometimes become heroic,
through ’ the lofty purity of their aims, and
singleness of their devotion to life’s great
end. No theory of infidel philosophy Ci j n
account for them. The attempt to explain
them by means of enthusiasm or fanaticism
is -an insult to common sense.
When Professor Webster was awaiting
his trial for murder, he is said to have coin
plained of his fellow-prisoners for insul -
ing him through the walls of his cell, a ll ',
screaming to him, “Yon are a bloody man-
On examination,-the charge was fonn 1
wholly groundless; The accusing voices
Were the echoes or a
guilty conscience!: Bat it is a fearful thong ll '
thatitho Soul can be made to ring with
echoes., Surely it is “ fearfully and wond® 1 '
fully made.” It is so constituted as to r c
•tier- its. o.wnucSriniesjreonduct its own trial, » n
pronounce condemnation against itself-