'lji famitg LORD, HERE AM I. Still, as of old, Thy precious word Is by the nations dimly heard; The hearts its holiness hath stirred Are weak and few. Wise men the secret dare not tell ; Still in Thy temple slumbers well Good Eli : 0, like Samuel, Lord, here am I I Few powers, no wisdom, no renown, Only my lite can I lay down, Only my heart, Lord, to Thy throne I bring; and pray. A child of Thine I may go forth, And spread glad tidings through the earth, And teach sad hearts to know Thy worth I Lord, here am I I Weak lips may teach the wise, Christ said; Weak feet sad wanderers home have led ; Weak bands have cheered the sick one's bed With. freshest flowers ; 0 teach me, Father! heed their sighs, While many a soul in darkness lies And waits Thy message ; make me wise. Lord, here am I I And make me stritg, that, staff and stay, And guide and guardian of the way: To Thee-ward I may bear, each day, Some fainting soul : Speak, for I hear ; make pure in heart, Thy face to see, Thy truth to impart, In hut and hall, in church and mart Lord, here am I 1 I ask no heaven till earth be Thine, Nor glory-crown, while work of mine Remaineth, here ; when earth shall shine Among the stars. Her sins wiped out, her captives free, Her voice a music unto Thee, For crown, new work give Thou to me Lord, here am I I "IF WE KNEW 1" BY MRS. HENRY WARD BEECHER In a recent number we copied a scrap of poetry with this significant title. It struck us very forcibly as containing a profitable lesson, and has haunted,us, daily, ever since. Ah I if in early youth "we knew I" If we could look along the map of life clear to the end, and see all the breakers and quick sands, which, by patience and self-control we could have avoided, how different would be the view we now take of the " backward track!" No doubt, it is well, in many ways, that we cannot read the future; trials and sorrows that no skill or foresight could have turned aside, would have been doubled by anticipation and fore-knowledge, and yet— we doubt if there are many, who, looking back from the "halfway house," would not willingly endure the double pain and sorrow, if they might have bad the power to foresee the inevitable result of certain courses, and, profiting by this foreknowledge, have avoid ed the danger or the sin. Brother ! Sister! Would you be impatient or cross to your little playmate "if you knew" those little " baby fingers" would " never trouble you again ?" Two little boys were at play—one of three years, the other but eighteen months. Both wanted a rocking-chair. Fall of health and animal spirits, the dispute ran high, and, at last, the elder struck the little one. Only a few days and the baby hands *ere folded in " snowy grace" upon the cold and quiet heart, and laid in the grave. A short time after, hearing bitter sobs in the garden, the mother found the lonely brother—him self but just past babyhood—lying under the peach trees, watching with eager eyes some birds flying over his head, and calling between his sobs, " Oh, birdies I little birdies I Fly up I Fly higher ! and tell JIMA Christ' if 'he will only let Geordie come back to me he may have the rocking chair all the time, and I never, never, will strike him again—never! never!" Olt, Father! Don't be harsh with your son. He disobeyed your commands, and of course he has done wrong; but he is only a little child. It was the overflux of exuberant life, and not wilful disobedience. It you could look forward to what soon may be, how leniently would you judge—how gently Would you chide; and, by your gentle ness secure the obedience much more effect ually. Ah ! Poor, tired mother ! Yon are very weary, and half sick. Your eyes are heavy for want of sleep, and your head throb bing with the noise and shouts, and wild frolics of your little ones. But it is health, and strength, and life. Be patient ! , If, soon, with hot and tearless eyes, you watch by the little crib where fever hiay conquer that life, but late so joyous and full of ac tivity, can you endure what may -be if you have scattered " thorns, not roses, for year reaping by and by ?" " I have asked you twenty times to mend this coat, - and it is not done yet. No time !' How long would it have taken ? But, well can go rtigged," I suppose. You take little heed to my wishes or advice. You must take your own way, or you'll not be satisfied." Husband! you love your wife; you would be indignant if a looker-on should hint that you misjadg‘d, or were over-exacting. Why do you say such ugly, biting things ? Your heart, or that silent monitor, your con science,- tells you that she did not mean to disregard your wishes or advice. She was tired, or overtaxed with care and frequent. interruption; or, perhaps sickness is creep ing upon her. Whatever the reason, the offence was but • a little , thing. Even if she was self-willed, or irritable, be patient with her You know a certain tone of your voice or a love-look from your eye, would have brought her to your side in an instant— sorry, self-apbraidihg—loving and honoring you with her whole heart. Ah I "If you knew !" These first morose, fault-finding words, perhaps are leaving on her heart a shadow—leaving on your heart a stain" which may be the beginning of coldness, THE AMERICAN PRESBYTERIAN, THURSDAY, OCTOBER 7, 1869. mistrust and defiance--or possibly a deeper sin, where, but for them, you could have secured joy and gladness, growing sweeter and purer day by day ! Deal gently. You, her husband, can make her happy, loving and good ; or you can make her irritable, unloving and evil. " John I Why do you always wait and wait, and binder me so? You ,can come when I call you, just as well as to keep me waiting, if you only choose to do so. But you are always so obstinately bent on tak ing your own time, regardless of other peo ple's comfort." Wife! It is just such little, impatient, waspish words, that tempt your husband to seek pilot comfort and appreciation 'away from your side. IT o matter if he speaks "just as impatiently" to you "fifty times a day," show him a better way. Why retort, or shrink from the " little shadows" which you can, by gentleness,' dispel ? You have even more power in your gentleness, than your husband has in his strength. Yield a little. It is not hard, and you reap a glor ious reward. Is not your husband's love and confidence worth keeping by a little patience and forbearance? But if not for pre sent joy, to ward off future misery at least, " set a guart over the doors of your mouth that you sin not with your lips," and so tread life's pathway with him to whom you have vowed a wife's fealty, that if called to sit in the desolation of widovihood, there shall not be added to that sorrow, the an guish of self-upbraiding, for little services impatiently rendered or love requited by coldness or irritability. When we have passed through all the labors and trials of earlier life, and in full matu rity, or just on the deeliae, recall the friends of our youth, and the sweeter family ties, how the heart aches with the memory of "The hasty words or action, Strewn along our backward track," and vainly yearns for one more opportunity for the better performance of our whole duty in all love, fidelity and patience. But God "Pity us all, Who vainly the faults of youth recall For of all sad words of tongue or phn, The saddest are these: might have been.' " —The Mother at Home CROSS BEARING. There is more joy in enduring a cross for God, than in the smiles of the world; in a private, despised affliction, without the name of suffering for His cause, or anything like martyrdom, but • only as coming from His hand, kissing and bearing it patiently, yea, gladly for His sake, out of love to Him, be cause it is His will so to try thee. What can come amiss to a soul thus composed ? "It is a renewed pleasure to be offering up one's self every day to God. The sweetestlifein the world is to be crossing one's self to . please Him; trampling on one's own will to follow His." How strange that the children of God will resist suffering, and sometimes. feel that their Heavenly Father is dealing hardly by them in causing them to pass through sorrows and afflictions. Sorrows arid crosses are the surest tokens of God's favor to His children, and as we bow to them, bear them joyfully, they "yield to us, and by us the peaceable fruits of righteous ness.' I have felt for many years very jealous for the Lord of Hosts, and desire to receive all the good of every trial, every suffering, my God and Father is pleased to cattail me to pass through. I feel that the mos't insignificant event or circumstance of my daily life is ordered and directed by Him. There is no matter too small to carry to God, be it a cause of grief or joy. When our will is lost in , the Divine will, then it is that we have found the " philosopher's stone," that turns everything into gold. We get good out- of every event; everything turns to our spiritual good: How rapidly such, a soul grows in grace ! 'Yet the more one knows of God, the higher we rise in Him,' the more boundless appears " the height and depth of the riches of His. love." ,What a boundless ocean, what •an immensity is God's love! Truly can I say it is my meat and drink to do end suffer His will. "Lo I come, to do Thy will, 0 God." The yoke of God is easy, and His burden is light. How blessed is it to bear the burden of the Lord, to glory in the cross of Christ.—God's Fur -1 nace. PARDON. There was a poor man named John Holmes, who was dying of consumption in a miserable tenement house in the lower part of the City of New York. A city mis sionary had called upon him quite often tin ring his sicknesi to minister to his wants, and had sought most earnestly to lead him to Christ as his Saviour. One day when the missionary was visiting him, John said to him, You speak of salvation through Christ as the only way; you don't talk of good works as having anything to do with our being saved. Won't you explain 'this .matter so that I can understand you ?" The minister told , him that every one had sinned, but Christ had died to save sinners and of fered a free pardon , to all who would repent of their 131h8 and trust in Him as their Sa viour. Sinners are not saved by their good deeds, but by the blood of Christ which they can plead and obtain pardon. This plea is like a pardon which the. Governor sends to one who hai broken the law. " Suppose," said the missionary, " you had stolen fifty dollars to get food for your family and were arrested for it. You know the law is that if you steal fifty dollars you must go to prison. You . are taken to Court, and you admit that you stole the money, but you tell the judge that you have been a good man and that you never stole before and never will steal again. You say that you stole the. fifty dollars-when you were in want to enable yon to buy food. The judge would say, that the law is that if a man steal fifty dollars he mast go to prison for doing so; that it matters not that the man never stole before and never will steal again; that the law is positive. The judge would sentence you to prison if you mane such a defence. Bat suppose the Governor, hearing of your case, should feel sorry for yon and should send you a pardon, you would plead this pardon, and the judge ' would order your discharge. But if•you would not use your pardon because you did not understand how it operated, and all the reasons for offering you the pardon; but should insist upon your own goodness and your general moral character as the ground of the defence, the Governor's pardon would not s ave you, and you would be - punished for your obstinacy in refusing to plead the pardon offered you. So Christ has provided a pardon for all sinners which they may have, provided they accept the pardon on the terms He has , prescribed : Repentance for sin and faith in Him as their Saviour. This pardon they must plead with God, or their plea will 'be rejected and they will perish in consequence of their refusal to ac cept salvation as it is offered to them in the Gospel." Just as I am, without 'one plea, But that Thy blood was shed for me; And that Thou bid'et me come to Thee, 0, Lamb of God I come! 110 W STB,INGENT BECAME 1L113E1141,. Mr. Stringent' was sixty years old—very, old, I should hatre called him, when I a child. He was "brnught up" in a thrifty, economical way. His father was a small, snug farmer; but', as, his wants were but few, he was called ".well to do in the world," which, I suppose means, "well to do, for this world." His children received a fair educa tion, and were always among-the best schol ars. No better cows and no better 'sheep. 'were owned in those parts, than those owned by old Mr. Stringent. His maxim was, "to, keep what you have got, and got all that.. you can get." This maxim he inculcated most faithfully-into the minds, of his children; ; In process of time old Stringent died, and, fortunately, such men carry nothing with them. The children grew up and were scat tered abroad„ and I have nothing to say about them, except that they were all keen to gain this world.= lam to speak of the youngest son Simon, who took "the old place, ' that is, the farm, agreeing to pay off his -brothers and sisters their shares as fast as he could earn it. And now Simon; in his youth, was married, and settled at "Craig's Valley," as the farm was called. He had to support himself and his young family, and yearly to pay a good round sum towards his debt.. Early and late he toiled. Carefully and anxiously he saved everything possible. His expenses were the lowest possible; everything went to "the debt." And if there was anything Simon dreaded more than another, it was a call for charity, or, as he termed it, " the everlast ing contribution-box ;" the announcement that a "collection yould be made next Sab bath," would invariably make him unwell and unable to attend" - e t hapel. Inieed, so delicate was his constitution, that once in a while, when he had been caught, he was sure to have the nose-bleed, and be com pelled to go out before the box reached him. But years passed on, and his habits grew strong and his debts grew feeble, until, at the end of fifteen years, he had paid off every debt, and owned a large farm, free from nearly every incumbrance. But now a new chapter in his life was to be experienced. There was an outpouring of the ENV Spirit upon the people. Very many sang the new song. Very many re joiced in the hope of life eternal. Several of the children_of Simon were Among the new-born children of light. Simon was the last to become interested. He' was . the last to feel'his sins; and he struggled and resist ed a long, long time, before he yielded to the demands and conditions of Christ. Then he was very slow to take up the crosses, as they lay in his path. He was afraid to com mit himself. He was slow to erect the altar of prayer in his house. He was slow to.con fess Christ _before the world. But he battled all these difficulties and overcame them, be cause he really had Christian principles in his soul. But now he met a difficulty which seemed, insurmountable, unexpected and very trying. He found that now his breth ren and his Bible took it for granted that he would be liberal. Row could he, who had never given away a shilling a year, be expected to give tens and even hundreds? How hard to understand the Christian fact —that "none of us liveth to himself!" He tried to convince himself that a man's first duty is to provide for his family; and icon-. science told him that he had been doing, nothing else all his life. He tried to satisfy himself that "Charity-begins, at home; ; and conscience told him that he wanted it to atop there also. When he read his Bible, he seemed as he was always stumbling upon such texts as, "Freely ye have re ceived, freely give." One day he sat a long time motionless, trying to convince himself that he had not received much... "Why, what little I have, I earned myself by hard labor. Pray, what have I receivedr and then conscience would begin her whispers : "Why, Simon Stringent, you received a good constitution—you Were never sick a day in all your life!" " That is true." '!And you received . a shrewd mind; you know how to manage and make money., And you have received a great deal of sunshine, and a great many rains on your farm, and a great increase of your cattle and flocks;, and you have received a large; healthy family, no deaths in it, and you have receiv ed many years of life already, and hope for more; and you have received the Sabbath and its blessings ; and you have, as you hope, received the pardon of your sins, and a hope of life eternal through God's own Son. Re ceived ! Why, you have received everything; it has been nothing but receiving, and now you must give !" 0 Simon how hard you breathe ! How the perspiration stands on your brow ! Had he been dreaming, or had the Spirit of God been teaching him ? The very next day, Simon, or, as he was now-called, Mr. Stringent, heard a loud and tender appeal from the missionary field. And now a collection was to be made—not in the chapel, where every man could dodge, or conceal his parsimony, but by an open subscription, black and white. The collector was to come around at once. Then it was that the dialogue which is said to have taken place, between Mr. Stringent and the devil, occurred. " How much must I give ?" said String-, " As little as yon can—and be respectn ble," said the devil: "I am very far from being rich," said Stringent. " Your - are-,the richest man in the church," said conscience. " Suppose ,I give five, pounds." " Fully'enough," said the tempter. "Freely ye have received, freely give," said conscience. ''Reniember your great family, their schooling, and clothing, and the new furni ture, and - the new carriage which you need," said the tempter. zi I shall put down ten pounds," said Stringent. " You are bes,ide yourself! Why they will 'expect you to`do in like proportion for every thing hereafter,. There's no end to these calls;" said the tempter. 'j,,shall put down twenty pounds," said Stringent. -" Yes, but do consider," said the tempter; " you know your taxes are awful this year; and you know your oats are very light, and they sell by weight, and not by e the bushel, as they once did, and the drought has injured yerur grass, and your fruit will be next to nothing." " Yes," said conscience, " but your corn is magnificent, and so are your potatoes ; and if hay is light, the price is certainly heavy ; and your• workmen never earned as much as they do this year ; and the ship ment of timber which had been growing long before you were born, has brought an enor mous price." "I shall put down ftfty'pounds!" " 0 Mr. Stringent! Mr. Stringent ! you are nearly crazy—to throw away money so ! Why, sir, with that sum• you could buy, two young cows, or ten first-rate—" " Get out—get out, you tempter of my soul! I shall put down one hundred pounds this time, and if you don't let me alone, I declare I will double it!" And Mr. Stringent did put down; and he felt so much better, and grew so strong un der it, that it was well understood between him and the devil, ever after, thit if he was tempted he would double his charities. And so well did he abide by it, that he became, one of the most liberal men in the. commu nity. And when he went round to collect for charities, as he often did, the most liberal man always being the best collector, and when his brethren would make excuses, he would shake his head, and say, " I only wish you, conid have such dialogues with the devil as I have 'had I ." The Chitral/. PYRIED LAKE. The peculiar rock formations from which this lake derives its name, are remarkable even-among.the "Rockies." The principal pyramid towers above the lake to a height of more than 500 feet, presenting in its general outline a remarkably perfect pyra midal form. Close scrutiny shows portions of its sides to consist of volcanic tufa, which greatly resembles a vegetable growth of vast size. In color the pyramidal mounds vary with the varying light. At some mo ments they convey the impression of a rich, warm, brown tint ; at others the hue is a cool gray that more nearly resembles the color - which a close examination will prove la be the true one. A visit to the largest pyamid developed the fict that it was occupied by tenants en tirely capable of holding inviolate their prior right' of possession against all human visi tors. From every crevice there seemed to come a hiss. The rattling, too, , was sharp and long continued. The whole rock was evidently alive with rattlesnakes. In every party *that ever entered into a country in fested by rattlesnakes are some men who derive great pleasare in killing every snake that fnay show its head or sound its rattle. A loud shout of "Snakes ! rattlers I" brought out the band of exterminators; but such a number of snakes came upon the field that it was • clearly beyond the power of our snake-haters to carry on the combat with any hope of final victory. They gave up, and abandoned the locality to the serpen tine tribe, which will probably retain the ownership fora period of time indefinite and üblimited. The water of Pyramid Lake is clear, sparkling, and very salt. It abounds in fish, among 'which are the couier, a sprightly fish, having flesh the color of salmon, and quite as game. In weight this fish ranges from three to twenty pounds, and an occa sional specimen rises to the -fly that will scale quite twenty-five pounds - . Besides the couier there is an abundance of trout, not precisely the speckled beauties of the Lake Superior region ; neither do they bear a very close resemblance to the slug g i i h black, spotted trout of our more Southern States. It is a trout, nevertheless, Whi c h rises readily to the artificial fly, and i s a pleasing morsel for the epicurean pal ate. Cooked in the various styles known to th e campers, this fish will compare favorably with its eastern brethren. Other varieties of the finny tribe abound in Pyramid Lake. but these are the ones which will be r aos sought after by any courageous disciple of Izaak Walton, who leaves the cars of the Central Pacific Railroad where it strik es the Truckee, and who ventures down to its outlet in this curious lake.—T. R. Davis, in Harper's Magazine , for September. BUDGET OF ANECDOTES. [IRO][ THE BIOGRAPHY OF REV. WILLIAB MARSH, D. D.] —ln almost every large town which he visited in Germany, he found that the converted Jews had been apprised of his intention' of coini ng, and were on the lookout for him—their leaders hastening to welcome hini with respect and lore, as one whose devotion to the best interests and general welfare of their nation had been long known'and appreciated. In one place the chief Rabbi, still a rigid Jew, visited him, to express gratitude, in the name of his people, for his efforts to alleviate their trials, and to promote their temporal advantage. ' —ln the evenings several friends were invited to meet him, and the conversations—chiefly sus tained by himself and my father—were most animating and edifying. One of those converse,. tious, on the subject of death as the gateway of life, and on scriptural indications of the varied sources of happiness in the land beyond the "gateway," produced such an effect upon a man of the world who was present, that he said, as he left the room, "That is the religion I would give all I have to possess. Now, for the first time, I realize what a happy thing it is to be a Christian 1" —" lam beginning my Bible again. When Mr. Cadogan was offered Tom Paine's works, he said, have not done with Moses and the prophets yet.' We shall never have done with them."' —ln his strong view of the error of accumu• latin. t) money, he would say, "I have read a mel ancholy thing in the paper to-day = a man died possessed of £lOO,OOO !"' —" I am going to set a task to all who reject the. Bible; they are to write me four chapters that will be equal to the xiv., xv., xvi. and xvii. chapters of St. John. They will deserve a great prize if 41:ley write me four better." —During his illness he had spent much thought and prayer upon one who was at that time very prominently before the public—the Bishop of Natal ; and at length, "while he was musing, the fire burned," and be could not re frain from entering into correspondence with =him. It need scarcely be said that his words of argument, warning and entreaty were written in gentle and deferential though uncompromis ing language. The Bishop answered him at some length, and with most respectful courtesy, appearing to be touched by the faith and fervor which had led an old man, amidst a suffering and dangerous illness, thus to lay to heart that which he believed to be the peril of such views for him who held them and for those who should be led by him. ' A few days afterwards the bishop enclosed for his perusal a letter from a working man in. Glas gow. Its object was to express thanks, on his own behalf and that of others of his class, for the deliverance which Bishop Colenso had given to their minds from the thraldom of old preju dices into the unfettered liberty of free thought and speculation. There was something about the whole letter deeply saddening. The writer had evidently been taught in his childhood from 4, The big i ha' Bible, once his father's pride," but now, leaving the simple faith of those early days, was wandering in the mazes of skepticism without a light to guide him. My father was greatly distressed by the tone of the letter, and wrote by that day's post, to a Christian friend in Glasgow, begging him to .go at once and see the man, seeking power from the Holy Ghost to reach his heart with the message of the Gospel of life and peace—" God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not per ish, but have everlasting life." Three days later came the solemn answer, " I lost no time; but my visit was too late. The night before the wan had died suddenly." GOD'S WORD. Seeing a man reject the inspiration of the Scriptures, while he said he maintained his belief in Jesus Christ and His Ademption, I had compared him to some one who has a costly perfume in a glass vessel ; he breaks the vessel, thinking that he can at the same time preserve the perfume, but he loses it all. Set aside the inspiration of the Scrip tures, and soil Christian doctrine will disap pear. This is not a theory ; I have seen it to be a fact; therefore the question is one of the greatest importance. lam not igno rant of the objections, of the difficulties that are raised, but the plenitude of the divinity to be found in the Scriptures is too great to be in the least prejadiced by them. I say from the depth of my heart, "Thy word is truth." Not to believe that the Bi ble is God's message is voluntarily to deprive one's self of all true, wholesome, well-found ed knowledge about God and our future state. It is turning to darkness; it is to ruin our own prospects, and perhaps, also, the welfare of Many others with us.—diterle D' Aubigne. , Statistics show that the deaths from drunken ness in Englaind amount to 50,000 a year; in Germany to 40,001, a year; in Russia, to 10,000 a.year, ; in Belgizn, to 4,900, and in France to , 1,500. In this country is estimated that 60,000 persons.. annually are the victims of in - temperance.
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