CHRISTIAN SUN
~T
RELIGION WITHOUT BIGOTRY; ZEAL WITHOUT FANATICISM; LIBERTY WITHOUT LICENTIOUSNESS.
SUFFOLK, YA., FRIDAY, AUGUST 17, 1877.
Volume XXX.
Number 33.
I
lotirg.
THE LORO’S PRAYER.
The following beautiful poem is said to hav
been written by King James First, though b
some itiscribed to Dishop Andrews :
If any be distressed, and fain wonld gather
Some comfort, let him hasten unto
Our Father,
For wo of hope and help are quite btreaven
Unless thou succor us
Who art in heaven,
Thou showest mercy, therefore for the same
We praise thee, singing,
Hallowed bo thy name,
Of all our miseries cast up the sum,
Show us thy joys, and let
Thy kingdom come;
We mortal are, and alter from our birth,
Thou constant art:
Thy will be done on earth,
Thou mad’st the earth, as well as planets^seveu
Thy name is blessed here,
As 'tis in heaven,
Nothing we have to use, or debts to pay,
Except thou give it us.
Give us this day
Wherewith to clothe us, wherewith to be fed,
For w ithout thee we want
Our daily bread.
We want, but want no faults, for the day passes
But we do sin—
Forgive us our trespasses,’
No man from sinning ever free did live—
Forgive us, Lord, our sins
As we forgive.
If we repent our faults, thou never disdainest us;
We pardon them
That trespass against us ;
Forgive us, that is past, a new path tread us ;
Direct us always in thy faith,
And lead us
We thine own people aud thy chosen nation,
Into all truth, hut
„ Not iuto temptation ;
Thou that of all good graces art the Giver,
Suffer us not to wander,
But deliver
Us from the fierce assaults cf world and devil
And flesh, so shalt thou free us
• *«*»
To these petitions, let both church and laymen
With one consent of heart and voice say,
Amen.
|jeUdi0tt^
THE GOLD UNDER THE STONE.
BY EDWIN B. EAFFENSFEKGER.
Many are the interesting and in
structive incidents in the life of the
good and great Dr. Archibald Alex
ander of Princeton. Perhaps the
greater part of these have appeared
in print and are familiar to thousands
outside the circle of his pupils, per
sonal friends and admirers. Some
have been handed down by oral tra
dition, and the oldest inhabitants of
Princeton can narrate many strange
things concerning tho 4 Professor and
his wonderful family. The atmos
phere of that classic locality is yet
redolent with tho precious memory
of the Alexanders and it always will
be!
That which I am about to narrate
has never, to my knowledge, appear
ed in print. While a freshman in
rrincotou, I spent the w inter vacation
with a family living several miles
from tho town. Among tho mem
bers of the household was au aged
patriarch who was a devoted follower
of Christ. The old man frequently
entertained mo with his Revolutiona
ry reminiscences, lie had on several
occasions seen the Father of his
Country, and in the war of 1812 had
taken an active part. That region
beiug so full of tho mementos of the
early days of the Republic only in
creased my interest in the narratives
of a survivor of thoso scenes.
Tho day for listening to such narra
tives has now passed.
But nothiug in the military history
of my venerable friend interested
me so much ns his anecdote of Dr
Alexander and the schoolhouse, thal
stood not far from his dwelling. The
building has a strange history'.
When Dr. Alexander assumed hii
duties as Professor in the Theologica
Seminary, he seemod to make it ;
part of his business to have preach
iug stations all over tho country
“He came out,” said the old man, “t<
our house and preached several time!
and the people were always glad t<
hoar him. After a while he felt aux
ious to have better accommodation:
for the congregation, and fiuall:
asked me to visit tho neighbor:
and induce them if possible ito put uj
a building that could be used botl
for a school house and a preaching
place.
i “It was hard to persuade mo to fal
in with kia plans, because I felt uua
ble to contribute much, and my neigh
bora were even poorer than I. Be
sides, I did not see the necessity of
putting up such a building. We wore
all willing to give up our dwelling
houses for preaching services.
B “I)r. Alexander, however, would
' lake no excuse. lie said education
and religion always go hand in hand,
and we needed the building for both
purposes. He also assured me that
if I would undertake the work, in
faith, and go forward, the Lord would
certainly help me through !
“At last I determined to make a
beginning. We selected a site for
the house and I got out the team
and several of the neighbors went
with mo to gather a lot of stones
for the foundation. I was alone in a
distant part of the field, and my at
tention was drawn to a largo stone
that I supposed would answer for a
corner. I worked hard to move it
and at last succeeded, when, to my
surprise, I saw on the spot that had
been covered by the stone a pile of
gold coin 1 Those I hastily gathered
up and put them into my pockets.
“On reaching home that evening,
and counting the money, I found that
I had just one hundred dollars. How
it came there I knew not. To whom
it belonged I knew not.
“This I knew, however: that no
man in the country needed it more
than I—but—under the circumstan
ces, I could regard its discovery only
as a fulfilment of the prediction made
by Dr. Alexander—and so I rea
soned, if the Lord had provided this
money I must use it all on the school
house.
“The rapidity with which that
building went up surprised even Dr.
Alexander, who was ignorant of the
fact that means had come into my
hands so mysteriously.
“The house was soon completed,
and the doctor preached the first ser
mon in it. He went home with me to
dinner that day. I told him then for
the first time about the gold under
the stone.
“The good man simply replied :
“ ‘God sometimes employs strange
methods for ciUa-ying out his plans,
ltomcrober, I told you, that if you
commenced the work, and went bn, in
faith, he would help you through !’”—
Christian Weekly.
LARGE SALARIES.
An opinion prevails that ministers,
in selecting fields of labor, commonly
seek large salaries more than the
good of souls. Some ministers doubt
less are influenced chielly by the
amount of salary to bo paid. But
these are the exceptions, and should
not bring reproach upon tho whole
ministry. They are the warts on the
body.
Because ministers are commonly
supposed to discover that their duty
lies in the field ofl'eriug tho best sup
port, many have supposed that the
money alone influences them, or points
tho indications of Providence. Butf
there are other things connected with
a competent support, which are calcu
lated to attract a real disinterested
Christian. When a church oilers a
“big salary” it is proof that tho mem
bers appreciate the gospel for them
selves and tho community, and in
going among such people a minister
feels that his labors will bo valued
above those of a mere hireling, lie
does not expect to take tho place
of a menial who is paid simply for
the service performed, but ho feels
that he has access to their hearts,
and is honored for his work’s sake,
and that the cause of truth, which he
represents and to which he has given
his life and energies, is dear to his
people. He has prospects of useful
ness, because he has their confidence
and affection—he is appreciated.
This is very grateful to the Christian’s
heart—many have died for the want
of it.
Then, there is evidence of a liberal
ity that is in harmony with tho spirit
of the gospel. A church seldon pros
pers when the worship of God is
always the cheapest possible ; when
there are no comforts and conven
iences provided, but only the bare ne
cessities, and they the meanest. This
stf&Ws a sordid spirit in the church,
: and diminishes all prospects of useful
ness. But when the church shows a
liberal spirit in the support of a pas
• tor, he can hope to flud the same
i liberality in every good work. Many
1 churches are always behind In the pay
- of their pastors, and plead this ns an
• excuse for withdrawing aid from
enterprises of benevolence. This is
i very painful to a pastor’s heart. A
< competent support proves a heartfelt
i interest in the prosperity of the
church. Men contribute for the sup
port of that which is dear to them.
I and a poor support generally iudi
• catea very little interest. So, when
a man settles among a liberal people
he feels sure that he shall have a
hearty co-operation of the members.
This greatly encourages and strength
ens the heart of a minister. Many
pastors have been forced to change
fields for tho want of it.
Again, a liberal support saves the
pastor from the cares and anxieties
of a suffering family. In order that
lie may prepare for the pulpit and be
ready to discharge every duty of his
calling, he should be free from the
oppression of fears of hunger and of
want. A miuister of the gospel is
human. He loves his family, and de
sires to see his wife happy, tidy and
comfortable, and his children fed and
educated. But these he cannot have,
if his flock should withhold the ne
cessary means. Aud can he sit down
quietly and prepare sermons, when
ho knows that those who are as dear
to him as life, and dependent on him,
are exposed to want, and that each
day liis childreu are growing up in
ignorance ? He would be inhuman—
a monster—if be could do it. Let
those who are constantly seeking to
cast reproach upon preachers for
their love of “big salaries,” take it to
themselves aud judge calmly, and
they will see the necessity for a sup
port. The work of a miuister is largely
of the head, but the head cannot work
when the heart is crushed with anxi
ety aud trouble.
A pastor well sustained can go
among his people with pleasure and
with the prospect of usefulness.
What pleasure can it be to a pastor
to visit his flock aud to see their com
forts, aud sometimes abundance, aud
at the same time to know that these
very people are making him poor and
his family uncomfortable 1 His heart
preciate any acts of kinduess when
the chief duty (to him) was'neglected.
There is no duty more pleasant to a
pastor than associating with his peo
ple, and when he is not supported
this pleasure is impossible. A man,
in accepting a church that sustains
him, feels that he can enjoy this privi-.
lege; but with no prospect of a com
fortable life before him, ho knows that
he must forego it.
How can a preacher furnish hiipsell'
with books, papers, periodicals, fee.,
with which to replenish liis mind aud
keep up with the times; how can
he cultivate the spirit of liberality
in his own heart, or in the hearts of
others; aud how can he refresh his
soul by holding sweet counsel with
his brethren, either under his own
roof or at our Associations and Con
ventions, when his wife and little
ones, as well as himself, are poorly
fed and not decently clad i And
these are necessary to the happiness
and life of a minister. Under such
circumstances as these, who can blame
a preacher for desiring a competent
support f
I write only to vindicate ministers
from a false charge, calculated to
injure their influence for good. I
have no complaints. My people am
ply support me, and I kuow its ad
vantages by sweet experience.—Reli
gious Herald.
He could not ap
FAILURE AND SUCCESS.
No true work since the world be
gall was ever wasted; no true life
since the world began has ever failed.
Oh understand those two perverted
words, failure and success, and mea
sure them by the eternal, not by the
earthly standard. What the world
has regarded as the brightest failure
has oftou been in the sight of heaven
the most magnificent success. When
the cap, painted with devils, was
placed on the brows of John Huss,
and he sank dying amid the embers
of the flame— was that a failure?
When St. Francis Xavier died, cold
and lonely on the bleak and desolate
shore of a heathen laud—was that a
failure ? When the frail, worn body
of the apostle of tho Gentiles was
dragged by a hook from the arena,
and the white sand scattered over
the crimson life-blood of tho victim
whom the dense amphitheatre despis
ed as some obscure and nameless Jew
—was that a failure ? And when, af
ter thirty obscure, toilsome, unrecord
ed years in tho shop of the village
carpenter, one came* forth to be pre
eminently the Man of sorrows, to
wander from city to city in homeless
labours, and to expire in lonely ilgouy
upon the shameful cross—was that a
failure? Nay,4my brethren, it was
the life, it was the death of Him who
lived that wo might follow in His
, steps—it was tho life, it was the
death of the Son of God.—F. TF.
. Farrar.
Always eat leisurely and masti
, cate the food well. Aerated or stale
- (two-day-old) bread is better than
i now.
! THE RIGHT AND WRONG OF STRIKES.
T lie disturbances which for/ the
past two weeks have been witrj^ssed
in various parts of the Unitetf&tates,
have been unequalled, we suppose, in
all the history of conflict between cap
I ital and labor. There have been, per
haps, riots which raged for a short
period more widely and furiously—
as to instance, those of the Commune
in Paris,—but never was there oue so
widespread, so general and engaged
' i'1 by so many, nor one which will be
followed by such disastrous conse
| queuccs to both the rioters themselves
| and the country at large. Tradeias
been greatly paralized in the large
cities, and all the means of transpor
ting freight having been destroyed
or crippled, immense amounts of per
ishable freight have been totally
ruined involving the loss of millions
of dollars.
The poorly paid laboring men of
the North have the sympathy of the
people of the country iu the suffer
ings which they and their families
luve undergone by the reduction of
their wages. As between the em
ployees and the rich corporations for
whom they work for small wages,
the sympathies of the country are all
on the side of tlTe former. But while
the increase of pay is desirable and
would be hailed with approval by the
people of the country, still the meth
ods which the “strikers” have adop
ted to attain it, are radically wrong
and condemned by all sensible and
well disposed outsiders.
The right of a man to refuse to
work for a certain price is un
doubted. So is the right of men to
combine together and resolve that
they will not work for less wages
than they agree upon. They may
strike’—withdraw themselves from
the industries they have been im
plored in—and let them languish if
that result follows. They have a
right to do that;—its expediency lor
themselves and the country at large
is another question.—We consider
that trade unions, etc., inexpedient,
and think they result in more bairn
„thau they accomplish good; but iu a
free country, as ours is, the to form
them is conceded and undisputed.
But there the right stops. The
strikers have no right to say that the
employer shall not supply their places
with other men who will work lor
less wages, nor to prevent other men
from working at whatever price they
are willing to accept. If the employ
er feels that to make his business self
sustaining and remunerative he must
economize and reduce wages of his
workmen, "he has a right to say:
“Hereafter, wages will be reduced
ten per cent, or fifty percent.” Thero
is no law to compel him to pay more
than he agrees to pay, and the stri
kers have not the right in law or any
other kind of ethics, to compel him
to pay more, except in so far as with
drawing their labor may compel him
to reconsider and offer better terms.
So, also, any laborer whose time and
services are his own has a right to
put as small value upon his labor and
work for as little as his sense of duty
to himself and family may approve;
and the strikers has no right to iu
terpose and drag him from an en
gine or a shop and forbid his work
ing at the price he has agreed upon
with his employer. If such interfer
ence with rights of employer and
non-union laborers is made, the stri
ker loses the Sympathy which the
public may otherwise have for him,
puts himself out of the pale of the
law’s protection and ought to be
swiftly and severely punished. And
when combinations so extensive as
those the country has witnessed for
two week spast,commit outrages, inter
rupt business and destroy property as
wantonly as they have done, they
should bo regarded in the light of
enemies to the piece, good ortjgr and
prosperity of society and should re
ceive no sympathy or toleration from
good citizens. They' are more dan
gerous than foreign enemies and
their power for evil should bo des
troyed at once by most vigorous* and
decided measures.
The strikers at some points pro
test that it is and has beeu no part of
their purpose to destroy property
and depredate upon their former em
ployers or the public; and that the
gross outrages that have been com
mitted were the acts of tramps,
thieves and disreputable persons who
took advantage of the strike of the
laboring men to accomplish their de
1 signs. In some instances the stri
1 kers have combined with the owners
of property to prevent thieving and
burning, and in others, have driven
away tramps and thieves who wish
■ ed to join them. In this they are
> right and show that their sole pur
i pose is to get better wages—to bone
tit themselves without liurtiug theii
,! employers—to Jet others live anc
keep their.property, while they them
selves attempt to get better means o:
living. If they will simply qnil
work, the pnblic will hope that tin
Kailroads and the other employer?
will jield to their demands; but if,
besides qutting work, they neither
allow laborers to take their place,
nor their employers to carry on their
business, nor freight to pass to mar
' ket, nor passengers to go their way
unmolested and undelayed, then they
array society and government against
them and must suffer the conse
quences. And the sooner the conse
quences come, the better jt will he
for the strikers and the country.—
Raleigh Christian Advocate.
HOW LONG WILL IT 00 TO WAIT?
Dr. Nettleton had come home from
the evening service in a country
town. The good lady of the house,
after bustling about to provide her
guest with supper, said, before her
daughter, who was in the room :
“Dr. Nettleton, I wish you to talk
to Caroline ; she don’t care nothing
about going to meeting, nor about
the salvation of her soul. I’ve
talked and talked, and got our minis
ter to talk, but it don’t seem to do
her any good. I wish you would
talk to her, Dr. Nettleton.”
Sayiug which, she soon went out
the room.
Dr. Nettleton continued quietly
taking his repast, when he turned to
the youug girl and said—
“Now just tell men, Miss Caroline,
do they not bother you amazingly
about this thing f’
She, taken by surprise by an ad
dress, so very unexpected, auswered
at once—
“Yes, sir, they do; they keep talk
ing to me all the time till I am sick
of it.”
“So I thought,” said Dr. N. “Let’s
see, how old are you ?”
“Eighteen, sir.”
“Good health?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The fact is,” said Dr. N., “relig
ion is a good thing in itself, but the
idea of troubling a youug creature
like you with it, and you are in good
health, you say. Religion is a good
thing. It will hardly do to die with
out it. I wonder how long it would
do for you to wait.”
“That’s just what I have been
thinking myself,” said Caroline.
“Well,” said Dr. N., “suppose you
say till you are fifty—no, that won’t
do, I attended the funeral of a lady
fifteen years younger than that: thir
ty—how would that do?”
“I am not sure it would do to or ait
quite so long,” said Caroline.
“No, 1 don’t think so either: some
thing might happen ; say now twen
ty-five, or even twenty, if we could
be sure that you would live so long.
A year from now—how would that
doi”
“1 don’t know, sir.”
“Neither do I. The fact is, my
dear young lady, the more I think of
it, and how many young people, as
well apparently as you are, do die
suddenly, I am afraid to have you
put it off a moment longer. What
shall we do? Had we not better
kneel down here and ask God for
mercy through his son Jesus Christ V
The young lady, perfectly over
come by her feelings, kneeled on the
spot.—In a day or two she came out
in hope, finding she had far from lost
all enjoyment in this life.
Jesus Always.—A litttlo girl
went with her mother, a woman in
lowly circumstances, as she had oc
casion to call on a wealthy lady in a
neighboring city. The lady felt quite
an interest in the child, and took her
all over her house and showed her all
the beauties and wonders of her com
fortable home. Much surprised at
j all she saw, the little thing exclaim
ed : “Why, how beautiful! I am sure
Jesus must love to come here, it is
so pleasant. Doesn’t he come here
The hostess made no reply, and her
visitor added again: “Doesn’t Jesus
come here very often t” Then with
much emotion the lady replied: “1
am afraid not.” That was too much
for the child; she hastened to her
mother and begged to be taken home,
for she was afraid to stay in a house
where Jesus did not come. Thai
night the lady related to her bus
band the whole circumstance, am
the question of the child went to tin
hearts of both husband and wife, am
it was not long before Jesus was
made a guest in their home.
It is God himself who proclaimet
peace, who justly might have pro
i claimed war; he lets the world o
maukind know that ho is willing ti
be at peace with them, through Je
■ sus Christ.”—Henry.
11 A WOMAN WHO WANTED NOTHING.
i- “Well, what can I do Cor von ?”
. asketl a richly dressed lady of a neat
young woman who was waiting to see
iu the hall.
“I’m in the city alone, and my
work has failed, and”- •
“Now, my good woman,” said the
lady, “I’m going out this morning,
and have no time to waste. Do you
want clothing'for winter ?”
“No madtime,” replid the stranger,
with flushed cheeks; “but”—
“You want a little mony to pay
your board till work begins, do you ?”
“No madame; I have teu dollars
in my purse yet. I want to tell you'
how I am situated, because I have
heard that you were very kind to the
poor and the strangers, and thought
you could help) me.”
“But you do not want anything,” re
j plied the ladyjust a little impatiently.
! She could give money very easy, but
[she grudged her time when she had
I engagements that promised pleasure.
“I want work, madame,” continued
girl. “I can sew well, and I am "Wil
ling to do it at half the usual price
till my work begins.”
“What can you do ?”
“Plain sewing of all kinds, and
boy’s clothes,” was the modest reply.
“I have nothing of that kind. Can
you embroider?”
“No, madam.”
_ “I thought perhaps among your
friends yon might”—
A shadow of displeasure passed
over the lovely face as the lady re
! plied, “But you surely cannot expect
ine to run about looking for work for
you! If you have nothing else to do,
why not do that yourself?”
“I have tried teu days iu vain.”
“III was in your place I would go
| from door to door, and neper give vp
till I had found some honest work.
If you can’t get just what you want,
you must take what you can get?
There is work enough in the world,
we all know! If you need a little
money, 1 will give it to you; but
that is all I cau do.”
‘•Thank you, 1 have what money
I need just now,” said the woman
sadly. ,
The door closed ou her, and she
said to herself. “She would not hear
me, or I would have, told her that I
had rung at more than a thousand
doors, and that nine hundred and
fifty of them were shut iu my face by
seivauts. I would have told her that
I had an aged mother who cau also
work, but who cannot eat the bread
of charity.”
The lady went back to her friends,
aud said, “So provoking! It was a
decent-looking young woman out of
l work, who wanted nothing but work !
I offered her clothing or money, but
she declined both—as if 1 kept a rea
dy-made clothing store, or had an in
telligence office, and had nothing to
do but run about among shops for
her accommodation 1 And she own
ed that she had ten dollars in her
j purse that moment. I declare the
j assurance of such folks is unbounded.”
And the lady went off with an easy
mind, because, as she said, “this ap
plicant wanted nothing.”
j Now, one great lesson the benevo
llent should learn, is that the most |
I pressing want is often among the j
j high-minded working people, who
will not, till forced to do so, cat the
bread of independence.
The easiest thing in the world for
a man or woman with plenty of moil- j
ey, is to give a little of it away. Sac-1
riiico consists iu giving .fiat which is
not so easy, but which may be far
more useful—a little kind interest
| and personal effort for others. Iu no j
possible way can we help the poor
j so well as by aiding them in getting j
J work.
A gentleman or ladj' can ofteu in-1
fluence work where the applicant j
would not get a hearing, and in this
way save the money which would
otherwise have been given the mere ]
!y unemployed, for the old, the sick I
aud disabled.
Let us look teuderly on such as
“want nothing but work,” and en
courage, as far in our power, the spi
rit of noble independence which
chooses to toil, aud even to suffer
rather than to beg.— Watchman.
Here thou art but a stranger trav
eling to thy country; it is therefore a
' huge folly to be afflicted because
■ thou hast a loss convenient inn to
' lodge in by the way.
i They who doubt the truth of reli
gion because they can find no Chris
tian who is perfect, might as well
1 deny the existence of the sun because
- it is not always noonday.
f
) Happiness comes from within
- and not from surrounding circum
stances.
COURAGE TO LIVE.
Not courage to die, bnt courage to
live, is what poor striving humanity
needs. Poets from time immemorial
have sung the praises of those braving
death in its myriad forms, and over
and around the hero facing death ’mid
a thousand dangers they breathe in
poetic measure the immortal honors
of a \ ictoryin death.
History too is replete with instances
of heroic fortitude and agonies of
jlcath endured without a groan ; sel
dom recognizing the heroism that in
spired the disconsolate and gives
courage to the down trodden to live
on and on in a world that keeps push
ing them down when they have once
started.
There are a thousand thinjjs (if in
deed they can benumbcredntall) that
serve to vex the sou!, weary the body,
and make the struggle for life a hard
one at the very best.
It takes courage, and that too of
the sublimest kind, to turn aside or
rise above the slanderous tale vilely
traducing us easier far to die, and
end it all, the misery and shame, bo
the calumny falsa as the evil one him
self.'
Courage is needed when the heart
is breaking over desertion of those
who would have been more than' all
others, courage to smile and speak
pleasant words, to take tip the burden
of life again with all the joy spent and
but bitterness left. lu anguish of
spirit many a crashed soul Jills a sui
cide’s grave because it has not the
courage to live aud be jeered at and
mocked.
Many a poor way ward’mortal tried
beyond endurance falls, aud then,
without strength of character to out
live shame aud regret, on' some dark
nightdrops quietly fromoff the bridge,
and next morning, “one more unfor
tunate” is lying in the morgue, cold
aud still' aud still; another soul has.
braved the mystery of death and gone
to its last aceouut. It is true moral
courage the i'u»’- iate needs, courage
that will enyy to leave his evil
ways aud "nen. the tempter
lures him on to destruction. Much
easier it is for him to destroy his un
profitable life, and his misery, and
go he knows not, nor cares he whith
er, “anywhere out of the world.”
How many weak erring souls there
are in the world to-night whose abode
is with sorrow, and whose companion
remorse, whose courage is well nigh
gone and into whose minds is creeping
even now a wild, unrighteous desire
to end all this woe aud strife of living,
to whom kind words and cheerful
sympathy might come as an inspira
tiou of renewed hope, aud they gain
therefrom courage to try again.
Hearts weary to-night, overtaken by
reverses and failure, the ravages of
lire or lioods, toil without reoouipeuce,
or fruitless endeavor to gain a place
among men, too tired, too world-wea
ry to dream of the blessings of heaven
or dread the abode of the damned
they sigh only lor rest, blessed rest;
life proved a failure, they seek quiet
aud oblivion in the grave. Aye, the
world needs courage, courage not only
to live, but to live lives that are wor
thy the living, noble,- upright, and
good; lives straight forward and
honest before all other men, and
above all, lives pure and holy in tlie
sight of the Lord, so that at the end,
death may be met as life has been,
with iirmness and nntliuching cour
age.
.>0 jescape.—"^o mun will ever
prosper wlio has the curso of a ruined
woman upon him. The murderer of
the body can be tried and executed
by the world's law, but the murderer
of the soul is tried by lieafeu’s laws
and the execution is sure as divine
I justice.'’ Aunt Betsey said this as
she folded the white hands of a beau
tiful girl, and put white llowers aiul
green leaves about the marble-cold
forehead. There was a tiny babe
beside the girl-mother. The house
was hushed aud there was mourning
such as few know. Half glad that
the mother aud child were dead, the
rest of the family must perform the
last sad office of burial and bear the
family shame. A haunted house!
A ruined home ! God the architect
aud man the spoiler. The curse is
there, aud the destroyer cannot es
cape.— Woman's Journal.
Hope is the ruddy morning of joy,
recollection is its golden tinge; but
the latter is wont to sink, amid the
dews and dusky shades of twilight;
and the bright blue day which the
■ former promises, breaks indeed, but
I in another world, aud with another
> sun.—Richter.
A house uninhabited soou comes
i to ruin and a soul uninhabited by
- tho Holy Spirit of God verges faster
aud faster to destruction.