Christian Sun.
VOL. XLII
1
SSENTIAL8, UNITY;
IN NON-E8SKNTI \L8, LIBERTY;
IN ALL THINGS, CHARITY.
RALEIGH, N, C., THURSDAY, OCTOBER 23, 1890.
NUMBER 19.
—"-i.
ihfc Christian Sun.
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The Christian Sun.
PUBLISHED BYBT THURSDAY BT
Bit. J. PRESSLBT BARRETT
OUR PRINCIPLES)
1. The Lord J esus Christ is the only HsBi
of the Church.
3. The name Christian, to the exctastae
of all party or sectarian names.
3. The Holy Bible, or the Scriptures at -
the Old and New Testaments, a sufficient
ule of faith and practice.
i. Christian character, or vital piety, the
only test of fellowship or membership.
5. Ths right of private Judgment and
the liberty of conscience, the privilege and
duty ol all.
Going to College.
It it related of an old Scotchman,
who, on being asked if he intended to
send bis boy to college, replied, ‘God
forbid 1 should spend five thousand
dollars on a ten cent boyl'
That the boys who intend ebtering
college this fall are not len-cent boys
is to be taken for granted. But
whether all of them are going to real
ize the fond hopes of their parents
and friends, and turn out something
far superior to the ordinary boy or
Dot, remains an unknown and untried
factor.* Some of ihem may, and por
haps will, prove to become all that
their most sanguine friends could
have desired them to be.
But, boys, bow many of you realize
how much depends upon yourself in
this matter? It is not your gifts or
talents which will make or mar your
future career. You are entering upon
a course of study which will help de
velopyour special cast ot mind, no
doubt; hut in every department of
thought there is plenty of room Tor
all to succeed. Your future will not,
therefore, lie altogether in the special
talcul you may be gifted wiili And
yet it will doub'less be difficult lo
convince you tlia: it will no1. It will
be so easy in alter years to point to
one and another of your class mates,
. who have done good w>rk in life, and
sat, ‘Yes; but then he always was a
gij’rnd lellow.' 'Ob, X —why he dis
played bis powers in college from, the
very first; of course he has been a
success/ And s<* on ot one and
another. Yes, probably there .will
be failures, which oil the .-ame grounds
will prove inexplicable. ‘I’oor Y., he
ought to have shone in the world
He was really one of me most talent
ed fellows iu the class,’ etc
Now, we opine success in life dees
not depend so much upon talent as
upon will power ‘Whosoever will' is
one of the slrongest ot scriptural
phrases in regard lo the gaining of
matters spiritual. And whosoever
will, can be equally applied to all who
would gam intellectual truth and pre
eminence. It is the will that mua>
be depended upon throughoui \om
college course, my young friend*, it
you arc bound to succeed. t>«> not
trust to brightness of intellect ora
faoile pen or ready speech. Trust
rather to a strong anil invincible will
which shall enable you to oiercome
every obstacle. It is this, and this
alone, w-bhffi shall surely carry you
through the manifold teropta'tons of
college life.
Be strong of will in carrying out
your plans and purposes. You make
high resolves. But without an invin
cible will to study you may fail to
keep them. There is no gift-talent
or power of body or mind, which for
one moment can be compared to an
educated will in accomplishing one’s
purpose and desire in life.
Be strong in will-power, then, boys,
ill will prove your best aliy all through
your college course.—Chrittian at
Work.
Never Knew Him.
A touching story is told of the
child of a well kuown French painter.
The little girl lost her sight in ihfan
<jy, and her blindness was supposed
*U> he incur* hie. Three years ago,
however, a famous oculist in Paris
performed an operation on her eyes,
and restored her sight.
Her mother had long been dead,
and hci’ father had been her only
friend and companion. When she
could be
that she
wan told that her bhudness
cured, her one thought was
could see him, and when the cure was
complete and the bandages were re
poved, she ran to him, and, fremb
ling, pored over his features, stnittiug
her eyes now and then, and passing
her fingers over his tace as if to make
sure it was he.
The father bad a noble head and
presence, and his every loon and
motion were watched by his daughter
with the keenest delight. For the
first time his constant tenderness
and care seemed real to her. If he
caressed her, or even looked upon
uareoocu i.. — »
ber kindly, it brought the tears to her
Cy*To think,’ she cried, holding his
hand close m hers, ‘that I had this
father so many years and never knew
^How many of us are like the little
blind child!
How many young men just enter
ing life have made no close friendships
at school or elsewhere because some
bodily detect or poverty has soured
their tempers, and made them cynical
and suspicious 1 It is their lot, they
think, to go alone through the world,
to find women shallow and men shams.
Lack is against them. They will
have nothing to do with friends; they
will
fight their own way and ask
heip of none! _ ,
Women, who know themselves to
be plain and unattractive, often feel
this morbid Jealousy and bitterness;
they case themselves in a pride and
reserve that keeps their lives more
• solitary than could any prison walls.
The eyes of these souls are shut
If thev would open them, they would
see that the world is full of true and
< helpful friends waiting to .work and
be happy with them.
They would see uni w-be red chances
In their own lives^lpwever poor or
sorrowful they may' tor healthy
and cheerful worn, f^Shearty good
will and love and con^^eshtp.
And under and aSift and around
their ungrateful, dii^*tente<l lives,
they would lie const1 5a of an A1
mighty love and tenderness, bolding
them sb the sunshine holds the float
ing mote ofduat.— Youth!* Companion.
The Templar’s Test.
A STORY OF THE SOUDAN.
The edt o- of the Better Day says:
‘we are personally acquainted with
•he author of the fylrowmg story, who
relates in it an experience as real^ as
It is thrilling. The narrative is 'full
ol suggestive thought, too, in regard
to ‘The Medical uSe of Alcohol.’
During the war of the Soudan in
1885, the army physicians advised
the British government to supply the
desert troops with a small quantity oi
mm daily, as it was absolutely nec
essary to maintain health in such a
hot and trying climate; and wheu we
consider that the stipulated daily al
lowance of water was only one piut,
we can bardlv wonder at the allowance
of rum being gladly received by al
most the entire army.
However, there were a lew excep
tions; notable among these were two
comrades who were good Templars,
and consequently, from principle,
scorned, even in the lace of such dire
extremities, to bow to 'bat against
which they had vowed eternal hos
lilitv. ■
During the summer months when
the heat was absolutely prostrating,
and hundreds of men died from fever,
sunstroke and diseniery, the comrades
had the best of health. But this was
not to continue always. One morning
nne of i hemfwhom for present purposes
we s all call ‘Will’) was stricken by
sunstroke. He was carried to bis
tent, and there he lay prostrate; his
brain whirled; he lost consciousness
nnd lay as one dead for some time.
On regaining consciousness, he open
ed bis eyes and beheld the well known
form ol a captain bending over him.
holding in Ins hand a large tin oup
containing brandy and extract of-meat
Will thanked him in tones which were
scarcely audible, and motioned to him
to put it down beside him on the sand.
The captain did so, and departed.
Will was alone with his old enemy,
only a canvas sheet protecting him
from the scorching sun, and hiding
fr <m his gaze the bright blue canopy
ol the heavens. A mental struggle
was going on in his mind. Not a drop
of intoxicating liquor had ever crossed
his lips; but now it seemed inevita
ble. If be refused to take it, the cap
tain might think him stubborn or un
grateful.
While thus meditating, there flitted
through his mental vision scenes of
domestic strife,a blighted home, broth
ers and sisters reared in ignorance,
tfeauty clothed in rags and shame,
and manhood and womanhood shorn
Of their glory; and as he thought of a
mother unmotbered beneath the dam
nable spell of the drink fiend, the
blood rushed to his temples, and, fee
bly lifting bis hand heavenward, he
said: ‘Nol If I have to die, I shall
sweep through the pearly gales with
a brain uncontunnnated.’
Then he prayed long and earnestlj
that 0 )d who had piloted him through
so many seas of sorrow and adversity,
would uphold him in this his hour of
trial. Then, brushing a tear from his
sunburnt cheek,hCemptied the contents
of the cup iu tiie sand, covering over
the wet surface, and, exhausted, he
sank into a refreshing sleep. That
evening, paradoxical as it may seem,
Wifi was able to walk about. He
went .through the'city of tents to the
captain’s quarters lo thank him for
liis kindness; and, on entering, the
captain said,’What, you here, Willi
That brandy works wonders with tee
totallers.’’ Will merely thanked him
for his kindness and retired. That,
uight the captain dined with the com
mander-in chief and staff, and in the
hearing of Will boasted of having
saved a man’s life by a glass of bran
ay.
Two months passed away. • The
war was over; the troops were welcom
ed back to the homes ot ‘meiie Eng
land.' Will was promoted and enjoy
ing the blessing of home service, when
one day he met the captain who when
speaking of campaigning days, men
tioned the brandy incident.
‘Sir,’said Will, ‘you have labored
under that delusion long enough.
I upset the brandy in the sand, feeling
sure that that was the best place 1
could put it; respect for your kind
ness prevented me from telling you on
the spot.'’
‘Why didn’t you drink it, Will?
asked the captain.
‘Well, you see, sir,' answered Will,
•I am a Good Templar, and to be a
true Good Templar it requires good
principle and steadfasthess unto
death.’— A. F. 1.
Holding the Light.
A dear little boy of five years, ytho
had an old*fashioned Spartan mother
was brave enough ordinarily, but was
afraid to be left in the dark. To
cure him ot this fear his mother de
»
cided to send him to bed alooe, and
to have the light taken away, which
had usualy been left until. the little
fellow was asleep.
This was a sore trial to the boy,
and possibly to the mother, bat most
pf all to the boy's sister, a girl of
about ten years of age. She could
noi forget her own limes of trembling
and of terror of looking under the bed,
and hiding her head under the blank
et. Her heart ached for the little fel
low undergoing such heroic treatment,
and she need to steal softly upstairs
with bed room candle, and staud just
outside her brother’s door.
‘Are you there sister?'
‘Yes, Willie.'
‘Can 1 have the light?'
‘No, Willie; mother says no.'
‘l)o bring it.'
‘No; but I’ll let it stay right here.’
‘Will it shine in?'
‘Yes, all across the floor, don’t you
see? You must go to sleep, or moth
er will take It away.’'
Then a pause, aud soon the sleepy
voice asking:
‘Are you there sister?’
‘Yes, Willie ’
‘Will you surely slay?’
‘Surely.'
•Till I’m all—every bit asleep? liou
won’t let the light go out till I’m gone?'
‘No, Willie.'
‘Nor leave me alone?’
, ‘No, brother, never.’
A«d all this in the softest whisper
possible, and if the mother beard she
did not heed, for the children were
not forbidden to comfort each other
in their own fashion, until by and by
the boy outgrew his tear.
Years passed, and the lovely boy
hood and the brilliant youth were
left behind. Will had outgrown I119
9ister in size and strength and knowl
edge, but not m goodness or faith.
Life parted them early, and their lives
went separate ways’. Her love and
her letters and her prayers followed
him, but evil temptations crept closer
to him than these, and little by little
he became the victim of drink, it did
not conquer all the good in him at
once, but at intervals be yielded, and
slowly and surely went down. She
had been so proud of his talen s, of
bis power to win all the world oould
offer and now he made her so pitiful
ly ashamed. When he repented she
found it hard to relent. She hated
the sin so bitterly that she almost in
cluded the sinner. She hardened un
der the sbhme of it. and lost faith in
his efforts and promises; and while
she did not give him up, she made
him feel ashamed to come with his he
moamngs to her, when she
knew before the next temptation bis
resolves would go down like dead
leaves in the wind. And so the dis
tance widened, and she suffered much,
and he went down, and down. At las|
his health broke, and life dr^w near
its close. Then she found him and
drew near to him, nearer and nearer
till the day he died. Lying with his
band in hers, he looked up at her, as
a child qiight to bi9 mother, and said
faintly:
‘Do you remember, sister?'
‘Remember what, Willie?’
‘The light, the light; how I was a
fraid, and you used to stand by the
door and hold the light.’
‘Yes, yes, I remember; it was so
long ago,' and she turned her face a
way to hide her tears. •»
‘Never mind, sister, it’s all right
now. 1 feel like a little child again,
and I'm not afraid.’
‘Not afraid of the dark? No, yon
know who goes with us, Willie, when
we come to the dark—.' She could
not go on. t
‘The dark valley.’ he finished for
her.
'Yes, I know. I see Him, sisterj
and you hold the light, but, but—’
‘But what, brother?'
‘But you didn’t keep holding it al
ways; you left me so many times in
the dark. 1 would have been good,
sister, if you had—held it—very
time—but,’ suddenly seeming to real
ize~ that ne was iroublinglier, be drew
her face down as she bent over him.
and whispered, ‘but now I’ll be still.
I’m tired— you will stay till I go to
sleep?’’
‘Yes, Willie, yes; I will never leave
you again.’
‘And—and you will hold the light—
for—’
‘As long as you need it, dear.’
‘No, no, not for me— not for me—
for all the other—the other—’ and
the old smile lit up his face—‘the oth
er little boys in the dark.’
There was no answer in words.. He
would not have heard it if there had
been, for with his pleading for the
boys in the dark his life went out,
and he was in the dark.
Such lessons need not to be repeat
ed to and heart on which such bitter
scourging has fallen once. But the
boys in the dark are many, and many
the Bisters and mothers and wives
that ought to be ‘holding the light-’—
American Reformer.
Gladness That the Lord Refgneth.
There is no doubt a Power faulting
our judgments, reversing the decisions,
frustrating the designs which we have
reached by the light of our wisdom,
making us to follow his plans and
subserve his purposes, and compelling
us to submit to lus absolute decrees,
But tbcn—and here is the strength
and the coosolation—this Power, as
we learn, is that of the Infinite Wis
dom itself. It is the 'Lord' which
reignelh. And it is just because ‘the
Lord’ does reign that these things are
so. Our purposes are thwarted be
cause our range of vision is sciall
and God's eye sees further. Our
hopes, and wba(***e think our happi
ness, are destroyed, but only because
the all-wise Kuler perceives what we
cannot discover—that onr hopes
would but yield us fruits of bitterness,
aud that pre ent happiness would
eventuate in future misery. In oilier
words, US* provideoce of God, casting
its myslSnoifs network over all.our
life, and blending in subtle meshes
all our acts and relations in tiie world,
nppears dark to us, simply hecause,
while we are finite, it is wrought out
by an infinite Intelligence, Now, be
ing men, we cannot escape the fears
and anxiet es and sorrows that by the
laws of our being are necessarily in
cideat to such a providence. They
are necestary, moreover, to our moru!
education in the development and
exercise of the principle of laith. But
if we lie wise we shall Rod a sufficient
consolation in this—that, although
we cannot rule, the Lord reignelh.—
Rev Win. Rudder, D. D
-■-5* The Church and the Young.
The Church should address herself
to the training of yqnng people in
the formation of character, with in
telligent conviction that the next
half decade will give to nine in every
ten a moral and spiritual bias that
will remain unaltered Nor is this
all, for much les6 than a half decade
of neglect will place young people
beyond the reach of the church for
ever. There is no time lease of op
portumty with any of these souls.
One year, one week, or one day may
turn the scale. One act or one word
may swing wide open the door of en
joyable Christian fellowship, or may
erect before it au insurmountable
harrier of prejudice. It is high time
for the whole church to be astir upon
this subject. The situati >n is most
critical. With manv young people
it is now or never. Therefore fervent
prayer, careful study, intelligent coun
sel, liberal giving and earnest work
should everywhere result in wise
plans, thorough organ;zatiou, large fa
cilities, and tfif.-etive administration
in tins most important department
of Chiistiau activity.—New Yorlc Ad
vocate.
What is Christianity 1
Christianity is the revelation of the
Divine power, outside ourselves,
which is able and willing to do for
us, in us, and by us, things which
otherwise are impossible with m tn—
‘the power ot God unto onr salvation/
It answers the question, ‘How can
man be just with God?’
It answers the question, ‘Who can
bring a clean thing out of an unclean?’
It answers ttie question, ‘Who shall
deliver us from this body of (108111?’
It answers the question, ‘If a man
die shall he live again?’
It answers t he- question, in the
presence ot the Lord’s last C/imnand,
‘Go ye into all Hie world and preaeL
the Gospel to every creature’—‘Win
is sufficient for these thii gs?’
It answers the quest on, ‘How is
guilty and fallen man to b • presented
faultless, in the presence of the Di
vine glory, with exceeding jov?’
And no other religion in the world
even attempts to point to any solution
of these questions—human ‘impossi
bilities.’—Sel
I Can’t Feel I’m Saved.
And wliat .belter would you he it
you could? O.i,’ you say, ‘much bet
ter, 1 should think; that’s just what
I’ve been wanting to tee I this long
time.’ S) doubt you have, and
thousands more are doing the same,
hut you could not maae a greater
mistake. If you owed your landlord
$25, and could not pay it, and he was
threatening to pul the sheriff in, would
you say, ‘I can’t feel as if my rent
was paid. I’ve been trying to teel
like it a long time, but I can’t.’ No,
to be sure you wouldn't, or, if you
did anything so foolish, should 1 not
be right to answer you a8 I have
done about feeling you are saved?
Now, God compares our sins to a
great debt which we would never pay,
and the Gospel is the message of his
love, and that tells us how he gave
his own Son to take the whole terri
ble load upon himself, and pay it all
with his precious blood. Now do you
believe what God says about the
Lord Jesus, and are you willing to
trust him who died for you? Don't
talk about not feeling, tor that has
nothiDg to do with it. Do you be
lieve that Jesus bas paid it all, and
will you have him for your Saviour?
‘This is the record that God hath
given to us eternal lile, and this life
is in his Son.’
Remedy for Restlessness.
A great many remedies are suggest
ed lor restlessness, which in many
cases has been caused by giving way
to anxious and torrliodi ig thoughts,
1 indulging in such mental worry by
i dav that night is a lime of tossing
land unrest. While the night dew's
fall and the stars are shining, let ns
in spirit steal amid the quietude to
him who is Eternal L’ght, ibe Giver
of caim, the Divine Comforter; let us
I remember the Lord fs in the stillness;
and we shall prove it truq that
‘Darkness shows us worlds ol light
We never saw by day.’
Let us think, alone with Jesus, what
he is in whom is all the fulness of
God. ‘i will strip, thee of all earthly
comforts,’ said a persecutor once to a
Christian martyr. ‘Christ is mine,’
was the answer, ‘you cannot.strip me
of him.’ Christ is yours, friend, yours
through the darkest shadow—Christ,
who is Rest aud R-ffuge, the King of
kings, i tie gn/al I’uysician. Money
cannot purchase rest, hut it comes to
you with Jesus; there is no pillow so
comforting as the Redeemer's love,
and on tbis you may trustfully re
pose. Some one asked a poor inOrm
old man, ‘Do you think you can rest a
little now?' ‘It is ail rest,’ he said,
‘because God's arms are beneath me*’
—Quiver.
-. --
Death, to 'he Christian, so far from
being the ending of life, is rather life
beginning. It is not losing, but gain
ing, not par ing, but rather arriving.
Interpreted by the revelations and
promises ol God, death, to one who
has the grace of God in his heatt, and
he iven m immediate prospect, is a
glorio is hour. The Cnristian in dy
ing does not go forth into a world of
mystery and darkness, of which he
has no knowledge, but he does go to
be where Christ is, and to dweM with
him forever.
Regular Church Going.
Like anything else of the same
kind, church going is a great deal a
matter of habit. Some of us have
been brought up in the habit, ami find
it perfectly natural to go to church at
least twice on Sunday, and to receive
the communion at least once a week.
Those who have formed such a habit
would find it bard lo give it up.
On the other band, some of us have
made it a habit to stay at home and
loaf on Sundays, and to read through
the Sunday newspaper. Of course,
this entails a goed dcai ol hard work,
aow that the Sunday newspaper has
grown into a volume. But a resolute
man can, if be will, break up an old
bail habit, and .establish a new good
one.
Why not set yourself to wo k till
regular church going, which you
kuow is a habit you ought to culti
vate, has become second nature to
you? Y ii will find it the best disci
pline you ever set for yourself, and
we venture to say last, when once
the hub., is formed, you will wonder
how men can eudure such a desper
rntely dull piece «»f h‘tain»«g—as~n
cliurcbless Sunday*.
What Charity Meaus.
We often use the word charity while
failing to catch and appreciate the
fullness and beauty ot its meaning;
use it as a synonyran for beneficence,
vhen iis meaning arises higher aud
ias a far wider sweep. Acts ot a no
hie and praise-worthy beneficence-may
not be acts ot charity. One may feed
be hungry and clothe the naked; he
may build and endow hospitals and
nstitutions of teaming, and may
largely relieve human suffering, and
yet know nothing of the scriptural
chanty. Charity means love. It is
the .word used by the Master in the
days of IIis incarnation and Suffering
to express His redeeming love for
man; it is the word used by inspira
tion to express the love of tlie- redeem
ed for their Redeemer—the love that
prompts the s mg ot thanksgiving on
earth an. i—She eternal ascriptions ol
heavenly praise. We illustrate the
true meaning of 'scriptural' chanty
only when w*e teed the.hungry, clothe
the naked, minister to the wants ol
the suffering, anil do good to all men
as we have an opportunity, because
we love them with the same kind of
love felt for us hy the exalted Master
wheu He died for our redemption and
salvation. As the charity or love
felt by Him for us covers our many
sins, so our charity for others should
cover theirs.—Interior. r>'
Misunderstandings.
How many griefs and troubles
which come to us in this world are
purely the result of misunderstand
ings! We think people say what they
never did say, or mean what they
never did mean. We count men un
reasonable and harsh; we lume and
fret about matters which do not go to
our liking; we complain about what
men have said or done; and all this
while the persons whom we are blam
ing meant nothing of the kind that
we surmise, and know nothing what
ever of our tribulations.
This js one reason why persons
who Lave grievances should go at
once to those concerned. They are
often the only ones who know the
truth, who can explain the misunder
standing, correct the error or right
the wrong. They can tell you what
they inlebded to say, or intended to
do; and in a great many instances
we shall find, on going to the proper
parties, that we have utterly misap
prehended the facts in the case, have
judged other unkindly, and have
made ourselves miserable for nothing.
In many cases we shall find that we
have taken offense where no offense
was intended, that we have counted
words harsh which were kindly meant;
that light and tripping phrases which
were carefully thrown oflf, have beer
taken to heart as they never should
have been; and that we have made
ourselves and others miserable when
there was no need of it whatever.
How many little misunderstand
ings stick, like a splinter in one’s fin
iger, until they make mischief and
trouble that cannot easily be reme
died; and in how many cases live
minutes’ frank honest talk would have
settled the whole matter. The policy
of silence at such times is a very dan
gerous policy, and many hearts have
bled and suffered when a word would
have healed them.—Anon.
Respectable Sins.
Beware of respectable sins. Not
that any sin, however garishly array
ed or socially dignified, is in itself
respectable, but that some sins are
so countenanced by certain classes
that they are held to be respectable.
Mrs. Browning spoke truly when,
with epigrammatic force, she said.
•The devil is most develish when res
pectable/ because he is then most
dangerous. His seeming respectabil
ity throws unwary souls off their
guard, and beguiles tlem by begetting
the thought that their objections to
certain profitable or delightful courses
of conduct are based, not on Scripture
rationally interpreted, but on squeam
ish or morbid consciousness. Hence,
tor example, when young men see
social honors paid to rich financiers
whose overflowing coffers were filled
by means of transactions which in
volved lying, deception, and specula
tive trickery, they are disposed to
think such dishouest practices are
not so bad as they are taught to be
lieve. j3a, when members ot churches
indulge in some questionable, or per
haps even ungodly, practices, they
throw the cloak of their respectability
over deeds which are m themselves
injurious both to the moral and spirit
ual life. Thus they enable the devil
to do his most develish work of luring
young and feeble souls into the pit of
destruction. How needful, then, is
the precaution, ‘Beware of respectable
ins/
Be True to Your Own Church.
Don’t run down either its pastor or
its members; either its doctrine or its
policy; either its ordinances or its
usages. Give it a hearty and loyal
support by word and deed. Remem
ber that it belongs to you; that it is a
part of your religious lite; that in it
and by it you are being trained for
usefulness here and immortality here
after; that its honor is much in your
keeping; that its growth and purity
are effected to the extent of your in
fluence by what you say and do; that
people whp . have faith m you will
look upon it largely according to
your representation; that you have
promised to advance its interests;
'and that with its good name and pros
perity are bound up the glory of the
blessed Jesus. Then do nothing to
injure its reputation, or\to weaken
us power for good, or to mar its peace
and fellowship.
Cold, or Hot!
BY REV: THEODORE L, CUTLER.
Cold or hot? They are neither; they
are luleewarm. Such was the verdict
or the 'Divine—Spirit upon certain
church members in the olden times;
and the race of lukewarm professors
is not extinct. In our modern church
es are two many Laodieeans yet; they
are not frozen stone dead, neither
does any warm current pulsate through
their veins, and make their counten
ances to glow. Once they were warm
—perhaps up to fever heat; but that
was when they were converted, and
first united with the Church. Now
they are backsliders. They have
gradually lost their first love, and
have swung away from Christ into a
chilling and benumbing atmosphere.
Jesus Christ no longer sits supreme
on the heart throne. The momeht
he is dislodged spiritual declension
begins. For obedieut love to Christ
is essential Christianity; it is the very
marrow of Bible religion. It is that
which alone can subdue selfishness; it
is'that which keeps the bad passions
down and the graces up; which van
quishes temptatiou; which puts the
world under our fpet, aud which turns
a hard duty into a delight. Love to
Jesus makes a dull brain active and
quickens a slow ongue to eloquence.
Love to Jesus sent Johu Baton to the
cannibals oi New Hebrides and David
Livingstone to the savages of Mid
Africa; it moved the cultured Charles
L. Brace to become the companion
helper of poor News-boys and streei
waifs; it irradiated the countenance
of brave old George H. Stuart as he
passed through the river of death, it
is both the pith and the power of all
tree piety.
When love to Jeans as Saviour
and Lord ceases to be the master affec
tion of the soul, the spiritual decline
.has commenced, and the sad effects
soon show out in daily conduct. As
the inward fire burns low, lukewarm
ness begins. Selfishness gets its
greedy fingers into a purse that once
bad been marked with the name of
Christ. The Christian professor
moves, by slow and easy stages, over
the dividing line,until he is pretty
well reconformed to tbetworld. He gets
to liKing his new surroundings. His
conscience loses its keen edge. He
gets used to neglecting Bible stndy;
used to shirking religious duties; be
gets used to singivg\ Instead of giv
ing his Saviour the 'Casting vote7 in
every decision, he gives it to self in
terest- Instead of growing in grace,
he dwarls every day. Cold or hot?
He is not cold enough to he a corpse,
neither is be hot enough to make those
who are constantly with him feel a
single ray of warmth. Having a name
to live, he is dying slowly at the root.
I know of scores ol such Christians
who are gasping away like a poor
bird under an exhausted elass-receiver
ot an air pump.
Put a score of such church members
into a prayer meeting, and it becomes
like the cave of the ‘seven sleepers.’
Put a church lull of such prolessors
into a community, and they yield
about as much fruit as some peach or
chards that 1 saw this season; nothing
but. leaves. I would not exchange the
piety, the prayers and the powers of
an humble seamstress that I wot of,
tor an hundred of these petrified pro
fessors who still keep up a solemn
mockery of coming regularly to the
communion table! Lukewarm even
there m full view of their crucified
Lord! 0 it is terrible to think how
low a Christian’s religion may sink,and
?et some breath of life is still left in
liim. It is terrible also to contem
plate the mischiel which these luke
warm representatives of Christianity
work in the Church, and m the com
munity. The accumulated snow flakes
if their inconsistent words and deeds
block the trains of all Christian pro
gress. Sncb members inside of a church
keep the impenitent outside. Who
s attracted to a Christian lite by such
specimens of it? They may even be
come stumbling blocks, over whom the
children of this world tall into skep
ticism, and contempt lor the name of
godliness. Truly do the terse words
of the oid liturgy describe them as
'dojng those things which they ought
not to do, and leaving undone those
things which they ought to do. and
there is no spiritual health in them.’
Cold or hot, my friend? Feel your
spiritual pulse and see. Put the Bi
ble thermometer under your tongue.
Search your heart; and find out how
much love for Christ is left there. If
after such an honest examination you
find that the tempreture has run low
—what then? Should you quit the
Church, and throw up your Christian
profession? No! a thousand times
no!—The Holy Spirit’s message to
you is ‘be zealous therefore and re
pent.' The only way to repent of sm
is to quit it. The only way to warm a
chilled frame is not to throw your-'
self into a snow-bank, but to hasten
to the fire. Come back to a deserted
Saviour! Instead of erasing your
blurred name from the church regis
ter, seek a reconversion; Simon Peter’s
best work was done after he was re
converted. Do not stop with lament
ing your neglect of the place of pray
er. Open again the door of devotion
and go in, and throw yourself down
at the Master's feet, and cry out,—
‘I have sinned! I am no mure worthy
to be thy servant.’ Set up again your
alter; and on it lay the sacrifice of a
contrite heart. At the earliest mo
ment, lay hold ot some blood-stirring
Christian work; it will warm you- Up.
It may take some time to get the
blood into tree circulation again, and
to recover your lost ground, and lost
one ot health. But when you do get
a fresh tide ot Christ’s love pouring
into your heart, and a fresh glow of
his likeness on your countenance, you
will feel as Lazarus must have felt
when he shook off the grave-cloth
es and leaped into'life again.—Evan
gelist.
‘Our judgments are inspired by
our acts, more than our acts by our
judgment,’ says a witty French writer.
If our conduct grows lax in one mat
ter or another, our opinions as to the
evil of such a course are pretty sure
to weaken, but if we are led to confess
the right ot an opposite course, we
are not so sure to change our conduct
according!v. Our own judgments in
matters i.ff etingour personal conduct
are not to be depended on, in compar
ison with the Judgments of a wise and
disinterested counselor,—B. Clay
Trumbull.
Whenever we admit a doubt the
bank of heaven immediately closes.
No man can get religion enc ugh
to keep him pure in bad company,
n -.•«
;CJ
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