edition of the Bible, the declaration in John would be literally verified, and that "the world itself would not contain all the books which would be written." But the most amusing thing of all was to see, as time made man more familiar with this strange event, the variety of speculations which were entertained respecting its object and design. Many began gravely to question whether it was the duty of the synod to attempt the reconstruction of a book of which God himself had so manifestly deprived the world, and whether it was not a profane, nay, an atheistical, attempt to frustrate his will. Some, who were secretly glad to be released from so troublesome a book, were particularly pious on this head, and exclaimed bitterly against this rash attempt to counteract and cancel the decrees of Heaven. The Papists, on their part, were confident that the design was to correct the exorbitancies of a rabid Protestantism, and show the world, by direct miracle, the necessity of submitting to the decision of their Church and the infallibility of the supreme Pontiff; who, as they truly alleged, could decide all knotty points quite as well without the word of God as with it. On being reminded that the writings of the Fathers, on which they laid so much stress as the vouchers of their traditions, were mutilated by the same stroke which had demolished the Bible-all their quotations from the sacred volume being erased-some of the Jesuits affirmed that many of the Fathers were rather improved than otherwise by the omission, and that they found these writings quite as intelligible and not less edifying than before. In this many Protestants very cordially agreed. On the other hand, many of our modern infidels gave an entirely new turn to the whole affair, by saying that the visitation was evidently not in judgment, but in mercy; that God in compassion, and not in indignation, had taken away a book which man had regarded with an extravagant admiration and idolatry, and which they had exalted to the place of that clear internal oracle which he had planted in the human breast; in a word, that, if it was a rebuke at all, it was a rebuke to a rampant "Bibliolatry." As I heard all these different versions of so simple a matter, and found that not a few were inclined to each, I could not help exclaiming, "In truth the devil is a very clever fellow, and man even a greater block head than I had taken him for." But in spite of the surprise with which I had listened to these various explanations of an event which seemed to me clear as if written with a sunbeam, this last reason, which assigned as the cause of God's resumption of his own gift, an extravagant admiration and veneration of it on the part of mankind-it being so notorious that those who professed belief in its divine origin and authority had, even the best of them, so grievously neglected both the study and the practice of itstruck me as so exquisitely ludicrous, that I broke into a fit of laughter, which awoke me. I found that it was broad daylight, and the morning sun was streaming in at the window, and shining in quiet radiance upon the open Bible which lay on my table. So strongly had my dream impressed me, that I almost felt as though, on inspection, I should find the sacred leaves a blank, and it was, therefore, with joy that my eyes rested on those words, which I read through grateful tears: "The gifts of God are without repentance.”— Eclipse of Faith. "From Greenland's icy mountains," we know nothing from his pen more eloquently beautiful than the following. The reader may have seen it before, but its merits will well pay a re-perusal: "Life bears on like the stream of a mighty river. Our boat at first glides swiftly down the narrow channel, through the playful murmurings of the little brook, and winding along its grassy borders, the trees shed their blossoms over our young hands; we are in hope, and we grasp eagerly at the beauties around us, but the stream hurries us on, and still our hands are empty. "Our course in youth and manhood is along a wider and deeper flood, and amid objects more striking and magnificent. We are animated by the moving picture of enjoyment and industry that is passing before us; we are excited by shortlived success, or depressed and rendered miserable by some short-lived disappointment. But our energy and dependence are both in vain. The stream bears us on, and our joys and griefs are left behind us. We may be shipwrecked, but we can not anchor; our voyage may be hastened, but we can not be delayed; whether rough or smooth, the river hastens toward its home; the roaring of the waves is beneath our keel, and the land lessens from our eyes; the floods are lifted up around us, and we take our last leave of earth and its inhabitants, and of our future voyage there is no witness but the infinite and the eternal." "I CARE NOT NOW, I'M GOING HOME!" BY CARRIE MYER. PALE Ella bowed her sunny head, And wild the light within her eye; "I care not now," she softly said, "For I am going home to die!" "I care not now," sweet Ella said; My mother's face I soon will see; I wait the solemn summons home." Fair Ella, on her dying bed, One misty April even, To one of wretched aspect said, Sweet spirit voices softly call My soul where pride and scorn ne'er come: Dear Stanton, I forgive you all I care not now, I'm going home !" Was all wronged Ella Lane could do. A fairy girl and two sweet boys She nursed with all a mother's pride'Mid life's dark woes her only joys But, one by one, they moaned and died. In vigils of the midnight deep Of all that passed we take no note, "Dear Ella, we will come for you." Then flowed the tide of joy again Are lifted, though by friendly hand; So she, who seemed so strong to bear Whose morn was like the spring-time fair, Was weak beneath the joyful strife Of feelings waked by Love's soft hand- That welled from hearts too full of gladness; That burned the roses from her cheekThe hand whose harshness made them glow Had planted there the lilies meek. Forgotten all the anguish when The voices that were still so long To Memory's vales brought back again The tones that once with joy and pride A gifted brother at her side Once more, and father, mother, dear. Her blue eyes bright and brighter grew! To one whose feet were wont to roam Too near, too near the Pearly GateAnd she has found a better home. A PRAYER BEFORE ENTERING ON THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. BY REV. J. T. BARR, ENGLAND. O THOU dread Power! enshrined in endless light- O, let each inbred passion be subdued, That while I publish sins through Christ forgiven, THE P'S AND Q'S OF MODERN REFORMERS. SECOND PAPER. BY REV. O. M. SPENCER, A. M. THE PRESS. Some editors of this class are as changeable as Proteus, angel or devil at pleasure. One moment they will be currying favor with all parties, and discourse eloquently of healing divisions; the next they will be retailing party prejudice EDITORS may be divided into three classes. and vending political bile. The object of their 1. Those who admit any thing that will pay. 2. Those who admit nothing but what is select. 3. Those who make a compromise between the two. By the first class the press has been most basely prostituted. They constitute their periodicals a kind of literary omnibus. Every thing is admitted that pays its passage-money, and we have reason to believe that one seat entire is always reserved for his Satanic Majesty. The mere fact that an article "will pay" is a sufficient passport to their columns. No political measure so odious, but finds some servile organ for its advocate. No book so brainless, as to be destitute of a patron, who, for a certain "consideration," will laud it to the skies. No compound so villainous, or patent nostrum so worthless, but will find a publisher, who will advertise the world of its wonderful properties at so much a "square." flattery in the morning is the butt of their ridicule in the evening. They crush the caterpillar of to-day, and court the butterfly of to-morrow. One moment they will be making application of "poor man's plasters" to those whose characters they have wounded; the next making the wound deeper still by wholesaling new slanders or dealing out old falsehoods. Some of these political gadflies earn their daily food by thrusting in their tiny proboscis and sucking the blood of those noble creatures they annoy but can not injure. Such an editor is the pack-horse of office-seekers and the lap-dog of demagogues. Another division of the corps editorial consists of those who, with a patronizing spirit, make a compromise between a pure and a corrupt literature. This class has the control of by far the larger proportion of the public prints. Although under the heading you may read "Devoted to Literature, Science, the Arts, Agriculture, Morality, and Religion," yet articles sometimes make their appearance which could not be classified under any of the heads without the greatest violence. The eye of purity is sometimes shocked in passing over the contents by falling upon a questionable reference or a delicate allusionvailed immodesty, or masked infidelity-licentiousness hooded in a cowl, or incontinency in the garb of an angel. Modesty blushes and Innocence bleeds. A large surplus of the matter may be moral, unexceptionable, instructive; but a single dead fly, however small, will defile the whole of the precious ointment. Such papers are like razors with honeyed edges; we should be careful how we permit our eyes to pass over the one, or our tongues over the other. The consequence may be that tears will flow from the former, blood from the latter. Periodicals of this description may be interesting, yes, bewitching; but seldom instructive, enlightening, or ennobling. They may be musical, but not moralizing. To sustain the pride and power of party, truth is perverted and logic distorted-public honor is assailed and private character assaulted. To pander to a vitiated taste, the theater and opera are puffed, profligate men and abandoned women are puffed; and if Satan himself were to advertise for an exhibition or give notice for a concert, there is no doubt but that he would be "favorably noticed by the press." What Leigh Hunt said of editors of this class at the beginning of the present century may in substance be said of them now. They consider it a "feather in their cap" to be on intimate terms with actors and dramatists, and, by inserting a flattering critique in their journals, frequently written by the author himself, "to have consequence in the green room and plenty of tickets for their friends." Puffing and plenty of tickets" are the order of the day. "There is an interchange of amenities over the dinner-table-a flattery of power on the one side, and puns on the other; and what the public takes for a criticism on a play, is only a draft upon the box-office, or reminiscences of last Thursday's salmon and lobster-sauce. The custom is to write as short and as favorable a paragraph on the new piece as can be; to say that Bannister is 'excellent,' and Mrs. Jordan 'charming;' to notice the crowded house, or invent it if necessary; and to conclude by observ-bling deeds, the Recorder of virtuous actions, the ing that the whole went off with eclat." A class still remains to be noticed: those who admit no article into their columns unless it bears upon its very face the stamp of moral purity. In the hands of such a public print becomes what it should be-the Advocate of liberal principles, the Watchman of our political and religious institutions, the Chronicle of enno Herald of the people's rights, and the Journal of the acts of their legislators. It may be music to the mirthful, comfort to the serious, a physician to the patient, a sermon to the sinner, and a library to the laborer. The position of an editor is by no means an easy one. His is no sinecure's berth. Enemies he will have, let his course be what it may. If he attempts to please every body, ten to one he pleases nobody. This ought not to be attempted or expected. He should court not the smiles of the world, if by so doing he martyrs his integrity, and compromises a manly independence, but, if necessary, smile at its frowns. Like the lunar orb, let him be a man capable of raising the tide of popular feeling, while he himself remains calm and deliberate. of theology and would treat their subjects in a more pertinent manner than they do themselves. Nor does this arise from youth or inability, else they would be, in some degree, excusable; but from indolence. They will spend six days out of the week in idle lounging; then upon the seventh enter the pulpit without any preparation, and make a draft on inspiration, or present a check on heaven for a sermon, as if the Almighty would honor their demand, or make a mouthpiece of so unprofitable a servant. They take a text- commence say something-sit down; but their text and sermon are no relation. And why? Simply because during the week you may find them in any other place but their studies. Some ministers start out with a little moral pocket money, and never increase their stock, unless it be what necessary additions they receive from contact with the world. With these few paltry pennies they endeavor to interest their congregations upon every Sunday in the calendar. They will present first one side, and then the other, and then they will gild and galvanize them. For a short time they pass as golden coin; but the gilding soon begins to wear away, and then the old coin makes its appearance. Others are like hand-organists. When some master-mind has invented the instrument, they make excellent performers. Thus they are satisfied to deal out second-handed thought merely because they are too indolent to think for themselves. They pass along for a time; but should any mishap befall them they are forced to exclaim, "Alas, master, for it was borrowed!" 3. We notice pulpit instructors, or those min There are not a few of these pulpit triflers, who prostitute the sacred desk and desecrate the house of God. They preach what they neither know themselves nor any body else. In their private life, pride has taken the place of piety; in their public ministrations, philosophy has supplanted religion and reason the Bible. They will weave their fine webs of intellectual thought, and indulge in vague and airy speculations, of which they have no more definite idea than of the geological formation of the outer ring ofisters who preach what they know and others do Saturn, or the chemical composition of nectar and ambrosiæ; or if they have, stork-like, they will present an entertainment to their audience in a vessel so deep that no one has a neck long enough to feed in it but themselves. These are they who will talk nonsense by the hour; and to hear them preach one would judge, and perhaps rightly, too, that they knew as little of the Bible as they did of the Talmud or the Koran. These are they who trifle with God and eternity, and "Play such fantastic tricks before high heaven As makes the angels weep." 2. Pulpit idlers. The class of ministers of whom we are now speaking are they who preach what others know and they do not. In other words, they do not investigate for themselves, but are satisfied to republish the sentiments of others. Many in their congregations know more not. An instructive minister must possess an ever-increasing fund of information, and to this end he must be a student. It is not only desirable, but necessary, that he should more than keep pace with the march of the public mind. If Ahab the king drive furiously, Elijah the prophet must gird up his loins and run on before. We can not sympathize with those who would enumerate among the necessary qualifications of a minister that of a title. And yet some congregations seem to think that no one but a titled embassador is a good conductor of the grace of God. There seems, moreover, to be an overweening anxiety among some who officiate at the altar in holy garments to have earthly distinctions superadded to those which they have received from the court of heaven. Just as if a commission from God, in order to be valid, needed the signature of a man. "Honor to whom honor is due," is a maxim current in heaven as well as on earth; but for men, and especially for ministers, to "seek their own glory is not glory." And while the honors conferred by man sit with peculiar grace upon those whom God has honored, if they come unsolicited; on the other hand, when degrees become venal, and when a doctorate may be negotiated as a bill of exchange, it is not worth the parchment upon which it is written. If degrees are deserved, and are not conferred, there is no man under heaven who can afford to live and die without a title better than an embassador of the Lord Jesus Christ. There are some who unfurl the banner of the cross in the clouds, while others trail it in the dust; whereas it should be elevated as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, or as the "Son of Man" was lifted up, in the sight of all the people. The former class trifle with their high commission; the latter degrade it. It is not stately, pompous language, interwoven with fine-spun theories, that is destined to convert the the consequence will be that erelong they will move him out of the pulpit. People in this lightning age are not satisfied that what a sermon lacks in depth should be made up in length. The pulpit should be characterized by learning, piety, courage, integrity, purity of character, and independence of action; the minister by a "shepherd's care, a leader's courage, a pilot's skill, a fisher's patience, a prophet's inspiration, and a Savior's love." The press should be pure, patriotic, bold, and uncompromising; the pen chaste, uncontaminating, attractive, and instructive. These are the three great instrumentalities of moral reform. Let them act in concert, let them be a trinity in unity, and they will wield a mighty power that will soon usher in the dawning of the millennial morn. OUR INFLUENCE OUTLIVES US. does the descending stream of world. You might as well attempt to melt down H influence owe its salubrity to the salt some the icebergs of the Polar seas with moonbeams. Nor will a popular appeal to vulgar prejudices, couched in commonplace language and interlarded with "slang phrases," have a tendency to purify the heart, unless you can purify a fountain by stirring its very dregs. There are some whose discourses are a mere brutum fulmen, "full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." They use the spiritual heavens for "thunder, nothing but thunder." The only characteristic excellence of their sermons is that they are loud. Now the time has past when people are to be terrified with thunder alone. They have been so long entertained with it that they are becoming accustomed to it, and are now pretty well agreed that after all it is the lightning that does the execution. Nature exhibits thunder and lightning together, and is not very prodigal of either. Thus it should be with the minister. Nor is there any danger lest there be an exhibition of too much zeal in the pulpit. Would to God that every preacher had a galvanic battery at the extremity of every nerve! but let his zeal be "according to knowledge." Long sermons are still more objectionable. And he who lengthens out his discourses under the impression that he is constructing a long lever with which to move his congregation, will find, to his discomfiture, that he is laboring at the short arm, and his congregation at the long; and pious hand cast into it at a point so high that it has ceased to be acknowledged or known! And how inciting is the thought that "the good men do [and not merely the evil, as Mark Antony avers] lives after them;" that our influence is not restricted to the individual, or generation, on which it is immediately exerted, nor limited by the years of our little sojourn on the earth! We may act on the race at large, born and unborn; but in the line of our posterity especially, we may and must send our influence onward, with peculiar energy-who can tell how far? There is no fact more striking in human history than the descent of character in families; none more evincive of God's remembrance of his covenant with his people; none more accordant with the natural laws of influence as dependent on the frame-work of society; none more encouraging to the believing parent; none more solemn to the unbelieving, who is entailing with awful probability, with moral certainty, if God do not prevent it, his own irreligion upon his children's children, down to the latest generation. But it is not our evil alone that thus survives us and is perpetuated. The memorial of virtue is immortal. How cheering to the wise and good to know, that "The sweet remembrance of the just, When dying Nature sleeps in dust!" |