Life — Its Duties And Discipline

Hetty Bowman, 1861

It is with feelings of very deep gratitude for the success already granted, that a Third Edition of 'Life, its Duties and Discipline,' is now offered to the Christian Public. The writer owes them sincere thanks for the favor with which they have received her little work; and would now only beg their prayers, that it may be made the means of leading some wanderer to the fold of the Good Shepherd; and of strengthening, stimulating, and comforting some fellow-pilgrim to the "rest that remains."

It is offered to the younger members of her own gender; sent forth in the Savior's name, and prayerfully entrusted to the guidance of His Spirit. May the great Head of the Church condescend to bless it — and to Him shall be all the glory!

INTRODUCTION
Those who have been awakened by the gracious influence of the Holy Spirit, to a sense of the solemn realities of life, and have been taught to consider themselves but as stewards of the grace committed to them — will count no hint unacceptable which may aid them in faithfully discharging their trust, however homely may be its dress, or humble the form in which it presents itself to their notice. And although it may be said that the subject has been already well near exhausted by the many who have written upon it, it is nevertheless true, that, without encroaching on ground already occupied, some corners are yet left whence another hand may gather up the "fragments that remain."

When the claims of Christian duty, long neglected, are at length recognized in their full force — so many seem all at once to start up around us, that the mind is almost paralyzed by their number. There are not only those more obvious ones duties, whose authority all must acknowledge, but also those "minor moralities" of life, which are not recognized as binding, until our eyes have been opened by the anointing of the Spirit to perceive that our work lies, not so much in the importance of the services which we render — as in the spirit in which they are performed. It is then seen that the smile which lights up a cheerless home, like sunshine on a rainy day — the word of encouragement which strengthens one, who, perhaps, is growing weary in the daily struggle — the spirit of self-sacrifice in the little things of life — all these are as really work for God — as the more conspicuous duties of the pastor or missionary.

And while all are called to the work which is unseen — but few are appointed to that which is seen . Delicacy of health, or the pressure of outward circumstances, may preclude many from active labor — but that labor which lies beneath the surface remains to them still.

It is, however, rather to those who are bewildered by the variety of work — than to those who need to have it pointed out to them, that we wish chiefly to speak. They feel at times ready to shrink back in helpless despair from the task which lies before them, and which, however greatly it may be lightened by that constraining love which dwells within them — seems still a burden too heavy for the feeble flesh to take up.

There is the home sphere, where, perhaps, an anxious mother's cares are to be shared and lightened — or grown up brothers are to be won to love the family hearth as the happiest place on earth — or the labor may devolve upon the elder sister, who is, at once, the teacher and the playfellow, the sharer in every joy, and the comforter in every sorrow.

There are the Sunday School — the Tract district — the Missionary Collectorship — all involving no small amount of mental and physical exertion.

There is correspondence , in which every letter is to be consecrated as a channel of heavenly fellowship — by which the bonds of friendship are to be drawn yet closer, and the ties of earth are formed into ties for Heaven.

There is the work of mental culture , without which all the rest will be much less efficient, for none but a well-stored and regulated mind can possess a very beneficial power over others.

Besides all this, there is work "with which a stranger cannot intermeddle with" — the struggle with heart-sins, the breaking of heart-idols, the "bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ." And these are to be carried on in the midst of ever-recurring interruptions from without, and of countless hindrances from within.

Is this an overdrawn picture? Does not its reality call forth from many a heart, though braced by the spirit of loving service — the almost faithless utterance, "Who is sufficient for these things!" But on this point we believe that a great amount of misapprehension exists. Many choose work for themselves, which has certainly not been marked out for them by their Heavenly Master — and, as He will give support only under the burdens which He Himself imposes, they cannot wonder if their strength fails them.

To illustrate our meaning, let us take as an example, the labor of Sabbath School Teaching. It is one in which every young Christian, more especially in a town, feels almost imperatively called upon to engage. And surely none can over-rate its importance, or calculate its vast influence upon the "Church of the future!"

Yet we are far from believing that it is a duty incumbent upon all Christians. When the spirit has been worn by the duties and engagements of the week, it needs the quiet rest of the Sabbath as a well of refreshing along the way. It needs to have its faith confirmed, and its love quickened — by renewed consecration to God, by self-examination, and by yet more fervent application for the empowering of the Holy Spirit. We would not, indeed, selfishly consult our own ease and comfort, when souls are perishing around us. Nor is a mere contemplative quietism the atmosphere in which our Christianity will flourish best. It will be ever strongest when we follow most closely in the steps of Him who "went about doing good."

Still, when, as is frequently the case, the Sabbath hours are the only time which can be devoted to quiet communion with our Heavenly Father, without fear of disturbance. He cannot be well pleased when we rob Him of them, even to employ them in His active service. It is true, that time may be redeemed from sleep — that, after the pattern of our great Example, we may "rise a long while before day," but there are many to whom this is physically impossible, and who would thereby be rendered unfit for remaining duties.

And when the little ones at home are untended, when they are left without an elder sister's care — to spend the hours of God's holy day in private religious duties, it cannot be but that the lower duty has taken the place of the higher, in a manner most displeasing to Him who has appointed a "time for every purpose."

Again, we believe that not all, even of those whose position leaves them free to dispose of their own time in their own way, unfettered by any conflicting claims of duty — are, by any means, called upon to undertake an office for which, in many cases, they are not fit . There may be a thorough appreciation of truth in the mind of the teacher — while yet there is almost entire inability to impart it to those of the children. It is not all who possess the talent of communicating Scripture knowledge. And thus the place of a more efficient teacher may be filled up, and the children deprived of instruction, which they might otherwise have received.

Remember, that to each is assigned a special work by God, for which each is especially fitted. Do not, then, hastily seize upon work, which may not be yours, although it is that of many others.

We are far, very far, from depreciating the value of Sabbath School labor. It is a sphere of usefulness second only to the public ministry of the Gospel — and almost matchless in its power to counteract the agencies of evil, and to bring the masses of the population within the influence of the truth as it is in Jesus. We would only entreat our readers to make sure that, while engaging in it, they are leaving nothing else undone — that they are not in danger of neglecting their own vineyard, or undertaking what they are not qualified to perform.

We have given but one instance — yet it is sufficient to show that there is danger, even in the service of our Heavenly Master, of "running where we are not sent." Let us see that the path which we follow is not a self-chosen one — that it is marked out for us only by the light which beams from a Savior's cross, and not by the wandering sparks of our own imagination.

Of one thing we may be assured, that He who has redeemed us with the costly price of His own most precious blood, will be no hard task-master. He will require of us no more than we are able to render; so that we need never shrink back from duty, with the withering thought that we have not strength for it. Strength, indeed, we have not, for anticipated labor — but the "grace comes with the burden," and there is help treasured up for us in Jesus, for every moment's need. It is well that, realizing our own weakness — we should be kept clinging to Him in the helplessness of need.

Our aim, therefore, in the following pages, will be not so much to mark out work which is obvious and unmistakable — as to offer a few hints on that which may be more easily overlooked. In so doing, we would add nothing to a weight which many already feel to be more heavy than they can bear — but rather point out one or two ways in which it may be lightened. And we would, moreover, endeavor to show, that even for those who are utterly incapable of enduring the "burden and heat of the day," there still remains —

"A work of lowly love to do For the Lord on whom they wait."

On some other subjects, also, we would say a few words of counsel and sympathy, which may, perhaps, assist some young pilgrim in the Zionward way — to disentangle the web of daily duty, and to bear the hidden cross, which is laid upon each faithful follower of the Crucified One.

"He who would do some great thing in this short life," says Foster, "must apply himself to the work with such a concentration of his forces, as, to idle spectators, who live only to amuse themselves — looks like insanity." How much more, when the work in which we are engaged concerns the well-being of our souls for eternity! Then, surely, we should count no time lost, no effort unnecessary, spent in obeying the solemn injunction, to "acquaint ourselves with God, and be at peace."

Though these pages are addressed chiefly to those who have already chosen the Lord for their portion, and are walking with Jesus in "newness of life" — it is possible that they may meet the eye of some, whose hearts are still set on the world, and the things of the world. And firm are the meshes in which it entangles the heedless footstep! Potent the spell which it weaves around the thoughtless and unwary! The world, so fair, so fascinating! how shall it be given up? How shall the fingers be unclasped from that bright cup which seems pressed so full of happiness?

Says the worldling, "Surely the sacrifice need not be made yet! The world and its pleasures need not yet be exchanged for the cross of self-denial and sacrifice! Not yet! Not yet!"

But listen, dear reader, and if the words seem harsh, remember that they are those of Him whose heart yearns with tenderness, pity, and compassion for the lost and the perishing,

"No man can serve two masters."

"If any man loves the world — the love of the Father is not in him."

"Friendship with the world is enmity with God."

What shall we say to these things? Shall we speak "Peace — when there is no peace?" Shall we flatter you with the hope that all may yet be well? Shall we point you to a crown of unfading glory — while your heart still rebels against the light and easy yoke of the Crucified One? Nay!

Rather would we remind you of the solemn warning, that "The end of these things is death!" A day will come when your eye will grow dim, and the death-damp gather on your brow, and your feet enter the dark valley. Where, then, will be your hope? Where, then, will be your refuge? And when that day has passed, and another — yet more terrible, has dawned — when the eternal throne shall be set, and the books opened, and the dead, small and great, stand before God — then where will you conceal yourself, that you may not hear the awful sentence, "Depart from Me, you who are cursed, into everlasting fire!"

It is because we would save you from such a fearful doom — a doom which, as surely as the Word of God is true, will overtake all, however naturally amiable and cordial — who reject the Savior's offered mercy — that we would earnestly entreat you in Christ's stead, "Be reconciled to God." Yield up to Jesus that heart which He died to win, that soul which He came to rescue from eternal destruction. Listen to the "still small voice," which gently whispers, "Come unto me all you that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Go, as a little child, to the foot of the Savior's cross, and ask to be taught of Him. Oh! believe it, there is no peace like the peace which Jesus gives! There is no joy like the joy of acceptance and reconciliation in the Beloved.

There are those who would tell you that religion is a gloomy thing — but believe them not. It is gloomy only to those who have just sufficient of it to embitter the pleasures of the world, but not sufficient to introduce them into the full blessedness of union with Christ. They have light enough to show them their danger — but they turn aside from that which would point out the path of safety. Yes, to such, to the wavering, the undecided — religion must be a gloomy thing.

They strive, although fruitlessly, to "serve two masters," and can please neither. Their inclinations are on one side, and their convictions on another — and the result is misery. Then the unhappiness which is caused by their own lack of decision and whole-heartedness, they charge upon religion, and thus the "way of truth is evil spoken of."

Do not be you of their number. Let it be no longer with you an unsettled question, whether you are His or not. Rest not until you can say, if called tonight to leave this earthly tabernacle, with one who now sleeps in Jesus, "The Master calls, and I am ready!"

See that the atoning blood is sprinkled on your conscience, and that the sanctifying Spirit has begun His work upon your heart. Linger not. "Stay not in all the plain," for the twilight is falling fast, and the dark night of death will speedily overtake you. There will be no escape then — no hope — no Savior.

Then hasten to enter that door of mercy, which is open still. Hasten to comply with that invitation which addresses you in tones of mingled pity and reproof, "Turn, turn — why will you die?" Hasten to grasp the hand outstretched to save you! Hasten to draw near to God by the one "new and living way." There is mercy with Him for all who seek it. There is mercy for you.

Remember, it is not enough merely to be the subject of serious impressions. It is not enough to have the emotional part of your nature excited, as, Sabbath after Sabbath, you listen to the faithful appeals of some messenger of God. There may be all this — there may be appreciation of the beauty of religion — there may be attention to its outward duties — and the most praiseworthy diligence in helping forward every effort to promote its extension. Yet He, who is a "discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart," may still write concerning you in His book of remembrance, "Dead in trespasses and sins!"

We believe that many are deceived by these things; that a naturally amiable disposition, or a surrounding atmosphere of piety which prevents their own inward corruption from fully manifesting itself; or affection for some particular minister, on whose shrine, almost as on that of an idol, they offer up days and hours of unwearied exertion, which they suppose to be for Christ — lulls them into a fatal slumber, from which, if not, by God's mercy, previously aroused — they must one day have a fearful awakening!

This surface work will not do. It leaves the inner depths of the heart untouched. They are not furrowed by the plough of sorrow for sin — nor fertilized by the soft showers of the Holy Spirit's influence. And, if this is all that has taken place in you, my reader, then are you but one of the "stony-ground hearers," who "receive the word with joy," but whose fair promise withers beneath the sun of persecution or opposition.

Taken from the favorable circumstances in which you now are, and placed among those who know not God — what would become of your religion? Could it stand the test? Would it enable you to bear meekly the cross of contempt and scorn, for Christ's sake? Or would you not rather be firmly entangled in the mazes of pleasure? Would you not be found among the number of those of whom it may be said, "Demas has forsaken me, having loved this present world!" "You did run well — who hindered you?"

Take these questions home to your own heart. Answer them on your knees before God. "Examine yourselves, whether you are in the faith — prove your own selves." See that your religion does not spring merely from being acted upon from without, but from heaven-born life within. Make sure work in this matter. Beware of self-deception. Let nothing satisfy you but a real "passing from death unto life," and becoming a "new creature in Christ Jesus." So, only, will you be "established in the faith" — and, in the day of the Lord's appearing, be "found unto praise and honor and glory!"

But we turn to a more pleasing theme, remembering that if the wanderer must be guided into the way of peace — the steadfast also need to be built up in their most holy faith. What, then, shall we say to you, dear friends and fellow-workers, who long to be employed in your Father's business, and are willing to take from His hand your daily lot of suffering or of service?

We would remind you that there is no vineyard labor on which the Master looks with such a well-pleased eye, as heart work. It may not be in your power to perform great acts, or to make costly sacrifices. You may do no more than breathe the speechless prayer, or give the cup of cold water — yet, if your own heart is well and carefully tended, your Lord will reckon you among His "good and faithful servants." Is your home in Heaven? Are you called with a holy calling? Then "walk worthy" of it. Rest not satisfied with a low measure of spiritual attainment — but aim high, even at walking in living fellowship with a living Lord, constantly realizing His presence, and maintaining close and holy communion with Him.

Remember that it is your privilege to "know the things that are freely given to you of God" — not to linger on the threshold, but to approach the inner sanctuary with a "true heart, and in full assurance of faith." It may be that you sadly feel how far you are from having attained this assurance. It is but seldom, perhaps, that the warm, life-giving rays of the Sun of Righteousness shine brightly upon you. More often you are under a cloud — mourning an absent Lord. You feel that you are not firmly anchored to the Rock, but are ever tossed hither and thither on the waves of temptation and doubt — the light of hope extinguished, the witness of the Spirit lost.

These things ought not so to be. God's heritage ought not so to lose sight of the "hope of their calling." Far be it from us to say that an assurance of salvation is indispensably necessary to the obtaining of it. There are many of God's best beloved who literally "pass the time of their sojourning here in fear." There are many of the Savior's followers who will never be able, in confidence and joy, to say that they are such — until the darkness of times is exchanged for the light of eternity.

Constitutional melancholy, physical weakness, or defective views of divine truth — may combine to tinge the inner life with a gloomy coloring.

Yet the weak believer who cleaves to Christ in the valley of humiliation — is no less dear to Him than the strong one who follows Him on the mount of glory. But we fear that many indolently rest in this, and do not strive nor pray to be freed from the bondage of servitude, and to enter into the full liberty of the children of God. At some future time, they say, when they shall have attained to some higher degree of holiness, when they shall more perfectly reflect the image of their risen Lord — then, perhaps, they may rejoice, but not now. Sunshine may be for others — but it is not for them. What have they to do with peace? Do they not feel a "law in their members, warring against the law of their mind, and bringing them into captivity to the law of sin?" Are they not continually stumbling and falling along the way — or wandering out of it altogether? Are they not, again and again, piercing with grief, the bosom which overflows with love to them?

Dear friend, these things may be true. All who know their own hearts feel that they must be true — and yet there need be no barrier to your rejoicing confidence. Well might the best and holiest among us go mourning all our days, if we were to look within ourselves for any ground of hope. It is not God's will that any of His children should be in sadness and doubt. On the contrary, He commands them to "rejoice evermore," even "with joy unspeakable, and full of glory." "That your joy may be full" — is still His wish concerning you. Why, then, should His will and yours be at variance? Why should you refuse to take what He so freely offers?

We believe that the explanation may be found in that spirit of self-righteousness which is so apt to linger, even in the renewed heart, eating like a canker-worm into the very life of all spiritual enjoyment. You are not willing to "cease from your own works" — and be saved in another way than that of your own devising. You cannot believe that even you, with all your vileness and guilt, your coldness and ingratitude, are still pure and spotless in your Father's eye, because clothed in the righteousness of His Son. You cannot realize that the most helpless outcast who approaches the throne of grace, pleading for mercy in the Savior's name, is no longer "afar off, but brought near by the blood of Christ." Surely, if you believed this, you could not but rejoice. "For" (we quote from the correspondence of the late Dr. Chalmers), "let there be but belief in the Gospel — and the hindrance to peace, joy, confidence, in the good-will of a reconciled Father — is at once removed. Why postpone all this? Why not rely on the good tidings of great joy, and be glad accordingly? How long shall we put off trusting in God for that redemption which is through the blood of Jesus, even the forgiveness of sin? It may startle you to be told that this last question is tantamount to another — How long shall we persist in holding God to be a liar? He Himself distinctly reduces it to this alternative. He tells of the record which He has given us of His Son, and He complains of being made a liar of by all who will not believe it (John 5:10, 11). This, one might think, is bringing salvation very near to us. It is telling us to take and live — to trust and be satisfied. On this footing, and it is the true one — there would be an instant translation from death to life, from darkness to the marvelous light of the Gospel. Let us not think that the way of being washed from our sins is anything more complex or circuitous than this; else we fall into the error of Naaman the Syrian, when told to wash him from his leprosy in the waters of Jordan. We are washed from our sins in the blood of Christ. Let us so believe, and so it shall be done unto us."

Look not then, inward, to the gloomy recesses of your own dark and troubled heart — but upward and outward, to the cleansing blood and perfect atonement of Him who is made unto you of God, "wisdom and righteousness, and sanctification, and redemption." Remember that, in Him, you are without spot and blameless; that in Him there is "no condemnation;" that in Him you, even you, may take up the triumphant challenge, "Who shall lay anything to the charge of God's elect? It is God that justifies. Who is he who condemns? It is Christ that died — yes, rather, who is risen again."

Look unto Him, until you feel your doubts vanish, your fears depart, and your heart open itself to the warmth and light of love. Do not analyze your own feelings. Do not perplex yourself with intricate calculations as to the strength of your own faith. Do not argue, do not reason — but keep your eye steadily fixed on this one grand truth, that "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners." Why should you exclude yourself from the number? Why should you refuse to take the full comfort of this "blessed hope?" Was it not the lost, whom Jesus came to seek and to save? Is it not the helpless wanderer, which He will guide in safety to the fold? Do not be afraid, then, but believe only, and all shall be well.

Go to God for the faith you have not in yourself. Pray, with one of old, "Lord, I believe, help my unbelief!" Bring your sin to the Sin-bearer. Bring your soul-sickness to the Good Physician. Doubt not but that His hand will be stretched forth to heal. Thus, and thus only, will your peace flow as a river. Thus, and thus only, in simply "looking unto Jesus" — not to yourself, will you be gradually "changed into the same image, from glory to glory."

Beware, lest you dishonor God, by resolutely wrapping yourselves in clouds and gloom, when He has commanded you to "walk in the light, as He is in the light." Beware, also, lest you confound together things that differ, and place your confidence rather in the Spirit's work within you — than in the Redeemer's work for you. The one is incomplete, and will ever be marred by infirmity, until this body of sin and death is laid aside; the other was completed more than eighteen hundred years ago, when Jesus cried and said, "It is finished!"

Here, then, is rest — the rest into which "we who have believed enter" — rest for you, O weary and faint one, "tempest-tossed, and not comforted." Do not fear to claim it as your heritage forever. Do not fear to cast yourself into the ocean fullness of your Father's love! Do not fear to say, with chastened yet triumphant joy, "I know in whom I have believed, and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I have committed unto Him."

Thus, also, will you most effectually promote your Savior's glory. A life of praise and thanksgiving will be the best recommendation of the religion which you profess. If we can "sing the Lord's song in this strange land" of sorrow and exile — then who can tell but that others may hear us, and, perhaps, be won to join us in our way? Let us show them that the Christian is not gloomy, as he is often falsely represented to be — but that his sympathies are rather with the bright things of life. His heart is free to enjoy the happiness of this life, because it is at rest concerning its title to that of another. If, like the man in Bunyan's picture, "he has the world behind his back," he has also a "crown of glory hanging over his head!"

Let this be manifested in our daily life, and then our light will "so shine," that the Redeemer's name may be exalted. The world can see that we are cross-bearers — let it see also in us the fulfillment of the promise, "In Me you shall have peace." In every circumstance we shall equally feel that the "joy of the Lord is our strength."

Nothing will so support us to bear the "sufferings of this present time," as the prospect of the "glory hereafter to be revealed." Nothing will so nerve our arm for the combat, as the realized presence of the great Captain of our salvation. Let us, then, pray earnestly that the "God of hope would fill us with all joy and peace in believing, that we may abound in hope, through the power of the Holy Spirit."

We have lingered upon this part of our subject, but we may be justified by its unspeakable importance, both to the individual Christian and to the Church at large. We believe that never will the Church of Christ fulfill the high and holy mission to which she has been called, in the evangelization of the world — until her members learn more fully to realize the privileges of their adoption, and to rejoice in the possession of that "perfect love, which casts out fear."

Again, we would entreat you to be on your guard, dear reader, against that religion of sentiment and aesthetic beauty , so unhappily prevalent in this our day, and which possesses so many attractions for the young and imaginative. It is difficult to avoid the snare! It is difficult to believe that anything hurtful can lurk under so much that is lovely, so much that seems devotion.

Have you ever known what it is to worship in a Catholic Church, where the quiet sunbeams steal through the stained window, and flood arch and aisle with their rich yet mellowed light, or throw a radiant glory over the kneeling "Priest," who, in his snow-white robes, ministers at "the altar?" Have you ever listened to the pealing notes of some old chant or anthem, which, with its long low swell of almost unearthly sweetness, thrills even to your very soul? And when the last faint echoes died away, and holy words of prayer and blessing broke the sacred stillness — have you not felt that such worship was well-near fit for the "spirits of just men made perfect?"

Yet, beware! It may seem uncharitable to remove the veil; it may seem harsh to say that there is poison mingled in the cup! Yet so it is. Poison, not in that which meets the eye; not in stained-glass window, nor music, nor surpliced priest — but in the hidden error of which these things are but the outward tokens. All that would substitutes the sign for the thing signified — the cross for Him who was offered upon it a sacrifice for sin — or lead the worshiper to rest in any mere form , even the most pure — instead of rising upward to the spirit and the life — is and must be dangerous in its tendency.

And, without venturing on the troubled waters of controversy, we appeal only to experience, when we say — is not this, in too many cases, the result of the system to which we have alluded? Beware, then, dear reader, lest you suffer anything, harmless although it may seem to be, to come between your soul and God. Let no reasoning, however specious, no beauty of external worship, however attractive — tempt you from your firm hold upon the Scriptures of truth, or beguile you from the "simplicity that is in Christ." "To the law and to the testimony; if they speak not according to this word, it is because there is no light in them."

Pray that you may be kept in lowly humility at the Savior's feet; and there may "learn of Him." Pray that, by His Almighty grace, He would keep your feet from the paths of error, and shield you from the evil that is in the world. Above all, pray that in your own heart you may experience the power of His Spirit to save and sanctify. Thus "keeping yourself in the love of God," you will possess the best safeguard against the seductions of mere human teaching.

But, on this subject, one more word of caution is needed. Take heed lest you fall into the opposite danger of harshness and lack of charity towards those who differ from you on minor points. At a time when religious controversy runs unhappily so high, it is difficult to avoid imbibing somewhat of its bitterness of spirit. Perhaps the prayer of our Church was never so much needed as now, "From all uncharitableness, good Lord, deliver us!"

Do not condemn the good along with the evil; and, above all, do not allow yourself to be betrayed into personal prejudices, which a closer acquaintance with those against whom you cherish them, so frequently shows to be utterly unfounded. Remember that true and earnest piety may consist with wide difference of opinion on many minor points — and as long as human nature continues as it is, it is impossible that all men should see the same truths through the same medium.

Differences of temperament and natural constitution, with the prejudices of early education — combine to throw a difference of coloring over those which are in themselves essentially the same. So that, until you can take your brother's place, and see with his eyes — you cannot be justified in sitting in judgment upon him. One mind cannot comprehend or feel the force of many things, which weigh most heavily with another. The cold and phlegmatic, for instance, have marvelously little 'sympathy with the impressible and optimistic, whose more yielding natures are readily acted upon from without.

There is One, and One only, who can look into the depths of every human heart, and He judges with perfect knowledge of every circumstance which has had a part in what is written there. But as for you — are you to pronounce a verdict against a fellow-sinner, whom, for anything you can tell — you may meet in the mansions above, if, by God's mercy, you reach them yourself?

If, however, you have indeed been taught "as a new-born babe to desire the sincere milk of the word," you will gladly leave the more questionable nutriment of religious disputation to those whose calling and inclination may lead them thereto. When you look into your own heart, you will find there sufficient employment, without entering unnecessarily upon the discussion of matters of debate — and will also see sufficient of its sinfulness and pollution to teach you to bear very patiently with the infirmities of others.

Remember that zeal for religious doctrine, is not always zeal for Christ Himself. Many who manifest no lack of the former, give evidence, by their loud and angry condemnation of those who do not think along with them, that they know but little of the true spirit of the latter. They are far, very far, from exhibiting the "meekness and gentleness of Christ."

Nothing has so great a tendency to deaden the spiritual life, and to promote feelings of self-righteousness and pride, as angry contention, even though it be for the "faith once delivered to the saints."

Be thankful, then, that you are not placed in the van of the battle, where duty would compel you to gird on your sword and fight. Be thankful that it is your privilege to take, directly from the hand of the true "Shepherd of your soul" the food convenient for you. "Feed on it in your heart by faith with thanksgiving." Only in this way, will you "grow in grace, and in the knowledge of your Lord and Savior Jesus Christ."

But we have wandered somewhat from our original intention, which was rather to speak of the inner life , quiet and hidden from the eye of man, than of the disputes which so unhappily disturb the peace of Christ's visible Church. And yet, on thoughtful reflection, a closer connection may be discerned between the two than might at first sight be supposed.

If that which is inward is to be preserved in health and vigor — then it must be jealously guarded from any pernicious influence from without. These are times of trial and danger, demanding proportionate watchfulness against error in any of its many and beguiling forms. The only safety is to be found in a spirit of child-like dependence upon Heavenly teaching, and in the prayer, offered in unreserved sincerity, "Hold me up — and I shall be safe!"

Hold fast the great fundamental truths of the gospel — those which affect the souls standing before God — and on minor matters you may well afford to suspend your judgment. Leave them for other and wiser heads, but "you continue in the things you have learned, and have been assured of" — clinging to that inspired Word, which contains all things necessary to make us "wise unto salvation."

On this we need not further enlarge, but would rather remind our readers that there is but one way in which they may disentangle those perplexities in duty to which we have alluded in our introductory chapter, and, with them, many of the most difficult problems of the inner experience.

It is in seeking for that single eye and undivided aim to the Savior's glory, which alone can smooth down the many little roughnesses and annoyances which we meet with in our daily path. When the constraining love of Jesus reigns in our hearts — we learn to delight in any labor, and to glory in any sacrifice, by which that love may be more clearly manifested. We are ready to cut off the right hand, and to pluck out the right eye, to do battle with the besetting sin, and to crucify the heart-idol — at the bidding of Him whose very life was willingly laid down for our sakes!

And it is then alone, that our efforts in the cause of Christ can be successful. The words which we speak for God must come warm and fresh from the depths of our own living and personal experience — or they will fall cold and dead upon the hearts of others. Our speech may be about the things of the kingdom — but it cannot minister grace unto the hearers, unless it is "seasoned with salt." It is when we "speak that which we know, and testify that which we have seen" — when our heart is manifestly so in Heaven that all may take "knowledge of us that we have been with Jesus" — that the real power of our religion is shown and felt. Then the world is convinced, even by that which it cannot love — and God's own people are edified and strengthened.

If, then, you would have your lamp to shine as a light in this dark world, remember that it must be daily fed with the fresh oil of the Spirit. Look to your own heart. See to your own vineyard. Be prayerful; be watchful; above all, be in earnest. Do not be satisfied with having a "name to live while you are dead" — but seek to have your life truly "hid with Christ in God." Oh, pray for a large measure of grace, even that your clay vessel may be "filled with all the fullness of God." Walk near to Him in holy fellowship, striving ever to realize the in-dwelling of His Spirit, that, as a temple of the Holy Spirit, you may abstain even from the very appearance of evil.

It is a dreary thing to live afar off from God — to be numbered among the children — and yet to be unable to look up to Him with trusting confidence and say, "My Father, who is in Heaven." We cannot toil up the Hill of Difficulty with the burden upon our back. It must be left first at the Cross, and then, freed from the weight of sin, we can go on from "strength to strength," until at length we "appear in Zion before God."

Again we say, do not allow the stain of unforgiven sin to rest upon your conscience, but keep it ever tender by constant approaches to the "fountain opened for sin and for impurity." There you may be washed daily from the defilement which you must necessarily contract in your passage through the world. Without this, your Christianity will always be dwarfed and stunted in its growth. You will "be ever learning — but never able to come to the knowledge of the truth." You will spend all your faith in laying the foundations of hope — and will have little time for those heaven-reaching exercises of adult faith, which fit the soul for dwelling amid the prospective glories and purities of perfected salvation.

We would not see you thus, dear reader. We would rather that you should be rejoicing in hope, dwelling ever in the secret place of communion with God, and abiding in peace under the shadow of His wings.

We believe that God's children need at this time to be specially and solemnly reminded of that "other Comforter" whom the Savior has sent to supply to His people the place of His personal presence among them. We live under the dispensation of the Spirit — but are unconscious of our privilege in so doing? Of how many might this question be asked, "Have you received the Holy Spirit since you believed?" And how many, alas! might truthfully reply, that although they have indeed heard that "there is a Holy Spirit," yet they have thought little of His work and office, and seldom sought His quickening grace!

Can we, then, wonder if our faith is feeble and our love cold? Can we marvel if our labor for Christ is so often unsuccessful? For never can there be an elevated standard of personal holiness, or real usefulness in our day and generation — until this communion of the Holy Spirit is sought and enjoyed. Never will the living epistles stand out in all their clearness before the eyes of an unbelieving world — until they are seen to be written by the "Spirit of the living God."

In the early days of the church, the Apostles were "endued with power from on high," for the work to which they were called. Herein lies the secret of their influence, and of saintly influence in all ages since. And does that power no longer exist? May it not be given also to British Christians of the nineteenth century to be "filled with the Spirit" — to "walk in the Spirit"? Yes, truly, for the treasury of blessing is still full, even to overflowing. But "they have not, because they ask not." Let them "ask that they may receive," and so shall "their joy be full." So will they be strengthened with all might for the inward warfare, and bring life and light and healing to a world that "lies in darkness, and in the shadow of death."

The time is fast approaching when the warfare shall be accomplished, and the victory won — when the wilderness shall be exchanged for the Father's house, and the "light affliction" for the "fullness of joy." Be patient, then, my friends, unto the coming of the Lord. Pray only, strive only, live only — that when He comes you may be "found of Him in peace, without spot and blameless."

Live, so as to leave a mark behind you. Live, so that others may be the better and the happier for your life. Live, so that death may be to you but an "incident in mortality" — not dying, but going home to your Father's arms, there to receive the welcome of the beloved child who has been long absent in a far-distant country, but now returns to be at rest forever!

It should be the highest aim of every Christian, continually to realize that this world is not his abiding home, that he is only sent into it to tarry for a season, as "God's messenger" — to speak words for Him. "God's messenger!" How solemn the thought! How responsible the office! Reader, are you conscientiously discharging it? Are you faithfully delivering your message? Are you so living, as that you will, by and-by, be able, fearlessly, to render up an account of your stewardship, and joyfully to listen to the sentence, "Well done, good and faithful servant! Enter you into the joy of your Lord!" These are no light questions. Do not put them carelessly aside, do not shrink from meeting them — but, as in the sight of that God before whom you must one day stand, bring your daily life to the test which they offer.

If you are, indeed, numbered among God's chosen flock, and have been gathered safely into the fold of refuge — you will at once perceive that, with you, the solemn work of life, so far from being finally accomplished, will last as long as life itself. The influence which, consciously or unconsciously, you cannot fail to exercise over others, must be employed in God's service. He it is who has bought you with so costly a price, even the precious blood of His beloved Son — that you may henceforth "glorify Him in your body and in your spirit, which are His."

God will not have any of His servants idle. To some He appoints one kind of work, to others, another. But to each and all the command is the same, "Occupy until I come." Every one, as he receives the seal of adoption, receives also the precept, "Son, go work today in my vineyard!" Not tomorrow — not next year — not at some indefinite period in the far-off future — but today, while yet the shadows of evening fall not, nor the midnight cry arises, "Behold He comes!"

There is no escape from this law. Nor, if, indeed, our hearts are set aright, will there be any wish to escape. We serve no hard master. We are no slaves, performing, thanklessly, the task allotted to us. Ours is an unconstrained obedience, a freewill offering, an expression of grateful affection to Him who has loved and given Himself for us.

Reader, "The Lord has need of you!" Conscious — deeply, painfully conscious as you may be of your own weakness and insufficiency, it is, nevertheless, true, that in the carrying out of His great designs, He has a place for you to fill. You are a link in the chain, and the most momentous interests are daily dependent upon you. No one can take your place. No one can share your responsibility. Only yield yourself up, "to be as clay in the hands of the potter" — and He will make of you a "vessel fit for His own use." Only pray, in believing sincerity, "Lord, What will You have me to do?" and be assured that, in one way or other, your work will be marked out, and the strength given with which you are to perform it.

Keep your eye ever fixed upon your Heavenly Father's eye, so that you may be ready to follow its lightest motion. Do not look out for great services, such as may dazzle the world by their splendor — but cheerfully take up those which lie in your daily path, and accomplish them, as "unto the Lord — and not unto men." If you will do this, you will soon find your hand fully occupied, and your spirit growing strong to do and to bear.

Remember, even the tiny dewdrop has its mission; the little insects which dance so merrily in the summer sunshine fill no useless place in the scale of creation. These, also, in their measure, are "faithful in little things." And can it be, that you alone are to remain unemployed? Nay, truly, for "no man lives unto himself."

But this subject has been so often and so ably handled, that we need not further enter upon it. Yet we must offer a few hints on one or two departments of work, the importance of which is too frequently overlooked.

First, on that (and it comes most strictly under the head of way-side work) which we may do as we journey hither and thither in this "house of our pilgrimage." We fear that with many, even of God's believing people, a journey is a thing far too lightly undertaken. We are often too resolutely bent upon following out some favorite plan of our own, to stop and ask counsel of Him who has commanded us, in "all our ways," seek His guidance.

In the anticipation of a visit, or of a tour of pleasure, we are apt to look rather for our own ease and health — than for the way in which we may best glorify God. At such times it too frequently happens that the watchfulness and circumspection of our heavenward walk is relaxed, our close communion with God is interrupted, our approaches to the throne of grace are less frequent, and our holy fellowship With the Father and the Son is estranged.

In short, we seem to imagine that relaxation from mental or physical exertion, implies also a sort of relaxation in our spiritual progress, and so, instead of diligently cultivating "vacation piety," we are in danger of indulging a "vacation from piety." Thus we lose ground which cannot be regained by months of unceasing toil — for it is impossible that, after a season of sloth and carelessness, we should stand exactly as we did at its commencement. If there is not advancement — there must be declension. Ours must be a ceaseless warfare, and if, even for one moment, we wield our weapons with an unsteady hand — the enemy will surely gain an advantage over us. And thus our influence for good is weakened — for our lamp must burn with a clear and steady flame, or it can never give light and guidance to another.

There is a living power in the example of one who constantly dwells in the "secret place of the Most High" — which makes itself felt, even when no word is spoken. He is surrounded by an atmosphere of prayer, with which no light or worldly element can mingle, and which at once stamps him as an heir of the glory. Such a one is a "living epistle," which all can read — a "shining light" which all can see.

Where this is lacking, where the Christian sinks to the level of other men, and does not declare plainly that "he seeks a heavenly country" — his influence becomes positively pernicious. A stumbling block is cast in the way of the unconverted, and the faith of God's children is weakened rather than confirmed. See to it, then, dear reader, that you allow no outward circumstances to hinder you in the race set before you. Pray that your eyes may be "turned away from beholding vanity," and kept fixed upon the "Author and Finisher of your faith." Let a sense of danger drive you to the shelter of the Rock of Ages — that there, beneath its kindly shade, the world's glare and sunshine may have no power to harm you.

And, alike in visiting and in journeying, strive to follow only where the guiding pillar leads. Seek to be made willing to go or to stay — as you may most effectually perform your Master's bidding. It may be that He designs you to carry a message of hope and consolation to some weary sufferer, who is to hear from your lips the needed assurance that the "Lord has not forgotten to be gracious." Or you may be sent to arouse some slumberer, to quicken the halting step of some lingerer along the way, or to cheer some tried and doubting pilgrim by your own more steadfast faith in the "faithful and true Witness." Or, perhaps, your own soul needs to be refreshed, and you are "sent to sojourn for a season where it may be more abundantly watered by the fertilizing dew of the Spirit — that in solitude and stillness, or in sweet communion with fellow-travelers to the Celestial City — you may be strengthened to "hold fast the beginning of your confidence steadfast unto the end."

Of one thing you may be sure; that wherever you are sent, it is on some special errand, whether it is that your Father intends to use you in speaking to others that which He would have spoken to them — or that you are to hear from them what, at that particular time, it is necessary for you to know.

Beware, then, that you do not carelessly pass by that which is given you to do. A neglected opportunity — a tract ungiven — a warning unspoken — who can tell what momentous consequences may follow from matters apparently so trivial?

We see but little of friend or companion upon this tossing ocean of life , where we can but exchange a hurried greeting as we are borne past each other on the crested billows. Let us, then, strive to turn these "way-side glimpses" into pledges of an eternal meeting. Let them not be frittered away in idleness or folly — but let their record be, that the "Lord hearkened and heard, and wrote down in His book of remembrance," the words which were spoken by His loving children.

Let us specially plead that they may be to us "times of refreshing from the presence of the Lord" — so that our lips may be constrained to give utterance to the fullness of the heart. Then, when the earthly tabernacle is exchanged for the better and abiding home — we shall have many to welcome us there, and many to follow in our footsteps, who, but for us, would have been in hopeless misery!

The distribution of tracts offers another field of labor, which all may enter. By this we mean, not merely the taking charge of a "tract district," though this is, in itself, a labor of love which cannot fail of its reward. But there are many who have neither time nor strength to undertake such an office, who may yet, as they pass through the world — scatter tracts, like seeds of blessing, which may take deep root within the heart, and bring forth fruit a hundredfold. Offer tracts whenever and wherever you have an opportunity. Give them to the beggar by the way-side, to the stranger whom you meet, and may never meet again, to the cabman as he sits upon his box, to the omnibus-driver, who may truly say, "No man cares for my soul!" Scatter them in your daily walks. Leave them in railway-carriage and steam-boat. Who can tell the good that they may do? Who can count the wretched homes they may make happy, the jewels they may win to sparkle in Immanuel's crown?

And though the effort may seem to be unsuccessful, though the seed may lie dormant for many a weary year, as though it had been sown upon the rock — yet, by-and-by, it may be quickened by the living breath of the Spirit, and spring up into everlasting life! And then that rescued one, who has thus been plucked as a brand from the burning, may, in his turn, spread the glad tidings of a Savior's mercy, until, at length, the tiny stream which had so feeble a source, may become a broad and mighty river, bearing a glorious freight to the shores of the distant eternity!

How can you be idle with such work before you — work in which the weakest may share? An infant's hand may plant the acorn, which will one day be a spreading oak; and even your hand, trembling though it is — may lead another sinner to the mansions of glory! Toil on, earnestly and hopefully, with a single eye and a brave purpose. The great day of disclosures will show that your "strength has not been spent in vain, nor your labor for nothing."

But we need not add more. Enough has been said to show that wherever there is a hearty desire to be useful — the means of being so will most certainly be found. If we are "walking in the light," we shall readily hear the "first and softest call" to labor in the vineyard. A spirit of lowly and reverent love will be ever on the watch to seize every opportunity of proving its devotion. Daily are we reminded that our work is but "wayside work" — it will soon be over, for the night comes. "Whatever," therefore, "your hand finds to do — do it with your might; for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave, where you are going."

Who would wear a starless crown in Heaven? Who would be content with the "lowest room," when the higher place may be won as the reward of self-denying labor? For if our title to glory rests simply upon the imputed righteousness of Christ, we believe that the degree of that glory depends upon the measure of faithful service here. Surely our joy will be increased a thousand fold, if we are enabled to lay up in the heavenly garner a harvest of many sheaves! And if that bright rest which awaits us could be marred by one thought of sorrow — it will be, because we have not been here more diligent in doing that which there we cannot do. Life, like spring, is the only sowing-time, and if it is not improved, the rich fruits of autumn will hereafter be lacking. Work, then, dear reader, for "Earth has no room for idlers — and life has no time for dreams!"

Work, for if you will not, others will. If the children of God are idle — then the agents of Satan will be busy. If we sow not the seed of the kingdom — they will sow the dragon's teeth of destruction and damnation! Never was there a time when God's saints were more loudly called upon to arouse themselves from slumber. The enemy is mustering his forces in all their strength for a final and decisive conflict. Who will remain inactive? Who will refuse to "come to the help of the Lord against the mighty?" Not you, reader!

Then join the ranks at once! Gird yourself for the combat! Enroll yourself in the crusade against ungodliness and error. Take the "shield of faith, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God," and from a hand nerved with almighty strength, cast a dart against the opposing ranks of the adversary! Only let it be sped on its way by prayer — and who can tell what it may accomplish.

Be patient. There may be weariness here on earth, but there will be rest hereafter in Heaven — rest in your own sinless home, where your ascended Redeemer is waiting to receive you, and where, in the fullness of His unveiled presence, you will be "forever with the Lord!"

There is nothing, perhaps, so strongly characteristic of this so-called "age of progress," as the hustle, bustle and excitement which are attendant upon it. The speed of the telegraph and the railway train seems typical of the rapid succession of events in everyday life; one engagement of business or of pleasure following so closely upon another, that there is little leisure for rest, much less for thoughtful reflection. In commerce, in trade, in literature, even in religion — the same, spirit is everywhere observable, and the busy torrent rushes ever onward, with such force and impetuosity, that few can avoid being carried away by it. Even the most sober and reserved are drawn into the whirl; and, notwithstanding protestations and regrets, plunge helplessly into the same exciting round of imagined duty. We are living literally in a "fast age" — an age of hurry and breathlessness, of superficial acquirements and outside show — an age of mad speculation, and desperate struggles, by any and every means, to acquire wealth.

Such may possibly be the consequence of the striving for improvement, which has been awakened by the rapid and general diffusion of knowledge among all classes of society, but it may be doubted whether it is conducive to strength and solidity of character, or to the formation of habits of deep and serious thought. To think has indeed become a somewhat rare acquirement in the present day, especially among the young.

"We have been," says a modern writer, Mr. Isaac Taylor, "during a long course of years, running hither and thither, spending our days in crowds. We have lost all relish for mental labor, have especially abhorred the toil of private meditation — and have applauded only that which tends to maintain and promote an artificial agitation of the spirit." The censure is sweeping — yet we fear it is but too just. Of this, however, we leave the reader to judge.

But it is among the professors of religion that this spirit of excitement is chiefly to be deplored. We speak not now of those merely nominal disciples, who are still "of the earth, earthy" — but of those who have been truly "renewed in the spirit of their mind," and desire to reflect the image, as they bear the name, of a risen and ascended Savior. Will our younger sisters bear with us, while we affectionately entreat them to be on their guard against this growing evil, and to remember the injunction by the Apostle, to be "sober minded."

Nor is the dissipation of which we speak less hurtful in its tendency, because it seems, at first sight, to bear the aspect of intense earnestness in religion. The same craving which leads one to the theater, the ball-room, or, perhaps, the ale-house — leads another to the crowded lecture-room or the exciting social meeting. It is the same spirit which, in very many instances, actuates both — though differing somewhat in its outward development. And, though in another manner, it is almost equally harmful to spiritual growth and health, and certainly does not tend to increase our love for the quiet and uneventful routine of home duties.

But let us not be misunderstood. We are far, very far, from wishing to affirm that it is wrong to attend either meeting or lecture. Both are useful, and have done much to awaken the interest of the Christian public in those noble institutions which seem to be God's chosen instruments for evangelizing the nations. We do not stop to inquire how much of this interest is genuine, and how much may be due to the attractions of eloquent and popular speakers — for, in this life, the evil must ever be mixed with the good — and, while we deplore the one, we must not overlook the other.

Moreover, we fully believe that, in every audience, there are many whose hearts beat high with pure love to the Savior, and with earnest desires for the extension of His kingdom. But we regret that attendance upon these things should so frequently be made the serious business of life, to the neglect of those less attractive yet sacred duties — which, as women, and more especially as Christian women, we are most assuredly guilty in neglecting. When we hear of a lady whose name is on every church committee, and whose place in the public assembly is never vacant — we tremble for the comfort of the domestic circle which is dependent upon her superintending care, and owes so much of its brightness to her presence.

And even if this is scrupulously attended to, and her absence from home of no material importance, so that she can conscientiously say that "these things she has done," while she has not "left the others undone," we should still fear for her own individual welfare. For if, to the time thus spent, is added that devoted to visiting, to morning calls and quiet evening parties, it will be manifest that but a small portion is left. Even the holy Sabbath brings with it no rest, for so much of it is absorbed by other claims, that there is but little leisure for communion with God in solitude.

We are aware that we touch upon a delicate subject, and that the question is one which demands wise and skillful handling. Yet we venture, in all Christian faithfulness, to suggest the inquiry, whether such a state of things is likely to promote the increase of real and per