The law of Christianity is a universal law. It is made for, adapted to, and binding on all men. A moral law for the race. Under its influence all men grow better. The principles and precepts of this law embody Universalism. It requires the exercise of universal love and universal forgiveness. This applied in the practice of God, and man would be universal salvation. It promises to bring all men into union with God and each other. Universal peace, and love shall reign. [For Manford's Magazine.] REV. E. CASE. "Don't know you!" "Don't know me! Four years last December I signed on your paper. Pray don't you remember? You were trading in stocks, and the market went down; For the want of my thousands you'd have lost every crown, And I have lost all, though stocks have arisen. I signed, and I lost, and they put me in prison; My wife and my child lie cold in the grave, And me, who saved you, I beseech you to save." Why don't they remember? I can not forget, I lost my house, Carlo, to pay that man's debt; Twenty thousand I had; not a cent did I owe; But it took every farthing--I saw it all go; Not a friend have I now. Indeed it is true. God forgive me, poor Carlo, here is one: it is you. I would not mind, Carlo, if 'twas only warm weather, For then to the graveyard we'd trudge on together, And crouch down in the grass that droops down by the stone Where dear wife and baby lie sleeping alone. Many a night there, have both you and I, Cuddled down 'neath the stars and the still summer sky, No one disturbed us; and strange as it once more; Let us cuddle down here by the steps at the door; Some one may come and perhaps take us in, Some one whose heart is not all dead with sin; But what if they don't? Let it be our last night, We have wandered, and suffered, and starved enough, quite; Alas, for the want here of Christ's holy love; But there's some One will care for us both up above. "O, for the rarity of sweet, Christian charity, God's holy charity, under the sun," If Christ were to come here, seeking for some here, To call them his own, O, would he find one? How little behavior, like thine, blessed Savior, How much that resembles the dark fiend of hell, While souls are forgot, as though Christ had died not The souls of our brothers that die where they fell. row, a great truth, a great heroism will always be great and remain great though systems may clash and planets crumble. Justice will always be justice. Right will always be right though it be upon the scaffold. Wrong will always be wrong, though it be upon the throne. Fidelity to principle and love of right were as noble and beautiful; treachery and duplicity were as black and despicable appearing in the conduct of the diminutive Lilliputians as they could possibly have been among a race of Titans. A great sin or a great injustice may be atoned for, but they can never be blotted out. True manhood and true womanhood, purity, virtue, honor, and integrity, will always be great and good and noble under any conditions and under all circumstances. A great thought, or sublime conception is more precious far, than the most costly gem that ever sparkled in the diadem of kings. Could humanity afford to exchange the plays of Shakespeare for the Koh-i-noor? Could we afford to barter the discoveries of Newton for all the shining, polished pebbles that adorn the Russian Crown? Could we afford to trade the Iliad, or the Enead for all the yellow dross that was ever heaped up in the coffers of a Croesus? We thus have presented before us for our choice, two classes of objects; the one uncertain, transitory, fluctuating; the other sure, unchanging, eternal. The one dependant for its value upon an ever changing standard; the other resting upon its own merits and intrinsic worth. In the short life that is alotted to us in this world, is it not better that we should strive for those things that are immutable, and eternal; rather than for those that though material are yet unreal and transitory? I am not one of those who would join in the cry against material production. I regard this as one of the necessary factors of our civilization, and an essential to intellectual and moral progress; but I have a profound contempt for any man who is willing to spend his whole life as a machine or as a substitute for a machine. We should regard production only as a means to an end. We should produce in order that we may live, we should not live merely to produce. We should not pamper the stomach and starve the intellect. We should not gorgeously embellish our residences, and leave unfurnished the chambers of the soul. We should not clothe the body in sumptuous raiment and leave in nakedness the mind and heart. Man must eat; but he should also think and feel. EARTH AND HEAVEN-CON TRASTED. I am not one who would say that earth has no pleasures. To some burdened souls this may seem to be true, but to me it is not. When I love this beautiful world of ours. It is a lovely world. When spring unlocks the chilling bands of winter; when the buds begin to shoot forth into beauty; when the clouds are hastening across the sky and the showers fall; when the leaves are dancing to the breeze; when the birds are warbling, chanting sweet welcome to the return of life, I love this earth of ours. summer comes on apace, when the flowers are in their fullest, "when the sunshine, warm and tender, falls in kisses on the rills;" when the melody of forest choir comes happily to us, I love this world of ours. When the autumn steals upon us; when the leaves grow sombre and take on the yellow hue; when they begin to loosen and fall silently to the ground; when the waving grain has been garnered in by the harvest er, and only the stiff yellow stubble remains; when the green fields of standing corn lose their freshness and take on the maturer look; when the cooler breezes awaken us to more active life, I love this world of ours. And even when the flowers once with us are gone; when the birds have left us for warmer homes; when the wintry wind sweeps our broad prairies; when the ground is robed in white and we seek the shelter of the house, still, as I go forth and look around me and know that nature is getting ready for another spring, I love this earth of ours. And it is right, for God has given it to us. Yes, amid the gentle showers of spring, the blooming flowers of summer, the changing hues of autumn and snows of winter, we may praise the Lord for this beautiful world of ours. But not only do the beauties of nature charm us, but the associations we are permitted to enjoy, and the possibilities open to us. The first impression we gain of our earth is that it is our home. What matters it where on the earth we may be born, that will ever be to us the dearest spot. The presence of father and mother, the pleasures of early childhood, will weave around the most desolate spot ties that time can never sever. The Italian boy, kidnapped, stolen from his home, and compelled upon our streets to play sweet airs, turns with fainting heart and tender longings to his native home to Italy, with its skies of surpassing loveliness, its clouds that take a tenderer tint and stars that shine with serener light than is seen in other lands. He loves his native land. The Chinese emigrant to our western shores looks ever back to the Celestial Kingdom-the land of flowers. No attractions have we so strong as to win him from his home. Does he labor here? It is to secure wealth to be enjoyed at home, or to carry him back when he dies. Truly, the birthplace of a man is dear to him. The sturdy men of Scandinavia come to us across the sea. They learn to love our land; they enjoy our freedom; but still their hearts yearn for their childhood's home, with its long, long nights in winter. We wander to other lands. We traverse with the elk or dog and sledge the northern lands; we tread the Celestial's land of flowers; we pause beneath the moon-lit skies of Italy; we wander where we will, but at last we say: 'Though the fields were as green and the moon shone as bright, Still it was not my own native land.” God has made this earth pleasant for us by giving us homes. Home and country! how dear to us all! Again, God has made earth pleasant for us, not only by the beauty which it unfolds, and because it is our home, but also because of the attachments we form for one another. This world, with all its beauty, would be dreary but for this. It is this that gilds everything with glory. Let the sun cease his shining, and now soon would everything become gloomy and cold. So it is the bright sun of affection that lights and cheers all around us. And yet, after all, God has in store something better than this for us; for, 1. Our earth-pleasures are incomplete. They are not unalloyed with sadness. You remember how that Elijah ascended to heaven and left with Elisha his mantle, and imparted to him a double portion of his spirit. Elisha looked long and wonderingly at the great vision granted him, and then, realizing his loneliness, he returned to Jordan, and, smitting with the mantle and appealing to the God of Elijah, he crossed the river and row, a great truth, a great heroism will always be great and remain great though systems may clash and planets crumble. Justice will always be justice. Right will always be right though it be upon the scaffold. Wrong will always be wrong, though it be upon the throne. Fidelity to principle and love of right were as noble and beautiful; treachery and duplicity were as black and despicable appearing in the conduct of the diminutive Lilliputians as they could possibly have been among a race of Titans. A great sin or a great injustice may be atoned for, but they can never be blotted out. True manhood and true womanhood, purity, virtue, honor, and integrity, will always be great and good and noble under any conditions and under all circumstances. A great thought, or sublime conception is more precious far, than the most costly gem that ever sparkled in the diadem of kings. Could humanity afford to exchange the plays of Shakespeare for the Koh-i-noor? Could we afford to barter the discoveries of Newton for all the shining, polished pebbles that adorn the Russian Crown? Could we afford to trade the Iliad, or the Ænead for all the yellow dross that was ever heaped up in the coffers of a Croesus? We thus have presented before us for our choice, two classes of objects; the one uncertain, transitory, fluctuating; the other sure, unchanging, eternal. The one dependdepend ant for its value upon an ever changing standard; the other resting upon its own merits and intrinsic worth. In the short life that is alotted to us in this world, is it not better that we should strive for those things that are immutable, and eternal; rather than for those that though material are yet unreal and transitory? I am not one of those who would a join in the cry against material production. I regard this as one of the necessary factors of our civilization, and an essential to intellectual and moral progress; but I have a profound contempt for any man who is willing to spend his whole life as a machine or as a substitute for a machine. We should regard production only as means to an end. We should produce in order that we may live, we should not live merely to produce. We should not pamper the stomach and starve the intellect. We should not gorgeously embellish our residences, and leave unfurnished the chambers of the soul. We should not clothe the body in sumptuous raiment and leave in nakedness the mind and heart. Man must eat; but he should also think and feel. EARTH AND HEAVEN-CON TRASTED. I am not one who would say that earth has no pleasures. To some burdened souls this may seem to be true, but to me it is not. I love this. beautiful world of ours. It is a lovely world. When spring unlocks the chilling bands of winter; when the buds begin to shoot forth into beauty; when the clouds are hastening across the sky and the showers fall; when the leaves are dancing to the breeze; when the birds are warbling, chanting sweet welcome to the return of life, I love this earth of ours. When summer comes on apace, when the flowers are in their fullest, "when the sunshine, warm and tender, falls in kisses on the rills;" when the melody of forest choir comes happily to us, I love this world of ours. When the autumn steals upon us; when the leaves grow sombre and take on the yellow hue; when they begin to loosen and fall silently to the ground; when the waving grain has been garnered in by the harvest |