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The advance. (Ogdensburgh, N.Y.) 1861-1864, July 05, 1861, Image 2

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THE ADVANCE, JULY 5, 1861. SABBATH TREASURY. [KHMII tin* C PBTBA. BT REV. JOHN H. ('. ABBOTT. In the exploration of ancient Bdom, by Burkhardt and Beetzen, they found in the Interior of that dcpolated realm, blighted by the denunciations of an offended Owl, the ruinii of probably the most wonderful city known upon the glolie—th« world- renowned metropolis of thin then popu- lous and powerful empire. In a vast, gloomy ravine, surrounded by enormous, precipitous cliffs, they discovered the re- maim of this city—remains which had been buried for ages, not like those of Herculaneum and Pompeii, Inmcath the •shes and the Invn of Vesuvius, but buried still more sublimely in the silence ttnd solitude of the. desert, where the sun shone, with no human eye to see it, through the long autunmnl day, and •where the storm howled, unheard by hu- man cftrs, through the black night—*• where summers and winters came and went, and century after century lingered away, and no voice was heard there, and no foot pressed pavement or hall. Awe-stricken, the travellers gazed upon houses, temples, palaces, hewn out of the solid rock. A theater was discovered, enisled into the eternal cliff, ca- pable of containing three thousand spectators. There were'halls, and cham- bers, and corridors, embellished with •very variety of architectural ornament. Statues, columns and entablitures of gor- geous carving, glittered in the moon- light, upon the facade of the precipice, at all heights from the level of the valley ttp to an clcvajtlon in the clefts of the rock which appeared*utterly inaccessible. la one of these excavated mansions there was found a banqueting hall, sixty feet In length, and of proportionate breadth. There were saloons for revelry, and cham- bers for repose; the warerooms of the merchant, and the stables where splendor housed her chariots, and where the proud- ly caparisoned steed puwed and neighed. The explorers of these silent streets as- cended long flights of steps cut out of the •olid rock, which conducted to apart- ments Where the eagle loved to wing its flight, and build its nest. Borne of these excavated residences, ample in dimen- sions, and gorgcciiH in embellishment, had evidently been the home of luxury. In others, more humble in size and as- pect, it wit* evident that the nrtizan had tolled and slept, and ate his frugal fare. The rocks were holluwcd out into innu- merable chambers of different dimen- sions, whose entrances were variously, richly, and often fantastically decorated with every imaginable order of architec- ture. Thus stand, at this hour, these deserted halts. No human being lives in them or near them. Three thousand years ago opulence and fashion .filled those dwell- ings, and the world's busy clamor and loud gaiety resounded through those thronged streets. In those halls, then gorgeously furnished, brilliantly illumi- nated, and echoing with music's voluptu- ous swell, young men and maidens met with sanguine, hopes, and bright imagin- ings, and throbbing hearts. The joy of the bridal was there. The tears and sob- bings of the dying chamber were there. The tide of active life, in never-ending ebb and flow, surged along those polished pavements. But God had said, 41 Bdom shall be a desolation. No man shall abide there.\ Withered by the doom, life disap- peared. Holitude and silence commenced their reign. Lingering ages rolled over the desolated realm, while no footfalls were heard in street or hall, save when the roving Arab looked iu upon them, and, affrighted by their sepulchral si- lence, hastened away. Header, let your thoughts run back through the long lapse of centuries, to the period when the proud metropolis of Idiom was in the meridian of its glory. Think of the pleasure parties sauntering vpoti those cliffs, in the evening moon- light of that serene clime; who trod the marble floors in the passion of exciting dance, and who made those fretted arches resound with the uiorry shout and song. Young men were there, enterprising, full of hope, rejoicing in prospective opu- lence and fame—the sanguine student, with his high aspirations, the devotee of pleasure, with flushed check and lustrous tin pure and the impure—the sc- reno disciples of duty, and the victims of the \fiery passions,' those vultures of the mind. There was the maiden, in youth and Ixmuty, with her unfurrowed brow glow- ing with the excitement of the evening song, of the heartfelt laugh, and of all those secrets of the young heart's affec- tions, of love, envy, jealousy, hope and fear. There was fashion, elated with her new attire of Eastern jewels and of pur- ple dye. There was the equipage of ti- tled nobility and of hereditary wealth- young spendthrifts squandering the for- tunes which their fathers had amassed, and looking down scornfully upon the prosperous and the ambitious emerging irom obscurity. There were merchants accumulating wealth, and investing their growing thousands in costly dwellings and furniture, and in ministering to the aspiring desires of sons and daughters.— And there were other merchants, pale and careworn, sleepless and appctiteless, in apprehension of the approaching pay- day unprovided for. Idumea's fur famed capital contained just such hearts, each one a busy world in itself, as are now congregated in our streets, and as throb with the hopes and fears, with the joys and griefs* which gather around our firesides. But'where riow are Edom's youth and beauty?— Where her sanguine young men, her mirthful maidens, her nobles, her rulers, her carousing populace? All, all are gone. The last death groan has been heard. The last funeral procession has disappeared. The very tombs, time has emptied. Nqt even a skull-bone, with eyeless sockets, can be found to tell that here was once a scheming, exulting, weeping man. The winds of twenty centuries have swept Edom's deserted streets and empty sepulchres, and the countless multitude, who there once toiled, and loved, and hated, and died, have gone to their final account, and are now reaping their eternal recompense. But, reader, in narrating the history of Edom's departed inhabitants, what am I doing but announcing your doom, and that of us all ? The lapse of a few years will consign each one of us to the same eternal oblivion which has rolled over them. Young men and maidens, time is sweeping its dark billows over you, and the very graves and tombs in which your bodies are to moulder, will soon perish. The prosperous man, and the care-worn, toil-worn son of disappointment and sor- row, will soon Iw as far removed from all that is adverse or propitious here below, as are the former inmutcHof the mansions of Petra. We shall soon all T>e gone.— Every revolving year thins our numbers. Comparatively frail as are our dwellings, long before the hand of time shall tear them down, our death groan will lie heard, and the child of the stranger will play at our doors. O ! wouderfut world! but a cradle and a grave! \ Teach UB to live that we niny,dre«d , The grave at* little an qnr bad. Teach tin to dlo, that thus wo may Rise glorious at the final day.\ —..JL_ HIDDEN SPOTS. There are some spots where the foot of man has never trod—cold, cheerless, des- olate spots, where the sun shines upon the glaciers, as the smile upon the face of the dead. There are some stars that the eye of man has never seen,—stars so dis- tant that their light lias never reached our earth. There are some treasures, so deeply buried, that man's skill has never reached them,—treasures that only light can show their brilliancy. There are some problems so difficult that human ingenuity has failed to solve them. Bo there are corners in every h$art into which no friend has ever looked,—windows of the soul, so shrouded with drapery, that no curioiiB eye can peer through. They are spots sacred to one's own spirit and the eye of its Maker. Sometimes passion opens the channel to the heart, and we see man's better nature amid the floes and icelwrgs of a Polar Sea from which we turn cold and chill and cheerless? There are some natures so reserved, that like the distant planet, their light never falls upon our path. We meet them day by day, perchance read with them the same Bible, and dwell beneath the same roof, yet our life is never surrounded with any halo by their presence. Others, like the problem, are never solved. They ever live a walking enigma, unexplained, and often misunderstood. PRAY FOB THE SOLDIERS. *• Th« prayer* of alt preiKnt nrc oarnently desired in lu'hnli of thorn* of our citiztMiH who HIC expect- ing noon to go forth or haw already m>m\ hi obedi- onco to iho call of our country ; that Uod wilt koup them from the temptation* of the cnnip; Hint li» will xhiulri thmn, nnd give them HIICCOKH in the day of battle; but espednlly thnLlie will lead them to give their hriarU to Christ,\ The above request was. taken as the key-note of what proved to be an excel- lent prayer-meeting, recently attended by the writer, in which suggestions were made which seem worthy of greater pub- licity. It is cheering to know that some who have gone forth to the defence of our Government, ore Christians; that the he- ro of 8umtcr is a soldier of JCBUB Christ; that from thre e ships of war belonging to the Gulf squadron, now stationed off Pensacola, we have the cheering news that there is a daily prayer-meeting; and not only a meeting, but a most earnest in- terest on the subject of religion, attended by conversions; that one of the regiments at Washington, has established a semi- weekly prayer-meeting; and that some of our best ministers are going with our soldiers as chaplains. These arc all cheer- ing reports. Still these cannot^ may I not say, witt not, take the place of prayers among the friends of the soldiers at homo. Thousands of closets and family altars will bear daily witness to the heartfelt interest of families and friends for their soldiers. Not a daily, nor weekly prayer- meeting will pass, without a petition for the soldiers. Not a loyal pulpit in the land will forget to make* mention before God of its citizen soldiers. If Christian hearts are neve,r so cold, they cannot now restrain earnest prayer for the soldiers. A multitude of reasons will urge to thia. The history of some of the most glorious victories in battle, make men- tion of prayer as the means of success. The late war* in Italy, and China, and Syria, the Sepoy Rebellion in India, the Crimean War, brought to their .knees a host of the faithful who prayed that these ware might result in the advancement of the kingdom of Christ. Their prayers have been already answered. The war of the Revolution owed its success to God's gracious answers to prayer. George Wash- ington was a man of prayer. But we should pray for our soldiers l>ecause many of them are not men of prayer themselves. They are as liable as any to be slain. That Christian mother, who said with streaming eyes to her son, about to depart for the scenes of war, \ My son, I could give you up easily if you were only prepared to die,\ is. one of a thousand mothers 'in the land, whose mnin hope for their unconverted son« in the army, is in the efficacy of prayer. We have no such ideas of the glory of being a soldier, or even of dying as a hero, as to suppose that a wicked man will be saved because he dies in a good cause. A soldier, none the less because he's a soldier, must have a personal interest in Christ. Many of our young men have always l)cen under the strong influence of Christ- ian example and teaching at home. They are by no means certain to pass unharmed through the furnace of temptation, which will be heated u one seven times hotter \ than they have been accustomed to. They carry the Word of God with them, (our soldiers do.) And this is a reason for praying for them, that the Word of God may be quick and powerful, sharper than any two edged sword, in bringing their hearts to submit to Christ. Fathers, mothers, sisters, wives, many of you have given, or labored with your own hands, for the outward comfort of your sons, brothers, and husbands, in the camp, and on the battle field. Pray now that Christ will clothe them with the robes of his righteousness, that if they fall, slain in battle, they may receive Hie true soldier's crown. USES OP TRIAL.—\ When a founder lias cast a bell, he does not presently fix it in the steeple, but tries it with his hammer, and beats it on every side to sec if there be any flaw in it. So Christ doth not presently, after he has converted a man, convey him to Heaven; but suf- fers him first to be, beaten upon by many temptations, and then* exalts .him to his crown.\ As prisoners in castles look out of their grated windows at the smiling landscape where the sun comes and goes, so we, from this life, as from dungeon bars, look forth to the heavenly land, and are re- freshed with sweet visions of the home that shall be ours when we are free. ' 80LEMK THOUGHT. We see not in this life the end of hu- man actions. Their'influence never dies. In ever-widening circles it reaches beyond the grave. \ The ball, once in motion, rolls on and on down the steeps of eter- nity forever. The train is laid in % time, the explosion is in eternity/ 1 We talk much of the solemnity of dying. With hushed voice, and almost pulseless heart, we gaze upon the pallid cheek, the quiv- ering lip and heaving bosom of a dying friend. It is a solemn scene. But let ,us think more about the solemnity of living. Deafh removes us from this to an eternal world. Time determines what shall be our condition in that world. \ Every morning as we go forth to act, we lay the molding hand upou our destiny, and every evening when we have done, we have left a deathless impress uptfn our character.\ \ We touch not a wire but vibrates in eternity; not a v.oice, but re- ports at the throne of God.\ Our char- acters will attend us through eternity.— If good, they will follow us, like friendly angels, through our lives, shed light in our graves, and illuminate our immor- tality. If bad, they must accompany us in life, haunt us in death, and torment us in eternity. IJet youth, especially, \ thick of these things,\ and regulate their con- duct accordingly; let evqry one remem- ber, that in this world, where character is in its formation state, it is a serious thing to think, to speak, to act. BEAUTIFUL AKD TBTJX. The late eminent Judge, Sir Allan Park, once said, at a public meeting in London, \ We live in the midst of bless- ings till we are utterly insensible to their greatness, and of the source from whence they flow. We speak of our civilization, our arts, our freedom, our laws, and for- get entirely how large a share is due to Christianity. Blot Christianity out of the page of man's history, and what would his laws have been—what his civilization? Christianity is mixed up with our very being and our daily life; there is not a familiar object around us which does not wear a different aspect because the light of Christian love is on it—not a law which does not owe its truth and gentleness to Christianity—not a custom which cannot be traced, in all its holy, healthful parts, to the gospel.\ KEN FOB BU8IVX80. \Give us the straightforward, fear- less, enterprising men for business. One such is worth a dozen of those who, when anything is to l>e done, stop, falter and hesitate, and are ^icver ready to take a decided stand. One turns everything within his reach into gold ; the other tar- nishes even what is bright. -The one will succeed in life, and no adventitious cir- cumstances will hinder him; the other will be a continual creeping moth, never rising above mediocrity, but rather tall- ing below. Make up your mind to be firm, resolute and industrious, if you de- sire prosperity. There is much in that saying of Solomon,' Whatsoever thy hand findcth to do, do it with thy might'\ CHARACTER. \ There is nothing which adds so much to the beauty and power of man as a good moral character. It is his wealth—his life. 8uch a character is more to be de- sired than anything else on earth. It makes a man free and independent. No servile tool, no crawling sycophant, no treacherous honor-seeker, ever bore such a character. The pure joys of truth and righteousness never spring in such a per- son. If young men but knew how much a good character would dignify and exalt them, how glofous it would make their prospects, even 1 in this life, never should we find them yielding to the groveling and base-born purposes of human na- ture.\ THE RACE FOR RICHES.— \ It is a short- sighted policy to shut up religion in churches and prayer-meetings, 6r even in households. Religion is intended for the world; the world hua need of it. Your weary, weary, clanking machinery,—ever going, never resting—how much will yon give for this, and what wages will you work for ? The hard edges of that huge, complex, money-making machine are sawing into your very flesh and bone. If the name and spirit of Christ were poured upon your business, your business would not rack you so sorely, nor waste you so soon.\ THE BEST MOMENT, THE MSMOBT OF THE PIOUS. If there is any place for the names of the pious, and if according to the opin- ion of philosophers, the souls of disting- uished men do not perish with their bodies, may you rest in peace, and with- drawing us, your relations, from our com- plaints and unavailing lamentations, may you lead us to contemplate your vir- tues, which it ia unlawful to bewail or to lament, let our admiration of your great qualities, the prfttscs which we now pre- sent to you, and, in as far as the defici- encies of our nature may permit us, let our imitation of your virtues be your greatest adornment. This is the true honor whiclj friends should bestow—this the affectionate tribute due to you from the closest relationship. Frequently have I enjoined on your daughter and wife to venerate your memory by revol- ving in their minds all your deeds and words, and, by clinging to the remem- brance of your renown, and to the por- trait of your mind rather than that of your body. Not that I deem statues of marble or bronze as things to be forbid- den; but as the countenance of man is weak and perishable, so «ia the represen- tation of it; the picture of the mind alone never decays. It cannot be represented by extraneous matter, nor by art, but by a display of similar virtues. All that is* admirable and lovely in the truly great character of Agricola remains, and will remain, in the memory of man, in the duration of time, in the renown of great actions. For although many of the ancients have, sunk unnoticed into an inglorious grave, the fame of Agricola, handed down to pos- terity, will always survive in the page of history.\ EDUCATION M. CRIME.—One of the most fruitful sources of crime is undonbt- edly a lack of proper education. An English paper has the following para- graph respecting ignorance and crime in England: \England saves the expense of public schools, and the saving costs her fifty millions of dollars a year in courts, penalties and poor-rates, not to reckon ruined hopes, broken hearts, blast ed characters, and the wretchedness of tens of thousands living in shame and agony, a living death, whom free schools would have brought up to honor, and happiness, and a .useful life. England has left the public morality to take care of itself, and the comment is heard in groans and written in blood.\ DWELLERS ON THE SEA.—The Sailor's Magazine estimates the number of men \ whose home is on the deej)\ at between two and three millions. In the vessels of the United States there arc supposed to be about 275,000 sailors. In conse- quence of the peculiar exposure to which this class of men are subjected, it is found that the length of a generation is but about fifteen years, and that some 6,000, on the average, perish every year by ship- wreck. LOVE TO THE BRETHREN.—\ If we love Christ, we shall love those in whom we can discern the slightest traces of his image. We should not only love those who arc eminently pious, but those in wb#n we can see even the smallest marks of personal religion, we Bhould take them by the hand and lead them on. What merit is there in admiring a rose-bud wet with the dew of the morning? Who would thank a man for loving St. John ? Christ loves the meanest and weakest of his people, and shall we be more fastidi- ous than our Master ?\ There arc some days when a man's thoughts seem to be as distant from his personality as sparks are from the chimney of a winter's forge, streaming forth at night; or as birds are distinct from the trees out of which they fly. Nor, if the mood be happy, are they indeed much unlike birds, when, in a feathery fury of delight, with a hundred songs of dissonance, they sitting sing, and flying sing, and turn with every fantastic gy- ration. SELECT TOUR Boons.—\Few says John Foster, u are sufficiently sensible of the importance of that economy in read- ing, which selects, almost exclusively, the very first order of books. Why, except for some special reason, read an inferior book, at the very time you might be react- ing one of the highest order ?\ CONSISTENCY.—\ A foolish co cy,\ says Emerson, u is the hobgc little minds. If you would be speak what you think to-day, ir as hard as cannon-balls, and to-: speak what to-morrow thinks, words again, though you shall coi all you have said to-day.\ There truth m this; but Pope has bette \ A man should never be ashamed that he has been in the wrong, w but saying, in other words, tha wiser to-day than he was yesterda There is no day born but come stroke of music into the world, ar itself all the way through. The event that is discordant. All tix passages are full of melody, if we but hear it. And as, in tumultuoi and rushing falls of water, every as obedient to the laws of nature lay in the bosom of the tranquil I all things in earth and in. hell, ' wildest excesses as well as in their flows, are obedient to God; and videncc is in them stately and ser ing on to its own ends and me tions. Public sentiment signifies the c march of good men's thoughts. It be but a road marked plain, that ir know the way to travel: but, ins this, public sentiment is employe times as a bribe to stop free think an intimidation to check free act a bauble to lure approbativeness, threatened fool's cap with which rifyit The virtues which public se drills into cowards, may be of grea to society, but are of little crodi men upon whom they are dragoor. The strength of a man consists . ing out the way in which God i and going in that way too. F goes before and ploughs, and we follow after, and plant our see furrow. HOURS.—It woe a b observation of the late William that, \ There is room enough in life to crowd almost every art anc in it. If we pass ( no day withou visit no place without the oompa book, we may with ease fill libr empty them of their contents. T we do, the more we can do; tl busy we are, the more leisure we KNOWLEDGE. — \ Knowledge, Lord Bacon, \ is not a couch wh rest a searching and restless spi terrace for *a wandering and mind to walk up and down wit prospect, or a tower of state for mind to raise itself upon, or a commanding ground for strife a tcntion, or a shop fbr profit or sa rich* storehouse for the glory of t tor, and the relief of man's estate TURKISH LAW.—A Turk was b in Constantinople a few months saying, while he was in a state of cation, that he did not care a st Allah or the Prophet. If the bias of God and religion in our Christ were condemned to decapitatic many heads would fall! As, though the sky is not ste clear, but often is covered with yet through the folds there shine vals the everlasting stars, so thrc darkness of our hearts there s times the celestial glory, and we that there is a heaven above the KNOWLEDGE IS POWER.—This sion, attributed to Lord Bacon, is supposed to have been originat him. It was written, however, ve before his time, in the Bible: \ man is strong; yea,, a man of kne in crease th strength.\—Prov. xxiv. A MAN OF PRATER.—Dr. Pay eminently a man of prayer. It w said of him: \ He does not need t the Throne of Grace, for he is there.\ He read the Bible, : learned, wrote, and pronounced mona in prayer. —. m- .i .. - READING.—Fenelon once said,' riches of the Indies, or the crowr the kingdoms of Europe, were lait feet in exchange for my love of r I would spurn them all.\ To THE YOUNG.—\Remember i Creator in the days of thy youth/

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