THE BALL-ROOM. 6 that of a Christian parent. Training your household in the fear of God, should be one of the brightest rays of that light which is to shine before men.' In nothing does the grace of God more distinctly appear. In nothing can it be more easily obscured. Through you it is to shine for the guidance of other parents and households. But is dancing any part of the nurture and admonition' the grace of God teacheth? Does not the most thoughtless trifler with things divine know the ball-room to be a place pre-eminently without God'? Do not its scenes glare out upon the world as destitute of anything Christian as the most godless could wish? ET us inquire now if it is consistent for Christians to teach their children that which is so inconsistent for themselves. The precepts of the gospel are here also to be our guide. They are binding, not only in some relations, but in every relation you sustain. And not in a part merely, but in all these relations you are connected with the church of Christ. As a Christian parent you are bound to Christ. In this very relation you are in covenant with Christian brethren. And not only is the church deeply interested in the spiritual welfare of your children, but the dearest interests of other Christian families will be vitally affected by the manner But, when all this is admitted, one plea rein which you train your own. It is clear, then, mains. It is said that, when more privately 1. That what has the appearance of evil' in done, the evils of dancing are avoided. Were yourself, will have the same appearance when this true, can it be so done? However privately allowed to your children. Although the indul- begun, can it be kept so? Are not its outward gence be not your own, the approval of it is. If tendencies sure? The flame may be concealed there is evil in the one case, there is in the other. when first kindled, but it will burst forth unless For approval of sin, is sin. So it appears to speedily extinguished. Set up a theatre in your Christian brethren. So it appears to their chil- own dwelling, and will not your children, true dren. So it appears to other parents, who profess to the vitiated taste you have nourished, seek to be bound by no such holy precepts as you more public gratification? Indulge them in the acknowledge. Some of them fear to follow with social glass at home, and will they not seek it their children where you lead yours. They can- elsewhere? So the social dancing-party is the not believe that dancing is any part of the private entrance to all the dissipation of the ballnurture and admonition of the Lord.' Oh think, room. How often, by this deceptive process, do Christian parent. Pause, and pray long and parents draw forth a passion they cannot control, earnestly, and you will never consent that a and which, when it is finished, bringeth forth child of yours shall be seen in a ball-room. Their death.' When will they learn, that the end over children dance,' is a characteristic, not of Chris- which they mourn is but the natural consequence tian families, but of those asking, 'What is the of the beginning they approved. It is like giving Almighty, that we should serve Him?' your children poison, and then weeping in bitterness over them as they are seen sick and dying. 6 2. Brethren are grieved when you teach your children that which grieves them when done by yourself. It may affect them even more deeply. Their families may be influenced more by the example of your children than by your own. What can inflict a deeper wound upon a Christian father's heart, than your allowance of sinful amusements to your family? His children point to it in their importunity. They tell him that you are a church-member. He must yield, or, by refusing, be compelled to seem severe and bigoted. He must be silent, or reply that your example is unworthy a Christian parent. This is the torturing dilemma into which you bring other parents. Some have yielded, and fallen into sin. Others have stood firm, while their children have broken away from parental control to follow yours, and been ruined. Oh, could all the sorrows of a single mother's heart be whispered in your ear,-or could you follow a single youth, led thus into temptation, entering this outer edge of the whirlpool, to be borne in narrower and swifter circles, until he plunges down the boiling centre, and disappears for ever, you would understand why a parent's heart so pleads with you now. 3. That which prevents the light of a Christian life from so shining in you as to glorify God, will do the same when taught to your children. Your example is to be not only that of a Christian, but How many are pained that their children are so thoughtless of God! But why should they not be thoughtless? What are the influences thrown around the youthful heart, just when there is most hope of its being drawn to Christ, and yet most danger of its being hopelessly hardened? How are all the thoughts engrossed in preparation for the gay assembly! What feverish excitement while in it! When it is passed, how is the heart sealed against serious reflection! By a succession of these scenes, though separated by long intervals, the choicest years of youth are wasted. The soul is ruined; for how often their probation and dances end together! By parental but cruel indulgence, the process was commenced. The entrance was flowery, the end shrouded in eternal darkness. A parent who does this, seems like the heathen mother-pleasing her infant with flowers, that she may drop it a smiling, and therefore a more acceptable sacrifice, into the arms of the monster opening a fiery furnace within to consume it. Christian parent, you know not what you do when you draw out the latent passion of your child for this amusement. It may soon spurn all control or persuasion. That of the gambler is not more insatiate. 'I was once called,' says an aged pastor, 'to visit a young lady who was said to be in despair. She had at some time previous been serious, and had, it was hoped, resolutely set her face Zionward. In an evil hour some of her former associates called on her to accompany them to a ball. She refused to go. The occasion, the company, the parade and gaiety, were all utterly dissonant from her present feelings. With characteristic levity and thoughtlessness, they employed persuasion and ridicule; and finally so far prevailed, that, with a desperate effort to shake off her convictions and regain her former security, she exclaimed, "Well, I will go, if I am damned for it!" God took her at her word. The blessed Spirit immediately withdrew his influences; and instead of the anxious sigh, and longing desire to be freed from the body of sin and death, succeeded, by turns, the calmness and the horrors of despair. 'The wretched victim knew that the Spirit had taken his final leave: no compunctions for sin, no tears of penitence, no inquiries after God, no eager seeking of the "place where Christians love to meet," now occupied the tedious hours. | Instead of the bloom and freshness of health, there came the paleness and haggardness of decay. The wan and sunken cheek, the ghastly, glaring eye, the emaciated limb-the sure precursors of approaching dissolution-were there. The caresses of friends, the suggestions of affection, were all unheeded. The consolations of piety-the last resource of the miserable-were to her but the bitterness of death. In this state of mind, I was called to visit her. When I entered the room, and beheld her pale and emaciated, and reflected that the ravages of her form without but faintly shadowed forth the wreck and desolation within, I was almost overpowered. Never had I conceived so vivid an idea of the woe and misery of those who have "quenched the Spirit." I proposed prayer. The word threw her into an agony. She utterly refused. No entreaties of friends, no arguments drawn from the love of God, or from the fulness and freeness of atoning blood, could prevail to shake her resolution. I left her without being able to find a single avenue to her heart, or to dart one ray of comfort into the dark bosom, which, to all human view, was soon to be enveloped in the blackness of darkness for ever. Never shall I forget the dreadful expression of that ghastly countenance-the tones of that despairing voice. The impression is as vivid as though it had been but yesterday. Oh that all the young, gay, thoughtless ones, who stifle the convictions of conscience, and repress the rising sigh, and dance along the brink of utter reprobation and despair, would read, and lay to heart the warning!' Oh that every parent would ponder the awful results of cherishing a passion in the youthful bosom, which may be used by Satan and wicked associates so fearfully to ruin the soul ! An eminent divine, of great experience in the work of God's grace, was accustomed to regard the use of ardent spirits, and dancing, as two of the influences most hostile to the soul. With great solemnity he used to allude to the case of a young man, a leader in the ball-room. To shield himself from the influence of a revival, at the time in progress, he sought to multiply dancing-assemblies, and to draw others into them. But he could not escape God's judgments, if he could his mercies. He was suddenly laid upon a bed of sickness. Death seemed near. In awful distress, he begged for the mercy he had before despised. When thus borne down, hopeless of recovery, he seemed penitent, became exceeding joyful, and earnestly and solemnly warned his associates; and it was thought by pious friends a most remarkable case of death-bed conversion. But unexpectedly he recovered. With returning health, his religion so rapidly disappeared, that the first thing he did was to persuade his associates to make arrangements for another ball. Godless as they were, they were shocked at the proposal. But his persuasion overcame their scruples. The evening came, and in the midst of the glare and revelry of its scenes he fell to the floor, as if touched by the finger of an offended God; was borne a raving maniac to his home, which he had scarcely reached, when death sealed up his history for the final judgment. The pas sion for dancing held firm yet concealed possession of his soul, even when death stood by, and friends supposed he had forsaken all. It had been cherished in early youth, had grown with his growth, and strengthened with his strength. Oh with what agony would parental hearts have answered our inquiry, bleeding at that hour over a ruined child! Reader, may God in infinite mercy spare you from such experience; but will He, if you allow your children in that which produced it? Had that youth died when joyful in a false hope, his passion would have been developed in eternity, beyond our sight. But God spared him, that it might be done here-a solemn warning to parents who cruelly allow a passion to be cherished in their children, which first deceives, and then throws its chains of darkness around the soul for ever. Now, professed disciples of Jesus, our appeal is to you. The religion you profess has, for its distinctive feature, a tender regard for the good of others. As such, you are to exhibit it to the world by abstaining from the appearance of evil,' by giving no offence' to Christian brethren, and by the light of a holy example, so shining that God may be glorified. This you can never do by mingling with the world in an amusement which you must confess has the appearance of evil,' which your brethren assure you, with tears, most deeply grieves them, and which so certainly is not done to the glory of God.' It cannot be among things indifferent. If not a positive duty, the neglect of which would be sin, then the indulgence must be guilty, deeply and dreadfully so. Beloved brethren, 'be not deceived.' Review the considerations which have been suggested in your closet. Pray that God will direct you. If dancing be a duty, implore his grace to aid you in its faithful performance. Do you hesitate? Why? Is conscience in conflict with your desires? Are there misgivings in your heart? Oh pause, reflect! Will you deliberately do that in which you cannot ask God to bless you? Wait not until the temptation comes. But now, alone with God, before you turn your eye from this appeal, decide. Let it be now fixed, changeless -a decision which will give present peace, and which shall come up in joyful remembrance at a dying hour. Christian parent, let the heart of a parent plead with you. All the reasons for abandoning the sinful indulgence yourself, are equally clear in showing that you cannot allow it to your children and be blameless. There is a higher and holier than natural affection. What more dear to us than the souls of our children? What responsibility like this? The soul of your beloved child seems laid upon your own. With what sacred, guardian care, should it be protected from every poisonous influence! The young know not the danger of slight beginnings. We do. And shall we cruelly leave them to wind around themselves the soft and silken web, which may harden into bonds of iron upon the soul? But you hope it will not end thus with your children. So have others hoped, who are now bowed down beneath parental sorrows. Will you, then, lead your children into temptation, in the presumptuous hope that God will save them from it? Oh plant not thus your dying pillow with thorns! Will you, as you are dying, regret that your children have been no more faithfully trained to the dance or ball-room? Or, as you close the eyes of a beloved child in death, will you have bitter reflection in the remembrance that he has been guarded from all these ruinous influences? Oh say, will not all your sorrows have a different source, and your sweetest consolation come from this? Oh then be wise-wise for yourself, and wise for your children. Let your authority and affection as a parent encircle them. Herein is a saving influence God has entrusted to your hands. Be faithful to your children now. They will hereafter rise up and call you blessed for it; and your decision to-day may be among your most precious remembrances, when Christ shall present them, with you, 'faultless before the presence of his glory, with exceeding joy.' AUTHORITY OF THE BIBLE. THE mother of a family was married to an infidel, who made jest of religion in the presence of his own children; yet she succeeded in bringing fhem all up in the fear of the Lord. I asked her one day how she preserved them from the influence of a father whose sentiments were so opposed to her own. This was her answer: 'Because to the authority of a father I do not oppose the authority of a mother, but that of God. From their earliest years, my children have always seen the Bible upon my table. This holy book has constituted the whole of their religious instruction. I was silent, that I might allow it to speak. Did they propose a question, did they commit a fault, did they perform a good action, I opened the Bible; and the Bible answered, reproved, or encouraged them. The constant reading of the Scriptures has wrought the prodigy which surprises you.'-Rev. Adolph Monod. A SONG FOR THE SABBATII.* THEE will we sing, Almighty God; This hallowed day a song doth claim. Our souls aspire to thine abode, To Thee, whence life and being came. Accept our praise, and bid it rise, As mounts the evening sacrifice. Thou art Jehovah-Thou alone; Thy glory shines beyond compare. Bright seraphim around thy throne, Thy kingdom and thy power declare, And Holy, holy, holy,' cry, 'Is God's eternal majesty !' Ah! who can in thy presence stand? What mortal man, by sin defiled? Yet here we come at thy command, For Thou art merciful and mild. Thine are the heavens, with all their hosts; To Thee the nations are but dust, Thy frown lays low those cedars tall. Eternity's thy dwelling-place. What mortal eye such depths can scan? Thy presence fills the realms of space; The same ere heaven and earth began. Great God, confounded we adore Thy fathomless eternity, When sounding thine immensity. Holy and just are all thy ways! Thy works unbounded wisdom show; Thou glorious King of Israel's seed, Whose promises for ever stand, And planted in this goodly land; *From Ruth, an Historical Poem, by W. MACKENZIE,' etc. A volume replete with Scripture truth, and lighted up with not a few passages indicating the descriptive power of the writer. Words in Season. BIBLE THOUGHTS. BY THE EDITOR. ROM. I. 14. PAUL has many names for himself; none of them lofty, all of them lowly; the highest simply 'an apostle.' Sometimes it is Paul the servant of Jesus Christ;' sometimes Paul 'the aged;' sometimes Paul the prisoner;' sometimes it is less than the least of all saints;' sometimes the chief of sinners.' Here it is another-'a debtor.' It is, then, of Paul the debtor that we are to speak. It is himself that takes the name; he proclaims his debts; no man lays them to his charge; God does not accuse him. It is some profound, irrepressible feeling that leads him to cry out, I am debtor.' I. To whom is he a debtor ?-Not to self; not to the flesh; not to the law. He owes nothing to these. We might say he is a debtor to God, to Christ, to the cross. But these are not now in his mind. It is to Greek and Jew, wise and unwise; men of all nations; the whole fallen world,-that he feels himself a debtor. He seems to stand on some high eminence, and, looking round on all kingdoms, and nations, and tongues, with all their uncounted millions, he says, 'To all these I am debtor,' and I must pay the debt. They have done nothing for him, indeed; they have persecuted, stoned, condemned, reviled him; yet that does not alter his position or cancel his debt. Do to him what they like, hate him, imprison him, scourge him, bind him, he is their debtor still. His debt to them is founded on something which all this ill-usage, this malice, cannot alter. He loves them still; pities them; pleads with them; beseeches them to be reconciled to God; confesses himself to be their debtor in spite of all. We speak of the world being a debtor to Paul,-so, in one sense, it was; but, in another, Paul is a debtor to the world. Yes, a Christian is debtor to the world; not to his family only, or his nation, but to the whole world. Let this thought dwell in us, and work in us; expanding and enlarging us; elevating our vision; throwing back our horizon; delivering us from all narrow-heartedness on the one hand, and all false liberality on the other. We speak of the world being debtors to the church; let us never forget that, according to Paul's way of thinking, and to the mind of the Holy Spirit, the church is debtor to the world. Though taken out of the world, she is not to forget or despise it; but to love it, plead for it, work for it. II. When and how he became a debtor.-Even as a Jew he was a debtor, for he possessed something which the world did not; and the moment I come into possession of something which my neighbour or my fellow-man has not, I become debtor to that fellow-man. This is God's way of reckoning, though it is not man's; for God's thoughts are not our thoughts; and it is love only that can teach us to feel and reason thus. Yet it is true reasoning; it is divine logic. It was when Paul became possessed of the unsearchable riches of Christ, that he felt himself a debtor to the world. He had found a treasure, and he could not conceal it; he must speak out; he must tell abroad what he felt. He was surrounded by needy fellow-men, in a poor, empty world: should he keep the treasure to himself? No. As the lepers of Samaria felt themselves debtors to the starving city, so did Paul to a famishing world. But there is much more than this, a higher 'when' and 'how.' Who had done all this for him, and made him to differ? It was God-Christ Jesus. It is to God, then, that, in the first place, he feels himself an infinite debtor, in the fullest sense. To God himself he cannot pay this debt directly; but he can indirectly, by pouring out the God-given treasure upon others. His debt directly is to God; but then indirectly it is to the world. Thus the Christian man feels his debt,-his obligation to the world, because of his obligation to God. But then, a man must know that he has the treasure himself, before he can be quickened into a feeling of his responsibility to others. The love of Christ must constrain us; a sense of what we owe to Him must impel and stimulate us. Do you know yourself to be the possessor of this infinite treasure, and, under the expanding pressure of this, are you roused to feel your infinite debt to all? III. How he pays the debt.-By carrying to them that gospel which he had received. That gospel, or the gift which that gospel reveals, has enriched himself infinitely: he takes these riches to others; and so he endeavours to pay his debt to God by enriching the world. He goes to Corinth,-doing what? Paying there part of his infinite debt. He goes to Athens, to Thessalonica, to Rome,-doing what? Paying in each place part of the infinite debt which he owes to God for his love, his pardon, and the hope of the glory. He is a rich man, and can afford to give! We pay our debt (1.) By making known the gospel to others.-Speak out the glad tidings wherever you go. You are debtors; thus pay the debt. (2.) By prayer for others.—We can reach millions by prayer, otherwise inaccessible to us. Pray for others; not your own circle only, but the world. Go round the world. Embrace all nations in your intercessions. (3.) By our givings. In giving, let us remember what we are doing-paying our debt to God. Show your sense of his love, his gifts, by your generosity. (4.) By our consistent life.-This, at least, is expected of us. Do not misrepresent the gospel. Yes, you are debtors to all. Show that you feel this. Be constrained by a loving sense of your infinite obligations and responsibilities to Him that loved you. Pity the poor world around you. Cherish love to every soul you meet with, even in passing hastily along. Try to do something for the worst. Say in reference to such an one, 'I am that man's debtor; and I am so because Christ loved me, and gave himself for me!' THE GOOD NEWS CONCERNING THE ONE SACRIFICE. BY THE EDITOR. I But re T is blood whose shedding has pro- | is as entire as if you had cut every wire in pieces, vided a propitiation for sin; and and cast these pieces to the winds. whosoever will consent to take this fasten the severed points, or link them to the as his propitiation, becomes partaker index with some conducting material, and inof the blessings which it contains. stantaneously the intercourse is renewed. Joy It was the high priest's laying of his hand upon and sorrow flow again along the line. Men's the goat that established the connection between thoughts, men's feelings, men's deeds, rumours it and the people, so that Israel's sins passed over of war or assurances of peace, news of victory or to the substitute; and so it is our believing that defeat, the sound of falling thrones, the shouts connects us with the Divine Substitute, and of frantic nations,-all hurrying on after each brings to us all the benefits of the divine blood- other to convey to ten thousand throbbing hearts shedding. the evil or the good which they contain! It is our unbelief that intercepts the communication; it is faith that establishes it. Faith may seem a slight thing to some; and they may wonder how salvation can flow from believing. Hence they try to magnify it, to adorn it, to add to it, in order that it may appear some great thing, something worthy of having salvation as its reward. In so doing, they are actually transforming faith into a work, and introducing salvation by works, under the name of faith. They show that they understand neither the nature nor the office of faith. It saves, simply by handing us over to the Saviour. It saves, not on account of the good works which flow from it, not on account of the love which it kindles, not on account of the repentance which it produces, but solely because it connects us with the Saving One. Its saving efficacy does not lie in its connection with righteousness and holiness, but entirely in its connection with the Righteous and Holy One. Thus it is that unbelief ruins, because it cuts off all communication with the source of life; and thus faith blesses, because it establishes that communication. See these electric wires that are shooting their mysterious threads throughout our land, communicating between city and city, between man and man, however distant; dead, yet instinct with life; silent, yet vocal with hidden sound; carrying, as with a lightning burst, the tidings of good or evil from shore to shore. Separate their terminating points by one hair's breadth from the index, or interpose some non-conducting substance,-in a moment intercourse is broken. No tidings come and go. The stoppage That non-conductor is unbelief. It interposes between the soul and all heavenly blessing, all divine intercourse. It may seem a thing too slight to effect so great a result; yet it does so inevitably. It shuts off the communication with the source of all glad tidings. It isolates the man, and forbids the approach of blessing. That conductor is faith. In itself it is nothing, but in its connection everything. It restores in a moment the broken communication; and this, not from any virtue in itself, but simply as the conducting link between the soul and the fountain of all blessing above. The blood of the cross is that which has 'made peace;' and to share this peace God freely calls us. This blood of the cross is that by which we are justified; and to this justification we are invited. This blood of the cross is that by which we are brought nigh to God; and to this blessed nearness we are invited. This blood of the cross is that by which we have redemption, even the forgiveness of sins according to the riches of his grace; and this redemption, this forgiveness, is freely set before us. It is by this blood that we have liberty of entrance into the holiest; and God's voice to each sinner is, 'Enter in.' It is by this blood that we are cleansed and washed; and this fountain is free, free as any of earth's flowing streams, free as the mighty ocean itself, in which all may wash and be clean. These are good news concerning the blood,news which should make every sinner feel that it is just what he stands in need of. Nothing less than this; yet nothing more. And these good news of the blood are no less good news of Him whose blood is shed. For it |