650 THE RETURN OF THE MISSING CREW. either of his own craft or not of it, but liked him; he | A terrible storm-one that no frail vessel of the fishing fleet that had left their harbour two nights before could possibly hope to weather-had filled the village with dismay. Wives and mothers, sisters and daughters, might be seen and heard wringing their hands, and making mournful moans at every turnsome wandering on the highest points of the cliff, straining their eyes across the now quiet sea in lingering hope; some sitting despairingly at their doors, their little ones gathered round them. Such a clamour of grief there was, that Christopher, having done his best to try to comfort, went off to his boat to pray for them, for it was too much for him to see so many broken hearts at once. "Sure enough we've had no news of 'em, and likely it is we never shall no more. Well, who can say, the weeping may be turned into rejoicing, for the storm can do no more than He commands who sends it; but it would be a cruel thing to encourage them to hope. No, no! to get 'em to lie still and commit all to God, and to wait in patience to know his will-that would be the way to comfort; but it seems unfeeling when I say so. I take it there is times when the Comforter' must do his own work without help, and go straight to the heart himself. We've got such clumsy ways of putting the things-they're quite different when we speak in the ear, and he breathes into the heart-oh yes, quite different!” He had got to his boat before he saw poor Mary sitting beside it, her hands folded on her knees, and looking very much as if "The Comforter" had been breathing into her heart" the very things he had found it useless to speak in the ears of her fellow sufferers. At first he was startled and much pained to see her, for of all the stricken he cared the most for her. She was the wife of his brave cordial friend, and so worthy of him that as Herrick was as his son, Mary was to him as a daughter. He turned aside to brush off the tears from his rugged face, and then telling her of the two ends of a trouble, thought it best to leave her quiet. But he went blundering about his boat doing more harm than good, for every minute his head was up and his cyes fixed on her; at last he threw down the tackle and seated himself on the boat side. But what could he say? When he looked at her face full of the restfulness of a holy calm, he thought "Now she is a perfect picture of them words, 'kept by the power of God.' She could no more look in that way, if she tried in her own strength, than I could tell at this moment where our poor fellows are; and the danger of me speaking is whether I shan't disturb her, like shaking a full vessel. I'd best be silent!" But Kit found silence difficult; it seemed unfeeling. So he steered between speaking and silence by trying to sing. She might take as much as she liked of his song, without being obliged to speak in reply; he was comforted by this happy thought, and began: "From ev'ry stormy wind that blows, Mary did not answer, but he saw large tears upon her cheeks, and her face quivered slightly. She scomed as if she could not venture to look at him. "Mary dear, you've got the trouble by the right enl I believe," he said, again brushing off the tears that Mary's had brought into his eyes; and you know the way to that retreat,' Mary. Well, I'm not far from my threescore and ten, and I've had my trials in my day, but I never grieved for one of 'em as I do for this of yours, and good reason when it's my own too; but let us only get our souls in tune to sing Hosanna now, and one way or another we'll be encouraged to pitch Hallelujah, take my word for it." Still she was silent, and he said again: "Don't think, my darling, I'd be so hard-hearted as to comfort you. I know your heart and its sorrow better than that; but, Mary dear—" Here he was silent; for a distant hum of sounds struck on his practised ear; he looked aghast with agitation, and trembled as he glanced from her over his shoulder, carefully avoiding to excite her attention while he did it. "And, after all, Mary," he said, clearing his voice, "you know a hallelujah may be set for us sooner than wo think-the Lord's ways are so wonderful. No storm can do work beyond his command.” Mary was silent; but the expression of her face became rather agitated and reproachful, as if to say, why wake false hopes? "Now if I was to give my opinion, my dear," said Kit, having taken another sight over his shoulder, "I should say that the storm on Wednesday was worse with us than further out; and though it's late-yes, it's late-I'm ready prepared to see our poor fellows come in-a little the worse for a longer voyage than they reckoned for, but heart whole-that storm kept 'ein out, Mary, but it never damaged our Herrick, I'm sure of it!" Old Kit said this so confidently, having had a most satisfactory survey of the beach, that Mary's eyes were turned towards him with a bewildered look of wonder and inquiry. "I expect to see 'em, Mary-that's what I do; I shall see 'em; you shall see 'em too; and you mind me, don't get out of the 'sure retreat' when they come. Joy's a wonderful thing; keep your heart still; some couldn't believe the most joyfullest thing that ever happened for joy, and some But Kit had done his part, the hum had becomo. louder, and proclaimed its cause. A strange smile, almost ghastly, passed over Mary's face; she gazed imploringly at Christopher. Now for hallelujah!" said he, as, gently holding her arm, he led her a step or two onwards where the scene on the beach was plain to view. There were wives half frantic with joy, the whole village thronging round the welcome wanderers; and soon peals of joyful acclamation rent the air. Mary saw all dimuly-all but one-Herrick, cautiously advancing, lest he should overwhelm her with too sudden a joy; and her overwrought heart and agitation justified Christopher's remark, "that she got into trouble better than she got out of it." That evening was one of general rejoicing. Old Kit remarked, when he went to close it in thanksgiving and prayer with Mary and her husband, "There's some here that it's a pity to see, not a word of Lord, save us!' this morning; and by reason of that, not a note of hallelujah this evening. I find it a sure truth, that the shortest sorrows and the longest joys belong to them only who know how to pray, and, therefore, how to praise !" PARISH SKETCHES. BENEFIT SOCIETIES. NO. VI. BENEFIT SOCIETIES, CLUBS, &c. 651 by the placing out or marriage of their children, the "Well, sir, since it became known that I had that money in the savings' bank, I have had everything cut off. We used to have several little privileges, but wo have none now. And this Christmas (he added) even the little bit of beef was not sent to us, though all our neighbours had it." No parochial machinery is complete without plenty of associations, in which the rich and poor may join together to provide for the bodily wants of the latter. The principal mistake in the working of these associations is when the minister himself occupies too much time in their management. There are stringent reasons why he should abstain from doing so. It is both hindersome to himself, and a grievous loss of employment for the kindly disposed members of his flock. He himself has far higher duties to discharge, in the pulpit, in the study, and in the homes of his parishioners. His superintendence of every parochial effort is, of course, desirable. His hand should be felt in all. His interest in their success should be manifest to every one. But he will mar the discharge of his higher duties, will shorten his pulpit preparation, will curtail his hours for needful exercise and refreshment, if he "serves tables." He has, or ought to have, plenty to harass and to interest him, without keeping the accounts of half a dozen associations. And, if the loss of time be serious to him, so is the loss of interest and employment to the lay members of his flock. There are in every parish persons who have more or less of The rector would not blame, but he could express leisure on their hands, and still more persons who his regret. "Well, sir," were honest Jones' words, would thankfully make leisure, to their own spiritual "it do seem to mo to be wrong. It is not for the good, if they were asked to superintend the parochial value (we believe he pronounced it 'valley') of the machinery. Much positive good is done to those who things. Thank God I don't really want for nothing. are either short of employment, or whose employments But if I'd been a man as went to the public house, I lead them naturally to centre all their thoughts on should have wanted; in course I should, and then I self, by interesting them in other people's woes, and by should have had the privileges. But because I have calling out sympathies which would otherwise lie been a sober man, and have saved my money, and don't frozen or concealed. Many a person, we are con- want, I have nothing. It do seem to me," he added, vinced, has gone off gradually into vicious employ-like confusing right and wrong." ments, for want of being guided to what was kinder The rector thought so too. As he walked away he and better. really thanked God that he had resisted the suggestion which had been made to him just previously, that it was preposterous to give the coals to a man so well off as Jones. "You might just as well send me & bag-full," was the plea. Yes, my friend, and if it was my way of expressing my sense of your merits, or my regard for your character, or my wish for your friendship, you ought to have been very much pleased, if I had. And this is the way John Jones would have regarded your little gifts. He cannot argue, simple honest fellow, about spoiling independence of character. Such subtle points are far above his reach. But he does know that he has worked for forty years on one estate, and during all that time has never entered a public house, and has never troubled you for one penny of poor rate. Argue as you choose, he will think it very hard that you should cut off his "privileges," now that he is growing old. Under the present subject, the whole question of charity to the poor deserves a cursory notice. There are many persons who, with a desire to do right, suffer themselves to drift into much hardness of feeling towards the poor; and who, with abundant means, do little for them, on a sort of principle. We do not speak of the thousands of heartless persons who spend all on themselves, and whose whole charities from one end of the year to the other, would about correspond with what they spend in gloves or cigars in a month. We speak rather of those who argue themselves into the belief that they would do harm to the poor by casing the heavy burden which many of them must bear. It destroys independence, say they, and has the effect of weakening the character. Now, we have invariably found that persons who thus argue are those who, having been bred in the lap of luxury, have never known what it is to be poor, and who therefore cannot sympathize with those who are. Thank God, there are thousands who have been reared in luxury who do feel for the poor; but there are yet vast numbers whose tone of mind is that which we are describing. They do not set themselves to think what ten or twelve shillings a week is, how utterly insufficient to keep the wolf from the door, and how difficult it must be, with such a pittance, to provide rent, fuel, food, clothing and education for a family. Another frequent mistake which is made by the same class of persons, is the following. The moment the father and mother of a poor family are at all eased of the burdens which they have borne for long years, We cannot here enter into the question of charity, as it affects the giver or withholder. This is not the place for it. We can but pity those who lose the luxury, and the benefit to themselves of carrying comfort with a free hand into the cottages of the poor. We should be disposed to question their right, consistently with the declarations of the Bible, to withhold a good portion of that which God has only lent to them, and of which he will certainly require an account. We doubt the spiritual safety of those who "withhold more than is due" from the poor, the ignorant, and the suffering. Sure we are, that if it does not "tend of poverty" in this world's good, it tends to poverty in God's blessing, and to poverty in the favour of Him who "went about doing good," and carrying the streams of help and comfort whithersoever he might go. But with respect to charity as it affects the receivers, we of course feel that care should be taken to avoid the danger, such as it is, to which we have alluded. We should be careful not to destroy the self-trust and independent feeling of the poor. Undoubtedly, harm is done, if we lead a poor man to be idle, or indifferent, or unthrifty, because he knows that at the hall or the parsonage there is a hand which will be stretched out to help him if he falls. But it appears to us that this evil is sufficiently avoided, if we act upon the principle of helping those who help themselves. This is, indeed, the principle on which our heavenly Father acts in all his dealings with the human race. He gives nothing to the idle. "If any man will not work, neither shall he eat," was a rule laid down for the guidance of the Christian churches in apostolic times. We see the rule carried out in practice in every field and garden in the land. It is seldom that labour is not rewarded with success. It is more seldom that idleness meets with any encouragement at all. Nothing, therefore, can be more clear than that, in helping those who help themselves, we are carrying out the intentions of divine Providence, and are avoiding to a sufficient degree the danger of undermining the proper independence of the poor. It is on this principle that all systematic charity should be based, as far as possible. Of course there must be special assistance given to meet special cases; such as a regular small allowance weekly in sickness, to pay for the assistance of a nurse, or where an extra fire is required in a bed-room, or where some individual is laid by, on whose earnings the maintenance of the family has partially depended. We are not in favour of invariably giving relief in kind. Some persons think that if you go with a small quantity of tea and sugar, for example, in your hand, that you set money free for the purchase of other articles. We incline to a more liberal view. The mother of the family may happen to have a supply of tea, and may be greatly in want of fuel. We think it better, unless the existence of some special want is ascertained, to take it for granted that she knows best, and will put the small sum of money which may be offered, to the most appropriate use. But we are inclined to think that perhaps the main object of the charity of the wealthier classes should be the steady maintenance of clubs of all kinds. In these, the subscribers pay their own weekly premiums, and the patrons make certain additions at the end of the year, according to the sums deposited, or the numbers in family. The objects that may be embraced by these clubs are very numerous. They may include all articles in daily use among the poor. The most common are for clothing, shoes, and a certain allowance in sickness. The latter is too often secured in societies which are not under responsible patronage, but which are in connexion with the publichouses. Of these we must treat separately. Of the remainder, we think that the number of objects can hardly be too diversified. There can be no reason why tea and fuel should not be as commonly embraced as clothing and shoes. Tea, especially, can be purchased for at least one third less in considerable quantities at a large London warehouse, than it can be procured by the poor, in very small quantities, at country, and especially at village shops. It has been found to be a great boon to the poor to allow them to purchase this to them most essential article of domestic comfort at a.reduced price. The same may be said of coals. A wealthy friend to the poor may contract with the vendor to supply large quantities when required. By purchasing them at the proper season, they may be retained at the stores till the winter has set in, and then be distributed by the merchant at a given spot in the village, at prices ranging at about one half what would be paid by a poor man per cwt. in the depth of winter. The working of these clubs is so thoroughly well understood, and so much practised in English villages and towns, that we do not feel called upon to say more. We only urge our readers to consider whether they may not take still larger interest in them than before, so as to make their benefits more widely felt. We may also add that it is a mistake to confine the benefits of these societies to adults. They may be introduced with great advantage into schools, and will foster thrifty habits among the young. Let us now touch upon institutions for the savings of the poor. The writer has been really surprised at the results that may be attained by these institutions, where they are fully explained to the people, and enforced freely on their notice. He only premises that it is essential that some kind-hearted and methodical person or persons should really interest themselves in the matter, and at first starting transact the business for the poor, and especially for the younger members of the flock, so as to start them in a right career. As The The plan recommended from experience is as follows. Let what is called, somewhat erroneously, a "penny bank" be first established in every village. Let all who will, both old and young, enrol themselves as depositors. Let a few minutes be devoted every Monday morning to the receiving of deposits of any amount that may be brought. If the neighbouring town has a penny bank, these small payments may be lodged there. If not, they may as easily, and perhaps more conveniently, be retained by the treasurer. soon as any depositor has accumulated one pound, it should at once be transferred to the Post-office savings' bank. The preference should, without hesitation, be given to this over the old savings' banks. people should be freely warned that, if any failure in an old bank should occur, the depositors must bear all the loss. Before the government opened a bank which is absolutely secure, they had no choice but to use such banks as were open. Now, however, the case is different. The advantages of the Post-office bank are so obvious, especially in the convenience of hours and places of payment, that the poor are found readily to appreciate the difference. The writer is acquainted with a village in which, after a little painstaking, about one person in every seven of the whole of the parishioners was induced to open accounts at the Post-office savings' bank, within six months of its first establishment. He believes this institution to be one of the greatest boons that was ever conferred by a paternal government on a grateful people. He has now had considerable experience of its working, and can bear the strongest testimony to the smoothness and promptitude of its machinery, and to the courtesy of its central management. As to the numerous societies which secure benefit in sickness and old age, we are inclined to say, after much consideration and experience, that we should be BENEFIT SOCIETIES. disposed to hold utterly aloof from those which are connected with the public-houses. We should also feel inclined to labour by every means in our power to connect those which are more respectably conducted, with one of the great societies usually to be found in every county, and which go by the name of the -shire Friendly Society." We know by sad experience that the more private societies, though established under the best patronage, and with well-considered rules, all of whose meetings are held in schoolrooms or in private dwellings, have failed in large numbers after the lapse of years. Young men will not enter these clubs when once the number of older members has become considerable. They prefer to establish a new club, or to join one connected with the public-house. The moment the supply of younger members begins to drop off, it is a mere question of time how soon the society will be ruined, and how many poor fellows who have paid their contributions for years, will find themselves in their old age without a farthing. This risk is quite avoided in the county societies. They have ramifications in every town and village, and are supported by every landholder. Their funds soon become very large, and the payments are so calculated, that all knowledge and experience must be proved of no avail, if it were possible for them to come to nothing. We have said that we should be disposed to hold utterly aloof from all such benefit societies as were connected with the public-house. One exception only must be made. We have known good men refuse to allow the society to come to the church in the morning, and consequently have refused to preach to the members, because it was believed that the feast afterwards might be a scene of revelry and sin. We are convinced that this is a mistake. No minister of the gospel has a right to refuse his services when asked for them. We should advise him freely to admit the society to his church. Having got them there, the opportunity is his own. We have known the most remarkable results produced, on such an occasion, by a bold and loving appeal to the heart and conscience of the audience. "O my friends," it has been said, "will you go out from God's house, and place yourselves deliberately into the hands of the great enemy of your soul? Having begun this day with prayer, will you end it with drunkenness? Having sung God's praises in his house, will you defile your lips with oaths and words of ribaldry and vice ?" Surely, after an appeal of this nature, the responsibility of subsequent excess lies on the members, and not on the minister. He, at any rate, had done his duty much more so, as it seems to us, than if he had left them to fall into sin, without a warning, and had allowed them to give themselves over to Satan without inviting them to Christ. In concluding these remarks on benefit societies and clubs, we need not point out how frequent must be the opportunities for a word in season from a kind and watchful manager. The whole subject teems with preparation for eternity, with finding refuge in Christ, with having a treasure in heaven, with laying up for ourselves a good foundation against the time to comeso that when Christ shall appear a second time to summon all mankind to his tribunal, it may be found that we had built our house upon that Rock which will not be shaken, even by the terrors of a day of judgment and scrutiny. THE PULPIT IN THE FAMILY. JOURNEYING ZIONWARD. 653 "They go from strength to strength; every one of them in Zion appeareth before God."-Psalm 1xxxiv. 7. T must have been a truly interesting spectacle at the great anniversaries of the Jews to see the many thousands of Israelites journeying to the place where God's honour dwelt, to mingle their devotions in one grand solemn act of worship. Loving the place, they loved the way to it. They were glad when it was said to them, "Go up unto the house of the Lord." Their ranks gained fresh accessions as they moved forward; every hamlet contributed to swell the living stream as it flowed to the holy city. The travellers, instead of growing weary, felt their strength renewed as each succeeding stage brought them nearer to the termination of their journeying,-nearer the object of their desire,Jerusalem, the city of their God. Nor must we wonder at their earnest longing to reach this holy place. They had heard glorious things spoken of Zion, as being the city of the Great King, the place where he recorded his name, where his presence was manifested, where he received the homage of an adoring people. It was the emblem and type of that city which hath foundations, where the uncreated glory is displayed, where the song of the Redeemer is never hushed, and where all the dispersed of Israel shall be eventually gathered into one. Now, in journeying to the celestial city, the Jerusalem that is above, Christian believers, like the Israelites in their pilgrimages, go from strength to strength, till every one of them appears in Zion before God. Applying the figure of the text to practical use, we are reminded of the progressive nature of the Christian course, and also of the means by which the Christian pilgrim obtains strength and energy for the prosecution of his journey. In order to make profitable use of the text, it will be necessary only to consider the historical incidents referred to. In coming up from the remote districts of their country, the way of the Israelites in many instances led them through districts that were sterile, parched, deserted, so that they ofttimes fainted from thirst. They had lacked strength for their journey, but for those wells or pools which they found in the vale of Baca, where they could refresh and recover themselves. Now, what the well-springs of Baca were to the Israelite pilgrims, the word and ordinances of God are to heaven-bound travellers. Just as the little pits in the desert contained water to refresh God's ancient people when they were weary, so are the ordinances of religion the instituted reservoirs into which descend the influences of Divine grace, to revive and invigorate the soul that is athirst for them. But as the wells without the water could yield no refreshment to the way-worn Israelite, so the ordinances without the living water of the Spirit are but empty wells: they can neither refresh nor strengthen. In his best estate the Christian is weak in himself; the toils and trials of the way are apt to oppress him, to induce weariness both of the flesh and spirit; but they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength. "When the poor and the needy seek water, and there is none, and their tongue faileth them for thirst, I the Lord will hear them, I the God of Jacob will not forsake them;" and so when the Christian pilgrim drinks in such assurances as these his holy feelings are quickened and his energies are increased. Again, the Israelites, in going up to Jerusalem, went in companies; they thus were helped to repel danger from without, and each was encouraged by the companionship of his fellow travellers. It must be SO. The society of those who are like-minded, who seek the same object, never fails to quicken and encourage us. "As iron sharpeneth iron," so it is with the celestial wayfarers: there is a community of interests and feelings among those who are of the household of faith. They are travelling the same road, they mind the same thing, they breathe the same desires, they speak the same language; they are members of the same family; the sacred chain that binds them to Christ binds them to each other. Thus closely associated, they bear each other's burdens, they share each other's sorrows, they "provoke each other to love and good works." They are happy in each other's society. Their inquiry is, "Tell me, O Thou whom my soul loveth, where thou makest thy flocks to rest at noon." Further, the Israelites, in the protraction of their journey, were animated by the hope of reaching Zion at last. They knew and felt that each succeeding step was diminishing the distance between them and the object of their desire. When at length the lofty battlements of the holy city burst upon their view, they felt as if already within the sacred palaces; and with one accord they took up the words of the melody which had often cheered their march, "Our feet shall stand within thy gates, O Jerusalem." It is thus that the Christian traveller is animated and upheld in his journey by the assured hope of reaching heaven at last. In the patience of this hope he holds on his way. It is a cordial to his drooping head, when bowed down under a sense of his weakness, or in the dark night of trial and sorrow. As he advances in his course, every fresh triumph over his besetting sin, every fresh act of self-denial, every new habit of goodness acquired, all bear him record that "now his salvation is nearer than when he believed." And when at last the eventful hour draws nigh when the transition is to be made from time into an eternal world,-when the soul is quivering on the eve of its departure, then it is that the assurance of hope casts a radiance around his dying bed. He seems to see heaven opening to receive him-he feels as after a long, fatiguing journey, within sight of home! Girding up the loins of his mind, he hastens onward with the blessed to dwell in the house of the Lord for ever. Thus the believer in his pilgrimage through this world is refreshed by the streams of Divine grace flow ing down from the great fountain of consolation; and is enabled to proceed from strength to strength, from one degree of grace and holiness to another, till he comes to the glorified vision of God in heaven itself. THE BUILDERS. "Ye are no more strangers and foreigners, but fellow citizens with the saints and of the houshold of God; and are built upon the foundation of the aposties and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief corner-stone; in whom ala the building fitly framed together groweth unto an holy temple in the Lord.”— Eph. ii. 19-21. Strengthened with all might, according to his glorious power."--Col. i. 11. COME, and build the lordly temple; Come, with off ring rich and rare, Are you poor? The One who owneth More than man has dreamed or tol i All the stores of land and ocean, All the gems and hidden gold, All the shining worlds of midnight, All the sunlight broad and free, All the power of earth and heaven Riches hath for Him and thee. Are you weak? The One who wieldet At whose word the waves and tempest He has strength for Him and thee. Are you all unlearned? The Mast 1 He who reads the wondrous problems. All that dwells in earth or sea, Wisdom hath for Him and thee. He has rank for Him and thee. Sabbath Thoughts. E. L. M. THE NUMBER OF THE REDEEMED. "The nations of them which are saved shall walk in the light of it."-Rev. xxi. 24. 26 66 "Nations" of saved ones,-“a great multitude" (Rev. xix. C': a great multitude which no man could number" (Rom. vii. 9) are not these cheering words? Sometimes we are placed in situations of such loneliness as to Christian fellowship, that we are apt to forget how large is our heavenly Father's familylarge below-infinitely larger above. It was once thus with Elijah, I, even I only am left, and they seek my life to take it away." How it must have gladdened his spirit to hear of the seven thousand! But his joy was imperfect, for he could have at that time no company or communion with those faithful ones. It may heathen abroad, where the name of the Lord is not known, of be so still with some of God's dear people; they may be among among heathen at home, where it is known but not loved, whiel. is perhaps worse; they may be confined in prisons for his sake. or imprisoned in sick beds by his will, and the feeling of lonel ness may seem almost more than they can bear-loneliness ci human companionship I mean, for "Who hath the Father and the Son May be left, but not alone!" If such is your case, reader, look up, behold the saved nations walking in His light, and remember that of all these there was not one who had not to go through the same pilgrimage, and enter in at the same strait gate as you. |