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by our statesmen, our merchants, our speculators. Like the ant, they know no Sabbath; and, unlike her, they know no winter. They toil with men by day; and at evening, like famished beasts of prey, they are out.
Their hunger for gain and glory, makes them forget slecp. Men give rest to their steam engines, as well as to their beasts, but to their souls they give no rest—and hence, worn out, the men of this world fall a prey to intemperance and insanity. Suicide is becoming almost as common among men, as explosions on steamboats; and from the same cause, both are overworked.
Look at the Christian! His life is one of labour. He builds on the foundation laid by God. Obedience to the revealed will of God is his work. The structure he rears is Gospel holiness. He performs the work of faith, in the patience of hope: and to him it is all a labour of love. He gives all diligence to make his calling and election sure.
Both buildings are exposed to the same attacks. The wind beats upon the house, the floods dash against the foundation. Trials happen to both. The Lord trieth the righteous. He distributes sorrows in his anger to the wicked. The sand yields to the rushing of the water. It washes away. The building totters. It falls, an entire ruin. The sandy foundation is not only shaken, but swept away. The building and its inhabitants are instantly dashed among the waters. The builder's safety and hope perish at once. His refuge is gone, and he, engulfed in the waves, finds a speedy destruction from the floating fragments of his dwelling. When most he needs a shelter and a place of safety, amid the stormy wind and tempest, the ground gives way beneath him, and his hope is as the giving up of the ghost.
To the believer, there are seasons of alarm; there are fears and distresses, and the terrors of the Lord set themselves in array against him. He trembles within his house, but the foundation standeth sure—he rejoices in his labours.
Upon what are you building ? Remember, Christ declares there is no safety, but for those who hear his commandments and do them!
THE MUTILATED ISLANDER.
In passing one evening to Mr. Pittman's station, my attention was arrested by seeing a person get off one of the seats, and walk upon his knees into the centre of the path-way, when he shouted “Welcome, servant of God, who brought light into this dark island; to you are we indebted for the word of salvation.”
The appearance of his person first attracted my attention ; his hands and feet being eaten off by disease which the natives call kokovi, and which obliged him to walk upon his knees; but, notwithstanding this, I found that he was exceedingly industrious, and not only kept his kainga in beautiful order, but raised food enough to support a wife and three children. The substitute he used for a spade in tilling the ground, was an instrument called the ko, which is a piece of ironwood pointed at one end, This he pressed firmly to his side, and leaning the weight of his whole body upon it, pierced the ground, and then scraping out the earth with the stumps of his hands, he would clasp the banana or taro plant, place it in the hole, and then fill in the earth. The weeds he pulled up in the same way. In reply to his salutation, I asked him what he knew of the word of salvation. He answered, “I know about Jesus Christ, who came into the world to save sinners.” On inquiring what he knew about Jesus Christ, he replied, “I know that he is the Son of God, and that he died painfully upon the cross, to pay for the sins of men, in order that their souls might be saved, and go to happiness in the skies.” I inquired of him if all the people went to heaven after death. “Certainly not,” he replied, “only those who believe in the Lord Jesus, who cast away sin, and who pray to God,"
“You pray, of course,” I continued. “O, yes,” he said, “I very frequently pray as I weed my ground and plant my food, but always three times a day, beside praying with my family every morning and evening.” I asked him what he said when he prayed. He answered, " I say, 'O Lord, I am a great sinner, may Jesus take my sins away by his good blood, give me the righteousness of Jesus to adorn me, and give me the good Spirit of Jesus to instruct me, and make my heart good, to make me a man of Jesus, and take me to heaven when I die.'” “ Well," I replied, “that Buteve is very excellent; but where did you obtain your knowledge?” “ From you, to be sure: who brought us the news of salvation but yourself?” “True," I replied, “but I do not ever recollect to have seen you at either of the settlements to hear me speak of these things, and how do you obtain your knowledge of them?” “ Why,” he said, “as the people return from the services, I take my seat by the wayside, and beg a bit of the word of them as they pass by: one gives me one piece, another another piece, and I collect them together in my heart, and by thinking over what I thus obtain, and praying to God to make me know, I understand a little about his word.”
This was altogether a most interesting incident, as I had never seen the poor cripple before, and I could not learn that he had ever been in a place of worship in his life. His knowledge, however, was such as to afford me both astonishment and delight; and I seldom passed his house after this interview, without holding an inter. esting conversation with him.
“ WATCHMAN, WHAT OF THE NIGHT BY THE REV. J. S. GREEN, MISSIONARY AT SANDWICH ISLANDS.
Thus we, far, far away from the rest of the world, cry to our brethren, who, amidst the darkness of heathenism, and among the abominations of Popery, are toiling for the salvation of dying men, and for the ushering in of the latter day glory. On our right, and on our left—to the North, the South, the East, and the Westalas! the darkness, how dense; the superstition, how inveterate! Over some of those regions of darkness and superstition, these eyes have looked with aching desire to see the light of heaven bursting, and dispelling those death shades. Over some of those mountains and plains these feet have wandered; and while my eyes affected my heart, I besought the God of mercy to cause his people to send hither the Gospel of his dear Son. Thus, from Norfolk Sound to California, have I gazed and wandered: at one time weeping in my state room, that men from Christian lands should teach the Indians of the North-west Coast to cheat, and wallow in pollution; profane the word of God, and trample on the Sabbath; at another, sitting in the midst of the Indians at Kigane, around their fire, and trying to tell them something of God and his great salvation. At one time climbing the hills of Kigane and Zurn Garse, chatting pleasantly with my Indian guides, and asking them to seek and obtain teachers, to tell them of the way to God and heaven; at another, in the midst of a skirmish on the ship's deck, dyed with the blood of the slain, flying from the savage's knife to the cabin for safety, or dressing the wounds of some of our crew!
At one time, witnessing the fooleries of Roman superstition; at another, on the delighful hills and plains of California, beseeching God to open the door of that fine country to his people, and to give them a heart to enter it, and reap fruit to life eternal. Since the tour, which in 1829 I made on that coast, how often have I revisited, in thought, those scenes, and often would I have asked, “ Watchman, what of the night?” but for the distressing fact, that in all those dark places there is no watchman. All is dark, dark, dark! On the Columbia river alone, of all that country, from 57 deg. North to Cape Horn, nothing but the wisdom of God can fathom the depth of destitution of these extensive regions of country; I say, on this river alone are a few to whom we cry, • Watchman, what of the night?” Alas! they speak of gross darkness covering the people; of wandering, wretched, dying men, wedded to their sinful habits! Yet, blessed be God, they do not speak of leaving the country, because the population is small, and the people wandering, indolent savages. By the eye of faith they are penetrating the gloom, and I seem to hear them say, “The morning cometh.' To Upper California my eyes are occasionally directed, with the earnest desire to hail some watchman in that fine country. Papal darkness yet broods over that country; and no Protestant missionary, would probably be allowed to gain a footing on those shores. And
yet the time may not be very distant, when a door of entrance will be opened. God grant it may be so; and if he shall thus open the door, may his people stand ready to enter, at once, and proclaim the truth as it is in Christ Jesus, to the poor starving Californians.
On the other hand, we look and call to the West, “ Watchman, what of the night?” Our brethren from China reply, and say, Alas! the darkness, the superstition centuries thick, like a wall of adamant, seem to shut out all light, and but for faith in the promises of God, would exclude all hope! Then, the Chinese war, the seeming determination of a Christian nation to force upon a half-civilized people a hateful, hurtful, deadly drug, how disgraceful! God may in his wisdom so overrule the struggle in that country for the furtherance of the Gospel ; but no thanks to the English government-no thanks to opium traffickers. Oh, when will the day dawn upon that unhappy land ? To the Japan isles, to the Philippine, the Ladrone, the Caroline, and other islands, we look, and call, “ Watchman, what of the night?" But no watchman replies; and echo gives back—" night!" O Christian friends, what will become of this dark, wretched, polluted world? When shall the cruel sceptre be wrested from the god of this world ? When shall it be given to Him whose right it is to reign? When shall Jesus reign from sea to sea, and from the river to the ends of the earth? Up, brethren, and cry mightily to God for deliverance. Up and away to the work of scattering the thick darkness which now rests upon the nations. “ Lord Jesus, come quickly. Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus.”
• Watchman, what of the night?" lo, I seem to hear you calling to me. Blessed be God, that I am permitted to say in reply, “ The morning cometh,” though we may be constrained to add, “ the night also.” There may yet be sad reverses. A mighty struggle may be witnessed even on this little mite of earth, for Satan seems to be marshalling his forces. But with the Lord are future events. I will not anticipate coming evils. They will come soon enough. At present, we have much need of humility to glorify God in this season of prosperity. The Gospel is faithfully preached among the people, and in many cases the Lord is giving it efficacy, saving and divine. Schools are prosperous; and other institutions are succeeding. I am sure that you will bless God for his manifold kindness to this people, while you beseech him to let his kingdom come in the midst of us. You will be glad to hear that the cause of temperance is prospering among the people, and that quite a number of the poor, degraded, and long-enslaved foreigners are making an effort to cast off their chains. « The Lord be praised.”
“ Watchman, what of the night?” May I thus call to you, brethren ? Cometh the morning? Do the signs of the times betoken good? Are the chains of the captive loosing? Is peace spreading her wings over the land? Is the cause of temperance moving onward ? Are the sloughs of licentiousness drying up? In fine, are all the good institutions of the land being built up, and are you visited with the gracious influences of the Holy Spirit? So I hope I may hear. God bless the land of my father's sepulchre—the land of my kindred—the land I love. Pray for us, as we shall
SEAMAN'S THANKSGIVING. A Gentleman of Croiner, in Norfolk, writes as follows, to the Editor of the Record:
Sir, having lately read in your valuable paper a short account of the awful storm which visited the Norfolk Coast, on the 18th ult., and the marvellous and providential escape of several of the fishing boats which sail out of this town, the number of hands, all belonging to Cromer, and amounting to seventy at least; it may not be uninteresting to some of your readers, and perhaps operate as an example to other individuals when rescued from great or singular danger, to learn that sixty-nine out of the number thus preserved from a watery grave, attended at the parish church on Sunday last, to return public thanks to Almighty God for their merciful deliverance; when a most impressive sermon was preached on the occasion, by the worthy Vicar of the parish ; in the morning and afternoon, a powerful and suitable address was made by a Norwich Clergyman sojourning here, who had the opportunity of witnessing the distress of the wives and relations of the poor fishermen, before the tidings of their safety reached Cromer; some of the boats having been driven into Yarmouth and Lowestoff, and others to different places on the Norfolk coast. It was indeed a most gratifying, heart affecting sight, to see “threescore and nine men” in their blue jackets, ranged together in the gallery opposite to the pulpit and reading desk, all rising from their seats when their names were read over by the officiating minister; and still more gratifying to the Christian worshipper, was it to hear the sound of their returning to their knees, when the admirable form of thanksgiving in our beautiful church service was about to be repeated by the minister.
That the effect thus produced upon the minds of these fishermen may be permanent, and that it may be widened throughout their future walk in life, is my earnest prayer.
EXILES AT ZILLERTHAL. MR. EDITOR, many of your readers will recollect an interesting account inserted some time back in your valuable and useful little publication, of the poor Exiles from Zillerthal, in the Tyrol. To them it will be gratifying to hear of their comfortable location in the asylum the late king of Prussia afforded, as given by Dr. Pinkerton, agent to the British and Foreign Bible Society, who lately visited their settlement in the pursuit of his blessed work of distributing the bread of life, for which these noble martyrs have abandoned their beloved valley. Dr. P. writes: I met with a most cordial welcome from the Countess Von Reden, and several pious