Surely the answer to this serious question is found in the words of Paul, "If any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, let him be Anathema, Maranatha;" that is, "accursed when the Lord cometh." 2. What hinders me, says another, is that I think the religion of Christ is wholly spiritual; and that outward forms are of no moment whatever. I am very sure that no reasonable man can carry out that principle so much as one day of his life in this world. "Can any man forbid water to those who have received the Spirit." "Show me thy faith by thy works." If a poor neighbour wants bread, will it suffice to appeal to the heart searching God, and say, "Thou knowest I pity my poor brother, and pity is what thou requirest me to cherish, not the bestowment of meat and drink. Should we not say that such an objector is a hypocrite? What would the eternal charity of the Son of God have profited us, if He had not come in the flesh ?" In itself "the flesh profiteth nothing;" but as the embodiment of a self-sacrificing, forgiving, and sympathizing mercy, Christ's flesh is meat indeed, and His blood is drink indeed. His flesh was of no conceivable advantage to the Lord individually; but it was indispensable to the salvation. of mankind, and therefore needful to the satisfaction of His holy loving soul. 3. What hinders me? says a third. "Why, of course, my baptism in infancy. I have been baptized." But the application of water to your body in infancy was not Christian baptism at all. I mean it was not what the Lord Jesus commanded. Nor was it any act of yours. It did not express anything that was in you. It was only the act of others; and done, not in obedience to Christ, but was mere compliance with the prevalent superstition, with human authority, or with worldly custom. We know from Holy Scripture that believing penitents, or those who professed to be such, were baptized, and ought to have been; but in the case of infants, neither faith nor penitence can find either place or expression. To baptize them, therefore, is to institute another ordinance, not only different from believers baptism, but wholly incompatible with it, and subversive of it. "Full well ye make void the law of God by your tradition." 4. What hinders me? Another, if honest, would say, "I do not like the water-the cold water." I am half ashamed to give expression to this frivolous objection. But, alas! it is with some so potent and practical an objection, that they yield to it, week after week, till the weeks amount to years. Like it! Does religion, then, consist in doing as one likes? Did the martyrs of former ages like the tortures they endured? Did the Lord Jesus like the cross on which he was hanged? And do you expect to wear a crown in His glory without bearing a cross for His glory? 5. Another, if he would speak out, would acknowledge that he is hindered by the publicity of our baptisms. If this be the case, then let *It is asserted by some that baptism in the New Testament is a substitute for circumcision in the Old Testament. But such a notion is contrary to the truth. For not only were multitudes of persons already circumcised commanded by the apostles to be baptized, but one who had already been baptized into the faith of Christ was afterwards, by the Apostle Paul, circumcised-Acts xvi. 3. The two ordinances, therefore, are essentially different. The reason will be clear, if we consider that the circumcision of an infant did for it something substantial, valuable, and certain. It gave to it an interest in the Covenant, and without this act the child would have been cut off from among the people of God. The baptism of an infant does not, even in the remotest degree, affect its interest in the Covenant of Grace, or its condition and relation to God. If a child has been baptized, Christ has redeemed it, lives for it, and loves it. If another child has not been baptized, Christ has nevertheless redeemed it, lives for it and loves it, just the same. The Old Covenant being limited to one portion of mankind, it was indispensable that that portion should have on it some unmistakeable distinctive mark. But the New Covenant embraces all mankind, Gentile and Jew alike. To pretend, therefore, to make a difference where God has declared there is none is not only a mistake and an impertinence, but is in principle a subversion of the Gospel. brother you be, you will have to keep the commandments of Christ, else you will never enter in through the gates into the city. And our church requires no more. We might help you, and you us, to keep His commandments; and some of His commands can only be kept by church members. Matt. xviii. 1518; Romans xii.; and 1 Cor. xii. 12-31. the ordinance be administered pri- | discipline." Brother, if indeed a vately. Only few were present when the Eunuch was immersed; or Paul, or Lydia, or Cornelius, or the jailor, and their baptism was as valid every way as that of the multitudes that were immersed by John in the Jordan; or those of whom it is written, Jesus made and baptized more disciples than John. By all means let your baptism be performed privately -only mind, let it not afterwards be kept secret, lest you should incur the condemnation of those who are "ashamed of Christ in this sinful generation." 6. What hinders me? Another replies" The condition of your church. There are so many of you no better than they should be. If that is what is called religion, people will do as well without it. Such dead-heartedness, such meanness, such vanity, such tempers, such divisions. No, I cannot identify myself with such people." To this I would reply-Jesus Christ came into the flesh, not because the world was good, but because He was good, and knew what the world wanted. You are gifted, it appears, to discern what the church now wants, and therefore it is your vocation and your duty to try to improve it. If you wait till the church is perfect, you will wait too long. If you wait till it is such as you would like to see it, you will leave others to do what God has qualified and called you to do; or, what is more likely, the work will be left undone because of your negligence and want of selfdenial. No doubt there are counterfeits among our coins. But let us not reject the whole; and if you are able to detect the bad, you are just the person required to aid in its removal from the community. 7. "What hinders me? My love of liberty hinders me. I do not choose to bind myself to any particular sect or company, but to enjoy myself where and when I like. I could not submit myself to your 8. What hinders me? 66 "Well," says another, "if I must confess it to myself, it is the fear of man. It is the fear of the world. I commend those who follow their convictions; and my convictions are the same as theirs, but I have not the courage to follow them." It is to be feared this is a very common, though tacit and unacknowledged objection. Christ demands decision and bravery. He was not and is not ashamed of us; and warns lovingly and solemnly of the danger of being ashamed of Him. us 9. Another says: "No, I am not ashamed of Him; but what hinders me is that I fear I am not fit to be baptized. I do not feel good enough." An old writer, in answering this very frequent and insidious objection, says "Do you feel yourself bad enough? If you do, Christ sees you are good enough." It would be a strange thing for a child to say, I am not good enough to do as my parents desire; or for a pupil to say I do not think I know enough to be taught; or for a sick person to say, I do not think I am well enough to take the medicine prescribed by the physician. Do you think the eunuch before us acted rightly? and do you suppose he concerned himself to inquire whether he was worthy or fit enough? Was it not sufficient for him to believe himself a needy sinner, and Christ an all-sufficient Saviour? And you believe the same, the very same. What, then, hinders you any more than him to be baptized? 10. "What hinders me," says another, "is a fear that I might afterwards, through inconsistent behaviour, bring dishonour on the name of Christ." A salutary fear! May you always cherish it. But consider these two things. You are already every day dishonouring Christ by your present disobedience. And the way of the Lord is strength to the upright." Commit yourself to the Lord in the way of childlike obedience, and He will guarantee you strength according to your day. 11. The last hindrance I will suppose is "Not to-night. I must think about it. I must pray about IN MEMORIAM. REV. THOMAS WRIGHT MATHEWS. FAREWELL, O saintly, tender, cultured, true; A life of many thoughts and busy days, A life of prayer, love, sacrifice, and praise, That patient sweetness kept when friends were few, Vivacity and pathos, learning, skill Of Art, a woman's softness and man's will, A brave and radiant speech, keen sense to know O almost blameless life where love was law, O noble kindling face all loved who saw, O rare and gracious man of many parts, Now the bright memory of a few sad hearts For whom thy living made fair Earth more fair- Good Lord, to follow him as he that ONE J. TRUMAN. THREE MONTHS ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE "ATLANTIC FERRY" IN THE SUMMER OF 1866. No. III.-Richmond, Cincinnati, Louisville. WE left Washington early on Monday morning, the 14th of May. The storm of the previous day had rendered the air cool and bracing. A small steamboat conveyed us down the Potomac as far as Acquia Creek. The river is broad, having pleasant country on either side. Its waters were muddy with recent rains. Our first stoppage was at Alexandria, one of the oldest of Southern cities. Mount Vernon, the former residence, and now the mausoleum of George Washington, was our next object of interest. We much regretted that we could not pay a visit to the house, of which a glimpse only through the thickly-wooded plantation surrounding it, is obtained from the river. It contains many interesting relics. The property is now held in trust by the "Ladies' Mount Vernon Association," and sacredly preserved, as its illustrious owner left it. Our approach to it was announced by the tolling of the steamboat bell. This is the invariable custom. It seemed rather childish to me, and unworthy of Washington's unostentations and genuine greatness. Unhappily, however, the mournful tones were painfully in keeping with the scenes of desolation we were about to visit the result of intestine war. On landing at Acquia Creek, the charred timbers of the wharf and warehouses, told of the repeated conflagrations that had taken place there, and thence, all the way to Richmond, by the railroad, we traversed what had recently been one vast battle-field. Rails that had been torn up lay twisted like ropes by the way-side. Bridges which were only partially repaired, after having been burnt to the water's edge, had to be slowly crossed. We could often see where troops had encamped. The remains of stockades, rifle-pits, cavalry fences, the stumps of trees roughly hewn down for war use, and not infrequently broken gun carriages were the common wayside objects of view. But we are approaching Fredericksburg. If you look at the church spire, you will see daylight through the large round hole by which a shell has pierced it. Dilapidated houses indicate the severity of the conflict. Sometimes you may observe only the chimneys left standing. The train waited about a quarter of an hour, affording time for a few general inquiries. Not far from the station is the famous wall, from which "Stonewall Jackson" obtained his cognomen, and near it the house into which he was carried when mortally wounded. I stood the greater part of this journey on the platform of the last carriage in the train. This enabled me to obtain an extensive view over the plains of war. Some American fellow-passengers, standing near me, were well "posted" in all the details of the fighting, and supplied me with much interesting local information. Two young fellows, travelling in company, told me that they had fought on opposite sides; and though now excellent friends, would do so again to-morrow should the war be renewed. Incidents of this kind were of frequent occurrence. I remember overhearing one tall gaunt man remark to another, as we alighted at a small station "I say, did you see where you almost picked me off on the night of such and such a raid. Ah! if you had aimed straight then, I guess I should have been rubbed out there, and no mistake." It was easy enough to speak thus flippantly after the peril was over, though not very commendable as to taste. Whilst for the moment it amused, there were numberless other mementos of the war that produced only the most profound sadness. Among them, the many crippled young men, some with one or both arms gone; or one and sometimes both legs. Almost every lady in Washington and Richmond was in mourning attire. It was rare in the South to see ladies in coloured dresses. We arrived at Richmond early in the afternoon. The train drew up, as is not infrequently the case, in the middle of one of the principal streets. The usual traffic, not very great, appeared to be going on. I saw no station, or "Depôt," as it is generally called. Hotel touters swarmed about us like locusts. We took refuge in the omnibus of the "Ballard House." The Court House, then all in ruins, was close by. Full a third of the city had been destroyed. Street after street of stores and warehouses had been reduced to mere heaps of burnt and broken rubbish. The city of Richmond, Virginia, is pre-eminently "beautiful for situation." It stands on the hilly slopes of the James River. The lower portions of the city had suffered most from the fires which were kindled by the Confederates when evacuating. The "Libby Prison," where large numbers of Federal prisoners had been confined, was still standing, but surrounded by demolished buildings. The State House, erected on a fine elevation, had also been saved. The Cemetery, like most others in the States, is very beautiful. Its records of heroism in battle were fresh and numerous. We paid a visit to the house which had been occupied by Mr. Jefferson Davis during the siege, and upon which the flag of the United States was now waving. The general in command had taken it for his residence. Not far off is the church where the ex-Confederate President was at service when the news of Lee's defeat at Petersburgh reached him, and compelled a precipitate escape. A carriage ride to Fort Harrison, eight miles distant, enabled us to see the lines of entrenchment by which Richmond had been defended. Traces of the war were very abundant. Broken gun carriages, and occasionally the remains of dead horses, together with immense quantities of battered canteen boilers, lay scattered about. We could often see the place where some weary soldier had made for himself an impromptu shelter, and beneath it a rough sort of bedstead formed by a few transverse stakes raised about a foot from the ground. Part of our way was over corduroy roads, constructed to bear the heavy weight of the artillery. But it was still evident that the deep mud had sometimes proved more than a match for the horses' strength. Fort Harrison itself is a strong earthwork. It was, we were told, ultimately taken by a negro regiment, after some very desperate fighting. We ascended its now deserted defences, and walked about the interior. An old negro was the only person we found there, of whom we purchased a few bullets and other portable relics. At some distance from the Fort, we observed some men at work on the open plain. On inquiry we were informed that they were making a Cemetery, and removing into it the bodies of soldiers who had been hastily buried on the spot where they had fallen. On our way back to Richmond, we met four waggon loads of coffins, intended for these interment purposes. We little thought then, how soon a far more devastating war was to lay waste a country much nearer home. Our carriage was hired of a negro who had been a slave. He sent a brother negro with us as driver and guide. Both the men were exceedingly civil and intelligent. With much feeling, the owner of the carriage told us of the wretchedness he had experienced, when, during the days of his slavery, his master came to him one morning, whilst at work in the stable, and said to him, with as much unconcern as if only alluding to one of the horses, "Jos, I guess I have just sold your wife." The poor fellow replied, "No, Massa; you don't mean that." "I guess I do though," was the cool and cruel answer, "and you can soon get another." Jos, however, thought otherwise. He worked overtime, and with the help of friends, obtained money enough in six months to buy his wife back again; "and," said he, with a hearty grin, 66 we have never been separated since, and no one I can do it now." This reminds me of another humorous fellow we met with in Richmond, who informed us that he had bought himself off from his "old missus," for 2,000 dollars. We expressed our surprise at his being able to obtain so large an amount. "Well," he said, "you see I paid her in Confederate notes. A friend of mine who knew what they were worth got them for me; and three days after they were worth nothing. Poor old missus," he said, "I felt sorry for her; how she did storm!" |