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THE K I N G ’ S B U S I N E S S
NO BIBLE—WHAT? Destroy th is volume, a,s th e enemies of hum an happiness have vainly en deavored to do, and you rend er us pro foundly igno ran t of our C reator, of the form ation of th e world which we inhabit, of th e origin and progenitors of our race, of our present day and fu tu re destination, and consign us th rough life to th e dominion of fancy, doubt, and conjecture. Destroy th is volume, and you deprive us of religion, w ith all th e anim ating consolations, hopes and prospects which it affords, and leave us nothing b u t th e choosing (m iserable altern ativ e!) between the Cheerless gloom 'of infidelity and the monstrous shadows of paganism . De stroy th is volume, and you unpeople heaven, b ar forever its doors against the w retched posterity of Adam, resto re to the K ing of T erro rs his fata l sting, bu ry hope in th e sam,e grave which receives our bodies, consign all who have died before us to etern al sleep or endless m isery, and allow us to expect nothing a t death b u t a sim ilar fate. In a word, destroy th is volume, and you tak e from us a t once everything which prevents existence becoming of all curses th e greatest, you blot ou t the sun, dry up th e ocean, and tak e away th e atmosphere of th e m oral world, and degrade man to a situation from which he may look up w ith envy to th a t of th e b ru tes th a t perish.—-Dr. Payson. IF THE BIBLE IS TRUE An infidel said, “There is one thing th a t m ars all th e pleasures of my life.” “ Ind eed !” replied his friend, “w hat is th a t? ” He answered, “I am afraid the Bible is true. If I could know for cer tain th a t death is an etern al sleep, I should be happy: my joy would be com plete! B u t here is th e th o rn th a t stings me. This is th e sword th a t pierces my very soul,— If the Bible is true, I am lost forever.”
stood silent. A fter a few moments he m ustered courage to peek a t the One beside him , and behold, all th e lo ath some things were craw ling upon Him. “All we like sheep have gone astray — b u t th e Lord h ath laid on HIM the iniquity of us all.” FEATHER BED SOLDIERS There is a belief which never regis ters itself in confession. I t never exer cises itself in th e strong bracing air of publicity. It is a cloistered belief and suffers from w ant of ventilation. Such C hristians are always anaem ic; indeed they are always puny and never get beyond th e stage of babyhood. Belief which is never oxigenated by open con fession of Christ, can never nourish the soul into vigorous and exh ilaran t health. My soul! A rt thou secretly ashamed of thy Lord? Then thou w ilt always be a feather bed soldier and th e tro phies of th e honorable w ar are no t for thee.— Dr. Jow ett. INGERSOLLVILLE Bishop McCabe used to give a lec tu re on “ Ingersollville,” a city w ithout a Bible, or a church, or even a solitary believer in God. He pictured Ingersoll him self as living th e re for six months, th e city gates being closed again st all comers or goers. Then some of the th e indom itable R obert himself, and th e Bishop asked him , “Do you believe in a hell now?” And Ingersoll did indeed in th e most orthodox measure.
“ L ight obeyed increaseth light, L igh t resisted b ring eth night. Who shall give th ee will to choose, If th e love of lig h t thou lose?’
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