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The Reign of Brotherhood.
One sees already the place which the Fatherhood will have in the new life into which the race in every land is entering. While piety imagined God as the Father of a few and the Judge of the rest, humanity was belittled and Pharisaism reigned; slavery was defended from the Bible, and missions were counted an impertinence. When He is recognized as the universal Father, and the outcasts of Humanity as His prodigal children, every effort of love will be stimulated, and the Kingdom of God will advance by leaps and bounds. As this sublime truth is believed, national animosities, social divisions, religious hatreds and inhuman doctrines will disappear. No class will regard itself as favored; no class will feel itself rejected, for all men everywhere will be embraced in the mission of Jesus and the love of the Father.—JOHN WATSON [Ian MacLaren].
Brotherhood Versus Caste.
There is no caste in blood,
Which runneth of one hue; nor caste in tears,
Who doth right deeds
Is twice born, and who doth ill deeds vile.
SIR EDWIN ARNOLD.
The Death of Caste.
Even the more sensible Greeks in Athens once had six grades of humanity: Priests, mechanics, shepherds, hunters, plowmen and soldiers. By a fine process of differentiation the early Greeks found a difference between the mechanic and the plowman, and between the farmer and the hunter. In our age and land the mind longed to be released from all this oppressive straightness, and on meeting an Emerson and a Webster it did not wish to be told that they were degraded farmers; that Washington was a low-born surveyor, and Franklin only a low, inky printer. Our Nation came from a desire to escape the oppressive caste of all barbarous times, and to reach and enjoy the broader country into which the Lord seemed willing to lead His children.-SWING.
Is It Worth While?
Is it worth while that we jostle a brother
God pity us all as we jostle each other!
God pardon us all for the triumphs we feel
When a fellow goes down 'neath his load on the heather, Pierced to the heart. Words are keener than steel And mightier far for woe or for weal.
Look at the roses saluting each other!
Look at the herds all at peace on the plain!
Man, and man only, makes war on his brother
Were it not well in this brief little journey
Is it worth while that we battle to humble
Do Thou Likewise.
Which of these three, thinkest thou, proved neighbor to him that fell among the robbers? And he said, He that shewed mercy unto him. And Jesus said unto him, Go, and do thou likewise.—ST. LUKE.
Purity of Character.
Over the plum and apricot there may be seen a bloom and beauty more exquisite than the fruit itself—a soft, delicate flush that overspreads its blushing cheek. Now, you strike your hand over that, and it is once gone, it is gone forever; for it grows but once. The flower that hangs in the morning, impearled with dew, arrayed with jewels once shake it so that the beads roll off, and you may sprinkle water over it as you please, yet it can never be made again what it was when the dew fell lightly upon
it from Heaven.
On a frosty morning you may see the panes of glass covered with landscapes, mountains, lakes and trees, blended in a beautiful, fantastic picture. Now, lay your hand upon the glass, and by the scratch of your fingers, or by the warmth of the palm, all the delicate tracery will be immediately obliterated. So in youth there is a purity of character which, when once touched and defiled, can never be restored-a fringe more delicate than frostwork, and which, when torn and broken, will never be re-embroidered.
A man who has spotted and soiled his garments in youth, though he may seek to make them white again, can never wholly do it, even were he to wash them with his tears. When a young man leaves his father's house, with the blessing of his mother's tears still wet upon his forehead, if he once loses that carly purity of character, it is a loss which he can never make whole again.
is the consequence of crime. Its effects can not be eradicated; they can only be forgiven.—BEECHER.
There was a famous sculptor in Paris who executed a great work. It stands today in the Gallerie des Beaux Arts. He was a great genius, and this was his last work; but, like many a great genius, he was very poor, and lived in a small garret. This garret was his workshop, his studio and his bedroom. He had this statue almost
finished in clay, when one night a frost suddenly fell over Paris. The sculptor lay on his bed, with the statue before him in the center of the fireless room. As the chill air came down upon him, he saw that if the cold got more intense the water in the interstices of the clay would freeze, and so the old man rose and heaped the bedclothes reverently upon the statue. In the morning, when his friends came in, they found the old sculptor dead; but the image was saved! That is the greatest thing about you. Preserve that at any cost-the image into which you are being changed by the unseen Sculptor, who is every moment that you are in His presence working at that holy task.-HENRY DRUMMOND.
The Permanence of Character.
The force which moves men to deny that character tends to a final permanence, bad as well as good, is sentiment and not science. It is a form of sentiment peculiar to luxurious ages, and not to the great and strenuous Let the tone of an age change, and this sentiment