E. J. S. C.

IT is a circumstance worthy of notice, or it would scarcely have been thus recorded in the word of God, when and where the term "a Christian" was first applied. Such a fact can hardly be without some significance-can hardly fail to teach some lessons to those who seriously examine it.

It was not in Jerusalem that the appellation "a Christian " was first heard.

The holy city" gave not their appropriate name to the followers of Christ. "Galileans or "Nazarenes were the gentlest and least offensive phrases employed by the proud Pharisees and the mocking Sadducees in speaking of the followers of Christ. The former had denied His rightful title and character to the Master, and it was not likely that they would concede it to the servants. They rejected Jesus, they never admitted His claim; and, finally, they were rejected themselves, and their city and their land were given over to the spoiler. Not in Jerusalem were "the disciples first called Christians." Nor was Rome, the world's metropolis, to have the honour of recognising and calling by their proper name the followers of the Prince of peace. Had she thus shown an early recognition of her rightful Lord, great would have been the stress laid upon that fact when she began, three centuries after, to advance her claim to be the metropolis of the Church. But Rome "knew Him not; ""the light shined in darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not." Rome slew St. Paul,

and, a few years after, she slew thousands of those who followed Paul as he followed Christ. It is not from Rome, any more than from Jerusalem, that we receive the name by which apostles and martyrs delighted to be called (Acts xxvi. 28; 1 Pet. iv. 16).

Antioch, the capital of Syria, first uttered that word, "the sound of which has gone out into all lands, even unto the ends of the world." Antioch, sunk in sensual enjoyments, and caring nothing for the pride of empire which vaunted itself at Rome, or for the pride of race which puffed up "the seed of Abraham "-Antioch, reckless and indifferent, gave at once to the followers of Christ their appropriate title. In the providence of God she affixed to "the sect which was everywhere spoken against a designation which was at once grammatically correct, and also instructively descriptive.

Christ, their Lord, was so called as being" the Anointed One;" and Christians, if they are worthy of the name, have "an unction from the Holy One," "an anointing which teacheth all things" (1 John ii. 20, 27). Thus the name designates the character; and he who knows nothing of this anointing bears, in fact, a name which does not truly belong to him.

The time when, as well as the place where, this name began to be given and assumed deserves careful notice. Christ had ascended; the Holy Ghost had been given; thousands

of Jews had joined the infant Church; but still the name of "Christian" had not been heard. Paul was arrested on his journey, and made a monument of Divine grace and a pillar of the Church; but still that Church had no name. Many more seasons were to pass over, until, twelve years after the ascension, and eight years after the conversion of St. Paul, the signal is given, by the admission of Cornelius, and the Church collectively exclaimed, "Then hath God unto the gentiles granted repentance unto life." Immediately we read that the preaching of the cross began at Antioch, "and a great number believed and turned unto the Lord." And then follows the announcement, "And the disciples were called Christians first in Antioch." The inference is evident. It was not to the little Jewish Church that this name was given. The door must first be opened to the gentiles; all men must know Isaiah's prophecy was about to be accomplished. "I will give Thee for a light to the gentiles, that Thou mayest be My salvation unto the end of the earth." And then, and not till then, the Church received its name, and stood forth as "Christian," or "the anointed."

But once more: this glorious title was not given to the Church collectively only, to the great congregation, or to the bishops, or elders, or deacons.

It was given to those of whom the Church was composed; "the disciples were called Christians." This is a point of vast importance. The fact before us is not that of a vast corporation, by being admitted into which a man may become. entitled to certain privileges. The apostolic preaching was always addressed to individuals: "Repent, every one of you; """ whosoever believeth shall receive remission of sins." In conformity with this, the language used is not, "The Church was called the Christian

Church," but, "The disciples were

called Christians." The truth here taught is, that a man who would have the benefit of Christ's salvation must become a disciple of Christ, as well as by public profession take Christ's name upon him, and thus be called appropriately "a Christian."

Antioch, as a seat of Christianity, has now passed away; its candlestick has been removed. The faith of Christ, the life of Christianity, has less to do with places or buildings than had the elder dispensation. Daniel, one of the holiest of men, prayed, "having his windows open toward Jerusalem." But our Lord had plainly warned the woman of Samaria of a mighty change then about to take place in the service acceptable to the Father. "The hour cometh, when ye shall neither in this mountain, nor yet at Jerusalem, worship the Father. The true worshippers shall worship the Father in spirit and in truth: for the Father seeketh such to worship Him". (John iv. 21, 23). Our feelings toward Antioch, therefore, are not filled with affection or veneration by the fact to which we have been adverting. We rather mourn, as we do over the seven Churches of Asia, while we reflect that places once "exalted to heaven" are now "cast down to hell."

The main interest of the story turns upon the leading fact of the name and its meaning: "A Christian," an anointed one. In Rev. vii. another symbol is used, that of "the sealed ones." In both the lesson is nearly the same. "The servants of God," as they are termed in Rev. vii. 3, are a separate and "peculiar people" (1 Pet. ii. 9), " called out of darkness into marvellous light." And it is of vast importance to keep this truth always in mind. The name

of "Christian" was first given and still belongs to "the disciples," and to none others. It means something more than a merely nominal outward profession; it describes a learner, a follower, an obedient hearer and servant of Christ. All therefore who have any sincere concern about the matter should examine themselves by this rule or standard. It will not suffice, on the last grand inquiry, to say, "We have eaten and drunk in Thy presence, and Thou hast taught in our streets." To be a real" disciple," an actual "Christian," means much more than all this. It means a true and earnest "turning from darkness unto light, and from the power of Satan unto God."

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"I can only be resigned to what I cannot help," said Asa. So he went to work, and ploughed and hoed until the fields were clear of weeds.

"The army worm is in the neighbourhood," said Asa to Ira one day. "It has eaten its way through the neighbouring meadows, and is fast moving toward us.",

"Ah!" exclaimed Ira, "it will surely destroy what the weeds have not choked out. I will immediately retire to pray that its course may be stopped or turned aside."

But Asa replied, "I pray betimes every morning for strength to do the work of the day." And he hastened to dig a trench around his land, which the army worm could not pass, while Ira returned from his prayers only in sea

son to save a portion of his crops from its ravages. "Do you see, Ira?" said Asa, another morning-"the river is rising, and there is but small chance of preventing our farms from being overflowed."

"Alas, it is a judgment upon us for our sins; and what can we do?" said Ira, throwing himself in despair upon the ground.

"There are no judgments so severe as those which our own sloth brings upon us," " said Asa. And he went quickly and hired workmen, with whose help he raised an embankment that withstood the flood, while Ira witnessed with blank looks the destruction of all his wealth.

"There is one consolation," said he; "my children at least are left me."

But while Asa's sons grew up strong and virtuous men, among Ira's there was a drunkard, a gambler, and a suicide.

"The ways of the Lord are not equal," said Ira to his brother. "Why are you always prospering, while I am afflicted and my old age is disgraced?"

"I only know this," replied Asa, "that heaven always helped me to meet my children's faults as I met the weeds, the caterpillars, and the flood; and that I never presumed to send a petition upward without making Toil, my righthand servant, the messenger of my Prayer. WORK AND PRAY."

sence, they spoke harshly to him, and cried, "Who art thou, O man, that thou speakest to us as though thou wert a prophet? Art thou holier than we ?"

The aged teacher of religion heard the words, and he was troubled. There passed through his mind the remembrance of the sins of his youth and the imperfections of his riper years. "Perhaps," he thought for a moment, I have been too stern in rebuking the vices I have seen. Perchance after I

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have preached to others I myself may be a castaway." But he remembered that such distrustful thoughts of the Divine goodness were wrong, and replied to the people thus :

"Nay, my poor friends, I am even as ye are; and if I love much either God or you, it is because I have been much forgiven. I have nothing of which to boast; for when I have striven most to live for Him who hath loved us, the dark stains of unholiness have been most reflected on the righteousness I had hoped to weave. Many may point at me the finger of scorn, and say as I pass them, There goeth a sinner;' but is that a reason why I should not offer a crust to the hungry, or a draught of water to the fainting? They may say that I have been worse than themselves; but will my unrighteousness make them pure in the sight of the Lord? Much have I longed for holiness; and if the current of my life hath been muddy, the current of yours might have been as clouded had it been so much shaken.

"But I will not excuse myself. There is a land, and I know it, whither the sinful may flee as to a city of refuge. Thither will I go; for in that country is a mountain, and on that mountain standeth a cross, and upon that cross hangeth the form of the crucified Jesus of Nazareth; and as He hangeth there He sayeth that He came not to call the righteous but sinners to repentance. Around Him is a worthy company already; for at His feet I see His servants-St. Peter, who once denied Him, and St. Paul, who persecuted His disciples, Martha and Magdalene, Augustine and Luther, Bunyan and Newton, with many another whom He has redeemed from the love of evil. And there too will I kneel till the load of sin be gone, and this calamity be passed away."

When he had thus spoken the people were struck with the humility of their pastor, and wondered to hear him class himself with the sinful. Then they went away ashamed, and willingly submitted themselves to be instructed by a teacher who desired to occupy so lowly a position.

LVIII. THE CHURCHYARD.

ONE evening, a little before sunset, a child was walking in a churchyard. It was the burial-place of a country town. In the midst of it rose the church, venerable because of its age, beautiful because of its architecture, and hallowed because the prayers of the troubled townsmen, the men of every-day life and stern reality, had often ascended to God from within its walls. There the bridegroom and the bride had known the fulfilment of their early cherished hopes, there the little child had been enrolled an infant soldier of the cross, there the sorrowful had poured out the plaints of a burdened heart, and there the aged had come to worship, in the place which seemed to them as the outer court of heaven.

But the child was not musing on the glories of the church. Her little spirit scarcely knew the uses of that stately pile. She was wandering about among the graves in God's winter garden, seeking for two or three grassy hillocks where she had often sat and played above her little baby brothers. Inscription stones were placed upon many of the mounds, fond memorials of those departed, but well-nigh useless. From many the inscriptions were entirely gone, except some few words, Hic Jacet, or In memory of, which conveyed information that every one knew.

Slowly the sun went down, and silently the darkness deepened. On many a mound lay the shadow of the spire, as though it had bent down to whisper to the sleepers of a world in which there should be no more night. The birds in the gardens near ceased to sing, the blacksmith's hammer rang no longer on the anvil, the rooks that built their nests in the tall elm trees close by gave up their cawing, and the little child wended her way to her mother's side.

All that night she lay and thought of death. In the deep silence of midnight, when the chimes from the church tower went through their lonely music, and when the first smile of day fell on the earth, the angel of the spirit land was watching over her. Her thoughts were

of the grave, but there was nothing of fear about them. Much of mystery, yet not a shadow of terror, mingled with her meditations. Children do not fear death until they know what it is to do evil. All life is new and strange to them, but its closing scene is no darker than the rest.

Then the day came back, and the world awoke again. But when the world awoke the child slept. And as she slept she smiled, for she dreamed a dream of her brothers, the young child-angels, in their heavenly Father's house.

But

Dream-like her life passed on. one day she asked her mother, as they walked near the churchyard, why it was they placed in the grave those whose sleep lasted for a week. And in answer her mother took some annual seeds, and sowed them in the garden. Before long

their first green leaves sprang up; after a few more days they unfolded and a bud appeared; and presently the bud burst, and showed a pink, or blue, or yellow blossom. "Like these," said the mother, "are the seeds that are planted in God's earthly garden: they too will spring up, and be more glorious than when they were first sown, only they take very long to grow."

From that time forth the child began to learn the meaning of life.

Give us the key to this, if it be a parable.

The world is the graveyard of the past, we are the children of eternity, our solemn hours are the hours of holy thought, and by the sorrows and happiness of life God is teaching us its meaning.

H. B.

WHAT harm in looking? some may ask. Much, and in many ways. Go back to the first origin of all the want and poverty and wretchedness which cover the earth. What was it? A look! "The woman saw that the tree was good for food, and pleasant to the eyes and she took of the fruit thereof, and did eat." "And the Lord God said, Cursed is the ground for thy sake; in sorrow shalt thou eat of it all the days of thy life.”

The look was the beginning of the transgression. God had forbidden her to touch that tree; and for this very reason the tempter came and told her that it was good. She began to doubt God's word, to question His goodness. Desire was awakened-a guilty desire, since it was a desire for what God had forbidden. The third step in evil soon followed: "she took of the fruit, and did eat." A moment's guilty gratification brought in the countless woes of six thousand years, suffered by thousands of millions of her descendants!

And this first short story is repeated day by day in a thousand various forms. The look, the doubt, the taking, follow each other in constant sequence, in

thefts, in adulteries, in murders, and in many other less regarded crimes. And thus is sin kept alive and dominant in the earth, with all its consequencessuffering, poverty, disease, wretchedness, death, and often despair.

David too "looked," and saw, and fell. The object of God's special favour, raised from a sheepfold to a throne, enriched, prospered, and honoured, he fell into luxury and sloth; and "at even-tide he rose from his bed, and walked upon the roof of his palace, and from it he saw,' 99 etc. As in the case of Eve, the look bred thoughts and desires, ending in forbidden gratifications. Like Eve too he suffered. One of his sons, following his example, gives the reins to his lusts; incest and murder pollute the royal palaces; conspiracy and treason follow in their train. Amnon had died by Absalom's hand, Absalom dies by the hand of Joab, and Joab and Adonijah perish by the hand of Solomon. David becomes an outcast and a fugitive; and "the sword departs not from his house." Such was a second instance of the evil flowing from a single "look."

Many others might be given. Achan