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This craving is not universal. Individuals and whole natioLs are without it. There are some nations the conditions of whose further civilization is that the desire of accumulation be increased. They are too indolent or too unambitious to be covetous. Energy is awakened when wants are immediate, pressing, present; but ceases with gratification.

There are other nations in which the craving is excessive, even to disease. Preeminent among these is England. The desire of accumulation is the source of all our greatness and all our baseness. It is at once our glory and our shame. It is the cause of our commerce, of our navy, of our military triumphs, of our enormous wealth, and our marvellous inventions. And it is the cause of our factions and animosities, of our squalid pauperism, and the worse than heathen degradation of the masses of our population.

That which makes this the more marvellous is, that of all nations on the earth, none are so incapable of enjoyment as we. God has not given to us that delicate development which He has given to other races. Our sense of harmony is dull and rare; our perception of beauty is not keen. An English holiday is rude and boisterous. If protracted, it ends in ennui and self-dissatisfaction. We cannot enjoy. Work, the law of human nature, is the very need of an English nature. That cold shade of Puritanism which passed over us, sullenly eclipsing all grace and enjoyment, was but the shadow of our own melancholy, unenjoying national character.

And yet we go on accumulating, as if we could enjoy more by having more. To quit the class in which they are, and rise into that above, is the yearly, daily, hourly effort of millions in this land. And this were well, if this word 'above' implied a reality; if it meant higher intellectually, morally, or even physically. But the truth is, it is only higher factitiously. The middle classes already have every real enjoy ment which the wealthiest can have. The only thing they have not is the ostentation of the means of enjoyment. More would enable them to multiply equipages, houses, books: it could not enable them to enjoy them more.

Thus, then, we have reached the root of the matter. Our national craving is, in the proper meaning of the term, covetousness. Not the desire of enjoying more, but the desire of having more.

And if there be a coun'ry, a society, a peole, to whom this warning is specially applica

ble, tl at country is England, that society our own, that people we. Take heed and beware of covetousness.'

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The true remedy for this covetousness He. then proceeds to give. A man's life consisteth not in the abundance of the things which he possesses.'

Now, observe the distinction between His view and the world's view of humanity. To the question, What is a man worth? the world replies by enumerating what he has. In reply to the same question, the Son of Man replies by estimating what he is. Not what he has, but what he is that, through times and through eternity, is his real and proper life. He declared the presence of the soul; He announced the dignity of the spiritual man; He revealed the being that we are. Not that which is sup ported by meat and drink, but that whose ve y life is in Truth, Integrity, Honor, Purity.

Skin for skin,' was the satanic version of this matter: All that a man hath will be give for his life. What shall it profit a man,' was the Saviour's announcement, if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul?'

"Most assuredly Christianity proclaims laws which will eventually give to each man his rights. I do not deny this. But I say that the hope of these rights is not the message, nor the promise, nor the consolation, of Christianity. Rather they consist in the assertion of the true Life, instead of all other hopes; of the substitution of blessedness, which is inward character, for happiness, which is outward satisfactions of desire. For the broken hearted, the peace which the world cannot give. For the poor, the life which destitution cannot take away. For the persecuted, the thought that they are the children of their Father which is in heaven.

A very striking instance of this is found in the consolation offered by St. Paul to slaves. How did he reconcile them to their lot? By promising that Christianity would produce the abolition of the slave-trade? No; though this was to be effected by Christianity; but by assuring them that, though slaves, they might be inly free-Christ's freedmen. Art thou called, being a slave? Care not for it.

This, too, was the real compensation offered by Christianity for injuries.

The other brother had the inheritance; and to win the inheritance he had laid upon his soul the guilt of injustice. His advantage was the property; the price he paid for that advantage was a hard heart. The injured brother had no inheritance, but instead he had, or might have had, innocence, and the conscious joy of knowing that he was not the injurer. Herein lay the balance. "

(To be continued.)

All true spiritual and moral greatness roots itself in simplicity, humility and love.

THE MINISTRY OF THE SENSES AND APPETITES that range through earth and heaven, through

TO HUMAN CULTURE.

BY O. DEWEY.

(Concluded from page 263.)

I confess that I sometimes think that this subject-what old Lewis Cornaro denominated in his book "the advantage-not the duty only -but the advantage of a temperate life," is one that goes behind all the preaching. The physical system, though not the temple, is the very scaffolding without which the temple cannot be built. We call from the pulpit for lofty resolution, cheering courage, spiritual aspiration, divine serenity. Alas! how shall a body clogged with excess, or searched through every pore with nervous debility; how shall a body, at once irritable, pained and paralyzed, yield these virtues in their full strength and perfecWe ask that the soul be guarded, nurtured, trained to vigor and beauty, in its mortal tenement; that the flame in that shrine, the body, be kept bright and steady. Alas! the shrine is shattered; and rains and windflaws beat in at every rent; and all that the guardian-conscience-can do oftentimes, is to hold up a temporary screen, first on one side, and then on another; and often the flickering light of virtue goes out, and all in that shrine is dark and cold and solitary; it has be

come a tomb!

I am endeavoring in this part of my lecture to defend man's physical constitution in general from the charge that it naturally develops evil, vice, intemperance, excess every way. I before showed that the specific organs and attributes of the physical structure-the sense of touch, speech, laugh er, the human face and hand-are fine ministries to the intellectual nature. I came then to what is thought the more questionable tendency of the senses and appetites; and I have shown, first, that they are useful as hunger, for instance, impelling to industry; secondly, that they are naturally inDocent, i. e., that they do not like, but naturally dislike excess; and thirdly, that they powerfully teach and enforce wholesome moderation and healthful activity.

I deny, therefore, that the bodily constitution naturally ministers to evil, to vice. A similar organization shows no such tendency in animals. It is the mind, then, that is in fault. But now I wish further to show, before I leave the sub. ject, that vicious excess is a complete inversion of the natural relations of the mind and body; that instead of being according to nature, it turns everything upside down in our nature.

Certainly, in the natural order of our pow. ers, the mind was made to be master; the body was made to be servant. Naturally the body does not say to the mind," Go hither and thither; do this and that;" but the mind says this to the boly. The mind too has boundless wants

infinitude, through eternity; and it must have boundless resources. Can it find them in the body?-in that for which "two paces of the vilest earth" will soon be "room enough." Our physical frame is only the medium; as it were, an apparatus of tubes, reflectors, Alian harpstrings, to convey the mysterious life and beauty of the universe to the soul. So far as it loses this ministerial character, and becomes in itself an end on which the mind fastens, on whose enjoyments the mind gloats, all is wrong, and is fast running to mischief, misery, and ruin.

For suppose this dreadful inversion to be effected; suppose that the all-grasping mind resorts to the body alone for satisfaction-forsakes the wide ranges of knowledge, of science, of religious contemplation, the realm of earth and stars, and resorts to the body alone, and has, alas! for it, no other resource. What will the mind do then? It will I had almost said, it must-with its boundless craving, push every appetite to excess. It must levy unlawful contributions upon the whole physical nature. It must distrain every physical power to the utmost. Ah! it has so small a space from which to draw its supplies, its pleasures, its joys. It must exact of every sense, not what it may innocently and easily give, but all that it can give. What ere long will be the result of this devotion to the body and to bodily pleasures? There comes a fearful revolution in the man! The sensual passions obtain unlawful ascendency-become masters-become tyrants; and no tyranny in the world was ever so horrible, None had ever such agents as those nerves and senses-seductive senses,, call you them!—say rather those ministers of retribution, those mutes in the awful court of nature, that stand ready, silent and remorseless, to do their work. The soul which has used, abused, and desecrated the sensitive powers, now finds in them its keepers. Imprisoned, chained down, famishing in its own abode, it knocks at the door of every sense; no longer, alas! for pleasure, but for relief. It sends out its impatient thoughts, those quick and eager messengers, in every direction. for supply. It makes a pander of the imagination, a purveyor for indiscriminate sensuality of the ingenious fancy, a prey of its very affections; for it will sacrifice everything to be satisfied.

Could it succeed-could it, like the martyr, win the victory through these fiery agoniesbut no; God in our nature forbids. Sin never wins. Ruin falls upon soul and body together. For now, at length, the worn out and abused senses begin to give way: they can no longer do the work that is exacted of them. The eye grows dim; the touch is palsied; the limbs tremble; the pillars of that once fair dwelling are shattered and shaken to their foundation;

the whole head is sick, and the whole heart | port of things without; in that mysterious, faint; the elements without become enemies to that poor, sick frame; the fires of passion are burning within; and the mind, like the lord of a beleagured castle, sinks amidst the ruins of its mortal tenement, in silent and sullen despair, or with muttered oaths and curses and blasphe

mies.

Oh, let the mind but have its own great satisfactions, its high thoughts and blessed affections, and then it could say to these poor proffers of sense, "I want you not; I am happy already; I want you not; I want no tumult nor revel; I want no cup of excess; I want no secret nor stolen indulgence; and as for pleasure-I would as soon sell my body to the fire for pleasure, as I would sell my soul to you for pleasure."

Such is the true and natural relation of the mind and body; such is the law of their common culture. Under this law the body would be fashioned into a palace of delights, hardly yet dreamed of. We want a higher ideal of what the body was made and meant to be to the soul. Sensualism has taught to the world its terrible lessons. Is not a higher æsthetic law coming, to teach in a better manner? Sensualism is but the lowest and poorest form of sensitive enjoyment. One said to me, many years years ago, "I have been obliged, from delicacy of health, to abstain from the grosser pleasures of sense; neither feast nor wine have been for me: perhaps I have learned the more to enjoy the beauty of nature-the pleasures of vision and the melodies of sound." The distinction here taken, shows that the very senses might teach us better than they do. For I say, was that witness a loser, or a gainer? Vision and melody; shall grosser touch and taste carry off the palm from them? Vision that makes me possessor of the earth and stars !-the eye, in whose mysterious depths is pictured the beauty of the whole creation!-and what comprehen sive wonders in that bright orb of vision! Think of grosser touch and taste; and think, for one moment, what sight and hearing are. It is proved by experiments, that, naturally and by mere visual impression, the eye sees all things as equidistant and near-close to usa pictured wall. By comparisons of equal size and hue, we have learned to refer all objects to their real distance. Sky and clouds, mountainsides and peaks and rocks, river, plain and grove, every tree and swell of ground, all are fixed in their place in an instant of time. Hundreds of comparisons-hundreds of acts of mind, are flung into that regal glance of the eye! But more than the telescopic eye, is the telegraphic ear. More, to my thought, lies in the hidden chambers of viewless sound; in that more spiritual organ, which indeed expresses nothing, but receives the largest and finest im

echoing gallery, through which pass the instructive, majestic, and winning tones of human speech; through which floats the glorious tide of song, to fill the soul with light and melody. Instruments of Godlike skill, types and teachers of things divine, harbingers of greater revelations to come, are these. Not for temptation, not for debasement, was this wondrous frame built up, let ancient philosophers or modern voluptuaries say what they will; but to be a vehicle of all nobleness, a seer of all beauty, a shrine of worship, a temple of the all-pervading and in-dwelling Life.

Archbishop Leighton saith, Let the love of your brethren be as fire within you, consuming that selfishness that is so contrary to it; let it set your thoughts on work to study (not merely to increase your property, but also) how to do others good; let your love be an active love, intense within you, and extending itself in doing good to the souls and bodies of your brethren, as they need and you are able.

COMPANIONSHIP.

BY MARY G. CHANDLER. (Concluded from page 265.)

Those who have passed the period of childhood, who have taken upon themselves the responsibility of all that concerns their own minds, and who have any desire after upward progress, should remember that the books they love best are those which reflect their own characteristics. Every one looks up to his favorite books, and the tone of his mind is influenced by them in consequence. In our Companionship with our fellow-beings we may be governed to a great extent by our desire to stand well with the world, and, therefore, seek the society of those whom the world most admires, rather than those we most enjoy. In the choice of our books there is much less influence of this kind exerted upon us. In the retirement of our homes we may daily consort with the low or the wicked, as they are delineated in books, and our standing with the world be in no way affected, while the poison we imbibe will work all the more surely that it works secretely. They whose ideas of right and wrong are dependent on the judgment of the world may need even this poor guide, and suffer from the want of it; for, in doing what the world does not know, and, therefore, cannot condemn, they may encounter evil and danger from which even the love of the world would protect them, if the same things were to be exposed to the public eye. We have no more moral right to read bad books than to associate with bad men, and it would be. well for us in selecting our books to be governed by much the same principles as in the selection of our associates; to feel that they are, in fact,

companions and friends whose opinions cannot fail to exert a powerful influence upon us, and that we cannot associate with them indiscriminately without great danger to our charac

ters.

The Book of books should occupy the first place in our estimation; and the test question in regard to the value of all other books is, whether they draw us towards or away from the Bible. So far as they are written with a genuine love for goodness and truth, books in every department of science and literature have a tendency, more or less strong, to increase our reverence and love for the Source of all good ness and truth; and no book can be subversive of our faith in the Scriptures that has not its foundation laid in falsehood. Nature may tell us of a Creator, but the Bible alone reveals a Father. Nature describes him as far from us, removed beyond all sympathy, before whose power we tremble, and whose mercy we might strive to propitiate by sacrifices or entreaties; but from the Bible we learn that he is near at hand, watching every pulsation of the heart, listening to every aspiration that we breathe; that we walk with him so long as we obey his commandments, and that, though we may turn from him, he never turns from us; that when we approach him in prayer, it should not be with fear, but with love; and loving him with the knowledge that he first loved us, we find that prayer, in its true form, is a Companionship, and that the Father rejoices over his child in proportion as the child rejoices in approaching the throne of mercy.

Pure and holy influences come to us mediately through our Companionship with those among our fellow-beings who have received of the overflowings of the Divine Fountain of goodness and truth. But when we reverently approach that Fountain, we receive immediately, with a power and fulness that can descend upon us through no human being.

What we receive through other mediums reaches only the lower and more external planes of our being; but prayer brings us, if we pray aright, before the throne of the Most High, and opens those in most chambers of the soul that remain for ever closed and empty, unless they are opened and filled by the immediate presence of the Lord. These constitute that Holy of Holies which is the inmost of every human soul. The world at large may enter its outer courts, chosen friends may minister before the altar of its sanctuary; but within all this there is a holier place, which none but the Lord can enter; for it is the seat of the vital principle of the soul, which can be touched and quickened by no hand but his.

ionship fills and vivifies everything that is below it. The more entirely we walk with the Lord, the more constant we shall be in the perform ance of all our duties. The more entirely we open our hearts to his influence, the more benefit we shall receive from all other influences. The more reverently we listen to the truth that comes directly from him, the more capable we shall be of finding out and appreciating the truth that comes indirectly. The more we open our hearts to receive his love, the more perfect will be the love we shall bear towards our fellow beings. The more constantly we feel that we are in his presence, the more perfect will be the hourly outgoings of cur lives.

Intimate Companionship with the Lord does not abstract us from the world around us, but fills that world with new meanings. There is nothing abstract in the nature of the Deity. He is operating perpetually upon all nature. Gravity, organic life, instinct, human thought, and affection are forms of his influx manifesting itself in varying relations. Wherever he comes there is life, and his activity knows no

end.

Let no human being think that he holds Companionship with the Lord, because he loves to retire apart, to pray, or to contemplate the Divine attributes, if, at such times, he looks down upon and shuns the haunts of men. The bigot may do so; and all his thoughts about things holy, all his prayers, only confirm him in his spiritual pride. Every thought of self-elevation, every feeling that tends towards "I am holier than thou," smothers the breath of all true prayer, and associates us with the spirit of evil; for our prayers cannot be blessed to us if pride inspire them. Neither let any one suppose himself spiritual because material life or material duties oppress him. God made the material world as a school for his children; and he will not keep us here a moment after we are prepared for a higher state. We are putting ourselves back when we work impatiently, in the feeling that the duties of life are beneath us.

If we would abide with our Heavenly Father, we must co-operate with him perpetually. It is doing his will, not contemplating it, that teaches us his attributes, and builds us up in his image and likeness. His fields are ever white unto the harvest; let us work while it is yet day, ever bearing in mind that he gives us the pow er to work, and that we can work rightly only so long as we live in the constant acknowledg ment of our dependence upon Him.

DOING GOD'S WILL.

It appears to me that true fidelity consists in The quality of the life of the whole being de- obeying God in everything, and following the pends upon the degree in which we suffer the light that points out our duty, and His spirit Lord to dwell within our souls. His Compan-that prompts us to do it; having the desire to

please him without debating about great or little sins, about imperfections or unfaithfulness; for though there may be a difference in fact, to the soul that is determined to do all His will, there is none. To a sincere desire to do God's will, we must add a cheerful spirit, that is not overcome when it has failed, but begins again and again to do better; hoping always to the end to be able to do it, bearing with its own involuntary weakness, as God bears with it, waiting with patience for the moment when it shall be delivered from it; going straight on in singleness of heart, according to the strength it can command; losing no time by looking back, or making useless reflections upon its falls, which can only embarrass or retard its progress. The first sight of our little failures should hum ble us; but then we must press on, not judging ourselves with Judaical rigor, not regarding God as a spy watching for our least offence, or as an enemy, but as a father who loves and wishes to save us, trusting in His goodness, invoking His blessing, and doubting all other support. This is true liberty.-Fenelon.

FRIENDS' INTELLIGENCER.

PHILADELPHIA, SEVENTH MONTH 6, 1867.

BIBLE READINGS IN MEETINGS FOR WOR SHIP. A proposition to introduce the reading of a portion of Scripture into some of the small meetings which are usually held in silence, has been made by a few Friends, with a view to make these assemblies more attractive to the younger members of the Society, and induce their regular attendance of them.

Our sentiments in relation to the subject are so clearly expressed by a correspondent of the London Friend, in the last number of that periodical, that we republish the letter entire.

To the Editor of the Friend.

DEAR FRIEND, It has been cause of anxiety to many that so large a space in the Fourth month number of the Friend was occupied by the advocates of Scripture reading in meetings for worship; and it is evident the subject cannot be much longer overlooked by those who desire to maintain the principles and practices of Friends.

It seems to me that they who want to introduce the practice entirely misapprehend the object of our meeting together; and I believe its adoption would so change the character of such gatherings, as that one of the most noble testimonies which we have hitherto borne before the world would be in great danger of being lost.

Our assembling together at stated times is

publicly to manifest our allegiance to our Heavenly Father, from whom we receive all our blessings, and also to exhibit a testimony to the spiritual nature of Divine worship. The latter object, especially, cannot be done more strikingly or more appropriately than by sitting down together in solemn silence. Upon this point we are generally agreed, but it is urged by some that more is needed!-that, in order to promote devotional feelings, and for purposes of religious instruction, a portion of Scripture might be read which would probably open the way for other vocal offerings, either in exposition of what had been read, or more generally in exhortation or prayer; and this, it is said, would be an improvement on our present practice.

I feel convinced the Society of Friends cannot consistently entertain the proposition, and am equally well assured that no real Friend can consistently ask it to do so; because it would manifestly be a going back again into those things out of which our forefathers were led, and would speedily obliterate a most important distinguishing feature in our mode of worship, which marks us from other religious bodies. The solemnity of our public approaches to the throne of grace must be preserved, and all appearance of creaturely contrivance should be studiously avoided. It is better that our silent meetings are open to the charge of formality, than that they should become systematically formal, by the introduction of set reading, teaching, or vocal prayer.

I fear this desire for Scripture reading in public springs from a distorted, superstitious estimate of the character of those writings, itself at variance with the recognized views of Friends; and this is probably induced through more or less of sympathy with the "dogmatic school" in the great controversy now going on in the religious world. But this should not be the attitude of any Friend; were they at this juncture true to the principles preached by their forefathers, and still nominally held, the present would be accepted as the time in which to speak out boldly for liberty and freedom of thought; and with becoming reverence for that great truth, the perceptible influence of the Spirit of God on the minds of men.

Thy friend sincerely,

CHARLES THOMPSON. Morland, 4th mo. 22, 1867.

We have been interested in the above letter, not only as expressing views in unison with ours, but were gratified that they should proceed from the English press. From what has appeared in the two Periodicals which are looked upon as the organs of the Society of Friends in England, it would seem as if many of its active members were in great measure

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