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The Guardian.

VOL. XXX.

Editorial Notes.

JANUARY, 1879.

NO. 1.

Who could have put it in? It must
have been one of the summer visitors
yet staying in the place, said the dea-
cons, and at once surmises were rife as
to which of the wealthy gentlemen at
the little hotel had given the generous
sum. Finally, after much discussion,
was decided
and Dea-
upon,

cut short the thanks by saying, bluntly, "I didn't give you fifty cents." Deacon Brown retired, and a new conference was held.

We greet our readers in this festive season May Christ be formed in their hearts, the hope of glory. We wish them a happy New Year. May they all experience that spiritual renewal, which will make them new creatures in Christ | Mr. AJesus. The past year teaches us lessons con Brown went to call upon and thank of gratitude, penitence and faith. Gra-him for the gift. But when the matter titude to God for the countless mercies was opened, Mr. Avouchsafed to us. Penitence for our many sins-may our sorrow be of a godly sort, working repentance unto life. Faith in the sin-forgiving and soul-healing Christ. Standing on the threshold of the New Year it is wise to form resolutions of amendment, and daily strive, in prayerful reliance upon divine grace, to carry them out. It may be the last year of our earthly life; to some of our readers it will surely be. Living or dying, may we be the Lord's.

This time Dr. F——, who had built and was occupying a summer cottage, was pitched upon. But he too disclaimed the contribution, and after halfa-dozen trials, the fifty dollars was yet unaccounted for.

Now all this while a poor widow, who was a member and faithful attendant of the church, was never once thought of, yet it was she who had given this moFew periodicals of our country have ney, which she had gathered by long as many subscribers to-day as they had and patient self-denial. When the truth came out at last, how blank Deacon a year ago. The hard times have reduced the circulation of the best of them. Brown looked. Yet the good man had The GUARDIAN has gained in this re-not judged strangely, and probably not spect. We thank our friends, and above all the kind Providence of God which has helped and prospered it thus far. We ask our patrons for their continued support. Speak a good word for our magazine to your friends. Help to raise clubs of subscribers. Let each one make it an object to add at least one new subscriber to its list. We want

all who possess the talent of writing aptly for our class of readers to aid us with their pen in enriching its pages.

Recently in a village church a collection was taken up for foreign missions. When the money came to be counted a fifty dollar bill was found in the contribution-box. Great was the surprise.

one of us would have thought of looking for the donor of that fifty dollars in that comparatively poor woman. So we need not smile at his mistakes too complacently.-Christ. Intelligencer.

Where did she get the money from? Doubtless she earned it by hard work, used her earnings savingly, spent no money uselessly for luxurious living; ate plain substantial food, perhaps not always enough to satisfy her hunger, wore plain clothing which by much darning and patching she probably wore as long as she could. In this way she was enabled to give much more to Christ than her rich neighbors, who spent vast sums in high living and showy parade, and gave but a pittance to the

Lord. The poor widow, in her lonely,
lowly hut, unknown, unnoticed, and un-
visited by the fashionable folk around
her, put more into the Lord's treasury
than they all.

"With a look of sad content,
Her mite within the treasure heap she cast;
Then, timidly as bashful twilight, stole
From out the temple. But her lowly gift
Was witnessed by an eye whose mercy views,
In motive, all that consecrates a deed
To goodness, so He blessed the Widow's Mite."

When three heroic Hebrews, at the risk of their lives, brought David a cup of fresh water from the well at Bethle

poor by suffering with them; reducing our wants, contenting ourselves with plainer food and raiment; doing without luxuries and even without some necessaries of life, that we may have something to give to those who are in want. Thus our Saviour bore our burdens and griefs. Became poor and lowly for our sakes that He might bring us to God. Did richer people thus in their own persons help to bear the burdens and sorrows of the needy, we would hear less of embittered jealousies and clashings between rich and poor.

BY THE EDITOR.

With this number the GUARDIAN brings its thirtieth New Year's greeting to its readers, and the present editor his thirteenth. Since the issue of its first number, on January 1, 1850, it has had many friends. Those that were in the heyday of youth then are now in middle life, or past. Many have passed beyond the flood. The living and the dead in Christ Jesus, those here and those there, are still one in Him. To all the GUARDIAN has proven to be a wise counsellor and a true friend. Some may have made a poor use of its proffered help. But that is their fault, not that of this Magazine. It has a responsible and a promising mission to perform. For, the period of youth is extremely critical. The mind eagerly thirsts for knowledge, and, whether true or false, takes it in readily. Impressions for good and for evil are easily made. It then takes but little to give the current of one's life a new turn. Here different paths diverge. A slight turn in the wrong direction may lead to a life of ruin. An inch at a railroad switch is sufficient to wreck a whole train, kill a hundred people, and desolate a score of homes.

hem's gate, the good king refused to The Thirtieth Volume of the Guardian. drink it, although almost dying of thirst. Why? Bought or brought at the virtual cost of three brave lives, it was too precious and too sacred to be drunk by him, and he devoutly poured out the water as an offering to God. How painful must the further enduring of his thirst have been, and what a heroic sacrifice of personal comfort it involved! This act endeared the king greatly to his people. The son of a German noble family, sat among a group of day laborers at a village inn. As they munched their chunks of bread, he took a few pears and a piece of bread out of his wallet, and ate his meal as simple as theirs. And the poor working-men praised the young duke for partaking along with them of as plain a meal as theirs. When Alexander the Great, on his conquering path, marched through India, he almost perished with thirst. A group of soldiers, at a great cost, brought him a drink of water. He poured it out as a libation to the gods, for he would not drink any better water than he could give to his soldiers. For a ruler who shared the lot of his common soldiers they cheerfully laid down their lives. Higher still than this was the libation of David, offered to the only true God. On the battle-field of Gravelotte the Emperor William I. ate his black bread, and nothing more, the same food his victorious soldiers ate, and slept on the same kind of cot. And this sharing with the common soldiers the privations and perils of war drew his valiant men tenderly to his heart, and his to theirs. In these trying times we greatly lighten the burdens of the

In one particular the GUARDIAN labors under a disadvantage. Its means and mission will not allow it to compete with the so-called popular monthlies. These cater to the popular taste with diversified novelties. They aim to please people of all ages, classes, and characters. To do this the temptations and perilous vices peculiar to youth are at

best but softly touched. Their reading may be entertaining and pleasing, but does little to mould and build up sanctified characters, and fit persons to fight successfully the great battle of life. Not simply the battle in the race for fame and wealth, but that waged against sin for the saving of one's soul forever. Some of our readers have had little or no home training to give them a good start. Others have had it, but failed to improve it. Some need chiding and restraint, others an incentive to pious endeavor and encouraging hope. All need the bles ed Christ and His anointing grace. But who will lead them to His feet? Who help them to stay there?

In writing for our Magazine, and praying for it, too, we often try to take in the whole field of the GUARDIAN. Those to whom it has spoken, once young, now old and gray-headed, or perhaps gone up higher, and those reading it now, make up its parish. Humbly has it been sowing its seed. In some hearts has it already borne a rich harvest. In others, like the grains of wheat beneath the bandages of Egyptian mummies, after being fruitless for a season, some hand, yet unborn, may help to unearth and unbandage it, and bring it under the light of a vitalizing sun. But each soul is of priceless value has an ever-enduring destiny to achieve. If achieved rightly, how glorious! if wrongly, how ruinous! All souls are moving towards it. There is no stopping or avoiding this onward flow. Time and tide wait for no man. In this respect a pastor and the editor of a magazine like the GUARDIAN have much in common. "At the gate of birth souls keep coming, and across the world, and out at the gate of death they keep going. And all the worse distracted is the time of their passage through, so much the more do they need the Gospel of Christ, and faithful words from some heart that is at peace with itself, and in communion with God and Christ. There are souls which look to me for guidance, or which say they do. These souls I have to watch; and I have perhaps to notice how on the mind of this old man there is a cloud thickening,-and how this young man is advanced within sight of a temptation, that beckons him, and how this maiden is walking

with her eyes on what is no trusty star, but a deceitful meteor,-and how this sufferer is beginning to despair,-and how this public event is likely to affect the minds of men, whether well or ill. whether to strengthen them in right feeling or weaken them. And so sometimes it may happen with a sermon of mine, that some hearer is guided safely past a danger which he never saw, or some man has his courage called up against a trouble which he did not know was coming, or some woman finds her heart grown unexpectedly strong against her next trial,- —or some youth finds himself followed by earnest thoughts, that have come upon him he knows not how. To do something of this nature, and to keep myself and my little flock in the fellowship of the Holy Spirit, this is my object, and I think it is my proper business.'

Thus, too, does the GUARDIAN feel towards its readers, and after this order it strives to help them. And in these New Year's reflections one feels the solemn mission pressing on him all the more. For with each ending year are we reminded of our shortening life and its coming end. St. Jerome writes to a friend: "Do you not perceive how you have been a child, a boy, a robust youth, and how already you are now an old man? We die daily; we are changed every day. This moment of my writing is so much deducted from my life. We write; and then again we write in answer. Letters cross the sea, and ships plough the deep, and with every tide, every wave, our moments are diminished. We never can gain any thing but what we can appropriate to ourselves through the love of Christ."

Thus wrote and felt good St. Jerome fifteen hundred years ago. He felt then as we feel now, and how soon life for him ended just as he had thought it would. And so will ours by-and-by. As Christians, our life is hid with Christ in God. Let this life be one of persistent, persevering endeavor for the good of souls and His glory. Now is the time to do what we deem needful. In the grave whither we are going, there is neither work, nor wisdom nor device. Vain regrets over evil, brooding over what might or ought to have been will make the world no better, and us no

wiser. The only safe way is at once to
place ourselves on a better footing for
the future, which knows no failures,
to turn to Christ by a penitent_faith,
and give ourselves to Him as He has
given Himself for us.

"There's no time to waste in sighing,
While the years are rolling on.
Time is flying, souls are dying,
While the years are rolling on."

The Inn at Bethlehem.

BY THE EDITOR.

The inn of the Gospels is an Eastern khan, caravanserai, or caravan house. These buildings are built all after one plan. Usually of rough stone, and only one story. "They consist for the most part of a square enclosure, in which the cattle can be tied up in safety for the night, and an arched recess for the accommodation of travellers." The recess has a paved floor, and is raised a foot or two above the other part. It is simply an elevated platform along the sides of the buildings, without any furniture but what travellers bring with them. On the lower floor are the cattle, camels, donkeys. horses, mules, and piles of baggage and merchandise. On the upper Travellers eat, drink, and sleep in sight of each other. Nothing but lodging, no bed nor board, are furnished. Even the water the travellers must draw themselves from the fountain or well. Within its walls they find a place of shelter, and nothing more.

Should they come late the platform may be occupied by others, and they must lodge among the animals and lug: gage on the lower floor. Here are all manner of offensive odors and noises, and the sneaking thefts of cunning dogs, annoy them. Sometimes, when large caravans visit a place, some can find room neither on the platform nor among the animals on the lower pavement. Many of these inns, built near the limestone hills of Palestine, had caves hewn out of the rock near the main building, in which the animals of the travellers were housed. In these cave-stables some of the pilgrims sought shelter for want of a better place. It is very probable that in such a cave, belonging to the inn, our Saviour was born.

Justin Martyr, a great writer of the early Church, was born at Shechem, in Palestine. He lived less than a hundred years after our Saviour, and places the scene of His birth in a cave at Bethlehem. Over this cave the Church of the Nativity has been built. In a cave near by, which you enter through the room marking the place of our Saviour's birth, St. Jerome lived and labored for years, while he translated the Bible into the Latin tongue. Hither came Joseph and Mary from Nazareth, a distance of seventy or eighty miles. Here David had lived. And being of his lineage. they came here to be enrolled or taxed. This taxing brought so many people to Bethlehem that they could not all find room in one caravan house. Joseph and Mary happening to arrive somewhat late, were obliged to content themselves with lodging in a cave-stable. And thus it happened that Jesus was born in a stable.

Saviour abounds in contrasts. The earthly life and ministry of our lowly and yet lofty His being. The newHow born babe lies helpless and listless in the arms of His meek mother, while the frightened Herod is mustering his cohorts to destroy Him. How harmless the child, and seemingly how insignificant compared with the great Emperor Augustus. The abode of the new King is in a stable, amid the odor of cattle and hay, that of Herod and the Empalaces. He is wrapped in swaddling peror of Rome in gorgeously furnished fine linen. His bed a manger, theirs a clothes, they are arrayed in purple and couch of richest make and material. Mary and Joseph are His only attendthousands. Not even in the inu or humants, they are served and waited on by ble caravan house can He find a spot to be born in. In the best and costliest apartments that royalty can furnish are the rulers of the earth-born, but the King of kings is even refused a spot in an inn where to be born. How humble the scene in the stable at Bethlehem.

"Low lies His head with the beasts of the stall." Yet the stars of the firmament vie to do Him honor, and the angels of heaven chant an anthem in honor of His birth. How poor in money and friends this Nazarene group in the stable looks.

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