"D" Feathers
DANCING When I hear of a dancing party I feel an uneasy sensation about the throat, remembering that a far greater preacher had his head danced off in the days of our Lord. However pleasing the polkas of Herodias might be to Herod, they were death to John the Baptist. The caperings and wantonings of the ball-room are death to the solemn influences of our ministry, and many an ill-ended life first received its bent for evil amid the flippancies of gay assemblies met to trip away the hours.
DANGER—of the Christian When the instructed Christian sees his surroundings, he finds himself to be like a defenceless dove flying to her nest, while against her tens of thousands of arrows are levelled. The Christian life is like that dove's anxious flight, as it threads its way between the death-bearing shafts of the enemy, and by constant miracle escapes unhurt. The enlightened Christian sees himself to be like a traveller, standing on the narrow summit of a lofty ridge; on the right hand and on the left are gulfs unfathomable, yawning for his destruction; if it were not that by divine grace his feet are like hinds' feet, so that he is able to stand upon his high places, he would long ere this have fallen to his eternal destruction.
DAY BY DAY A celebrated modern writer says, "Take care of the minutes, and the hours will take care of themselves." This is an admirable remark, and might be very seasonably recollected when we begin to be "weary in well-doing," from the thought of having much to do. The present moment is all we have to do with in any sense; the past is irrecoverable; the future is uncertain; nor is it fair to burden one moment with the weight of the next. Sufficient unto the moment is the trouble thereof. If we had to walk a hundred miles, we should still have to set but one step at a time, and this process continued would infallibly bring us to our journey's end. Fatigue generally begins, and is always increased, by calculating in a minute the exertion of hours. Thus, in looking forward to future life, let us recollect that we have not to sustain all its toil, to endure all its sufferings, or encounter all its crosses at once. One moment comes laden with its own little burdens, then flies, and is succeeded by another no heavier than the last; if one could be borne, so could another, and another. Even in looking forward to a single day, the spirit may sometimes faint from an anticipation of the duties, the labours, the trials to temper and patience, that may be expected. Now, this is unjustly laying the burden of many thousand moments upon one.—Youth's Magazine for November, 1819.
DAY BY DAY A person says, "I cannot understand how I am to get along when I leave my father's house." Why should you see it till that time comes? What if a person going on a journey of five years should undertake to carry provisions, and clothes, and gold enough to last him during the whole time, lugging them as he travelled, like a veritable Englishman, with all creation at his back! If he is wise he will supply himself at the different points where he stops. When he gets to London, let him buy what he needs there; when he gets to Paris, let him buy what he needs there; when he gets to Rome, let him buy what he needs there; and when he gets to Vienna, Dresden, Munich, St. Petersburg, and Canton, let him buy what he needs at these places! He will find at each of them, and all the other cities which he visits, whatever things he requires. Why, then, should he undertake to carry them around the globe with him? It would be the greatest folly imaginable. And as to gold, why should he load down his pockets with that? Let him take a circular letter of credit, which is good, yet not usable till he arrives at the places where he needs it. When he gets to London, let him present it to Baring Brothers; when he gets to Paris, let him present it to the Rothschilds. And as he proceeds, let him place it in the hands of the bankers of the various places at which he stops; and he will get the means for prosecuting his journey. Now God gives every believer a circular letter of credit for life, and says, "Whenever you get to a place where you need assistance, take your letter to the Banker, and the needed assistance will be given you."—Henry Ward Beecher.
DEATH
"Paid the debt of nature." No; it is not paying a debt; it is rather like bringing a note to the bank to obtain solid gold in exchange for it. In this case you bring this cumbrous body which is nothing worth, and which you could not wish to retain long; you lay it down, and receive for it from the eternal treasures—liberty, victory, knowledge, rapture.—Foster.
DEATH The hour of death may be fitly likened to that celebrated picture in the National Gallery, of Perseus holding up the head of Medusa. That head turned all persons into stone who looked upon it. There is a warrior represented with a dart in his hand; he stands stiffened, turned into stone, with the javelin even in his fist. There is another with a poignard beneath his robe, about to stab; he is now the statue of an assassin, motionless and cold. Another is creeping along stealthily, like a man in ambuscade, and there he stands a consolidated rock; he has looked only upon that head, and he is frozen into stone. Such is death. What I am when death is held before me, that I must be for ever. When my spirit departs, if God finds me hymning his praise, I shall hymn it in heaven; if he finds me breathing out oaths, I shall follow up those oaths in hell.
DEATH—of a Believer
Old Mr. Lyford being desired, a little before his death, to let his friends know in what condition his soul was, and what his thoughts were about that eternity to which he seemed very near, he answered with a cheerfulness suitable to a believer and a minister, "I will let you know how it is with me," and then, stretching out a hand that was withered and consumed with age and sickness—"Here is," said he "the grave, the wrath of God, and devouring flames, the just punishment of sin, on the one side; and here am I, a poor sinful soul, on the other side; but this is my comfort, the covenant of grace which is established on so many sure promises, has saved me from all. There is an act of oblivion passed in heaven. I will forgive their iniquities, and their sins will I remember no more. This is the blessed privilege of all within the covenant, among whom I am one"—From T. Rogers, on "Trouble of Mind."
DEATH—Desired by few
Burckhardt states, that although the Arabs are strict predestinarians, yet when the plague visited Medina, many of the townsmen fled to the desert, alleging as an excuse that although the distemper was a messenger from heaven sent to call them to a better world, yet being conscious of their own unworthiness, and that they did not merit this special mark of grace, they thought it more advisable to decline it for the present, and make their escape from the town. If it really came to the point with those of us who talk of longing for death as a great deliverance, should we not cling to life? It is a question perhaps more easily asked than answered.
DEATH—Differently Viewed by different Characters
It is a blessed thing to know the Saviour, and to feel that your soul is safe. You have been in a ship when it entered the harbour, and you have noticed the different looks of the passengers as they turned their eyes ashore. There was one who, that he might not lose a moment's time, had got everything ready for landing long ago; and now he smiles and beckons to yonder party on the pier, who in their turn, are so eager to meet him, that they almost press over the margin of the quay; and no sooner is the gangway thrown across, than he has hold of the arm of one, and another is triumphant on his shoulder, and all the rest are leaping before and after him on their homeward way. But there is another, who showed no alacrity. He gazed with pensive eye on the nearer coast and seemed to grudge that the trip was over. He was a stranger going amongst strangers, and though sometimes during the voyage he had a momentary hope that something unexpected might occur, and that some friendly face might recognize him in regions where he was going an alien and an adventurer—no such welcoming face is there, and with reluctant steps he quits the vessel, and commits himself to the unknown country. And now that everyone else has disembarked, who is this unhappy man whom they have brought on deck, and whom, groaning in his heavy chains they are conducting to the dreaded shore? Alas! he is a felon and a runaway, whom they are bringing back to take his trial there; and no wonder he is loath to land.
Now, dear brethren, our ship is sailing fast. We shall soon hear the rasping of the shallows, and the commotion overhead, which bespeak the port in view. When it comes to that, how shall you feel? Are you a stranger, or a convict, or are you going home? Can you say, "I know whom I have believed"? Have you a Friend within the veil? And however much you may enjoy the voyage, and however much you may like your fellow passengers, does your heart sometimes leap up at the prospect of seeing Jesus as he is, and so being ever with the Lord?—James Hamilton, D.D.
DEATH—Peace in The late Mr. Young of Jedburgh, was once visiting the death-bed of an aged member of his congregation, who was hourly looking for his last change. "Well, my friend," said the minister, "how do you feel yourself to-day?" "Very well, sir," was the calm and solemn answer, "Very well, but just a wee confused wi' the flittin'."—Children's Missionary Record for 1857.
DEATH—Realised When Bernard Gilpin was privately informed that his enemies had caused thirty-two articles to be drawn up against him in the strongest manner, and presented to Bonner, bishop of London, he said to his favourite domestic, 'At length they have prevailed against me. I am accused to the bishop of London, from whom there will be no escaping. God forgive their malice, and grant me strength to undergo the trial." He then ordered his servant to provide a long garment for him, in which he might go decently to the stake, and desired it might be got ready with all expedition. "For I know not," says he, "how soon I may have occasion for it." As soon as this garment was provided, it is said, he used to put it on every day, till the bishop's messengers apprehended him. It were well if we all thus realized to ourselves the hour of our departure. We ought by anticipation to sleep in our shrouds, and go to bed in our sepulchres. To put on our cerements now is wisdom.
DEATH—its Revealing Power
To-day the world is like a masquerade. High carnival is being held, and men wear their masks and dominoes, and strut about, and we think that man a king, and this a mighty Oriental prince, and this a haughty Indian chief. But the time is over for the masque; daylight dawns; strip off your garnishings; every one of you put on your ordinary garments. Who goes out to the unrobing-room with greatest confidence? Why, the man who feels that his next dress will be a far more glorious vestment. Who shall go to that disrobing-room with the greatest tremor? Why, those who feel that the splendid character they once wore will give place to beggary and meanness; when for robes they shall have rags; for riches, poverty; for honour, shame; and for regal splendour, hissing and reproach. If any of our readers seem to be what they are not, let them be wise enough to think of the spade, the shroud, and the silent dust; let every one among us now put his soul into the crucible, and as we shall test ourselves in the silence of the dying hour, so let us judge ourselves now.
DECISION FOR CHRIST
After the disgraceful defeat of the Romans, at the battle of Allia, Rome was sacked, and it seemed as if, at any moment, the Gauls might take the Capitol. Among the garrison was a young man of the Fabian family, and on a certain day the anniversary of a sacrifice returned, when his family had always offered sacrifice upon the Quirinal Hill. This hill was in the possession of the Gauls; but when the morning dawned, the young man took the sacred utensils of his god, went down from the Capitol, passed through the Gallic sentries, through the main body, up the hill, offered sacrifice, and came back unharmed. It was always told as a wonder among Roman legends. This is just how the Christian should act when decision for Christ is called for. Though he be a solitary man in the midst of a thousand opponents, let him, at the precise moment when duty calls, fearless of all danger, go straight to the appointed spot, do his duty, and remember that consequences belong to God, and not to us. I pray God that after this style we may witness for Christ DEEP THINGS—Understood by Experienced Men The outlay in opening a mine is usually so great that the Spaniards say, that to prepare a mine one must spend another mine. To open up the hidden preciousness of the promises, we need a mine of experience, and to gain this last a man needs an inexhaustible mine of grace.
DESPONDENCY
Colton declares that in moments of despondency Shakespeare thought himself no poet; and Raphael doubted his right to be called a painter. We call such self-suspicions morbid, and ascribe them to a hypochondriacal fit; in what other way can we speak of those doubts as to their saintship, which occasionally afflict the most eminently holy of the Lord's people!
DESPONDENCY—its quick Eye for Evils My friend Smith told me, that once on a time he had Mr. Jones to preach in his church. Smith's church holds fifteen hundred people, and is perfectly filled by its congregation, of this circumstance Smith is pardonably proud. When Mr. Jones preached, the church was quite crowded, save that three seats (not pews, seats for a single person each) were vacant in a front gallery. But so keen was Mr. Jones's eye for darks, to the oblivion of lights, that after service he merely said to Smith that he had remarked three seats empty in the gallery. Not one thought or word had he for the fourteen hundred and ninety-seven scats that were filled. Smith was a little mortified. But by-and-by he remembered that the peculiar disposition of Mr. Jones was one that would inflict condign punishment upon itself. Then he was sorry rather than angry. Yes, my friend, let us be glad if we have an eye for the lights of life, rather than for its darks!—Autumn Holidays of a Country Parson.
DESTITUTION—of London
We have no reason to congratulate ourselves on what we are doing, if we only think of the great work which still remains undone. The reclaiming of men in this city is like digging out those noble monuments of the past so long buried amid the ruins of Nineveh. In excavating this vast population you have as it were laid bare the head of a huge winged bull, until you can observe that it has a human countenance and will well repay you for your toils. Are you going to congratulate yourselves that you have succeeded thus far? Why, there are the colossal feet, and the mighty wings, and all the rest of the body; all these are to be uncovered from the ruins, and the whole mass uplifted from the depth in which it lies imbedded. But, because you have done a little to bless London, and have brought a thousand, three thousand, ten thousand to hear the word of God, are you to sit down and say, "It is done." What is to be done with the rest of the three millions? Where are the other tens of thousands who are not hearing the word? Where is the great outlying mass of our leviathan city?
DIGNITY OF CHRISTIAN CHARACTER—to be Maintained
Antisthenes, the founder of the sect of the Cynics, when he was told that Ismenias played excellently upon the flute, answered properly enough, "Then he is good for nothing else, otherwise he would not have played so well." Such also was Philip's saying to his son, when, at a certain entertainment, he sang in a very agreeable and skillful manner, "Are you not ashamed to sing so well?" Even so, when one who professes to be of the seed royal of heaven, is able to rival the ungodly in their cunning, worldliness, merriment, scheming, or extravagance, may they not blush to possess such dangerous capacities? Heirs of heaven have something better to do than to emulate the children of darkness.
DILIGENCE
Select a large box and place in it as many cannon-balls as it will hold, it is after a fashion full, but it will hold more if smaller matters be found. Bring a quantity of marbles, very many of these may be packed in the spaces between the larger globes; the box is full now, but only full in a sense, it will contain more yet. There are interstices in abundance, into which you may shake a considerable quantity of small shot, and now the chest is filled beyond all question, but yet there is room. You cannot put in another shot or marble, much less another cannon-ball, but you will find that several pounds of sand will slide down between the larger materials, and even then between the granules of sand, if you empty yonder jug there will be space for all the water, and for the same quantity several times repeated. When there is no space for the great, there may be room for the little; where the little cannot enter, the less can make its way; and where the less is shut out, the least of all may find ample room and verge enough. Now, the diligent preacher may not be able to preach more sermons, his engagement book is crowded. He may not be able to offer more public prayers, or to search the word of God more constantly; there is as much time occupied with these things as could well be given to them. Still there must be stray moments, occasional intervals and snatches, which might hold a vast amount of little usefulnesses in the course of months and years. What a wealth of minor good, as we may think it to be, might be shaken down into the interstices of ten years' work, which might prove to be as precious in result, by the grace of God, as the greater works of the same period. Little fishes are sweet, and these little works might possess in blessing what they lacked in bulk.
DISCONTENT—Chronic with some
"Some people are never content with their lot, let what will happen. Clouds and darkness are over their heads, alike whether it rain or shine. To them every incident is an accident, and every accident a calamity. Even when they have their own way, they like it no better than your way, and, indeed, consider their most voluntary acts as matters of compulsion. We saw a striking illustration the other day of the infirmity we speak of in the conduct of a child, about three years old. He was crying because his mother had shut the parlour door. "Poor thing," said a neighbour, compassionately, "you have shut the child out." "It's all the same to him," said the mother; "he would cry if I called him in and then shut the door. It is a peculiarity of that boy, that if he is left rather suddenly on either side of a door, he considers himself shut out, and rebels accordingly." There are older children who take the same view of things."
DISPOSITION—Distorting
How terribly bad looking-glasses distort the countenance; the man who looks into one of them sees his hair dishevelled, his forehead smutty, his nose blotched, his eyes out of line, and a dozen other imaginary mischiefs. How like to those morbid, melancholy dispositions which pervert everything into gloom, and compel the most lovely characters to write bitter things against themselves! They may also be likened to depraved judgments, which lead men to impute deformity to perfection, and to censure even innocence itself. It were well if all these good-for-nothing mirrors could be smashed to atoms, and the truth-reflecting glass of the word of God hung up in their places.
DIVINE GOODNESS—Unceasing
It is by no means pleasant when reading an interesting article in your magazine to find yourself pulled up short with the ominous words, "to be continued." Yet they are words of good cheer if applied to other matters. What a comfort to remember that the Lord's mercy and lovingkindness is to be continued! Much as we have experienced in the long years of our pilgrimage, we have by no means outlived eternal love. Providential goodness is an endless chain, a stream which follows the pilgrim, a wheel perpetually revolving, a star for ever shining, and leading us to the place where he is who was once a babe in Bethlehem. All the volumes which record the doings of divine grace are but part of a series to be continued.
DOCTRINES—not for Controversy
"A huge fragment of rock from an adjacent cliff fell upon a horizontal part of the hill below, which was occupied by the gardens and vineyards of two peasants. It covered part of the property of each, nor could it be easily decided to whom the unexpected visitor belonged: but the honest rustics instead of troubling the gentlemen of the long robe with their dispute, wisely resolved to end it by each party excavating the half of the rock on his own grounds, and converting the whole into two useful cottages, with comfortable rooms, and cellars for their little stock of wine, and there they now reside with their families. After such a sort will wise men deal with the great doctrines of the gospel; they will not make them the themes of angry controversy, but of profitable use. To fight over a doctrine is sorry waste of time, but to live in the quiet enjoyment of it is the truest wisdom."
DOCTRINES—Duplicate Nature of
First to the right, then to the left, the road was ever ascending but always twisting, and thus, by easy marches, we were able to reach the summit of the pass; a straight line would have been shorter for the eagle's wing, but no human foot could have followed it. Nobody called us inconsistent for thus facing about; we kept the road, and no one could complain.
If we honestly desire to gain the heights of divine truth, we shall find many zigzags in the road: here our face will front divine sovereignty with all its lofty grandeur, and anon we shall turn in the opposite direction, towards the frowning peaks of human responsibility. What matters it if we appear to be inconsistent, so long as we keep to the highway of Scripture, which is our only safe road to knowledge! Angels may, perhaps, be systematic divines; for men it should be enough to follow the word of God, let its teachings wind as they may.
DOCTRINES—False In "Babbage's Economy of Manufactures," we are told that "some years since, a mode of preparing old clover and trefoil seeds, by a process called 'doctoring,' became so prevalent as to attract the attention of the House of Commons. By this process old and worthless seed was rendered in appearance equal to the best. One witness tried some doctored seed, and found that not above one grain in a hundred grew." Is it not to be feared that a doctored gospel is becoming very common among us, and if so it is no wonder that conversions are but few. Only pure truth is living seed.
DOCTRINES—False
There are no greater foes to sheep than wild dogs. In some regions, sheep were no longer to be found, because these fierce creatures utterly devoured the flocks. The church has never had worse enemies than false teachers; infidels and persecutors do but mild injury to her, but her heretical preachers have been as evening wolves.
DOCTRINES OF GRACE Our forefathers were very fond of clipping their plants and training their flowers into quaint and grotesque forms; so that we read of great guns wrought in rosemary and sweet briers. He would have been very foolish who would have trembled at cannons which only shot forth flowers and darted perfume. Let the poor trembler who is sincerely seeking Jesus, rest assured that the seemingly dreadful doctrines of election and predestination are not one whit more terrible, and are far more sweetly fragrant.
DOCTRINES (Mysterious)—to be Believed
Those huge boulders which lie along the valley of Storo in the Tyrol, are of a granite unknown in the neighbourhood; they must have come from a great distance. Now it might be hard to explain the method by which they arrived in the valley, but it would be absurd to deny that they are there. Most unaccountable is the fact, but a very strong and stubborn fact it is, for there they lie, huge as houses, and yet perfectly alien to the country. There are truths in Scripture which puzzle us, we cannot understand their relation to other portions of revelation, they are mysteries, apparently alien to the spirit of other passages. What then? Suppose we cannot account for them, that does not alter the fact that there they are, and it would be extreme folly to deny their existence because they puzzle us. Rather let us find room for adoring faith where reason is lost in wonder.
DOCTRINES—Ultra-Calvinistic
Griffiths says that travellers in Turkey carry with them lozenges of opium, on which is stamped "mash Allah," the gift of God. Too many sermons are just such lozenges. Grace is preached but duty denied. Divine predestination is cried up but human responsibility is rejected. Such teaching ought to be shunned as poisonous, but those who by reason of use have grown accustomed to the sedative, condemn all other preaching, and cry up their opium lozenges of high doctrine as the truth, the precious gift of God. It is to be feared that this poppy-juice doctrine has sent many souls to sleep who will wake up in hell.
DOING GOOD—a Blessing to Ourselves
If we view this microcosm, the human body, we shall find that the heart does not receive the blood to store it up, but while it pumps it in at one valve, it sends it forth at another. The blood is always circulating everywhere, and is stagnant nowhere; the same is true of all the fluids in a healthy body, they are in a constant state of expenditure. If one cell stores for a few moments its peculiar secretion, it only retains it till it is perfectly fitted for its appointed use in the body; for if any cell in the body should begin to store up its secretion, its store would soon become the cause of inveterate disease; nay, the organ would soon lose the power to secrete at all, if it did not give forth its products. The whole of the human system lives by giving. The eye cannot say to the foot, I have no need of thee, and will not guide thee; for if it does not perform its watchful office, the whole man will be in the ditch, and the eye will be covered with mire. If the members refuse to contribute to the general stock, the whole body will become poverty-stricken, and be given up to the bankruptcy of death. Let us learn, then, from the analogy of nature, the great lesson, that to get, we must give; that to accumulate, we must scatter; that to make ourselves happy, we must make others happy; and that to get good and become spiritually vigorous, we must do good, and seek the spiritual good of others.
DOUBTS—Foolish A Christian once, in doubt and discouragement, considered the darkness that overspread her soul as a proof that she was finally cast away. She stumbled over mole-hills when she should have been removing mountains. To an old minister who was trying to comfort her, with impassioned emphasis she said, "Oh! I'm dead, dead, twice dead, and plucked up by the roots!" After a pause, he replied, "Well, sitting in my study the other day, I heard a sudden scream—'John's in the well! John's fallen into the well!' Before I could reach the spot, I heard the sad and mournful cry, 'John's dead—poor little Johnny's dead!' Bending over the curb, I called out, 'John, are you dead?' 'Yes, grandfather,' replied John, 'I'm dead.' I was glad to hear it from his own mouth."
Many doubts are so absurd that the only way to combat them is by gentle ridicule.
DOUBLE-MINDEDNESS
Faraday notes that whilst at breakfast at Llangollen, he heard a Welsh harper playing in very excellent style, and he adds, "wishing to gratify myself with a sight of the interesting bard, I went to the door and beheld—the boots! I must confess I was sadly disappointed and extremely baulked." It is no small stumbling-block to souls when they observe that professors who preach and talk like men inspired, live as meanly as worldlings themselves.
DWARFS—Spiritual
There was once in London a club of small men, whose qualification for membership lay in their not exceeding five feet in height; these dwarfs held, or pretended to hold, the opinion that they were nearer the perfection of manhood than others, for they argued that primeval men had been far more gigantic than the present race, and consequently that the way of progress was to grow less and less, and that the human race as it perfected itself would become as diminutive as themselves. Such a club of Christians might be established in most cities, and without any difficulty might attain to an enormously numerous membership; for the notion is common that our dwarfish Christianity is, after all, the standard, and many even imagine that nobler Christians are enthusiasts, fanatical and hot-blooded, while they themselves are cool because they are wise, and indifferent because they are intelligent.