ANTE MORTEM.

BY MARGARET J. PRESTON.

HOW MUCH would I care for it, could I know
That when I am under the grass or snow,

The raveled garment of life's brief day,
Folded, and quietly laid away;

The spirit let loose from mortal bars,
And somewhere away among the stars;

How much do you think it would matter then
What praise was lavished upon me, when,
Whatever might be its stint or store,
It neither could help nor harm me more?

If, while I was toiling, they had but thought
To stretch a finger, I would have caught
Gladly such aid to buoy me through
Some bitter duty I had to do:
Though when it was done, they said, may be,
To others they never said to me

The word of applause so craved, whose worth
Had been the supremest boon on earth

If granted me then: "We are proud to know T'hat one of ourselves has triumphed so."

What use for the rope, if it be not flung

Till the swimmer's grasp to the rock has clung?
What help in a comrade's bugle-blast,
When the peril of Alpine heights is past?

What need that the spurring pæan roll

When the runner is safe beyond the goal?
What worth in eulogy's blandest breath,
When whispered in ears that are hushed in death?
No! no-if you have but a word of cheer,
Speak it while I am alive to hear!

ST. CHRYSOSTOM.

BY PROF. J. P. LACROIX.

mothers. At the grave of her gallant young husband, Arthusa had exclaimed:

I love thee still in thy son; and to him shall my whole life be consecrated."

She kept her vow. Her own heart had been fed on the pure Word of God, and with this Word she early imbued the tender heart of her son.

At the age of fifteen, the young Chrysostom was given over to the care of the eloquent rhetorician, Libanius, This man, though not a Christian, could yet not refrain from admiration at the virtues and devotion of Arthusa.

"Ah !" exclaimed he, “what admirable women there are among the Christians !"

Libanius initiated his young student deeply into the riches of Greek poetry, eloquence and speculation, and would fain have won him over to the career of a mere rhetorician. But the instruction and the prayers of Arthusa were too strong for him; the young student learned all the oratorical and literary graces of his heathen teacher, but held fast to the religion of his mother.

After six years of study, during the latter two of which he had sought theological instruction from the venerable Bishop Meletius, he received baptism, and was at once appointed by the Bishop as public reader of the Scriptures in the chief church of Antioch. In harmony with the spirit of the age, Chrysostom's religion had assumed an ascetic turn; and he would gladly have shut himself up in the seclusion of the cloister. But as yet his mother's advice held him back. "Make me not a widow for the second time; wait at least until I have gone hence." But her decease occurred only too soon.

And now there was nothing to hold him back from his preference. He accordingly retired to the mountains, and joined in the rigorous practices of a company of monks. The monastic life had not as yet degenerated into that Pharisaic externality which afterward generally character

We propose here a brief glance at one of its brightest post-apostolic lights, John Chrysostom. The period of Chrysostom's activity (347-407) falls in that critical age when the Church, having finally triumphed over paganism was fairly started in her dangerous career of political patronage and material aggrandizement. It was also the age which immediately followed the great victory of formal orthodoxy over heresy, at Nice (325). Thus it was a period of even greater peril for the Church than had threatened her in the previous ages of persecution and heretical assault, to wit, the peril of being rocked into spiritual death on the lap of wealth and ease.

At this critical period, God raised up two men of apostolic fidelity and of more than apostolic natural gifts and genius, with the mission of turning the machinery of the Church to the work of reforming the lives of the masses-St. Augustine (354-430), in the Latin Church of the West, and St. Chrysostom in the Greek Church of the East.

As contemporary events have been fixing our attention so much on the East, may it not be of interest to look for a moment at one who holds front rank among the Fathers of the Orthodox Eastern Church, now represented by the Russian and by the modern Greek Church?

Chrysostom was born of noble parents, in the great Syrian city of Antioch, in 347. Both parents were Christians. The father, a military officer, died in the infancy of the child. The mother, Arthusa, though at this time but twenty years of age, resolved to remain a widow and to dedicate her whole soul to the culture of her two children. This woman stands by the side of Monica and Nonna, a shining member of an uneclipsed trinity of early Christian

which marked the early years of John Wesley. It consisted of prayer and fasting, and rigorous self-denial, and above all, the earnest study of the Word of God. But these rigors were too much for the young man's bodily health. After six years of this retirement he was willing to follow the voice of his bishop, Meletius, and take a position of more active work in the Church.

Ordained a deacon by Meletius, he now entered with great devotion upon the duties of a pastor, especially among the suffering and poor. Raised to the Order of a presbyter, in 386, at the age of thirty-nine, he at once began that career of preaching which, for a score of years, filled the whole sky of the Oriental Church with the light and beauty of a heavenly visitant.

His very first sermons attracted to him unusual throngs of auditors. Often in the midst of a sermon the feelings of the audience broke forth in storms of applause. Nor was this simply because of the brilliancy of the rhetoric; it was also because of the richness of the thought and the earnest readiness of the delivery. Chrysostom combined in one the clear knowledge of Wesley with the fervid eloquence of Whitefield.

Scarcely had the eloquent man began his career of preaching before a severe test was imposed upon him. In the year 387 a violent rebellion against an order of Theodosius broke out at Antiach. Officers were murdered, public buildings torn down, and the statues of the Emperor cast into the dust. During the raging of this storm Chrysostom delivered his twenty-one celebrated sermons "On the Statues." The multitude swayed to and fro under his fervid words as the grainfield before the wind. Day and night the church was crowded with those who sought

penitence and consolation in the presence of personal danger. Almost with the assurance of a messenger from God the preacher predicted, that if the people would turn humbly to God, their treason would be forgiven by the Emperor. And it so turned out. At the earnest intercession of Bishop Flavian, Theodosius withheld his avenging hand. This outcome of the matter gave to Chrysostom almost the reputation of a prophet among the masses. And henceforth he was for ten years the great favorite of the entire population. Under his preaching the Christian life of Antioch rose to an unusual degree of depth and spirituality. Gladly would Chrysostom have here labored to the end of his days. But the Head of the Church saw fit to call him to a higher place and to greater trials and responsibilities.

In the year 397 the Bishop of Constantinople died. Eutropius, the chief counselor of Arcadius, suggested Chrysostom as his successor. The arbitrary Emperor therefore ordered Chrysostom to enter into the vacant office. With tears he obeyed; but it was only by secretly leaving Antioch by night that his departure was not tumultously resisted by the populace.

But

The moral atmosphere of Constantinople proved very uncongenial to the earnest Bishop. The breath of the court was moral corruption; the general state of the clergy and of the Church life at large was superficial and mundane. Chrysostom saw at once that his role would have to be that of a reformer. He began by frankly exhorting the subordinate clergy to a renewed earnestness of life. He declined to mingle in the worldly festivities of the court. He laid aside all unnecessary episcopal pomp. He led a very simple, frugal life. He devoted his revenues to the establishing of missions among the poor and ignorant. He emptied his own wardrobe to clothe the naked. his chief power was in his episcopal pulpit. From that august position he thundered against the vices of the great capital. The effeminacy of the court, the worthlessness of mere formal orthodoxy, the extortions of the rich, the frivolous luxuriousness of the women, the indolence and theater-going of the populace-all this fell under his fervid denunciation. And when sometimes, as at Antioch, the audience broke forth into noisy applause, he was accustomed to pause and remonstrate: "Friends, of what worth is all this applause? I seek not your cheers, but the salvation of your souls. God is my witness, how often I have wrestled in my closet with tears for your forgiveness. In my concern for your souls, I almost forgot my own." And he reaped a crop of precious grain. In thousands of souls a new life was enkindled. It was often remarked that the fabulous story of Orpheus was now turned into a real history. By his fervid sermons the great preacher actually tamed wolves and tigers of vice, and changed them into gentle lambs.

But it was not possible for the bold speech of an earnest Bishop like Chrysostom should not arouse against him powerful enemies. The jealous and ambitious Theophilus, Patriarch of Alexandria, could not brook the growing fame of so great a rival. His intrigues, joined to those of the corrupt Empress Eudoxia, whom the faithful preaching of Chrysostom had offended, availed to induce a corrupt synod of bishops to depose Chrysostom from his office. And the feeble Arcadius seconded the deposition with a decree of banishment.

But the very night of his departure the shock of a threatening earthquake was heard, and the gentle Empress, moved by superstitious fear, effected his speedy recall. But the recalled Bishop was the same man still. The allpowerful Empress took offense once more. This time his banishment was final. But it was not a simple banishment;

it was a banishment with such circumstances as to amount almost to an assassination. Harshly dragged away, and suffering from infirm health, he was forced to traverse the rude regions of Asia Minor, unsheltered by night, and scorched by day by a sultry sun. And yet, whenever the escort was forced to halt for a brief space, his heart prompted him to write messages of consolation and encouragement to his friends and to the faithful few among the frivolous many.

Uncertain at first as to what spot the malice of the court would finally assign to him, he was carried onward and onward toward the wild coasts of Armenia; and he really never reached at all the distant point, Pityus, which the Emperor had designated. For on reaching Comona, in Pontus, he was so exhausted as to be forced to ask a little rest. And for his resting place he selected the church of the place. But his guard would grant him but a brief moment, and then he was dragged forth afresh. But he was scarcely gone a half-hour's journey, before his sinking powers suddenly gave way, and his guard was forced to bring him back to the church. Here he had scarcely laid himself down for a little rest when his weary soul tearfully but joyfully entered into the rest of the saints. Bowing his head in prayer, and cheerfully exclaiming: "God be thanked for all!" this martyr of martyrs ended at once his journey and his life.

So passed away in the year 407, at the age of sixty, John Chrysostom, one of the best and greatest of the Church fathers, the last great teacher of the Oriental Church, and one of the most eloquent preachers of any age. He was a true and faithful witness for Christ; and his name has

ever since remained as a sweet odor in all Oriental Chris

tendom.

NED'S RUDDER.

"AND so you mean to follow the sea ?" said old Dr. Williams to Ned.

"Yes. Father says I may sail with the Osprey on her next voyage," answered Ned, with a pleasant look.

"And you sail your yacht meanwhile, to keep your hand in," said the doctor, looking at the toy he had taken from Ned. "It is a pretty little craft, and well put together; but it lacks a rudder, Ned."

"I know that, but it's going to have one all right. You don't suppose I'd put to sea without a rudder, do you? The yacht isn't finished yet, sir."

Ned looked at the doctor with a very confident air, as of one who knew quite well what he was about; and the doctor looked back at him with a grave smile.

"I see you understand what your boat needs, my boy. I wonder if you know as well what your own outfit should be."

"Well, I guess I do." And Ned rattled over a list of things that belonged to a seaman's chest. The doctor listened to him attentively.

"There's a rudder lacking, I'm afraid," he said, when Ned had finished.

"A rudder! How can yon carry a rudder in your kit ?" "What is the use of a rudder ?" asked the doctor. "Why, to steer by, of course."

"Just so. And a man wants something to steer by, as well as a ship. The Bible is a rudder, Ned, and chart and compass besides. It's an anchor, too, of hope and dependence. They that go down to sea in ships, and see the wonders of the great deep, can the very least of all afford to do without it." "I suppose I

Ned looked down and blushed a little. can take a Bible along," he said.

bad way; but the boy that drifts about here and there, with nothing to shape his course, is in a much worse one. Remember that, Ned."

It was a word in season, fitly spoken. The boy had heard the same before; but it reached his heart now with

danger, Ned's "rudder" served him well; strengthened his courage, renewed his hope, led him to believe that all would be well, since God was at the helm.

On land or on sea, there is no soul that can keep in the right track without the same blessed guide.