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FEAR AND DEATH.
The word of God speaks of those who through fear of death are subject to bondage. If the only bondage men were under was the bondage of fear of death, most men would be altogether brave. Death, with its terrors, does not enter much into the minds of the average man during his days of health. Fear is the tyrant of our lives. Nothing so hampers the progress of the kingdom of God as the fear of man. It continually brings a snare, and our feet of progress are certainly caught "thereby. It seals our lips in the prayer meet ing and makes us dumb in prayer, the fear of some sharp tongue, the fear of some past trans gression that, overshadows the life. Instead of standing up and uttering our thoughts in sim ple language we stammer and stutter and seek to hide our embarrassment in various ways. It is the keenest enemy of the speaker. It paralyzes our effort in condemning the wrong. The merchant fears lest some one be driven from his store, the lawyer, lest he lose a client, the politician lest the fickle populace turn away from him and the minister lest the backfire drive him into the sad estate of a W. C. It is humiliating to receive the confessions- of men when a great moral issue is up, as they give excuse after excuse for remaining neutral, when the real reason was the fear of man. Few of us have the courage of a great aspirant for presidential honors when he said, "I would rather he right than President." The most fatal place for the germ of fear to lodge is in the Church of the living God. Yet nothing so clogs the progress of the Church today as the fear of man. For how long did the Church hesitate to take the side of prohibition? It was an unpopular position two decades ago. How hesitant she is t? speak out on popular sins of the day; how slow to rise up and tell men of their personal shortcomings. "What will the people think of it?" is the question. They forget that the truth is the only thing worth while, and to tell it, even as lovingly as the Master, means that you will be crucified. This fear of the future, and of the world, has made the Church hesitant in the face of martial calls to duty, to wide open vista of opportunity. If the Church had the aban don that faith gives she would have entered into her victory long ago. Faith is the antithesis of fear. Faith utterly ignores the present. The howl of the multitude is heard round the cross, but faith lives in the midst of a dying body and sees all men drawn to this uplifted Hope of the world. Faith de livers us from physical fear of material disas ter. The old saint in the earthquake could calmly say, "I thank God 1 have a God strong enough to shake the world. Why should I fear?" Many are frightened fiy the influx of the "flu," the very nervous condition that makes its powers more potent. Faith looks into God's face and says, "I am in His hand and am put in that place that lie directs. I shall go about my duty. I am safe as long as I am needed for Ilis work here." Faith delivers us from the fear of evil men. His law determines my condition. I am His servant and He has promised to care for me, therefore will I not fear. Men may deny me a portion of goods and honors and comfort, but the Lord is my portion, whom shall I fear? Faith delivers me from fear of failure, the most insidious fear of them all. What if after all I shall fail to attain? My life is hid from ine> it is true. I cannot see the way. But it is hid with Christ in God. Therefore nothing can affect it. He that hath begun a good work in me will surely carry it on till the day of Christ Jesus. Faith delivers from the fear of tht evil one. He is present in this world, but the eye of faith sees the chains that bind him. So we need not fear. Why not cultivate faith as the antidote to fear? A. A. L. Contributed CANADIAN SKETCHES. By Kev. \V. 11. T. Squires, D. D. II. The Heart of Hew France. The heart of New France is the rock-ribbed city of Quebec. To these gray and massive walls, to these roofs of tin that shine like silver in the glorious Hood of summer sunshine the hearts of all true French Canadians go forth as the devotion of their long-gone ancestors turned ever toward gay Paris. v Quebec lias come of a romantic past. Its sit uation is commanding, the most commanding in all North America, and in some respects the. most commanding in all the world. Cape Dia mond is formed by the junction of two rivers and their valleys. The broad St. Lawrence comes with its flood from five inland seas, and the green meadows of the St. Charles border the lesser stream that is drawn from the frozen uplands of tlue north. Here Jacques Carticr halted. He pointed the court of France to this bold rock as the cradle of the French-American empire that was his dream. Here Samuel de Champlain mightily laid the cornerstone of New France with a faith and a devotion that deserved success. From the distant days of these patriots to this time Quebec is without a rival in the hearts of the habitants. The lower town is European. It is narrow and crowded between the precipitous bluff of Cape Diamond and the deep blue river. "Ware houses, wharves, factories, banks and squalid flats with their tenants living six stories deej), all with the filth and indescribable odor of a typical French city, jostle and crowd together. The upper city is French, too, in tongue, but it looks the part of a modern American city with broad streets, elegant shops, fine residences, imposing public buildings. The tender sun shine of the extreme north and the soft breezes of Canadian summer fill the land with beauty. On a summer evening all footsteps turn to Dufferin Terrace, a wooden platform hundreds of feet in width and a quarter of a mile in length, swung against the face of the cliff two hundred feet above the waters of the St. Law rence. A band discourses music and the multi tudes promenade back and forth for hours. An unsophisticated wanderer noted that the gaily dressed and animated passengers of the little street car arose, as if impelled by a single mo tive, and left the tram. They were substantial business men wearing very French moustaches ; sober French matrons with very French jew elry in very French profusion; small, graceful and polite young men with very French man ners and very French gestures, that seemed to help them talk; and very pretty maidens with very French complexions. One and all hur ried past thg heroitf statue of Champlain that marks the beginning of the Terrace. The wan derer followed leisurely. It was evident that, all Quebec was here. There were seats for the weary, refreshment for the hungry and social intercourse for all. Friend meets friend and stops for a moment's chat, and neighbor jos ties neighbor. American visitors are here from the many hotels and the soldiers are down from the citadel in great numbers. What giants are these young men from the West! They tower over the little Frenchmen as they pass. Sailors, tanned by the winds of the seven seas, are up from the wharves and the numerous vessels rocking below. Dufferin Terrace is as gay as any boulevard in Paris. The glimmering twilight lingers long, as though loathe to leave so lovely a scene. Across ?the How of the blue St. Lawrence are the heights of Levi, also crowned by frowning fortresses and studded with cannon. Above the Terrace the fortress of Quebec flies the British Hag. It is almost the only flag in evi dence in Quebec. The antique French towers of hotels and the got hie spires of many church es silhouette the glowing sky. Narrow streets run zigzag down the steep hillsides as though they had been laid oft by drunken engineers. The great churches with their magnificent win dows, the peaceful convents where perpetual prayers are said, the old-fashioned tall houses that seem to lean for support against the hill side, the broad, liquid avenue of the mighty river that leads the eye from city to green fields and fertile farms beyond the dark outline of the swelling mountains and the fringe of the limitless forests fade slowly as sweet voiced chimes strike the passing quarter hours from some nearby tower. Day at last is far spent and the evening glow dies behind the cannon crowned craig. Then a million lights flash up on the scene. Terraee and streets are again ablaze with light. The clustering villages that fringe the southern shore add their points of light like stars that have fallen to the horizon. Quebec is a proud and romantic site. For three hundred years a wonderful history has been wrought here, with the courage of strong men, and the tears of noble women. Victory and defeat, glory and shame, romance and adventure, religion and infamy, all have a place in the record. Indian, French, English and American have each added pages to the story. Generations have come and gone but each has left an ineradicable imprint upon the rock-ribbed heart of New France. Other cities further south and west have robbed Quebec of her prestige, and of much of her wealth, population and influence. Ad vantages of position, climate, trade and of mar kets have been theirs. Hut despite all Quebec stands supreme in the affection of her numer ous children. Behind her are the forests and rivers and lakes and the vast resources of half a continent, almost virgin to the touch of man. Before her the great river leads a thou sand miles out to the swelling Atlantic and across the great waters to the crowded marts of Europe. The charms of Quebec arc her own. None comes without anticipation, none leaves with out regret. This quaint city, a foreign city on our eontinent and a mediaeval city in our mod ern day, takes a unique hold upon the heart of every wanderer. He is stolid, indeed, who does not appreciate the devotion of the habitants for the heart of New Prince. Norfolk, Va. WHAT IS BSLNG DONE IN AMERICA FOR THE SALVATION OF SOULS? ? ^ By Rev. James Russell. All our city churches are supplied with reg ular preaching services and all our churches work up the social features, I might say, al most to perfection, thus making the house of God an attractive place, but our country churches have services t\yice a month, some only once in a month, thus the word of God is