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قراءة كتاب Young Folks' Bible in Words of Easy Reading The Sweet Stories of God's Word in the Language of Childhood

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Young Folks' Bible in Words of Easy Reading The Sweet Stories of God's Word in the Language of Childhood

Young Folks' Bible in Words of Easy Reading The Sweet Stories of God's Word in the Language of Childhood

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
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Young Folks' Bible
IN WORDS OF EASY READING:
THE SWEET STORIES OF GOD'S WORD
IN THE LANGUAGE OF CHILDHOOD

AND
In the Beautiful Delineations of Christian Art.
THE WHOLE DESIGNED TO
Impress the Mind and Heart of the Youngest Readers, and Kindle a Genuine Love for the Book of Books.

By
JOSEPHINE POLLARD,
Author of "History of the Old Testament," "History of the New Testament," etc., etc.
———————————

WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY
Rev. W. H. MILBURN, D. D.,
TO WHICH IS ADDED
THE CHILD AND THE BIBLE,

By PROF. DAVID SWING,

AND

An Address to Children:

THE BIBLE THE BOOK FOR THE YOUNG,

By REV. JOHN H. BARROWS, D. D.

———————————

NEARLY 200 STRIKING ORIGINAL ENGRAVINGS AND WORLD-FAMOUS
MASTER-PIECES OF SACRED ART,

AND WITH

MAGNIFICENT COLORED PLATES.

———————————

Chicago and New York:
R. S. Peale & Company.
1890.

Copyright
By JOSEPH L. BLAMIRE.
1888.

Copyright
By R. S. PEALE & CO.
1889.

PREFACE.

The word Bible is from the Greek, and means The Book. It is made up of several small books, and when bound in two parts is known as the Old Testament and the New Testament. A Testament is a will; and the Bible is God's will made for man's good, and for his guide through life. The Old Testament tells of God's love and care for the Jews, and His thought of Christ can be traced through all its pages. There is a good deal in the Bible that a child cannot understand, and the queer names make it very hard reading.

It has been the Author's aim to tell the story simply, and in Bible language, so that the little ones can read it themselves, and learn to love and prize it as the best of all books.

J. P.

Madonna and child

Introduction.

By Rev. William Henry Milburn, D. D.
NO man of his time filled a larger space in the public eye of this country than John Randolph of Roanoke. His eccentricities, audacity and brilliancy,—his pride of birth and race, fearlessness and self-assertion,—his incisive and trenchant speeches set off with sparkling wit, keen satire, fierce invective, clothed in perfect English, and uttered with the style of a master, his sharp criticisms of the faults and short-comings of his fellow-Congressmen, which gained for him the title, "schoolmaster of Congress," together with his political consistency and fitfulness of temper, invested all his movements and sayings with a peculiar charm for the people. In his earliest years he had been carefully taught by his beautiful mother, the Creed, the Lord's Prayer, the Ten Commandments, and many parts of God's Word, until he had them by heart, and yet, in his haughty youth and early manhood he strove to set at naught these teachings: furnished himself with a "whole body of infidelity," as he styled his collection of the writings of Voltaire and other French authors, as well as British, who strove to abolish the Bible, and for many years it seemed at once his pride and delight to wield the weapons drawn from these arsenals against the truths which make men wise unto Eternal Life, and to jeer with flout and scoff at all he had learned from his mother's lips. But later on he confessed, with heart-breaking sobs and bitter tears, that with all his arrogance and insolence, his stern resolve to become and continue a Deist, he had never been able to put aside for a single day or night the lessons taught him by his mother, and that the hallowed forms of sound words, learned on her lap or at her knee, had dwelt with him, and were ever sounding in his ears, to admonish, counsel and reprove. There have been few more pathetic scenes than that in which Randolph came to die; a gaunt old man, old before his time; worn out by misery, shrivelled and haggard, sitting upright in his bed, covered by a blanket, even his head enveloped and his hat on top of it; unutterable despair looking out at his eyes, his pinched lips and squeaking voice uttering, "Let me see it; get a dictionary; find me the word Remorse." A dictionary could not be found. "Write it; I must see it," he almost shrieked with failing voice. The word was written on his visiting card below his name; he demanded that it should be written above as well. The card was handed to him. "Remorse, John Randolph of Roanoke, Remorse." With horror in his face and that card in his hand, his eyes staring at the word, he breathed his last. From that mournful death-bed seemed to come floating the solemn words, "Take fast hold of instruction; keep her; let her not go, for she is thy life," and "He that sinneth against wisdom wrongeth his own soul."

Long centuries ago, a young man of aristocratic birth, handsome person, polished manners, brilliant and highly cultivated intellect, was walking, on a day in the reign of the Emperor Julian, by the bank of the river Orontes, not far from the stately city of Antioch, the Paris of that age,—and saw something floating in the stream. The branch of a tree enabled him to drag it ashore; it proved to be a copy of the sacred Scriptures; Julian, the mad master of the world, had issued an edict, annexed to which were heavy penalties, that all copies of that book should be destroyed. The young man who drew the manuscript to shore had been taught the lessons of that volume from a child, by his pious mother, Anthusa; but he had thrown off the yoke of his mother's faith; had become a devotee of heathen philosophy, poetry and rhetoric, and at the same time steeped himself in the licentious pleasures and dissipations of the Grove of Daphne, the Hippodrome and Theatre, and resolved that "the man Christ Jesus should not reign over him." He opened the parchment, some words on the page caught his eye; they were familiar, yet shone with a new light and were armed with irresistible power: he read on; his mother's prayers were answered; he embraced the truth, bowed his neck to the yoke he had foresworn, and the volume he rescued from the flood became a treasure-trove for the world,—through fifteen centuries alike in the east and west,—that man has been known as St. John Chrysostom, the "Mouth of Gold," one of the most saintly and eloquent preachers, whose life, genius, sufferings and death for conscience's sake adorned the history of mankind.

Not far from the same time, a young man bathed in tears lay writhing in agony under a fig tree in the garden of his house at Milan. His devout mother, Monica, in their Numidian home, had taught him the way of life written

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