RELIGIOUS.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 746, 18 June 1886, Page 6

RELIGIOUS.

ANTIQUITY OF THE CROSS. The cross is said to be a pre-Christian sacred symbol. Id the British Museum a colossal tablet from Nimrod displays a cross banging from the breast of 1 iglath Pileser. Dr. Schliemann found this figure on terra-cotta disks at Troy, dating, as he supposes, from a period of about 2500 years before Christ, A RELIC OF MOON WORSHIPIn China, where moon worship largely prevails during the festival of Yue-Piog, which is held annually during the eighth month, incense is burned in the temples, cakes are made like the moon, and at full moon the people spread out oblations and make prostrations to the planet. These cakes are moon cakes and veritable offerings to the Queen of Heaven, who represents the female principle in Chinese theology. If we now turn to Jeremiah vii, IS, and read there : ‘ The women knead dough to make cakes to the Queen of Heaven, and to pour out drink offerings unto other gods,’ and remember that, according to Kashi, these cakes of the Hebrews had the image of the god or godess stamped upon them, we are jii view of a fact of much interest. The interest becomes greater when we learn that in parts of Lancashire there exists a precisely similar custom of making cakes in honor of the Queen of Heaven. From these the discovery of two buns, each marked with a cross, in Herculaneum, and other evidences, we are driven to the conclusion that the £ hot-cross buns ’ of Christian England are in reality but a relic of moon worship.—All the Year Round. MORE WAYS THAN ONE. I was present one day Where both layman and priest Worshipped God in a way That was startling at least. Over thirty in place On the stage in a row, As is often the case In a minstrelsy show. In a uniform clad Was each one of them seen, And a banjo they had, And a loud tambourine. And they sang ard they shouted Their spasmodic joys, Just as if they ne’er doubted That God loved a noise. And their phrases though all Nrt deficient in points, A grammarian would call Rather weak in the joints,

And the aspirate sound Was adroitly misused, And the language all round Was assaulted and bruised. While the tunes that they sung In bewildering throngs, Had been married when young To hilarious songs ; And the folks in that place Who this loud racket made, Were not bounded by race, Or condition or shade. How I love my own meeting, My own cosy pew ! While mentally greeting Friends quietly true. And the gospsl dispensed With a dignified grace Born of reason clear-sensed And a faith firm of place. I love the trained voices That float down the aisles, Till the whole church rejoices With God’s sweetest smiles, Have no sneer understood For the rest, when I say I had rather get good In a civilised way. So this meeting had grated Somewhat on my heart, And ere long I had waited, I thought to depart. But a young man arose, Looking sin-drenched and grim, As if rainstorms of woes Had descended on him ; No such face you’d discern In a leisurely search, If you took a chance turn Through a civilised church ;. But his words, though not choice, To my feelings came nigh ; There Was growth in his voice, There was hope in his eye. And he said, £ I’m a lad With a life full of blame. Every step has been bad, Every hour was a shame. And for drink I would pawn All within my control From the clothes I had on, To my.heart and my soul, I have drunk the foul stuff In my parents’ hot tears ; I have done crime enough For a hundred black years But I came to this place, For the help that I craved I have seen Jesus’ face, And I know I am saved.’ X-- * * # Then the banjo struck in And the tambourine jingled, There arose such a din That my blood fairly tingled The vocalists screamed Till quite red in the face, But somehow it seemed Not at all out of place ! Now denouements immense Do not somehow take hold Or dramatic events Reach my heart, as of old ; But my smiles could not hide My fast gathering tears, _ And I cheered, laughed, and cried, As I had not for years. And I thought ‘ Not amiss Are this tumult and shout. Folks who save men like this Know what they are about You who fight with God's sword For the good of your kind, You can never afford To leave these men behind.’ If these women I’ve seen, Should be pelted or cursed, I would step in between, I would take the blow first. They who draw souls above From the lowest depths down, Will not fail of God's love, Or to shine in His crown. —Will Carleton