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TRACTS 



AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



® £ n £ r a I c r i c . 




VOL. VII. 



PRINTED BY THE 
AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY 

150 NASSAU-STREET, NEW YORK. 



CONTENTS. 



VOL. VII. 

No. Pages. 

223. The Sanctuary. An Appeal for Public Worship. By Rev. 

Daniel A. Clark, 12 

224. The Constraining Love of Christ. By Rev. Gerhard Ters- 

teegen, 24 

225. Do you want a Friend 1 4 

226. Female Influence and Obhgations. By Rev. Nathan S. S. * 

Beman, D. D, 16 

227. Christ is All, 16 

228. Moral Dignity of the Missionary Enterprise. By Rev. Fran- 

cis Wayland, D. D., 24 

229. Self-Communion. By Rev. Andrew Fuller, ... 12 

230. The Domestic Altar. By Rev. Edward Bickersteth, . .16 

231. The Bible in Schools. By Dr. Benjamin Rush, . . 8 

232. Do I Grow in Grace. By Rev. Philip Doddridge, D. D., . 8 

233. Appeal to Youth. By Rev. Austin Dickinson, . . 8 

234. The Advantages of Prayer, 16 

235. The Honest Waterman, or the History of Thomas Mann, 20 

236. Let me Alone, 4 

237. Spiritual Religion, 16 

238. Disappointed Hope, 8 

239. Alarm to Distillers. By Rev. Baxter Dickinson, D. D., . 8 

240. Putnam and the Wolf, or the Monster Destroyed. By Rev. 

John Marsh, 24 

24i. On the Hope of Future Repentance. From a father to his 

son, * . . . 4 

242. Argument against the Manufacture of Ardent Spirits. By 

Rev. Edward Hitchcock, D. D., 28 

243. A Voice from Heaven, 4 

244. Address to Young Men on Temperance. By Rt. Rev. C. P. 

Mcllvaine, D. D., 24 



4 CONTENTS. 

No. Pages. 

245. Children of the Forest, 20 

246. Joseph Archer, the Converted Sailor, 12 

247. Who Slew all These ? An authentic Narrative, . . 4 

248. Zuingle, the Swiss Reforaier, 36 

249. The Effects of Intemperance. By Thomas Sewell, M. D., 24 

250. The Scape-goat, 8 

251. The Conversion of Peter Bayssiere from the Romish Church 

to the Protestant Faith. In a letter to his children, . .32 

252. Necessity of Repentance, 4 

253. An Appeal to the Patriot. By Wm. C. Brownlee, D. D., 32 

254. The Mountain Miller. An authentic Narrative. By Rev. 

William A. Hallock, 24 



TXo. 333. 

THE SANCTUARY; 

OR 

AN APPEAL FOR PUBLIC WORSHIP 



BY REV. DANIEL A. CLARK 



The prosperity of the sanctuary is identified with the 
blessedness of any community. It has been, in all dispen- 
sations, the rallying point of the people of the saints of the 
most high God. I would do without a roof to cover my 
head, and have my lodging in the clefts of the rocks ; but 
I must go to the house of the Lord, and fix my dying grasp 
upon the horns of his altar. Let me say whi/. 

1. It is the place where God's honor dwells. When 
Israel would have the help and the guidance of Jehovah, 
they must apply at the temple, the place where God ap- 
pointed to respond to their prayers. There he had his 
dwelling, and there was seen his glory in his holy place. 
Now, though in the Gospel dispensation there is less of the 
visible and the tangible in religion than in the times of Israel, 
yet is there none the less of the reality. We have as firm 
an assurance as had the ancient church, that God is present 
with his people, and fills the sanctuary with his glory ; 
and we may as surely expect help from him, if we apply at 
the place where his honor dwells. And where is there a 
deposite of that glory, rather than where his Gospel is pro- 
claimed, and his ordinances administered, and an everlasting 
covenant entered into with his people ? There we may cal- 
culate to meet with God. And the people who cut them- 
selves off' from that holy place, can expect no help in theiv 
straits and distresses. Had some tribe of Israel refused to 

VOL. VII. l*" 



2 THE SANCTUARY. " 

have any connection with the tabernacle and the temple, 
that tribe must have been without lia^ht or c^uidance from 
heaven. The history of the ten tribes is in proof. Refus- 
ing to repair to the place where God had appointed to meet 
them, he met tliem iioiohere ; would not respond to their 
cries, or guide them in the day of trouble. They wandered 
in darkness, as the blind grope at noonday. 

And wherein is the case altered now ? The people who 
forsake the sanctuary, or leave others to sustain and enjoy 
its worship, are without God and without hope in the world ; 
and their conduct will soon tell on their character and their 
condition. There Avill some plague await them, that will 
be entailed on their children, and reveal their folly at an 
hour too late perhaps for them to become wise. When the 
captives hanged their harps upon the willows in Babylon, 
they remembered the sanctuary ; how tilings prospered with 
them when " the tribes went up, the tribes of the Lord, to 
the testimony of Israel." But they had neglected the insti- 
tutions of heaven too long, and the decree had gone out, 
that most of that generation should die in their bondage. 
The enemy had been advertised of their mistake, and taunt- 
ingly said, *' Sing us one of the songs of Zion." And their 
desponding reply, " How shall we sing the Lord's song in a 
strange land ?" portrays the misery of that people in Gos- 
pel times, that go not for help to the sanctuary. They must 
waste away in their miseries, till they shall know, and their 
children after them, how terribly God can- avenge himself 
on his enemies. 

2. The house of God is the place of united and fervent 
prayer. We hazard nothing in saying, that all who pray 
meet there. Such cannot voluntarily and habitually absent 
themselves from the place where God has appointed to 
meet them, and hold communion with them. And they 
come there to pray, and to unite their prayers ; and the 
promise of God is, that whatever they shall ask according 
to his word, it shall be done for them. 

The iiifuU'l only will doubt whether prayer has efficacy. 



THE SANCTUARY. 3 

God's promise to hear, and the behever's assurance that 
God " has heard him in the time accepted, and in the day 
of salvation has succored him," begets confidence in the use 
of prayer. And its increased efficacy when united and/c>-- 
vcnt, and the assurance that it may have unity and fervencf/ 
in the sanctuary, point out that place as the source of their 
help in the hour of danger and of suffering. 

Any privilege but the immediate smiles of God, I would 
dispense with, sooner than have no share in the prayers of 
God's people offered in the holy place. I would be without 
the means of self-defence, without the protection of law, 
and without a shelter for my head at night ; but should not 
dare to cut myself off from an interest in the prayers of the 
sanctuary. Let no shower or dew fall on my field, or 
breezes fan my habitation, or genial sun warm me ; but let 
me not be excluded from the health-bearing influence of the 
house of prayer. Others can resort to their farms, and their 
merchandise, and their journeys, and their book-keeping, on 
the Lord's day, and let the prayers of the sanctuary go. 
But if there does not come a blight over all their budding- 
hopes, and they do not find that moth and rust corrupt their 
treasures, then we have mistaken the ways of God. We 
shall watch to see what destiny overtakes their property and 
their children, after the lapse of a few years. If facts may 
testify, the interests of the present hfe, as well as the life 
to come, depend on the identity we establish between them 
and the supplications of the house of prayer. The prompt 
and faithful supporter, and constant attendant upon the 
sanctuary, may calculate to prosper. " Those that honor 
me, I will honor." The less frequent attendance, and the 
less prompt and generous support, may be associated with 
a kind of paralyzed and stationary prospeiity. " To the 
froward thou wilt show thyself fro ward." The entire neg- 
lect will be the harbinger of darkness and decay. " They 
that despise me shall be lightly esteemed." Neither prop- 
erty, nor character, nor posterity are secure, where there 
is wanting the guardianship of prayer. Not the puiiilcd 



4 THE SANCTUARY. 

rod which turns away the Hghtning, answers a purpose more 
kind in the natural, than prayer in the moral world. 

3. The house of God is the radiant point of sanctifying 
truth. It was the prayer of the Lord Jesus for the destined 
heirs of salvation, "Sanctify them through thy truth." 
And God has revealed it as his purpose, " by the foolish- 
ness of preaching, to save them that believe." Hence, 
from the lips of the living preacher go out those doctrines 
that operate to purify the hearts of men. And who dare 
hope that society can prosper, where no hearts are sanc- 
tified ? " Ye are the salt of the earth." A whole unre- 
generate family constitutes a very dark house, where in- 
subordination kindles many a fire ; and a town, or county, 
or state, where there were none regenerate, would be an 
immanageable community. Society owes more than it will 
acknowledge to the influence of piety. It lays upon men a 
restraint, even where the number of the pious is small, that 
is productive of more peace, and order, and prosperity, than 
all other means combined. Survey those lands where no 
purifying religion operates to mould the manners, and fix 
the principles, and restrain the passions of ungodly men. 
They are desolate. The passions excited, with no influence 
present to restrain or tame them, spread a destruction wide 
and w^asteful as human power can generate. 

After this survey, if you do not feel glad that your lot 
is cast in a Gospel land, then will we abandon the argument, 
and help you to lay the temple prostrate. At one glance 
you will see a religion that eats up its population like a pes- 
tilence. At another, you will see prevailing falsehood, and 
fraud, and theft, till no man sees another in whom he places 
confidence. Domestic happiness and conjugal fidelity, and 
parental and filial regard, are things for which their lan- 
guage has not a name. And everywhere, where the Gos- 
pel is not, there prevails a government that rules with a 
sceptre of iron. The hardest despotism is rendered neces- 
sary by the absence of moral restraint. If ^i/f^// must he, or 
misery, there must be that truth which sanctifies, and the 



THE SANCTUARY. 5 

sanctuary whence that truth issues. Throw prostrate the 
altar of God, and there will be no power found that can 
sustain the sanctifying doctrines of revelation. " What God 
has joined, let not man put asunder." The house of God 
ever has been, a.nd must be the grand receptacle of light 
from heaven, and thence it issues to restrain the passions 
and mould the manners, and repair, with the divine blessing, 
the ruins of the apostasy. 

4. The instruction of God's house is the grand agent in 
the formation of public sentiment. I now refer to an in- 
fluence that goes out from that holy place to affect all 
men, whether they will or w^ill not be controlled by that 
influence. To the ungodly, public sentiment is an irresistible 
law. You could bind the thief and the robber by it. Sur- 
round them with only purity of sentiment, and you would 
make them honest. No man can habitually do what all 
about him disapprove. The most depraved would be per- 
fectly wretched, embosomed in a holy community, till they 
would break from their prison, and find some fastness in the 
mountains, where they might associate with men of their 
own stamp. 

Human laws are weak and inoperative, but as they are 
sustained by public sentiment. Murder is committed with 
impunity in those lands where a public depraved sentiment 
is stronger than law. I would not give a straw for that 
defence that law holds out, in the absence of a correct pub- 
lic opinion to sustain the law. 

And there is no means powerful like the house of God 
in the formation of that opinion. There issue thence, not 
merely the doctrines that sanctify, but the sub-principles 
that moralize, and mould, and restrain the public mind. 
And this influence it exerts, not merely upon the Sabbath- 
assembly, but upon the men that despise the control of 
principles that either God or man can enforce. The men 
who attend the sanctuary, bear out into society, and act out 
in their deportment, its principles ; and others catch the 
moralizing influence, and spread it wider and still wider 



6 THE SANCTUARY. 

over the surface of an apostate and degenerate community, 
till the whole mass is leavened. 

Hence, that portion of society Avhich stand aloof from 
the house of God, and perhaps gnash their teeth upon its 
holy solemnities, are blessed through its influence. It bears 
obliquely upon them ; but is mighty, like no other law they 
listen to. It gives them indirectly all their civil privileges, 
the peaceable possession of their rights, security of life, and 
exemption from midnight depredations, and from hourly 
oppressions. It sets a watch about them at the expense of 
others, a watch which they should be ashamed to let their 
fellow-men sustain alone, but without which society would 
be a den of thieves. When we say of any one that he is a 
shameless fellow, what more can we say to give him the 
lowest character ? But, to become shameless, what is it 
but to hold public sentiment in utter contempt ? It is this 
public sentiment that keeps our world from becoming a 
shameless community ; and for this kind guardian of our 
best earthly interests, every man is indebted to the sanctuary. 

5. The house of God sustains all the other civilizing and 
healthful institutions. Identified with it, are a preached 
Gospel and the ministry of reconciliation. These all sustain 
each other. And hence, the sin of disturbing a regular 
sanctuary-going people is one of no small magnitude. 

The Sabbath, too, is sustained by the sanctuary. When 
or where was there ever a Sabbath kept by a people who 
were regardless of the public worship of God ? Will there 
be a Sabbath in the private circle, where there is no solemn 
Sabbath-keeping assembly, and the inspiration of the church- 
going bell is not felt ? No, no. Trace the world over, and 
no such thing can be found. If men tarry at home, they 
will be about their secular concerns, and the day will be 
amalgamated with the days not sanctified. Hence, in those 
lately dark places of the earth, where they have recently 
instituted a Sabbath, they have simultaneously erected a 
sanctuary ; and the one sustains the other. 

And all the means of education stand on the same basis • 



THE SANCTUARY. 7 

schools, academies, and colleges owe their very existence to 
their connection with the house of God. The ministers of 
religion have ever sustained these institutions, and they 
perish, sure as the frosts of autumn strip the wood of its 
foliage, as soon as they aim at independence of the higher 
institutions of religion. After the darkest times, when 
learnino- seemed to have taken its ^ig-ht from the earth, its 
embryo was found to have been sustained in the retreats of 
the priesthood. Religion and science are indissolubly yoked 
to the sanctuary, as their foster-mother. The evidence on 
this point is brought to our very doors. In those districts 
of our regular Sabbath- keeping congregations, where the 
population have abandoned the sanctuary, their schools 
decline, and the merest being that has impudence enough 
to apply, will be intrusted Avith the instruction of their 
children. Now, let a whole town become like one of these 
abandoned districts, audits schools, if any thing that deserves 
the name remains, will all be of the same character. A 
palpable darkness comes over the whole community. All 
improvement of intellect is undervalued, and the people 
verge towards heathenism by sure and rapid strides. 

And in the meantime, men suffer in their interest ten 
times the cost of sustaining the Gospel. Restraint is removed 
from vice, and the enemies of virtue, sustained by a per- 
verse public sentiment, walk undisguised their guilty round 
of midnight depredations. Vice, that law was invented to 
punish, claims its protection. Acts of inebriation, and lust, 
and profaneness, and falsehood, and every other daring out- 
rage upon the laws of God and the peace of society, are at 
length unblushingly committed, rendering insecure all the 
dearest interests of man. 

The prudent man must now expend upon the vices of 
his children, many times the sum that would have sustained 
the Gospel institutions. But, alas, he withholds his sup- 
port from these, to buy his offspring the means of their 
eternal undoing. He saved the price of helping to build 
the sanctuary, and the pittance required to support the 



8 THE SAx\CTUARY. 

ministry and equip his family for the occupancy of their 
pew ; and, added to these, he saved all the earning of the 
Sabbath-day; but he saved it to put it into a bag with 
holes — to bequeath it to an infidel, a debauched and profli- 
gate offspring. If a very small portion of the estate had 
been expended for their religious education, and they had 
acquired some knowledge of God, and a conscience rectified 
by his word, they might have been men, and possessed 
more than the virtues of a father, and been intrusted with 
his estate and the honors of his house, to hand down his 
name and his praise to unborn generations. But the self- 
abused father, now on his dying bed, sees nothing else to 
do but put his large estate into the purse of vagabonds, 
where it will evaporate like the dew of morning, or rot and 
breed corruption, and carry death through the whole field 
of its pestiferous exhalations. It does not bless his sons, 
but renders them more capable of being incurably profligate. 
The meanest povert}^ depriving them of the means of beast- 
ly indulgence, might have begotten hope of their redemption. 
But the poor father must now disinherit his children, or 
minister to their destruction. 

And in the meantime, he, through his money and his 
heir, pours out pestilence upon society, and generates a 
plague to operate the ruin of unborn generations. 

But that father has only himself to blame. His son 
formed the best character he could have been expected to 
form with the means his father furnished him. Among 
these means there was no sanctuary, nor Sabbath, nor Sab- 
bath-school, nor ministry, nor valuable library, nor domestic 
piety, nor parents' holy example, to give him character and 
virtue, and render him a man. 

And while this individual loss is going on by the saci'i- 
lege of the sanctuary, there is a gradual and yet perceptible 
sinking of the interest of the whole community. The orig- 
inal population are perishing, and no change of inhabitants 
will alter circumstances for the better ; for the man of decent 
habits, who has any character or interest to lose, will not 



THE SANCTUARY. Q 

take up his residence in a territory so desolate, and ap- 
proaching evidently towards a still grosser desolation. Sink- 
ing property will ever be held above its value till it reaches 
its lowest price. 

The very best portions of Christendom Avoiild run pre- 
cipitately back to heathenism, only break down the house 
of God. Who but a heathen can be expected to set any 
price upon heathen territory, upon habitations which have 
become infested with a moral plague, and fields over which 
there has burned an all-consuming fire, across which there 
blow perpetually the withering and deadly blasts of a 
scorching desert ? And there is fled, in the meantime, all 
that rendered life valuable. Conjugal fidelity, and parental 
tenderness, and filial confidence and duty, begin to be more 
scarce, and less valued than in Sabbath and sanctuary times. 
And where are now the family altars, and the social Bible- 
reading, and the evening fireside hymn, and the respect for 
age, and the kind attentions to the poor and the houseless ? 
Where all the precious endearments of home ? And where 
the authority to put down iniquity; and the wholesome 
public sentiment to sustain virtuous deportment, and guard 
individual rights, and cradle into calmness the tumults of 
riot ? All these disappear along with respect for the sanc- 
tuary, and attendance upon the ordinances and institutions 
of religion. It is not in the nature of things, and evidently 
is not the design of Providence, that these healthful princi- 
ples shall survive the moment when the bittern and the owl 
shall have their home in the old weather-beaten and time- 
worn sanctuary. 

And I need not say that all heathen lands are destitute 
of 'the public sentiment and the humanizing principles that 
bless mankind, and that lie at the foundation of social hap- 
piness. And facts assure us, that a territory that has been 
Christian, can run back to heathenism as rapidly as time 
can speed and virtue decline. 

Hence those who have made up their minds to dispense 
with Gospel institutions, must calculate on a diminution of 



10 THE SANCTUARY. 

their catalogue of comforts, beyond what any miserable 
people have presumed, till they had made the awful exper- 
iment, and could not retreat. Men are too depraved to be 
left without the healthful restraints of the Gospel. All that 
is fair is marred, and all that is flourishing blighted under 
the monstrous experiment. Could the people have known, 
where flourished the seven churches of Asia ; could they 
have dreamed what a desolation Avould sweep over them, 
laying waste scores of generations, they would have taken 
the warning given them, and not have suff'ered the candle- 
stick to be removed out of his place. And could any aban- 
doned section of Christendom have known, ere they parted 
with the Gospel, how soon all their comforts would flee, 
they would have made one more dying effort, and would 
have perished, if they must, by the horns of the altar. And 
even now, if there could be produced a pulsation of spirit- 
ual life, the rock would rise from the quarry, and the timber 
come down from the wood, and the sanctuary lift its spire, 
and the church-going bell utter hints of salvation through 
all the dreary territories of death. Men grow poor by rob- 
bino' God. There inevitably follows the abandonment of the 
Gospel, a train of litigations, and bankruptcies, and impris- 
onments, and divorces, which no human power can control. 
Some solitary family may seem for a time to thrive, may 
grow wealthy through the vices of the people ; or, because 
they had no share in procuring the desolation, are not in- 
cluded in the ruins. But even these, unless they flee soon 
from the midst of such a Babylon, will become partakers 
of her plagues. They will see their children contaminated, 
and vile encroachments made upon the stillness of their 
Sabbaths, and the peacefulness of their evenings, and the 
innocent enjoyment of their interest. They must send away 
their children to be educated, and send out their capital 
from the desolate territory ; or employ it contraband, in 
distilleries and grogshops, and usury, the only institutions 
that flourish in the absence of the Gospel ; and then God 
Avill curse their estate, and curse their children with it, and 



THE SAXCTUAUV. J J 

their good name, till they and theirs become involved in the 
surrounding moral ruins. Thus, when the sanctuary is let 
go, all goes. Men find their counsels turned into foolish- 
ness, and they pay, as a tribute to vice, twenty times the 
assessments of virtue. Hence, when men imagine them- 
selves unable to bear the expense of divine institutions, they 
should inquire if they be able to live without them. 

6. From the house of God are usually selected the sub- 
jects of his grace. Those who frequent the sanctuary are 
most likely to be regenerated. We have pronounced it the 
radiant point of sanctifying truth. And it is truth, we must 
not forget, i)i the lijjs of a living ministry, that God has 
pledged himself to bless. " By the foolishness of preach- 
ing he saves them that believe." When our Lord had com- 
missioned his apostles to "Go into all the world and preach 
the Gospel to every creature," he promised, " He that be- 
lieveth and is baptized, shall be saved ; but he that believ- 
eth not, shall be damned !" Thus the Gospel that they 
would carry, and that would sound from their lips and those 
of their successors, was to be the grand instrument of salva- 
tion. 

In connection with this divine promise, facts assure us, 
that when God sends a revival of religion among a people, 
the subjects of it are generally taken from sanctuary-going 
families. " Sanctify them through thy truth ; thy word is 
truth." If others, in such a period, come around and seem 
interested and awakened, still, seldom do they make their 
way to Jesus Christ ; more generally you see them, soon as 
the revival is over, returning back to their Sabbath-break- 
ing and their cups, " like the dog to his vomit, and like the 
sow that was washed, to her wallowing in the mire ;" and 
we hear not from them, till perhaps another revival sum- 
mons them again to come and gaze upon the moving ark. 
But those who gi\e evidence of renewed hearts, are more 
generally the people who have habitually frequented the 
house of God. In them Christ is formed the hope of glory. 

Hence, to the house of God the churches of Christ must 



12 , THE SAAUTUARV. 

look for their recruits, and the world for its light. Where 
the public worship of God ceases, we hear of few revivals ; 
or, if we hear of them, Ave frequently hear afterwards that 
their fruits have perished in some wild and wayward fanati- 
cism. Hence, the church must dwindle and become extinct, 
without the sustaining influence of the sanctuary. There 
are at length neither creed, nor covenant, nor communion, 
nor aught else remaining, but some indistinct recollection 
that once God had there a people, or perhaps some hoary 
believer that once ate the consecrated bread ! 

And what is there worth saving, what that God will 
watch over or care for, where he has no people? As in 
the old world, when the ark was ready, and in Sodom, when 
Lot was 2;one, the eye of a vigilant Providence sees nothing 
valuable to occupy it : when there is none of his image, he 
sees nothing but chaff and stubble. *' Ye are the salt of the 
earth ; ye are the light of the world." Humiliating as the 
thought may be, none may alter or soften it ; " Jacob is the 
lot of his inheritance." If men are mortified that their 
character is such as to sink them below the smile of Heaven, 
and render them and theirs not worthy to be guarded, they 
must adjust the concern with God. If they will not build 
him a house, or if they abandon the place where his honor 
dwells, they cannot complain if he care not to build them 
up a sure house for ever. It is only walking frowardly to- 
wards them, as they have walked frowardly towards him. 
He will think it right to make every other interest bend to 
that of his church ; the world willing or not wilhng, pleased 
or displeased. " The Lord send thee help from the sanc- 
tuary !" 



]\o. «5J4, 

THE 

CONSTRAINING 
LOVE OF CHRIST 

BY REV. GERHARD TERSTEEGEN. 

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN. 



" The love of Christ coTistrahieth us," exclaims the 
apostle Paul in his second epistle to the Corinthians, in which 
words he naturally calls our attention to the matchless love 
of Christ, and to its divine co7istraini7ig poiver. 

I. It has not pleased the Holy Spirit to indicate more 
clearly, whether by " the love of Christ " is here meant 
the love wherewith Christ loveth us, or that love with which 
the believing heart loves Christ : perhaps for this very rea- 
son, that we should take them both together. They belong, 
in fact, most closely to each other : the one is produced by 
the other, and they are originally one ; for how should we 
possess even a spark of love to Christ, unless he had first 
loved us ? And the love wherewith we are enabled to love 
him, is not less his love, than that with which he has loved 
us, both in time and in eternity. It is Christ who makes 
the commencement in loving ; therefore, in our present med- 
itation, we must also begin with considering his love to us. 

1 . Christ loves us with a love surpassing the most faith- 
ful and most fervent love of a friend. Friendship amongst 
men consists in the free and inward inclination of the heart, 
by' virtue of which, the individual wishes his friend the pos- 
session of every good, and gladly procures it for him ; whilst 
he seeks, on the other hand, to defend him from every injury 
and misfortune, and to aid and assist him in every emer- 
gency. It is with such a friendly affection, that Christ is ir 
reality attached to us in the highest degree. 

If we wish to form to ourselves an idea of the most faith- 
voL. vir. 2* 



2 THE CUNSTRAINING JLUVE OF ClIRIriT. 

ful friendship, it must be such a friendship as will continue 
firm in the hour of need. But where amongst mankind do 
we find a friend in need ? And if we are desirous of repre- 
senting to ourselves this affection of the soul, in its sublimest 
exercise, we must suppose the case of one friend laying down 
his life for the other ; but where is such a friend or such 
friendship to be found amongst men ? In Christ, we really 
possess such a friend, and in his heart, such a friendship for 
us. " No one," says himself, " hath greater love than this, 
that he lay down his life for his friends." John 15 : 13. 
Ah, dearest Saviour, why talk of friends ? We were foes 
and rebels, and yet hast thou laid down thy life for us. 
" Christ," according to Paul's expression, " died for the un- 
godly." " God commendeth his love toward us, in that 
while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." Rom. 5 : 6, 
8. It is therefore with due reflection, that I have denomi- 
nated the love of Christ, a love that surpasses the most faith- 
ful and most fervent love of a friend. 

the astonishing intensity of the love of Christ. You 
and I, my dear friends, were fallen from the friendship, light, 
love, and fellowship of God, into the depths of misery, wretch- 
edness, and hell. We were no longer friends, but foes ; no 
longer worthy of being loved, but hateful and deserving of 
wrath. Yet God, in his eternity, had compassion on our 
great and boundless misery. He let it cost him that which 
he held most dear. For our salvation he gave up his only 
begotten Son, the child of his bosom, and in his Son, the 
heart of his love. Neither man nor angel can comprehend 
or fathom this. We must believe it, we must adore it, and 
with Christ himself, astonished exclaim, " God so loved the 
world," this miserable world. John 3 : 16. 

Christ's surpassing friendship for us constrained him to 
leave heaven for us. Listen to the joyful and wondrous 
story. Listen to this glorious Gospel of the ever-blessed ' 
God — not as a matter with which you are already acquaint- 
ed, and which you have learnt from your youth up, from 
your Bible or catechism ; but listen to it as important news — 



THE CUNriTRALMxNG LUVE Of ClIRlriT. 3 

listen to it this day, for once, as if you had never heard it in 
your hfe before. Christ's surpassing friendship constrained 
him to leave heaven, that he might save and deliver us. 
And in order to do so, and that we might not be afraid at 
his appearing, he clothed himself in our wretched humanity 
and sinful form. As our Goel and near relative, he really 
took upon himself the burden of our sins and transgressions, 
as though they were his own. During the space of nearly 
thirty-four years, he labored, prayed, and struggled for you, 
my friends, and for me. Under the most appalling sense 
and agonizing feeling of that divine wrath which sin had 
roused, he became exceedingly sorrowful, sweated great drops 
of blood, and experienced the hiding of God's countenance : 
he "bore our sins in his own body on the tree." And all 
this he did from the voluntary affection of a friend, and 
that by the inestimable value of his blood, he might again 
reconcile us, and purchase us to become his friends. 

Can we imagine greater love ? Is not Christ a true 
friend in need, a real friend, even unto death ? And he suf- 
fered all this, not for us generally, but for every one of us in 
particular. In this view Paul regarded it : " Christ loved 
me," says he, " and gave himself for me." Ah, Paul, what 
is it thou sayest ? Did Christ then die for thee solely ? 
yes, solely for me, and solely for thee : thus we ought to view 
the subject, in order to behold it to the most advantage ; and 
it is thus that Christ loves every one with a particular afiec- 
tion. 

2. Christ loves us, and loves us voluntarily, with a love 
surpassing the most compassionate, attentive, and unwearied 
affection of a mother. When an infant is sick, or hurts 
itself, and lies weeping and in pain before its mother's eyes, 
instead of hating it on account of its pitiable state, she re- 
gards the poor babe with heartfelt compassion, and seeks, in 
every possible manner, to relieve and comfort it. Christ has 
similar love towards us fallen and sinful children, especially 
when we penitently feel and bewail our sins. He then re- 
gards us M^ith feelings of the most tender compassion. Poor 



4 THE CONSTRAINING LOVE OF CHRIST. 

penitent soul, thou probably dost not believe that Christ 
loves thee thus, and looks upon thee in such a manner ; 
thou thinkest thou art altogether too abominable, and that, 
having wilfully plunged thyself into all this misery, he pays 
no more attention to thee. Hear, therefore, w^hat he says 
on this subject in Ezekiel 16:6. "I sslw thee lying in thy 
blood ;" and as certainly as he sees thee, so certainly will he 
also say to thee when his hour is come, " Thou shalt live ;" 
yea, I say unto thee, thou shalt live. Let us only look unto 
him by faith, even as children that are sick are wont to look 
up, with weeping eyes, to their mother. 

A penitent and distressed individual often finds it impos- 
sible to believe that his weeping and lamenting are heard 
and answered. Be assured, my friend, the Lord hears when 
Ephraim complains ; and says, " Is not Ephraim my dear 
son; is he not a pleasant child?" Jer. 31 : 20. If this 
cannot be called the expression of the most compassionate 
maternal affection, I know of none. "We should not dare to 
ascribe to God such tender love, if the Lord himself had not 
done so. Ah, ye penitent souls, could we believe it, could 
we see it, our hearts would likewise melt with feelings of 
reciprocal filial affection. 

Christ loves us, and loves us voluntarily, with more than 
the most assiduous maternal love. It is from its mother 
that a child derives its natural life, and it is by her means 
that it is brought into this miserable world ; so Christ regen- 
erates us to an eternal world of light and joy, and imparts a 
life to us which is incorruptible. A mother nourishes her 
child from her own breasts ; but Christ gives hwiself, his 
flesh and blood, to be the food of his regenerate children. 
This no human parent does. 

A mother cherishes her child, carries it about, and fos- 
ters it, till it is grown up ; she is constantly doing something 
for her child, and her maternal love causes her never to be 
tired of attending to it. Ah, who can reflect, without shame 
and astonishment, how the ever-loving God is obliged to have 
patience with his stubborn children ; how we weary him 



THE CONSTRAIN IxN'G LOVE OF CIIRIriT. 5 

with our transgressions. Nay, it is impossible to say how 
much he has to do in training up a single soul. The Lord 
himself expresses this actiA^e, aiding, maternal love, in Isaiah 
46 : 3, 4, where he says, " Hearken unto me, house of Ja- 
cob, which are borne by me from the womb, and carried 
from the birth ; even to hoary hairs will I carry you." 

The mother preserves her child from every accident, and 
seeks its welfare to the utmost of her ability. Christ, our 
ever-loving parent, watches over and protects his ofispring 
incomparably more attentively, lest the evil one should touch 
them. Nay, not even a hair can fall from their heads with- 
out his will. Every thing that befalls these sucklings of his 
grace, be it little or great, inwardly or outwardly, is so 
guided and governed by the parental love of Christ, that all 
things must work together for their good. 

This love, however, destines the children of grace to ex- 
perience a variety of trials, temptations, and sufferings, for 
their good ; and they are often left in such a state of barren- 
ness and darkness as to cause them with Zion to exclaim, 
" The Lord hath forsaken me, and my God hath forgotten 
me ;" but how widely does the soul err from the truth, in 
such a supposition. The Lord himself asks, " Can a woman, 
forget her child, that she should not have compassion on the 
son of her womb ? Yea, she may forget ; yet 1 will not for- 
get thee. Lo, I have engraven thee on my woimded hands." 
(German translation.) 0, my dear hearers, this has refer- 
ence both to you and me ; ought we not, therefore, to com- 
mit ourselves, body and soul, to Christ's more than maternal 
love and care, both for time and eternity ? 

3. Christ loves us also, and loves us voluntarily, with the 
most tender, ardent, and rejoicing love of a hride groom. 
yes, the love of Christ really sues for the hearts of poor lost 
sinners ; and how long must he frequently woo us, before he 
receives from us the desired consent. How often have not. 
you and I shamefully spurned and rejected his proffered kind- 
ness and love ; and yet he was not weary of seeking us. 
how tenderly does he love, even before he is beloved ; but 



6 THE CONSTRAINING LOVE OF CHRIST. 

Still how infinitely more tenderly, when he has won his elect, 
and when he can lor ever betroth himself with the soul, as 
with his bride, and affiance himself to her in righteousness. 
This is often succeeded by many precious and even sensible 
communications of his love to the soul. Christ presents her 
with many invaluable jewels and celestial blessings, and 
gives her to experience, in her measure, " righteousness, 
peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost." 

And as Christ finds his bride so entirely destitute, he 
divests her by his love, and by sanctified affliction, of her 
filthy and tattered garments, clothes her with his righteous- 
ness, sheds abroad, together with his love, his whole mind, 
image, and resemblance, more and more in her, so that she 
is arrayed in his humility, meekness, purity, simplicity, and 
every divine virtue. And after having thus beautified her 
with himself, he then rejoices over her, " even as a bride- 
groom rejoices over the bride." Isaiah 62 : 5. " Lo, thou 
art fair, my love," says Christ, the heavenly bridegroom. 
Song of Solomon 1 : 15, 16. " No," replies the bride ; "it 
is thou alone that art beautiful ; for even the beauty that 
thou seest in me is thine." These are no empty words or 
vain imaginations, but mighty wonders of the love of Christ. 
Would to God, that we could read them, not only in the Song 
of Solomon, but also in our hearts, by happy experience. 

It is impossible to express the profound and ardent affec- 
tion, and the intense desire there is in Christ, to regain pos- 
session of our hearts, to have us again near him, and to bind 
and unite us eternally to himself, and himself to us. An- 
gels and men cannot comprehend it, but will adore this 
mystery, with the profoundest admiration, to all eternity. 
The Spirit of Christ which dwells in believers desires us, 
even to jealousy ; he cannot bear that a heart which has 
cost him so dear, that a heart which he loves to such a de- 
gree, should still cleave to other objects, and not remain 
wholly and solely devoted to him. He loves the soul as 
though he loved naught besides ; and she must love him in 
the same manner in return ; for the love of Christ, the pro- 



THE CONSTRAINING LOVE OF CHRIST. 7 

found and ardent affection of Christ for the soul, excites in 
her similar ardent affection for him. The love of Christ 
touches the soul and attracts her to itself, and she follows 
this attraction. " Draw us, and we will run after thee." 
Her heart and her whole being, whilst departing from every 
other object, longs after and inclines to closer union with her 
Beloved. The mysteries of this blessed union may be expe- 
rienced by pure and devoted hearts, but can never be ex- 
pressed ; for these are subjects that belong more to eternity 
than to time. In short, the love of Christ is a great mys- 
tery of godliness, and an inexhaustible source of unmingled 
felicity. 

II. The love of Christ is a vital, active, and mighty 
POWER OP God, which actually raises and restores us from 
our errors and corruptions, sin, and death ; imparts a new 
and real life ; makes us willing, alert, and able to the per- 
formance of all that is good ; and renders us truly happy. 
The love of Christ is the commencement, foundation, and 
soul of Christianity and of all real religion. He that does 
not possess the love of Christ, has either no godliness or piety 
at all, or only such a piety as is hypocritical and dead. Christ, 
in order to save us, must not remain at a distance from us ; 
we must experience the power of his love upon our hearts, 
and make room for it ; otherwise, notwithstanding all our 
speaking and hearing of the love of Christ, we continue in 
a state of spiritual darkness and v^retchedness. 

Christ undoubtedly makes the beginning, by first loving 

USs 

1 . "When, for instance, the love of Christ urges a "man 
to repenta7ice, the Spirit of love then reproves him for his 
unrighteousness, convinces him of the necessity of repent- 
ance and conversion, and alarms him on account of his sins 
and the dangerous state of his soul : there is something that 
seems to pursue the man, and presses itself upon him, con- 
straining him to repent and yield himself to God, and to be- 
come another man. 'Tis true, the blinded mortal regards it, 



8 THE CONSTRAINING LOVE OF CHRIST. 

in his ignorance, as a temptation of the devil which he ought 
to resist, or else he looks upon it as proceeding from his own 
uneasy and accidental thoughts, and as something of an evil 
or melancholy nature ; yet, although he would often gladly 
be rid of it, it still returns, to prove that it does not proceed 
from the man himself. Many a one, alas, suffers days and 
years to elapse, without perceiving that it is the saving love 
of Christ which thus constrains him. 

Be assured, that it is the compassionate and ever-loving 
Jesus who stands at thy door and knocks ; he sues and begs 
for thy heart, just as if he really stood in need of it, saying, 
" Give me, my son, give me thy heart. Be thou reconciled 
unto God." Thus it is that the love of Christ constrains ; 
and how often, and how long has he not dealt thus with us. 
How often would he have gathered us, as a hen gathereth 
her chickens under her wings. But he did not come at a con- 
venient season, and ice would not. In our natural state, we 
are running straight to perdition ; is it not love, therefore, 
when the Saviour arrests us in our course ? We wander, as 
it were, on the brink of hell ; is not that love, when he lays 
hold on us and draws us back, even by the pains he makes 
us feel ? Ah, what advantage does the all-sufficient God 
derive from thus following after thee and me ? Are we of 
any benefit to him ? Has he any need of us ? 0, beloved 
soul, if thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that 
with such constraining influence speaks unto thee, saying, 
" Yield thyself to me, delay no longer ;" certainly, thou 
wouldst no longer resist nor seek to escape from him, but 
wouldst fall at his feet that very moment, and cast thyself 
into the arms of his love. 

Now, if the soul give ear and admission to this attracting 
and restoring love, so that the heart, being depressed, bowed 
down, and broken by true repentance, seeks for refuge in the 
mercy of God, it is again the love of Christ, by means of 
which the soul is constrained to experience such painfid feel- 
ings. The man's carnal nature would indeed gladly expel 
the subject from his mind, and live the day through as be- 



THE CONSTRAINING LOVE OF CHRIST. 9 

fore, free, jovial, and merry ; but such a burden has fallen 
upon his heart as cannot be got rid of — he feels his sins, his 
wants, his danger, and he feels them at all times. It is the 
love of Christ which constrains him to feel thus, although 
the soul, as yet, knows nothing of this love, but is only con- 
scious of wrath and condemnation. He has heard and ac- 
knowledges, that it is he who, by his sins, has crucified his 
loving Saviour. This pierces him to the heart, this gives 
him pain. It is necessary that he feel it a little here, that 
he may not feel it hereafter : is not this love ? 

The love of Christ impresses the individual with a feel- 
ing of his lost state, in order that this loss and its attendant 
misery may humble him, and constrain him to seek the love 
of Christ, that in it he may find alleviation and a cure. For 
this is the intention of God in bringing us into this state of 
distress : not to repel us from him, and plunge us into per- 
dition and despair ; but to induce us to seek his loving heart, 
and by a penitential hungering after the love of Christ, es- 
cape from all our sinfulness and its consequent misery, and 
cast ourselves upon the atoning blood, precious merits, and 
eternal grace of Christ ; not, indeed, by an inefficient self- 
made appropriation, but by a humble longing and aspiration 
of the heart after the influences of the grace and love of 
Christ, in the manner in which it may be really experienced 
to the tranquillizing of the distressed heart and conscience. 
In such a situation, all that the man has to do, is deeply to 
humble himself, confess his guilt, cast away every other con- 
fidence, and desire to know nothing but the love of Christ, 
and his eternal mercy. And when sin and the guilt of sin, 
and when wrath and condemnation press with all their 
weight upon the mind, the individual must do nothing else 
than plunge himself so much the more profoundly into this 
open abyss of the eternal mercy and love of Christ. It is 
thus that we ought to let the love of Christ constrain us to 
repentance, and through repentance to love ; it will then 
assuredly follow eventually, that the love of Christ will cover 
the multitude of sins, so that afterwards the individual is 

VOL. VII. :3 



10 THE CONSTRAINING LOVE OF CHRIST. 

co7ifou7ulecl, as the prophet expresses it, Ezek. 16 : 63, with 
humble thankfuhiess and confusion, when the Lord thus for- 
gives him all his sins, and repays them, as it were, solely 
with his love ; and then it likewise happens, that they to 
whom most has been forgiven, love more than others. 

2. The love of Christ, then, further constrams a convert- 
ed soul to dejmrt from sin, the ivorld, and all its vanities. 
The man can no longer run with the multitude as before, 
without feehng himself under restraint. What is the rea- 
son ? Art thou perhaps afraid of being punished by thy 
parents, masters, or magistrates ? no ; the individual 
then becomes sensible of sins of which none other knows or 
can know any thing — even the smallest things, which do 
not come under the jurisdiction of the magistracy, or of man. 
But Avherefore ? Is a person subject to be despised and ridi- 
culed when he lives a life of vanity, and is not under the 
influence of piety ? By no means ; the world, on the con- 
trary, ridicules and slanders him who no longer runs to the 
same excess of riot. 1 Peter, 4:5. But why dost thou not 
act like the men of the world ? Were a converted person to 
reply to this, and to state the true reason, he would be 
obliged to say, " The love of Christ constrains me to forsake 
these things ; I dare not and will not follow my depraved 
nature any longer. The time past of my life is sufficient to 
have wrought the will of the Gentiles. I have long enough 
crucified my beloved Saviour with my sins — that Sav- 
iour who so loved me as not only to forsake the world, but 
even heaven for me. Ought I not, therefore, for his sake, 
to deny myself an odious sin, a vain and transitory Avorldly 
lust?" 

Yes, the love of Christ constrains us not only to deny the 
gross vices of the world, and the dead works of sin, but urges 
us also to the real renunciation of the Jove of the ivorld, and 
of attachment to created tilings, which may still remain in 
the heart — to the abandonment of the false and deeply- 
rooted life of self — to the mortification of lustful and angry 
passions — to the sacrifice of our ov^n will, our self-love, and 



THE CONSTRAINING LOVE OF CHRIST. H 

self-complacency, in small things as well as in great, in nat- 
ural as well as in spiritual things. 

What gloomy and terrific ideas do we not often form of 
self-denial. How many weak and inexperienced souls arc 
frequently deterred from it without a cause. " 0," say they 
to themselves, " what a painful life must that be, when 
we cannot enjoy a single happy hour more in the world. It 
is impossible for us to live such a life ; we shall never 
be able to part with this or that particular object." Ah, 
my dear friends, what erroneous ideas you are continually 
forming of God. He has no need of our self-denial, as it 
regards himself ; but we have need of it. He is not an aus- 
tere man, that makes our life and the road to heaven pain- 
ful and laborious to us, and gives us no enjoyment in the 
world ; but we are such foolish, blind, and degenerate chil- 
dren, as to be ignorant of our true happiness and salvation, 
and call that joy and pleasure which is in reality our de- 
struction, torment, and hell ; just as a child that is playing 
with a knife weeps, and resists, in its ignorance, when the 
mother's careful love commands to put it away. We must 
not look upon the inward impulse to self-denial as something 
of a legal nature, but as the constraining influence of the 
love of Christ ; he seeks in a friendly manner to persuade us 
simple children to put the dangerous instrument out of our 
hands ; and if his friendly persuasion avail not, he some- 
times lets us wound ourselves, that we may lay the danger- 
ous knife aside. 0, it is love alone. Christ will gladly have 
our whole hearts, and by means of such mortifications, re- 
move every obstruction out of the way, that thus he may 
make us partakers of his real, perfect, and eternal joy, love, 
and delight. Yea, the more the Lord leads a soul to deny 
itself, and the less liberty he gives the individual, the more 
especial is his love towards him. 

Now, as we ought not to ascribe this incitement to self- 
denial to legality, but to the love of Christ ; neither ought 
we to act in a legal manner in the exercise of it, but let the 
love of Christ constrain us to it. When the man's constant 



12 THE CONSTRAINING LOVE OF CHRIST. 

exclamation is, "I must do this, or perish eternally ;" and 
when he thus falls upon self-denial without Christ, in his 
own strength — ah, such a life is indeed wearisome ; but this 
must be also known by experience. It is true ive must, oth- 
erwise we shall be lost ; but is it not already a part of con- 
demnation, to be always acting from compulsion, and never 
from a willing heart ; to be always compelled, and never 
ready to perform ? We must, therefore, hunger after the 
love of Christ — seek the willingness and the power to deny 
ourselves in the love of Christ — and seek it until we find it ; 
until the love of Christ constrain us voluntarily to renounce 
ourselves and all created things, and esteem ourselves happy 
in denying ourselves, and hazarding something for the love 
of Him who is our friend, our parent, and our bridegroom, 
and to live so as we may best j)lease him. 

Were I pointedly to address those who are in a state of 
grace, those who would so gladly deny themselves, but find 
to their sorrow, that they everywhere fall short, I would say, 
" Do not think so much upon denying yourselves, upon being 
faithful, or upon living holy and strictly ; but rather seek to 
love, hunger after love, exercise yourselves in love. Love 
is always exercising self-denial, without tasting its bitterness, 
and almost without thinking of it. Think only how you 
may love Christ, how you may love him more cordially than 
ever, and do every thing to gratify and satisfy his love." 

3. The love of Christ constrains the believer into suffer- 
ing, and through suffering. This sounds strange, and yet 
it is true. The individual is frequently placed so wonder- 
fully and unexpectedly in some painful situation, that he 
knows not how it happened — he is, as it were, pressed into 
it. Some particular person must just speak or act towards 
us in such a manner ; some expression or circumstance is 
taken in a wrong light \ tilings must so happen and follow 
each other, that we may just have a little trial, cross, or suf- 
fering. It is not necessary that such things be always great 
or important ; the love of Christ often makes use of a trifle, 
and knows how to touch us with it in the most sensible part. 



THE CONSTRAINING LOVE OF CHRIST. 13 

Thus it happens with regard to the body and outward things, 
and thus also with reference to spiritual things, in innumer- 
ably different ways ; and it is the love of Christ that does 
it, although we are ready to ascribe it to some other cause. 

Weak and timid souls may often distress themselves 
much by an unbelieving anticipation of future external or 
internal sufferings, temptations, and I know not what kind 
of trials, which may perhaps never befall them. Their lan- 
guage is, " If I have ever to suffer that which such a one 
has to endure — if I shall have to tread in this or that diffi- 
cult path, I know it will be impossible for me to bear it." 
Ah, my friends, do not torment yourselves with unavailing 
care and sorrow. Trust in love, that it will impel you to 
the cross, and through the cross — I mean, be without care- 
fulness concerning the future. Love distributes afflictions 
wisely ; she understands it better than we. As long as we 
remain little weak children, she will not impose any heavy 
burden upon us. 

But whatever we may have to suffer at the moment, we 
ought to receive as coming directly from the hand of the love 
of Christ, and not as from any particular individual. When 
Christ suffered, he did not regard his sufferings as proceed- 
ing from the Jews, the Pharisees, or from Pilate, but as 
coming directly from his Father's hand ; saying, " The cup 
that my Father hath given me, shall I not drink it ?" There- 
fore do not think so much of the affliction, as of Him that 
sends it. If the case be thus, my friend — if thou belie vest 
that it is Christ himself who sends thee any particular 
affliction, how precious, how estimable and lovely ought 
every thing to be to thee, that proceeds from a hand so dear. 
Think how much he has suffered for thee ; wilt thou not 
therefore endure a light affliction to please him ? 

Think not so much of affliction as of the love of Christ. 
Love him, and thou wilt be able to endure all things. What 
cannot love do ? What have so many thousand martyrs and 
numberless other holy souls endured, and been enabled to 
endure, solely because they were constrained to it by the 

VOL. VII. 3* 



14 THE CONSTRAINLNG LOVE OF CHRIST. 

love of Christ. The love of Christ imparts a growing will- 
ingness to suffer, and secretly keeps the soul as if nailed to 
the cross ; so that frequently, when the individual is in pain- 
ful situations, he would not descend from the cross to let 
nature breathe, even were he left at liberty to do so. 

4. The love of Christ must constrain us to sanctification. 
How repulsive and impracticable do many persons regard 
their sanctification. To live so strictly as the Scripture 
directs — to become so meek, so devout, so humble, so pure, 
so blameless, and so holy, they think is impossible, and that 
they cannot, by any means, endure or attain to it. True, 
my friends, when the severe reproofs of Moses in the con- 
science impelled you to it, it was impossible ; and when you 
constrain and force yourselves to it, it is unattainable ; but 
it may be attained, and that very easily, when Ave let the 
love of Christ constrain us to sanctification. 

Ah, what anxiety do many manifest, and what pains do 
they take, to become holy by their own efforts. 0, my dear 
friends, what you have to do is to love Christ, and to unite 
yourselves with him by faith, love, and prayer, as the branch 
is united to the vine. Does the branch find it difficult to 
bear sweet grapes ? Is it necessary to compel it to do so by 
commanding, threatening, and rough usage ? no ; the 
whole process takes place very quietly, easily, and naturally ; 
the branch merely abides in the vine and imbibes its noble 
sap, and then it flourishes and bears fruit without any fur- 
ther trouble. It is thus that we ought also to act. " Abide 
in me," says Christ, "and ye shall bear much fruit." We 
have only to love him, to remain in his love, and as barren 
branches in ourselves, let the pure and divine influence and 
power of the precious love of Christ penetrate our whole 
souls. "VYe should then become, as though naturally, a peo- 
ple dear and acceptable to God, and filled with all the pre- 
cious fruits of righteousness to the praise of Jesus Christ. 
The virtues would then become easy and natural to us, and 
we should esteem ourselves happy in being able to live to 
Christ, according to all his good pleasure. 



THE CONSTRAINING LUVE nf CHRIST. 15 

And really if it were possible — which it is not — that we 
could become holy by our own efforts, yet all would be only 
an imperfect, lifeless, and worthless phantom, proceeding 
from the will and power of man, and in which we only 
regarded and loved ourselves. It is the love of Christ which 
must impart true life, power, and value to all our godliness, 
works, and virtues. Paul, therefore, knows not how suffi- 
ciently to recommend this excellent way. " Though I have 
the tongues of men or of angels," says he, " and have not 
charity, or love, I should be as sounding brass," and so 
through the chapter. 1 Cor. 13. 

6. The love of Christ constrains to all dilige?ice, ivatch- 
fulness, and activity in every good tvork, and during the 
tvhole course of godliness. Many a one, who slumbers se- 
curely in the deadly sleep of sin, may be terrified and awak- 
ened by fear and chastisement ; strong emotions and the 
most serious resolutions may be produced in a man by the 
judgments of God, by illness, fear of death, the decease of 
near relatives, or by other reproofs of conscience, so that one 
would think something really good would result from it ; 
but how soon it passes away, when unaccompanied by the 
heart-renewing grace and love of Christ. Distress, and 
death, and hell may constrain as they will, yet if the love 
of Christ does not constrain at the same time, the man falls 
asleep again. 

The external means of grace may also be of service in 
awakening and encouraging slothful souls ; but if we wish 
to be effectually and permanently awakened by the means of 
grace which God puts into our hands, we must remain near 
our hearts, and pay attention to the coojperating love of 
Christ, which inwardly awakens, and causes its influence 
to be felt in the deepest recesses of the heart. Although 
love knows no anxious and distracting care, yet it is equally 
remote from slothfulness and drowsiness. Its possessor is 
ever anxious, the day through, to be trying to do something 
to please his Beloved. 

And here I must also allude to outward slothfulness and 



16 THE CONSTRAINING LOVE OF CHRIST. 

heaviness. There are many who complain of being so easily 
overpowered by sleep, when alone and towards night. It 
must be allowed that this has its natural causes with some, 
who are weak and fatigued by labor ; in which case, the in- 
dividual must have patience with himself: but I fear, that 
with many, it is love that is wanting. I have witnessed 
how many have been overtaken by sleep in the evening, 
when any thing good was read or spoken of, but who im- 
mediately roused themselves when any favorite topic of an- 
other kind was introduced. How shameful. Ah, if we 
had but a little more love for Christ, we should not be so 
slothful. 

The love of Christ constrains to good tvorks. The learned 
dispute in all manner of ways about good works and their 
merits — whether and how far they are necessary to salva- 
tion, and the like. A soul that loves Christ, interferes not 
with such controversies ; love, as is natural to it, constrains 
incessantly to every good work towards God, towards the 
brethren, towards our neighbors, and even towards our ene- 
mies. Love cannot act otherwise ; she seeks to do every one 
good, and to devote herself to all. 

She has always enough — she is rich, she is kind, she is 
bountiful ; and if she has no money or any thing else to 
give, she has still a heart, which she gives in sympathy, 
compassion, and in rendering every possible assistance. 

In a word, love is always doing good, almost without 
thinking of it ; she performs a thousand good works, without 
asking whether she ought to do them or not ; and the merit 
of good works never occurs to her. Even when she has 
done much she thinks she has hitherto done nothing, and 
that she will now begin. Thus it is that the love of Christ 
constrains. 

The love of Christ constrains to a continual 2?rog?-css in 
sanctification and godliness. Those controversies are un- 
necessary, which are carried on about perfection — whether 
the commands of God can be kept — whether such a partic- 
ular state be attainable, and the like. People dispute about 



THE CONSTRAINING LOVE OF CHRIST. 17 

perfection, and ought reasonably first to inquire, if they have 
taken one step towards it. Methinks they only betray their 
lifeless and loveless hearts by disputes of this nature. 

Love knows no bounds ; she invariably seeks to advance 
further, to be more faithful, pious, and acceptable in the 
sight of God. She does not long inquire whether the thing 
be practicable or not, she essays it in good earnest ; she must 
necessarily follow her impulse and her constraining influence. 
The apostle Paul was doubtless further advanced than any of 
us, yet what does he say in the third chapter to the Phillip- 
pians ? "Forgetting those things that are behind, and reach- 
ing forth unto those things that are before, I press toward the 
mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Je- 
sus." And if it were to be said to him, " Why, Paul, art 
thou not pious enough ? Thou art certainly no longer afraid 
of hell." " Ah," he would reply, " it is not hell nor heaven 
that constrains me, but it is the love of Christ that thus con- 
strains me." 

The love of Christ enters voluntarily into all our con- 
cerns. She will and must have her hand, not only in the 
greatest, but even in the smallest things. All that we do 
in reference to our natural life, however great and important 
it may appear, is in itself worthless folly, and not worthy the 
attention of a heaven-bom spirit ; but by love, all these tri- 
fles may become truly great, and a means of serving God. 
He that gives a cup of cold water only, from love to Christ, 
performs a great work. 

There are many who complain heavily that their out- 
ward and necessary occupations cause them so much distrac- 
tion, hinderance, and detriment. "What is the reason, my 
dear friends ? It is, perhaps, because you perform what is 
incumbent upon you, merely as if it were a worldly aflaii'. 
W^hen you are sitting in your chamber, or at church, or 
meeting, or are able to read, or do something good, you think 
you are serving God ; but when engaged in the field, or the 
kitchen, or elsewhere, wherever your avocations lead you, 
you imagine you are serving the world. Ah, how lamenta 



18 THE CONSTRAINING LOVE OF CHRIST. 

ble, if this were the case. We should then be obliged to spend 
the greatest part of our time in the worthless service of the 
world. Do all that you have to do, as a service rendered to 
the love of Christ, and then it will be no longer detrimental 
to you. 

When the love of the world, care, or unbelief, or any 
other of the powers of nature, constrains us to business, and 
is our leading motive in it, the mind must naturally become 
more and more darkened and distracted ; but if the love of 
Christ constrain us to the work, and if we let ourselves be 
restrained by it in our affairs, so that we perform them in a 
childlike manner, solely to his love and glory, they are then 
no longer a hinderance, but become a real service rendered 
unto God. It is this that the Holy Spirit means, when it is 
said, " Whatsoever" — observe how every thing is included — 
" whatsoever ye do in word or in deed, do all in the name 
ofthe Lord Jesus." Col. 3 : 17. 

The love of Christ wdll gladly keep us all the day near 
itself and within its influence, urge us on our way, and by 
its constraining power, preserve us from wandering either to 
the right hand or the left. if we would but carefully 
abide within its precincts ! Persons often make to them- 
selves a variety of good maxims, rules, and regulations for 
their conduct, which I do not entirely reject. I know that 
order and discipline is requisite to keep untoward nature in 
restraint, otherwise she would run wild ; it is only to be 
lamented, that all these good rules and maxims are so soon 
broken through. There is no better rule, regulation, or 
precept, than the love of Christ, which is inwardly so near 
us. 

The love of Christ will lead us as a mother leads her 
child. A child that walks in leading-strings is carefully held 
and guided ; for though it goes at liberty and without con- 
straint, yet if it were on the point of running into the mire, 
or if danger were apprehended, it would immediately feel 
that it was held by something from behind. The love of 
Christ seeks to lead us in the same manner, in order that 



THE CONSTRAINING LOVE OF CHRIST. 19 

we may be dra^vn in the cords of love. Hos. 11:4. When, 
through ignorance, we might be ready to fall into something 
improper or dangerous, we should perceive, hke a child in 
leading-strings, that something held and restrained us, name- 
ly, the love of Christ. 

6. The love of Christ must and will constrain us to 
IJrayer. Praying without the heart, and from the mere con- 
straint of habit, is no prayer. Praying, when danger and 
distress of soul, and when a feeling of sin and necessity con- 
strains, is a very good prayer ; but when the love of Christ 
constrains us to pray, that is the noblest and most excellent 
prayer. We often complain, that we know not how to pray, 
that we have not a due desire for it, and that the time when 
we are engaged in it appears long. But this proceeds from 
the want of love to Christ, Let us give way to love, and 
love will constrain us to pray. We are glad to be alone a 
little with true friends ; and if we love Christ and love him 
cordially, we shall be willingly alone with him, nor will the 
time spent in his society easily appear long to us. If we love 
Christ, we shall always have something to say to him ; and 
if we have nothing to say to him, yet still we have some- 
thing to love, and that is praying. 

Yes, my dear friends, we cannot believe what an excel- 
lent teacher of prayer the love of Christ is, which awakens 
in the heart of the pardoned soul such innumerable and in- 
expressible sighs — that it were only more carefully cher- 
ished. It causes many a tender aspiration to ascend from 
the bottom of the heart, frequently involuntarily and almost 
unconsciously. Though the lips be silent, yet the heart ex- 
claims in sincerity at one time, " my God, my Lord 
Jesus ;" and at another, " I am for ever thine. My God, 
and my all." And a single one of these heartfelt ejacula- 
tions is of more value in the sight of the Most High, and 
really includes in it more than a long prayer of another de- 
scription, said from a book, or proceeding from the under- 
standing alone ; and the reason is, because it is the language 
of truth. We are readv to sav, " Tell me, friend, from what 



20 THE CONSTRAINING LOVE OF CHRIST. 

book hast thou learned these beautiful aspirations ? I should 
like to procure such a prayer-book for myself" " The love 
of Christ," replies the soul, " is my prayer-book ; the love of 
Christ constrains me to utter these ejaculations." 

Love is like a continual fire, that descends from heaven 
upon the altar of the soul, in the temple of the heart, where 
the sweet incense of silent, spiritual devotion gently and de- 
lightfully ascends from the inward sanctuary, in a thousand 
acts of praise, and love, and offering, of elevation and humil- 
iation, and of veneration, adoration, and admiration of the 
ever-blessed God ; where a single one of such inward acts of 
faith and love includes in it more life, peace, dehght, and 
blessedness than all the world can afford. This the soul 
does not produce of herself, nor is she able to produce it ; 
what does, then ? The love of Christ constrains her. 

7. The love of Christ constrains the soul, in one word, 
more and more, by a blissful attra^ction, to complete and eter- 
'nal imion ivith the Beloved. She has drank of the water « 
of love which Christ has given her, and this will gradually 
become in her a fountain of water, springing up into eternal 
life. She feels that there is no more happiness for her here 
below in any thing that is created and temporal ; every 
thing becomes so strange to her and so worthless in her 
sight. All that is within her longs after Christ and eternity ; 
and Christ, the divine centre of attraction, cannot long leave 
her here in sorrow — he draws her, and finally takes her to 
himself " Father, I will that they also whom thou hast 
given me, be with me where I am, that they may behold 
my gloiy." John 17 : 24. 

See, my friends, this blessedness, of which we have now 
imperfectly spoken, is laid up for you, and offered you in 
Christ ; yea, it is for you, and for the weakest and most 
wretched among you. 0, my dear friends, love God, who 
thus loves you, and will eternally love you. Surrender your- 
selves unconditionally to the constraining and attracting in- 
fluence of this beatific love of God. Set no bounds to tJiis 



THE CONSTRAINING LOVE OF CHRIST. OJ 

love, it leads further than the human understanding can 
reach ; and there are greater w^onders and blessings to be 
experienced and enjoyed in it, even during the present life, 
than the tongue of men or angels can express. 

the lamentable blindness and ignorance of mankind, in 
being so cold tow^ards God, and so w^arm in the pursuit of 
other objects, and in letting the love of the world, sin, and 
vanity, have more influence over the heart than the love of 
Christ. The love of the world need only give the hint, and 
the man is immediately on the alert ; whilst the love of 
Christ constrains so long, and yet people do not follow it nor 
resign themselves to it. how many an unhappy world- 
ling suffers himself to be constrained by the sinful love of 
the world, and driven from one sin, vice, and vanity to an- 
other. He is like a slave, who is so constrained by his hard 
master, that he is almost unable to forsake his old habits — 
Satan and the love of the world govern and constrain him, 
and will drive him into hell itself, if he do not consider in 
time, and let himself be constrained to repentance by the 
love of Christ. 

Let us therefore, my friends, examine what it is that we 
love. What has the greatest weight with us ? On what 
object do we think first in the morning and most frequently 
during the day ? For by this we may ascertain where our 
treasure lies. Are we beginning to let the love of Christ 
take possession of our hearts ; or are we still in our lifeless 
and loveless state of nature, without Christ and his love ? 
indescribably unhappy state. dreadfully dangerous con- 
dition. If we are not in love, we are in wrath in the hor- 
rible kingdom of darkness, where the wrath of God is im- 
pending over us, and where, held merely by life's slender 
thread, we hang over the bottomless abyss. the eternal 
misery of dying in such a state. 

ye immortal souls, ye are now reading of the love of 
Christ, but who knows how long ? It is now proclaimed, 
recommended, and offered by Christ himself to our hearts. 
Yes, Jesus loves you, however sinful you may be, and who 

VOL. VII. 1 



22 THE CONSTRAINING LOVE OF CHRIST. 

must confess that you have been hitherto slaves of sin and 
Satan : you need not perish ; Christ will gladly save you ; 
he entreats you ; ah, give yourselves up to him. 

If your misery and danger, if the wrath of God, the fear 
of death and the dreadful judgment-day, together with your 
own eternal woe and perdition, cannot constrain and affect 
you, let the love of Christ now do so. Let me set before 
your eyes the suffering Saviour. See him lying in his bloody 
sweat and dreadful agony of soul, as though upon the ground 
before you, M'eeping, and beseeching you. Behold him hang- 
ing on the fatal tree, in the greatest anguish of soul and 
body, with his arms extended to receive returning sinners ; 
see, he shows you his bleeding wounds, and commends his 
grace and love to you . As sure as these words are addressed 
to you, so sure is the compassionate love of Christ busy with 
your hearts, and urging itself upon you. submit your- 
selves to it. Do so noiv, that you may not eventually too 
late behold Him whom you have pierced with your sins. Lay 
hold on love, lest wrath lay hold on you — lay hold on love, 
while it is yet at hand. 

But let us, Avho, through grace, are become recipients of 
a spark of this love of Christ, esteem it highly — it is an in- 
valuable pearl ; and small as this pearl may be, yet it is of 
more value than the whole world : however small the spark 
is, it may still become a glowing heat, a flame of the Lord, 
when carefully cherished and attended to. Preserve it cau- 
tiously by a truly circumspect walk ; avoid all unnecessary 
intercourse, friendship, and entanglement with the men ot 
this world, and every other occasion of temptation. In such 
circumstances, wq ought to conduct ourselves like one who 
walks against the wind with a lighted taper, or who passes 
through a forest with a precious jewel ; for the enemies of 
our souls, who watch for our treasure, are everywhere in 
ambush. We are apt to think this is a needless caution, and 
that we shall take good care of ourselves ; but ah, we are 
not sufficiently acquainted with the enemy's devices, and 
our own weakness in the hour of temptation. Let us then 



THE CONSTRAINING LOVE QF CHRIST. 23 

beware of all levity, dissipation, and the unbelieving sugges- 
tions of our carnal reason. 

Now, therefore, one word more of encouragement, and 
with that I will conclude. Let us listen to and accept this 
glorious Gospel of the ever-blessed God. Christ loves us, 
and will continue to love us ; he will impart to us the power 
of his love, and along with it every thing that is good in time 
and eternity. Christ loves us : what then are we doing ; 
why should we despond ; why are we still asleep ? 

Christ loves you, ye ymithfid souls, who in your bloom- 
ing years are seeking something to love. Ah, how would I 
grieve, how would the Saviour grieve, if you suffered your- 
selves to be captivated by a false and deceitful love. Would 
it not be for ever to be lamented, if you should be seduced, 
defiled, and disgraced by the vain love of this world ; by the 
love of such things as have nothing really charming, nothing 
truly delightful in them ; which so soon, so very soon wither 
away, cause disgust, and vanish like smoke ? Christ loves 
you ; are you conscious of it ? Do you reflect upon it ? It 
is for him alone that your hearts have been given you ; for 
him alone has the noble inclination to love been so deeply 
implanted in your hearts. 0, if you rightly knew what it is 
to be found m Christ and his love, you would certainly be- 
come enamored and captivated by his incomparable beauty. 

Christ loves you, ye penitent, distressed, and fearful 
hearts, and ye know it not, ye believe it not. Christ loves 
you of a truth ; will you then continue in your despondency ? 
Ought not this joyful message to inspirit you ? If you can- 
not yet fully believe it, make the attempt for once ; venture, 
like queen Esther, who said, "If I perish, I perish." She 
approached the king with fear, and when she thought it was 
all over with her, the gracious sceptre was extended to her, 
and the king embraced her. Come, then, ye fearful souls, 
and you shall experience that your lot will not fall out less 
favorably than hers. 

Christ loves us — all who are partakers of the heavenly 
calling. Ought we not, therefore, to awake out of sleep, to 



24 THE CONSTRAINING LOVE OF CHRIST. 

lift up the eyes of our hearts, to love Christ in return, and 
to w^alk in his ways with the utmost alacrity ? What an 
honor people esteem it when they are beloved by a king or 
a prince, or by the noble or the great, though it be with a 
love that imparts to its object nothing substantial or perma- 
nent. And lo, Christ, the Son of God, loves us as his bride. 
Ought we, then, to let the worthless follies of this world oc- 
cupy our attention ? Ought we not to let his love constrain 
us to detach our hearts from every worthless idol and rival, 
and devote them eternally to his divine love ? In the heart 
of Jesus I behold nothing but love towards us : what a 
shame, what a pity that any thing else should be seen in our 
hearts but the love of Christ. 

In future, however, it must be otherwise with us. Once 
more, then, let us renew our covenant of love with Christ, 
now in his presence. Are we willing to bind and resign 
ourselves anew to the Fairest among ten thousand, in sincere 
and mutual love, and with an unfeigned, and, God grant, an 
irreversible assent and consent ? Shall we do so ? Is it the 
mature determination of our hearts ? Come, then, and let 
us give the hand of our hearts to Jesus, who is present with 
us, and say in the spirit of true devotion, 

Yea and amen with my whole heart. 

Lord, I devote myself anew ; 
Willing with all, for thee, to part, 

And swear to be for ever true ! 
Thy lovely name will I confess, 

Whate'er a scoffing world may say, 
And trust thy covenant faithfulness 

To own me in the last great day. 



]¥o. 22S. 

DO YOU ¥ANT A FRIEND? 



Do you want a friend, powerful to protect you, rich to 
supply your wants, kind to sympathize with you, affection- 
ate to feel for you, wise to guide you — a " friend that stick- 
eth closer than a brother ;" one to whom you can go at all 
times, at all seasons, under all circumstances ; one to whom 
3^ou can open all your heart; one who is worthy of all 
the affection of your soul ; one whom you can esteem and 
delight in ; one who is able to satisfy all that craving desire 
of happiness which you feel — who can assist you when all 
other friends fail — who can support you in your last agonies, 
and walk with you through the valley of the shadow of 
death ; one whose influence and power extend beyond the 
grave — who is able to save you from the fire of hell, and to 
give you a place among the sons of God ? 

Reader, as you are a lost, perishing sinner, if you desire 
such a friend, let me tell you, to your joy, that I know of 
one, who is not only all that this description implies, but 
who is one that is far more valuable, far more excellent, far 
more desirable. His name is Jesus. He is powerful to 
protect you ; for he is the Son of the living God, and all 
power is given unto him in heaven and in earth. He is rick 
to supply you ; for he is God, the all-sufficient. In him are 
all the treasures of wisdom and knoAvledge. Are you, in a 
spiritual sense, poor, and wretched, and miserable, and blind, 
and naked ? He will sell thee " gold, that thou mayest be 
rich" — sell it thee "without money and without price." 
He will give thee "white raiment, that thou mayest be 
clothed, and that the shame of thy nakedness may not ap- 
pear;" he will "anoint thine eyes with eye-salve, that thou 
mayest see ;" he will give thee of his Holy Spirit, that thou 

VOL. vn. 4=^ 



2 DO YOU WANT A FRIEND 1 

mayest see thy need of Christ, and discover his infinite 
power, and his gracious wiUingness to supply all thy need. 
By this blessed gift of his Holy Spirit, thou shalt have such 
discoveries of his glorious majesty, as " God over all, bless- 
ed for ever," as shall lead thee to call him LORD, so as 
none can do but by the Holy Ghost. And Avhen oppressed 
in spirit under a sense of the sinfulness of thy nature, this 
adorable Comforter will testify of Jesus to thee, and give 
thee such confidence in the assurance that his blood cleans- 
eth from all sin, as shall bring peace to thy soul. This 
blessed Spirit will also apply to thy soul all those exceed- 
ing great and precious promises of God which are made to 
them that believe in Christ Jesus, and whereby thou shalt 
escape the corruption that is in the world through lust. 

Whatever temporal things you may want, this kind 
Friend is no less able than willing to supply, if they are 
suitable for you. Do you want one to sy7npathize with you ? 
Seek Jesus for your friend, and trust in what he has done 
and suffered for you ; believe in the efficacy of his atoning 
blood, and you will find that there can be no friend more 
sympathetic than he. He is one " who can have compas- 
sion on the ignorant, and on them that are out of the way," 
for that he himself also was compassed with infirmity. He 
is not one " who cannot be touched with the feeling of your 
infirmity, for he was in all points tempted like as you are, 
yet without sin." He is also affectionate to feel for you. 
That love which brought him from the skies he still retains ; 
nor is its warmth diminished. He is toise to guide you. 
He knows all your circumstances, all your difficulties, and 
all your dangers. He knows what is best for you, and what 
is the truest wisdom. He, too, is the Friend thai sticketh 
closer than a brother. He is never angry without just 
cause ; never led aside by an evil temper. He will bear 
with your weakness with more than a brother's forbearance. 
He is one to whom you can go at all times, at all seasons. 



DO YOU VVAiNT A FRIEND 1 3 

and under all circumstances. He is not confined to any- 
place ; so that, wherever you are, you may have access to him. 

No change of circumstances alters his aftection. He will 
befriend you in sickness as well as in health ; in age as well 
as in youth ; in adversity as well as in prosperity. He is one 
to whom you can open all your heart ; for he has given you 
such amazing proofs of his love, that you cannot doubt his 
affection. Think of him as God incarnate, God in human 
flesh, dying for our sins, that we might not perish, but have 
everlasting life ; and you cannot but be willing to pour out 
your heart before him, to tell him of all your troubles, to 
confide in his love, and to repose on his bosom. He is one, 
too, who is worthy of all the affections of your soul ; one 
whom you can esteem and delight in. Such wonderful love 
towards us, demands our love to him in return. Oh take 
him for your friend, reader, and then you will perceive 
how worthy he is of your tenderest affection. Then will he 
imfold his excellency and goodness, his loveliness and beau- 
ty ; and you will find him to be the " chief among ten 
thousand, and altogether lovely." 

Reader, you desire to be happy ; you thirst for happi- 
ness. Repent of sin ; go in faith unto this Friend, and he 
will give you of the water of life ; give you the influences 
of the Holy Spirit ; give you spiritual health ; give you 
complete enjoyment in communion with God. In vain do 
you seek for perfect happiness in earthly enjoyments ; your 
desires after happiness are so extensive that nothing can 
satisfy them but the enjoyment of God. Take Jesus for 
your friend, and God will be the joy of your heart, and your 
portion for ever. 

A time is fast approaching, Avhen earthly friends cannot 
aid you ; they cannot save you from the hour of death ; they 
cannot support you in your last moments, nor accompany 
you through the dark valley of the shadow of death. But 
the Friend now pointed out — the blessed Jesus — he can 



4 DO YOU WANT A FRIEND ? 

comfort and support you when all other friends can render 
you no assistance ; he can receive your parting spirit, con- 
vey you safely through the shades of death, and bring you 
to that everlasting happiness which he shed his blood to 
procure. He died for our sins: believe in him; trust in 
what he has done and suffered ; supplicate God, in his name, 
for the pardon of your sins and the gift of the Holy Spirit, 
and you shall be delivered from the " blackness of darkness 
for ever ;" the fire of hell shall never touch you ; but you 
shall dwell in the abodes of light and glory for ever and 
ever. *' God so loved the world that he gave his only- 
begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not 
perish, but have everlasting life." 



One there is above all others, 

Well deserves the name of Friend : 

His is love beyond a brother's, 
Costly, free, and knows no end ! 

They Avho once his kindness prove. 

Find it everlasting love. 

Which of all our friends, to save us. 
Could or would have shed his blood ? 

But our Jesus died to have us 
Reconciled in him to God : 

This was boundless love indeed, 

Jesus is a Friend in need. 

When he lived on earth abased, 
Friend of sinners was his name ; 

Now, above all glory raised. 
He rejoices in the same ; 

Still he calls them brethren, friends. 

And to all their wants attends. 

PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



I¥o. 326. 

FEMALE 

INFLUENCE AND OBLIGATIONS. 



BY REV. NATHAN 8. S. BEMAN, D.D 



" The extent of female influence, and the importance of 
exerting it in favor of Christianity," are subjects which, 
perhaps, have never, as yet, powerfully arrested the atten- 
tion, or deeply impressed the hearts of Christians. Much 
has been said, and much written, on the moral power ex- 
erted upon the world by female character and conduct ; but 
these themes have been more frequently associated with 
poetry and fiction, than with religion and eternity. The 
interests of Christianity and the world require that this sub- 
ject should be presented to the female mind in the simple 
liofht of fact and the Bible : and that Woman, who has, to 
say the least, her full share, under God, in moulding the 
destinies of the world, should understand the extent of her 
influence, and feel her consequent responsibility ; and thus 
be prepared to call forth her own appropriate powers in 
serving God and doing good to his fallen creatures. 

As to the extent of female influence in our world, it is 
beyond computation immense. It is often less noisy and 
imposing than that of the other sex, and for this reason has 
sometimes been overlooked ; but it is always pervading and 
powerful. In all civilized countries it is an influence which 
reaches the deep and secret springs of human action ; and 
not unfrequently brings about great and decisive changes in 



2 FEMALE INFLUENCE AND OBLIGATIONS. 

the sentiments, the morals, and the happiness of the com- 
munity, by means the most simple and natural, but which 
are hidden from an ordinary eye. It is an influence every- 
where exerted. Its boundaries are those of the earth, and 
its duration can be measured only by eternity. This fact 
ought to be known and felt ; it ought to be written, in all 
its length and breadth, on the female heart. Till this fact 
is known and felt, females can never be prepared, in the 
best and highest sense, either to Uve or die ; can never be 
qualified to discharge, on the most elevated principles and 
to the fullest effect, their duties either to God or man. On 
this point, let females peruse, with deep and prayerful at- 
tention, the following remarks. 

The influence of your sex exerts itself over the earliest 
joeriods of rational life. The first being that the child knows 
is its mother. To the young heart, the mother is the first 
object of aff"ection and reverence. Her eye and voice, her 
tears and smiles, her caresses and reproofs, are the subjects 
of infant observation ; and these present the earliest lesson 
that the young immortal ever learns. From the very nature 
of the case, mothers must impress their own image upon 
their children. The feelings, passions, and expressions of 
the mother, will become imperceptibly, and almost neces- 
sarily, the feelings, passions, and expressions of the child. 
To mothers, more than to any other human beings, is com- 
mitted the important business of moulding the intellect and 
heart of every successive generation. This talent God him- 
self has lodged with you that are mothers ; and it is a talent 
which cannot be wrapped ''in a napkin," or buried "in the 
earth," with impunity. How full of interest is the thought, 
that the infant who lies in the cradle, or in its mother's 
arms, is now receiving the outlines which may form the 
character of the future man or woman ! Life or death may 
be conveyed in the earliest accents which are remembered 



FEMALE INFLUENCE AND OBLIGATIONS. 3 

from maternal lips. The pious mother may put forth an 
influence which, blessed of God, may save her child. The 
mother who is living without God, and without a Scriptural 
hope, though her example may not be that of direct and 
positive irreligion, may put forth an influence which will 
destroy the soul of that little one who is thrown, helpless 
and ignorant, upon her care and instruction. If females 
were all Christians, and such Christians as they ought to 
be, a hope might be cherished that the world would soon 
be converted. The next generation might live in a new 
earth, and, as a part of their employment, celebrate the 
final victories of the cross. 

Female influence is great in the family circle. It always 
has been so, and it always will be so. In countries blessed 
by civilization and Christianity, the wife and mother is a 
kind of presiding spirit in the sanctuary of domestic life. 
Her influence, of whatever character it may be, whether 
malignant or benign, spreads itself over the habitation, and 
takes deep and fast hold on the sentiments, the interests, 
and the hearts of this little community. Children, Avhether 
young or old, do not easily forget their mother. To trample 
on her authority, to thwart her wishes, to sport with her 
tears, and to grieve her spirit, must always cause many a 
pang on the part of her off"spring. Before her influence can 
be annihilated, the ties of nature must be sundered, and 
the last amiable sensibility be obliterated from the heart. 
The wife, too, in all ordinary circumstances, miist exert an 
influence over the husband. She is his chosen companion. 
Her dominion is the fireside and the family circle. The 
early instruction of the children, the regulation of the do- 
mestics, and the entire policy of the household are com- 
mitted to her. The order, the moral habits, the piety, and 
the happiness of families, are more emphatically under the 
control of females than thev are of the other sex. While 



4 FEMALE INFLUENCE AND OBLIGATIONS. 

the husband and the father is pursuing his business abroad, 
the wife and mother is, perhaps, imparting a cast of char- 
acter to those around her at home, which may extend 
through many generations ; which will continue, either in 
dark or splendid lines, when our world shall be burned up, 
and the sun and stars shall have gone out. It will always 
depend much on female influence, whether religion shall be 
admitted into the family, or whether the door shall be shut 
against its entrance ; whether " the curse of the Lord " shall 
be there, a« it is "in the house of the wicked," or his bless- 
ing, as it is ''in the habitation of the just." Prov. 3 : 33. 
Females exert a vast moral influence upon society at 
large. It is not your province to fill the chair of state, to 
plan in the cabinet, or to execute in the field ; but there 
is no department of human life, and no corner of the world, 
where your influence is not felt. To say nothing of the 
indirect control which females often have over the great 
movements of society, by that influence which they pos- 
sess with their husbands and sons, with their brothers and 
other family connections, look at the ordinary scenes of 
social life ; at the popular opinions and prevailing amuse- 
ments of the world ; and it must be seen, that they are in- 
trusted with a moral power that hardly knows a limit. The 
practical virtue of the world, the tone of piety in the church, 
and the salvation of souls, are probably more aff'ected by 
the current maxims and amusements of the day, than by 
either the form or administration of civil government. And 
here female power is great indeed. In morals and religion, 
and in every thing with which morals and religion stand 
directly connected, your sex may do as much good or hurt, 
as men ordinarily eff'ect in the politics and government of 
the world. What man would be a drunkard, if he were 
sure to receive universal female reprobation ? What man 
would fio'lit a dneL if iho united female voice were to cry 



FEMALE INFLUENCE AND OBLIGATIONS. 5 

out murder upon the shameful deed ? How long would the 
amusements of the theatre continue to corrupt our large 
cities, if no female would appear upon the stage, nor on any 
occasion, take her seat in this great temple of vice ? How 
long would the ballroom be crowded, and gay, and extrav- 
agant, and dissipating parties maintain an existence, if every 
female were to set her face against them, and resolve to go 
to no place where the voice of Christ and duty did not call 
her ? If the whole female world were to revere the Sab- 
bath, and Svere found in the house of God on this sacred 
day, what a happy revolution would sooi;, be effected ! The 
kingdom of God would come. The blessed reign of Christ 
Avould be established on the earth. 

Females have it in their power to do much good among 
the children of affliction. Sin has rendered our world the 
abode of deep and dreadful suffering. The marks of God's 
displeasure may be everywhere seen. Disease, and pov- 
erty, and death, are moving on in their melancholy course, 
and making the earth desolate. It is the business of the 
philanthropist and the Christian to diminish the amount 
of human misery. If we would act for God and eternity, 
much of the employment of life must consist in relieving 
the wants of the needy, in administering to the sick, in im- 
parting consolation to the afflicted, and in drying up the 
mourner's tears. And to these works of beneficence fe- 
males are peculiarly adapted. Your native sympathies are 
cast into the proper mould for this sacred business. You 
easily enter into the interests and sorrows of others. Your 
social temperament disposes you to " weep with them that 
weep." You can often find admission, too, where the other 
sex would be excluded ; and your entire habits of life pre- 
pare you to enter the scene of domestic affliction with the 
best prospects of doing good. Here, every power and every 
affection may find ample scope. In the house of poverty 

VOL. VII. 5 



6 FEMALE INFLUENCE AND OBLIGATIONS. 

you may light up a blessed smile. In the chamber of dis- 
ease, and by the pillow of death, the pious female is mercy's 
angel. In these scenes she may become the Saviour's advo- 
cate. Here, amidst groans, and wretchedness, and tears, 
the Holy Spirit may bless her efforts, and impress heaven's 
image on the heart. 

Sahhath- schools open a broad and delightful field for the 
exercise of female talents and virtues. These seminaries 
are making a new experiment of moral power and gospel 
truth upon the world. In their efforts to diffuse light and 
save the soul, we have a new and most interesting interpre- 
tation of the divine command to " preach the Gospel to 
every creature.'' Here the scheme of redeeming grace is 
brought down to the capacities of children, and the great 
truths of the Bible are made to operate upon the juvenile 
and infant mind. And for this labor of love, females are 
peculiarly fitted. You may here, under God, train up 
children for heaven. The little ones whom you take by the 
hand and instruct, and for Avhom you pray, are some of 
them without a mother to teach them or to pray for them ; 
and not a few have mothers whose entire example and in- 
fluence are enlisted for their temporal and eternal ruin. 
What an office of mercy, like that of guardian angels, is it 
to throw yourselves between these little immortals and 
destruction ! With the spirit of your Master — a spirit which 
is never more lovely or efficient than when it Avarms the 
hearts and inspires the exertions of females — you may here 
diffuse an influence Avhich will tell upon the records of other 
generations ; you may accomplish purposes of mercy Avhich 
will receive their proper distinction on the annals of eter- 
nity. A vast amount of the good Avhich Sabbath-schools 
are destined to bring about, must depend on female effort ; 
and a portion of this good can be done by none but your 
SOX. You are the very persons to collect the little female 



FEMALE INFLUENCE AND OBLIGATIONS. 7 

wanderers into Sabbath-schools, and there, under your in- 
structions, may be commenced and deepened, impressions 
"vvhich will make both earth and heaven glad. 

This influence of females in our world imposes a re- 
sponsibility deep and fearful ; and motives of no ordinary 
character call upon your sex to exert it in favor of Chris- 
tianity. To do this is a duty which you oive to God. His 
hand made you, and continues to sustain you. Year after 
year, in this dying world, it has held you up from the grave, 
and preserved you from falling into everlasting ruin. All 
your rich and distinguishing privileges are his gift. Every 
talent intrusted to your care is the property of youi* Maker, 
God. He formed your intellect and strung your heart. He 
has opened before you, in this world of effort and of hope, 
a broad field of usefulness, and directed you to enter and 
labor for him. Yes, the command of Almighty God is on 
you. And this command is of no doubtful character ; it is 
of no difficult interpretation. The God that made you, and 
bestowed upon you all your capacities for serving him and 
doing good, requires your hearts and lives. He enforces 
his claims by all the authority of his eternal Godhead. 
Here, then, settle this simple question; whether you will 
obey God or not. Before you rise from the pei-usal of this 
Tract, make the determination to devote your whole self to 
the cause of Jesus Christ ; your time, your talents, your in- 
fluence, your prayers, and your eff"orts ; bring them all, as 
the widow did her "two mites," and cast them into the 
treasury of the Lord. Or, if you will not do this, then re- 
member, that you arc God's creature, that you live in this 
world, and that you must soon die ; and remember, that 
you may not cherish a Christian hope while you are living 
and dying with the claims of God uncancelled, and the com- 
mand of God disobeyed. 

Let females reflect on the guilt ivhich they incur by 



8 FEMALE LXFLUENCE AND OBLIGATIONS. 

refusing to exert their influence in favor of the Christian 
rehgion. Let them seriously consider whose authority they 
reject and contemn, when they do nothing to honor Christ 
and save souls ; and when, perhaps, they do much to dis- 
honor the former, and destroy the latter — when, in fact, 
they neglect their own souls and the souls of others. It is 
the authority of the everlasting God. Oh, w^hat an act of 
hiorh-handed rebellion is here ! A female settina; her God 
at defiance ! And remember, God has bestowed upon you 
powers and opportunities of achieving much. He has ex- 
alted you in the family circle, has thrown the entire infant 
world into your arms for moral training, given you a vast 
control over the virtues and vices of society, opened before 
you the habitations of poverty, disease, and death, and in- 
vited you to enter and do good ; and if these interests are 
disregarded, if this trust is betrayed, guilt of a crimson stain 
must be incurred. If properly seen and felt, this guilt 
would be indeed appalhng here ; but its true character will 
never be known till it is looked upon in the light of eter- 
nity. It will then be seen, that "where much is given, 
much is required ;" and that guilt and punishment will be 
proportioned to the talents and influence which have been 
possessed and abused. It will then be seen, too, that you 
are chargeable with the loss of that good which you might 
have secured by embarking in the great interests of Christ's 
kingdom. And do you ask the amount of this good, in order 
to finish the picture of your guilt? This can never be as- 
certained till we obtain facts from the records of another 
world. But should the soul of your husband, your child, 
or your neighbor, perish for the want of that Christian in- 
fluence which you might have exerted — and who will dare 
to say that this may not be the case ? — what guilt would be 
yours ! Think of this — a soul irrecoverably and eternally 
lost through your neglect ! And instead of one soul, it may 



FEMALE INFLUENCE AND OBLIGATIONS. 9 

be many. Can the female heart reflect on these things, and 
not be moved ? Oh, while you read, resolve, by the help 
of God, to consecrate your soul, with all its living energies, 
to the kingdom of Jesus Christ and the interests of a per- 
ishing world. Let your oion heart be right with God, and 
then you may do good to others. 

But if the fear of incurring guilt cannot induce you to 
devote your influence to the cause of Jesus Christ, then let 
the consideration of the actual good you may accomplish find 
its way to your heart. You live m a world of means ; and 
God himself is bringing about his great purposes by the use 
of means ; by the instrumentality of human mfluence and of 
human action. He is employing men and women as his 
instruments to reform and save their fellow-beings. The 
work of preaching the Gospel is committed to men ; but 
this is only one wheel in the vast and mighty machine which 
is radically to change the character, feelings, and habits of 
the world. In the gospel kingdom much is to be done ; 
and the exertions of pious females have always been attend- 
ed by the blessing of Heaven. God has given you influence 
for this very purpose, that you might exert it for his glory 
and the good of others. 

But do you ask what good you can do ? The answer is 
easy. Much is to be done ; so much, that your last talent 
is needed, your last eftbrt is called for in the kingdom of 
Christ. Lift up your eyes and look upon the world, and let 
the surrounding scene aff'ect your heart. What untold mis- 
eries are to be relieved ; what inveterate vices are to be 
rooted out ; what profound ignorance is to be instructed ; 
what scarlet abominations are to be met with a decided 
frown ; what Christian virtues are to be trained and culti- 
vated ; what enterprises of heavenly charity are to be en- 
larged, perfected, and sustained ; and what an unnumbered 
multitude of immortal souls are to be saved from hell, and 

VOL. VII. 5* 



10 FEiMALE INFLUEiNCE AND OBLIGATIONS. 

fitted for heaven ! Some of this work is committed exclu- 
sively to female hands ; and much more might be accom- 
plished by female effort, if your entire influence were made 
to bear upon the moral interests of the world. Let every 
female who reads this Tract — looking to God for the aid of 
his Holy Spirit — resolve that she will, from this moment, do 
every thing in her power to give success to the Gospel, and 
to save souls ; and what might not be done ? The church 
would put on her beautiful garments, the earth would feel 
the sacred impulse, and the angels would come down from 
heaven to rejoice. You have influence at home and abroad, 
over your own sex, and through the various circles of hu- 
man life ; and if this influence were exerted to the utmost, 
every power called into action, and every resource laid 
under contribution ; if you Avere to act with the judgment- 
bar before your eyes, and with the joys and woes of eter- 
nity pressing upon your hearts, you would prevent an 
amount of misery which no arithmetic could compute ; you 
would accomplish an amount of good which would become 
one of the themes of the everlasting^ sonjr. 

Should these motives prove ineffectual, then let females 
reflect on the evils which must he the consequence of refusing 
to enlist their influence in favor of the Gospel. You are 
placed in a situation where you must act. You must be 
the friends or the enemies of God. You might as soon 
renounce your existence as your influence. If it is not ex- 
erted for Christ, it must be enlisted against him. If you do 
no good, you Avill accomplish much evil. And in such a 
world as this, it is much easier to do evil than to do good. 
A bad example, and perverted influence, fall in with the 
natural current of the heart and world, and, on this princi- 
ple, a small effort may do great mischief. It is easier to 
destroy a hundred souls than to save one. What, then, 
must be the consequences of enlisting your example and 



FEMALE INFLUENCE AND OBLIGATIONS?. H 

influence against the cause of Jesus Christ? This is the 
true state of the case ; for " those who are not for Christ, 
are against him." Look into your own famihes, and abroad 
in society ; look down the track of future generations, and 
along the dread current pursued by the ever-rolling and 
unwasting ages of eternity, and read the dark history of 
your present doings ! You refuse to exert the influence 
which God has given you for the glory of his Son who died 
for you, and for the good of souls who are perishing around 
you. Nay, more ; you neglect your own salvation, and use 
your influence against God, and Christ, and souls. And 
what is the consequence? You are giving a downward 
impvilse to a world already groaning under the curse of 
Heaven. You are confirming many of your own sex in 
irreligion, and fastening the bands of death upon them. 
You are giving a moral tone to a generation who will rise 
up and rebel against God. You are increasing the gayety, 
the pleasures, and the dissipations of society, and thus 
shutting Christ, as far as in you lies, from a thousand houses, 
and grieving the Holy Spirit from ten thousand hearts. 
You are opening channels which are every day filling with 
troubled waters. You are swelling that stream which bears 
upon its dark bosom the souls of your fellow- beings to an 
eternal hell. And if without religion, you are floating along 
to the same world of sin and woe. 

If all this is not enough, then let gratitude to Jesus 
Christ induce you to employ your influence in his service. 
He has conferred blessings upon you which deserve a grate- 
ful return. Some of these blessings are common to both 
sexes, and call for a common expression of gratitude from 
all those Avho live under the light of the Gospel ; others are 
peculiar to your sex, and demand special gratitude from 
every female heart, and special eff'ort from every female 
hand. In common with others, you are indebted to Jesus 



12 FEMALE INFLUENCE AND OBLIGATIONS. 

Christ for the only true light that shines upon this dark 
world. For you, as well as others, he taught and labored, 
wept and prayed, groaned and died. His atonement has 
opened, in this ruined world, the only door of hope. With- 
out Jesus Christ, you must have been a wanderer in life, a 
victim of despair in the hour of death, and an outcast from 
heaven in eternity. There could have been no alternative. 
But the Gospel has bestowed many blessings which are pe- 
culiar to your sex. In the present world, it is your best 
friend ; among men, your most successful advocate. Where 
Jesus Christ and his Gospel are not known, women are 
ignorant and debased, and almost, if not altogether, slaves. 
They are depressed by the hand of a rough and unsparing- 
despotism. Look at the females of Turkey, of India, and 
of our western wilderness. It is so in every land where 
the light of revelation has not come ; and it always has 
been so in every age of the world. For the females of 
Christendom the Son of God has done every thing. He 
has called you forth from obscurity, and lifted you up from 
degradation. And now you are called upon for your grate- 
ful tribute ; and this* should be nothing less than the conse- 
cration of your heart and life to Christ. Oh, let not the 
hand of a female ever be lifted to smite the Saviour's cheek, 
or employed to plait a crown of thorns for his brow ! A 
female infidel is a monster in the human form. A female, 
too, who rejects the Gospel, and remains impenitent, and 
will not have Jesus Christ to reign over her, is guilty of 
most flagrant ingratitude. No wonder that women were 
among the most ardent and active of Christ's followers 
while here on earth ; no wonder they stood weeping by the 
cross, when even the apostles themselves were scattered 
like sheep ; no wonder that his very sepulchre was dear to 
their hearts, for his coming published a jubilee to the female 
world. Female reader, will you not here fall at the feet of 



FEMALE INFLUENCE AND OBLIGATIONS. 13 

Jesus Christ, and lift your eyes, streaming with the tears of 
gratitude, to heaven, and cry, " Lord, what wilt thou have 
me to do ?" 

The last consideration which will here be urged is, that 
the 2^resent state of the ivorld is favorable to female effort. 
Pious women have always done much in the kingdom of 
Christ. They followed the Son of God, and ministered to 
his necessities, while here below. In the days of the apos- 
tles, honorable mention is made of their activity and use- 
fulness in the church of God. Indeed, in every age, the 
progress of the Gospel has been essentially aided by their 
pious and devoted labors. Who can compute, this side of 
heaven, the influence of Hannah More in favor of the Gos- 
pel ? When will the name of Harriet NeAvell be forgotten 
in the East, or cease to be associated, through the world, 
with the labor, and toils, and triumphs of the missionary 
cause ? How many will find eternal rest in heaven through 
the beneficence of a Norris, or the piety and prayers of an 
Isabella Graham ! Those who have gone before you, have 
done much ; but, by the grace of God, still more may be 
accomplished by female effort. 

There never has been a day, since the Gospel com- 
menced its blessed career, when the exertions of females 
were more needed by the church, or when their influence 
could accomplish more good in the world, than the present. 
Every benevolent enterprise under heaven must be affected 
by the course which you pursue. If you turn away from 
Jes.us Christ, and resist his claims, and cast your influence 
into the opposite scale, the great work of bringing the world 
to the foot of the cross must, at least for a time, and in no 
inconsiderable measure, languish. If this influence is called 
forth, and made to act in a proper direction, God's provi- 
dence and grace may enable you to touch every spring, and 
give motion to every wheel, in that great machine which is 



14 FEMALE INFLUEiNCE AND OBLIGATIONS. 

to change the moral state of the world. And there is 
nothing that stands in the way of successful action. Public 
sentiment is in favor of female zeal and effort. Numbers 
of your sex have already done much, and their praise is in 
the churches. The treasury of almost every Christian in- 
stitution is deeply indebted to the beneficence and activity 
of females. But oh, what vast multitudes in gospel lands, 
some in the church, and still greater numbers out of the 
church, have, as yet, done nothing ! They have never put 
their hand to the great work for which they were made. 
But how can the female heart refuse ? God has spread the 
world before you as the field of effort, and the spirit of the 
age invites you to enter. The signs of the times indicate 
your solemn duty, and in the discharge of this duty you 
have the promise and presence of God to sustain you. The 
eyes of the world — and, perhaps, of more worlds than one 
— are turned upon your sex. The ministers of the Gospel 
are expecting much of you ; the church are placing great 
dependence upon the continued and increasing efforts of 
those who have already enlisted in the cause of Heaven, 
and are looking forward with fond hopes to a vast accession 
of female influence; and even the distant heathen, who 
have learned enough of themselves and their present con- 
dition to begin to feel their own necessities, are stretching 
out their supplicating hands to you. 

Here, then, with life and eternity before you, make your 
final decision. Come around the cross, as pious women did 
when the Saviour hung upon it ; hasten to the sepulchre, to 
embalm, not the body, but the memory of the Son of God ; 
with melting hearts and flowing tears, take your places, 
where Mary sat, " at the feet of Jesus ;" commit the entire 
energies of your souls to the influence and motions of that 
Spirit which will lead you to follow Christ, and minister to 
him of your " substance :" do these things, and effects the 



FEMALE INFLUENCE AND OBLIGATIONS. 15 

most cheering and triumphant must follow. You can do 
more to encourage the hearts and strengthen the hands of 
ministers ; more in your closets to call down, in answer to 
prayer, the blessing of God upon a bleeding and dying 
world ; more to train up the infant and rising race for 
heaven ; more to stay the burning tide of ruin which sets 
strong towards the regions of death and darkness ; more to 
regenerate the world, and to rob Satan of his anticipated 
prey, than the combinations of earth and hell, with all their 
weapons of unholy war, and with all their deep-rooted en- 
mity against God, can counteract or undo. You may here 
plant, and Avater, and train the flowers of another Eden ; 
and, by the blessing of God, which is pledged to attend 
your sacrifices and efforts, you may cast around the earth 
the sweetest smile of Heaven. 

Note. — A premium of fifty dollars, proposed by a benevolent 
individual, was awarded to the autlior of this Tract. 



Every pious mother may exert upon her child a most 
controlling influence. Years need not dislodge her hold 
upon him. She can keep that hold in spite of a thousand 
things in his conduct that shall grieve her ; can keep it when 
he is in the ball-chamber, and when at the card-table, and 
when mingling in the pollutions of the theatre ; when he 
has a family of his own, and when far removed from her ; 
wl>en lost and gone from hope, and prayer, and promise. 
The mother of John Newton, how desperate was the grap- 
ple she took of his conscience ! She held it when he had 
reached manhood ; when his conduct was dark, and his 
habits vitiated, and all hope abandoned ; when his character 
was lost, and his occupation lawless, and friends and helpers 
removed ; and when his spirit was hardened almost to the 



16 FEMALE INFLUENCE AND OBLIGATIONS. 

obduracy of a devil. Blessed mother, liow much joy she 
now has in that son, while she reclines with him on the 
banks of the river of life, and listens while he rehearses the 
history of his long-protracted degradation, and his subse- 
quent recovery, and ministry, and redemption. 

And not mothers merely, for woman's influence can be 
mighty in all the relations. A good minister of Christ relates 
of himself the following fact : He was about to misspend 
the Sabbath in a ride of pleasure. A pious sister had 
watched his movements, and, as he was going out, met him 
in the door, and begged him not to go, as it would offend 
the Lord. But he would go. "Well, brother," said she, 
" be back early, as I shall spend the time of your absence 
in my closet, supplicating your forgiveness." He set out ; 
but conviction had seized him, and his misery obliged him 
to return soon. He searched for his sisier, and found her 
on her knees, and kneeled by her, and prayed and wept 
with her. Her influence saved her brother. We have read 
of Sabbath-school girls that brought their fathers to prayer ; 
of the little captive maid that served in the house of Naa- 
man the leper, captain of the host of Syria, who told him of 
the prophet that was in the land of Israel, and thus intro- 
duced heavenly light into Syria ; of Abigail, whose wisdom 
saved her husband and her house ; of Hannah, who reared 
for God the ablest of all the prophets ; of the Shunamite, 
who had a chamber built for Elisha on the wall ; and of 
thousands more, who have poured their kindly influence 
upon a lost world, and have gone to the general assembly 
of the church of the first-born in heaven. 



!¥©. 327. 

CHRIST IS ALL. 



In the Lord shall all the seed of Israel be justified, and 
shall glory. Isa. 45 : 24, 25. It is only the dying of that 
Just One for us, who are unjust, that can bring us to God. 
1 Pet. 3:18. He who knew no sin was made sin for us, 
that we, who were nothing but sin, might be made the 
righteousness of God in him. 2 Cor. 5 : 21. 

Christ is the Father's fulness of grace and glory. He 
must have the preeminence. He alone is worthy, who is to 
build the spiritual temple of the Lord, and to bear the glory. 
Every vessel of this temple, from the cups to the flagons, 
must all be hung upon Christ. He, by his Father's appoint- 
ment, is the foundation-stone, corner-stone, top-stone. 

Dost thou profess the name of Christ, and partake of his 
ordinances? Luke 1:6. Thou doest well. They are glo- 
rious privileges ; but if thou hast not the blood of Christ 
at the root of thy profession, it will wither, and prove un- 
profitable. 1 John, 1 : 7 ; 1 Cor. 3:11. 

Many are tossed to and fro, ready t6 be carried away 
with every wind of doctrine, by the sleight of men, and 
cunning craftiness whereby they lie in wait to deceive. Eph. 
4 : 14. There are many foundations to build upon that are 
false, upon which much labor is spent in vain. Some are 
not speakmg the truth in love ; neither are they growing up 
into Him in all things, who is the head, even Christ. Eph. 
4 : 15. There cannot be a growing in Christ, without a 
union with him. Without that union all we do is accursed. 

.If thou retain guilt and self-righteousness under thy pro- 
fession, those vipers will eat out all the vitals of it. Try, 
and examine with the greatest strictness every day, what 
foundation thy profession and thy hope of glory are built 
upon, 1 Cor. 3:11; whether it were laid by the hand of 
Christ. If not, it will never be able to endure the storm 
which must come against it. Satan will throw it all down, 
and great will be the fall thereof Malt 7 : 27. 

VOL. VII. (3 



2 CHRIST IS ALL. 

Consider, the greatest sins may be hid under the greatest 
duties. See that the wound which sin hath made in thy 
soul be perfectly cured by " the blood of Christ :" not skin- 
ned over with duties, tears, enlargements, etc. Apply what 
thou wilt besides " the blood of Christ," it will poison the 
sore. Thou wilt find that sin was never mortified truly, if 
thou hast not seen Christ bleeding for thee upon the cross. 
Nothing can kill it but a sight of Christ's righteousness. 

Nature can afibrd no balsam fit for soul-cure. Healing 
from duty, and not from Christ, is the most desperate dis- 
ease. Poor, ragged nature, with all its highest improve- 
ments, can never spin a garment fine enough, ' ' without 
spot," to cover the soul's nakedness. Nothing can do it but 
Christ's perfect righteousness. 

Whatsoever is of nature's spinning must be all unrav- 
elled before the righteousness of Christ can be put on. What- 
soever is of nature's putting on, Satan will come and plunder, 
and leave the soul naked and open to the wrath of God. 
All that nature can do can never make up the least drachm 
of grace, mortify sin, or look Christ in the face. Thou may- 
est hear, pray, receive the sacrament, and yet be miserable, 
unless thou seest Christ superior to all other excellency and 
righteousness in the world, and all these falling before the 
majesty of his love and grace. Isa. 2 : 17. 

If thou hast seen Christ truly, thou hast seen pure grace, 
pure righteousness, in him every way infinite, far exceeding 
all sin and misery. If thou hast seen Christ, thou wilt 
trample upon all the righteousness of men and angels, as to 
thine acceptance with God. If thou hast seen Christ, thou 
wouldst not do a duty without him for ten thousand worlds. 
1 Cor. 2 : 2. If ever thou hast seen Christ, thou hast seen 
him a rock higher than self-righteousness, Satan, and sin, 
Psa. 61:2; and this rock doth follow thee, 1 Cor. 10:4; and 
there will be a continual dropping of honey and grace out of 
that rock to satisfy thee. Psa. 81 : 16. Examine if ever 
thou hast beheld Christ as the only-begotten of the Father, 
full of grace and truth. John 1 : 14, 16, 17. Be sure 
that thou art come to Christ, that thou standest upon the 



CHRIST IS ALL. 3 

Rock of ages, hast answered to his call to thy soul, hast 
closed with him for justification. 

Men talk much of believing, whilst whole and sound — 
few do it. Christ is the mysteiy of the Scripture ; grace the 
mystery of Christ. Believing is the most wonderful thing 
in the world. Put any thing of thine own to it, and thou 
spoilest it ; Christ will not esteem it believing. When thou 
believest and comest to Christ, thou must leave behind thee 
thine own righteousness, (0 that is hard :) all thy holiness, 
sanctification, duties, tears, humblings; and bring nothing 
but thy sins, thy wants and miseries, else Christ is not fit 
for thee, nor thou for Christ. Christ will be a perfect Re- 
deemer and Mediator, and thou must be an undone sinner, 
or Christ and thou will never agree. It is the hardest thing 
in the world to take Christ alone for righteousness ; that is, 
to acknowledge him Christ. 

Whatever comes in, when thou goest to God for accept- 
ance, besides Christ, call it antichrist ; bid it begone ; make 
only Christ's righteousness triumphant. All besides that is 
Babylon, which must fall if Christ stand, and thou shalt re- 
joice in the day of the fall thereof Christ alone did tread 
the wine-press, and there was none with him. Isa. 63 : 3. 
If thou join any thing to Christ, Christ will trample upon 
it in fury and anger, and stain his raiment with the blood 
thereof Thou thinkest it easy to believe — was thy faith 
ever tried with an hour of temptation, and a thorough sight 
of sin ? Was it ever put to resist Satan, and to feel the 
wi-ath of God lying upon thy conscience ? When thou wert 
apprehensive of hell and the grave, then did God show thee 
Christ, a ransom, a righteousness ? Then couldst thou say, 
" 0, I see grace enough in Christ ?" If so, thou mayest say 
that which is the greatest word in the world, / believe. 
Untried faith is uncertain faith. 

With believing there must be a clear conviction of sin 
and the merits of the blood of Christ, and of Christ's will- 
ingness to save a man, considered merely as a sinner — a 
thing more difficult than to make a world. All the power 
m nature cannot get so high, in a storm of sin and guilt, as 



4 CHRIST IS ALL. 

really to believe there is any grace, any willingness in Christ 
to save. When Satan chargeth sin upon the conscience, 
then for the soul to place it to Christ's account, is gospel- 
like ; that is, to make him Christ. He serves for that use. 
To accept Christ's righteousness alone, his blood alone, for 
salvation, is the sum of the Gospel. When the soul, in all 
duties and distresses, can say, " Nothing but Christ, Christ 
alone for righteousness, justification, sanctification, redemp- 
tion, 1 Cor. 1 : 30 ; not humblings, not duties, not graces," 
then the soul rises above the reach of the billows. 

All temptations, Satan's advantages, and our complain- 
ings, are laid in self-righteousness and self-excellency. These 
must be torn from thee, be as unwilling as thou wilt. With 
these Christ will not dwell ; and till Christ come in, guilt 
will abide. 

When guilt alarms, take heed of getting it allayed any 
way but by Christ's blood ; all other ways tend to harden 
the conscience. Make Christ thy peace, Eph. 2 : 14 — not 
thy duties, thy tears. Thou mayest oflend Christ by duties 
as well as by sins. Look at Christ, and do as much as thou 
wilt. Stand with all thy weight upon Christ's righteousness. 
Take heed of having one foot on thine own righteousness, 
another on Christ's. Until Christ come and sit upon a throne 
of grace in the conscience, there is nothing but guilt, terror, 
secret suspicions, the soul hanging between hope and fear, 
which is not an evangelic state. 

Whosoever is alraid to see sin's utmost vileness, and to 
confess the desperate wickedness of his own heart, suspects 
the merits of Christ. 

How great soever a sinner thou art, 1 John, 2:1, make 
Christ thine advocate, and thou wilt find him Jesus Christ 
the righteous. In all doubtings, fears, storms of conscience, 
look at Christ only and continually. Do not argue it with 
Satan, he desires no better ; always answer him with. Thus 
saith the Lord. It is the office of Christ to be our Advocate, 
1 John, 2 : 1 ; to answer the law as our Surety, Heb. 7 : 22, 
and justice as our Mediator. Gal. 3 : 20 ; 1 Tim. 2:5. He 
is sworn to that office. Heb. 7 : 20, 21. Put Christ upon 



CHRIST 18 ALL 5 

it. If thou wilt do any thing thyself, as satisfaction for sin, 
thou renouncest Christ the righteous, who was made sin for 
thee. 2 Cor. 5:21. 

Satan may quote and corrupt, but he cannot answer 
Scripture. It is Christ's word of mighty authority. Christ 
foiled Satan wdth it. Matt. 4 : 10. In all the Scriptures 
there is not one hard word against a poor sinner, stript of 
self-righteousness. Nay, it plainly points him out to be the 
subject of the grace of the Gospel, and none else. Believe 
but Christ's willingness, and that will make thee willing. If 
thou findest that thou canst not believe, remember it is 
Christ's work to make thee believe. He works to will and 
to do of his good pleasure. Phil. 2 : 13. By grace thou art 
saved, through faith ; and that not of yourself ; it is the gift 
of God. Plead with him lor that gift. Christ is the author 
and finisher of faith. Mourn for thine unbelief; which is 
setting up guilt in the conscience above Christ, undervaluing 
the merits of Christ, accounting his blood an unholy, a com- 
mon and unsatisfying thing. 

Thou complain est much of thyself — doth thy sin make 
thee look more at Christ, less at thyself? that is right ; 
otherwise complaining is but hypocrisy. To be looking at 
duties, graces, enlargements, when thou shouldst be looking 
at Christ, is self-righteous and pitiful. Looking at them will 
make thee proud, looking at Christ's grace will make thee 
humble. In all thy temptations be not discouraged. James 
1:2. Those surges may be, not to drown thee, but to heave 
thee off from thyself upon the rock Christ. 

Thou mayest be brought low, even to the brink of de- 
struction, ready to fall. Many saints have been there ; yet, 
there thou mayest cry ; thence thou mayest look again 
towards the holy temple. Jonah 2 : 4. Into that temple 
which was built with hands, none might enter but purified 
ones, and with an oflering too. Acts 21 : 26. But now 
Christ is our temple, sacrifice, altar, high priest, to whom, 
none must come but sinners, and that without any offering 
but his own blood once offered. Heb. 7 : 27. 

Remember all the patterns of grace that arc in heaven 

VOL. VJI. 6* 



G CHRItfT IS ALL. 

Thou thiukest, " Oh, what a monument of grace should I 
be." There are many thousands as rich monuments as thou 
canst be. No guilt ever exceeded the merits of Christ's 
blood ; no sin could ever conquer the invincible power of his 
grace. Do not despair ; hope still. When the clouds are 
blackest, even then look towards Christ, the standing pillar 
of the Father's love and grace, set up in heaven for all sin- 
ners to gaze upon continually. Whatsoever Satan or con- 
science says, do not conclude against thyself. Christ will 
have the last word. He is Judge of quick and dead, and 
must pronounce the final sentence. His blood speaks recon- 
ciliation, Col, 1 : 20 ; cleansing, 1 John 1:7; purchase. Acts 
20 : 28; redemption, 1 Pet. 1 : 18, 19 ; purging, Heb. 9 : 13, 
14; remission, ver. 22; liberty, Heb. 10 : 19 ; justification, 
Rom. 5:9; nearness to God. Eph. 2 : 13. Stand and 
hearken what God will say, for he will speak peace to his 
people, that they return no more to folly. Psa. 85 : 8. He 
speaks grace, mercy, and peace. 2 Tim. 1 : 2. That is the 
language of the Father and of Christ. Wait for Christ's ap- 
pearing as the morning-star. Rev. 22 : 16. He shall come as 
certainly as the morning, as refreshing as the rain. Hos. 6:3. 

The sun may as well be hindered from rising, as Christ 
the Sun of righteousness. Mai. 4:2. Look not a moment off 
from Christ. Look not upon sin, but look upon Christ first. 
When thou mournest for sin, if thou dost not see Christ, 
then away with it. Zech. 7:5. In eveiy duty look at 
Christ ; before duty, to pardon ; in duty, to assist ; after 
duty, to accept. Without this, it is but carnal, careless 
duty. Do not legalize the Gospel, as if part remained for 
thee to do and suffer, and Christ were but half a Mediator ; 
as if thou must bear part of thine own sin, and make some 
satisfaction. Let sin break thy heart, but not thy hope in 
the Gospel. 

Look more at justification than sanctification. In the 
highest commands, consider Christ, not as an exactor, to 
require, but as debtor, an undertaker, to work. If thou hast 
looked at thy resolutions, endeavors, workings, duties, qual- 
ifications, more than at the merits of Christ, it will cost thee 



CHRIST IS ALL. 7 

dear. No wonder thou goest complaining : graces may be 
evidences, the merits of Christ alone without them must be 
the foundation of thy hope. Christ only can be the hope of 
glory. Col. 1 : 27. 

When we come to God, we must bring nothing but Christ 
with us. Any. ingredients, or any previous qualification of 
our own, will poison and corrupt faith. He that builds upon 
duties and graces, knows not the merits of Christ. This 
makes believing so hard, so far above nature. If thou be- 
lievest, thou must every day renounce (as dung and dross, 
Phil. 3 : 7, 8) thy privileges, thine obedience, thy sanctifica- 
tion, thy duties, thy graces, thy tears, thy meltings, thy 
humblings, and nothing but Christ must be held up. Every 
day thy workings, thy self-sufficiency must be destroyed ; 
thou must receive all at God's hand. Christ is the gift of 
God. John 4 : 10, and 3 : 16. Faith is the gift of God. 
Eph. 2:8. Pardon is a free gift. Rom. 5:16. Ah, how 
nature storms, frets, rages at this : that all is gift, and it can 
purchase nothing with its works, and tears, and duties ; that 
all works are excluded, and of no value in the justification 
of the soul. R-om. 4:5. 

If nature had contrived the way of salvation, it would 
rather have put it into the hands of saints and angels to sell 
it, than into the hands of Christ who gives freely, whom 
therefore it suspects. Nature would set up a way to pur- 
chase by doing ; therefore it abominates the merits of Christ 
as the most destructive thing to it. Nature would do any 
thing to be saved, rather than go to Christ, or close with 
Christ, and owe all to him. Christ will have nothing ; but 
the soul would thrust somewhat of its own upon Christ. 
Here is the great controversy. Consider — didst thou ever 
yet see the merits of Christ, and the infinite satisfaction 
made by his death ? Didst thou see this when the burden 
of sin and the wrath of God lay heavy on thy conscience ? 
that is grace ; the greatness of Christ's merits is not known 
but to a poor soul in deep distress. Slight convictions will 
have but a slight, Ioav esteem of Christ's blood and merits. 

Despairing sinner, thou lookest on thy right hand and on 



g . CHRIST IS ALL. 

thy left, saying, " Who will show me any good ?" thou art 
tumbling over all thy duties and professions, to patch up a 
righteousness to save thee. Look at Christ now ; look to 
him and be saved, all the ends of the earth. Isa. 45 : 22. 
There is none else. He is a Saviour, and there is none 
besides him. Ver. 21. Look anywhere else, and thou art 
undone. God will look at nothing but Christ ; and thou 
must look at nothing else. Christ is lifted up on high, as 
the brazen serpent in the wilderness, that sinners at the end 
of the earth, the greatest distance, may see him and live. 
John 3 : 14, 15. The least sight of him will be saving ; the 
least touch healing to thee. And God intends thou shouldst 
look on him ; for he hath set him upon a high throne of 
glory, in the open view of all poor sinners. Thou hast infi- 
nite reason to look on him ; no reason at all to look off him. 
He is meek and lowly of heart. Matt. 11 : 29. He will do 
that himself which he requires of his creatures ; namely, bear 
with their infirmities, Rom. 15:1, not pleasing himself, 
ver. 2 ; he will restore with the spirit of meekness, Gal. G : 1, 
and bear their burdens, ver. 2. He will forgive, not only till 
seven times, but till seventy times seven. Matt. 18 : 21, 22. 
It tried the faith of the apostle to believe this. Luke 17 : 4, 5. 
Because we are hard to forgive, we think Christ is so. 

We apprehend sin too great to be pardoned. We think 
Christ doth so, and measure infinite love with our line, 
infinite merits with our sins, which is the greatest pride 
and blasphemy. Psa. 103 : 11, 12. Hear what he saith : 
"I have found a ransom." Job 33 : 24. "In him I am 
well pleased." Matt. 3 : 17. God will have nothing else. 
Nothing else will do thee good, or satisfy conscience, but 
Christ who satisfied the Father. God doeth all upon the 
account of Christ. Thy deserts are rejection, wrath, hell. 
Christ's deserts are acceptance, pardon, life. He will not 
only show thee the one, but he will give thee the other. 
It is Christ's own glory and happiness to pardon. 

Consider : whilst Christ was upon the earth, he was 
more among publicans and sinners, than among scribes and 
Pharisees, his professed adversaries, for they were righteous 



CHRIST IS ALL. Q 

ones. It is not as thou imaginest, that his state in gloiy 
makes him neglectful, scornful to poor sinners. No ; he 
hath the same heart now in heaven. He is God, and 
changeth not. He is " the Lamb of God that taketh away 
the sins of the world." John 1 : 29. He went through all 
thy temptations, dejections, sorrows, desertions, rejections. 
Matt. 4:3-11, and 26 ; Mark 1 5 : 34 ; Luke 22 : 44 ; Matt. 
26 : 38. He hath drunk the bitterest of the cup, and left 
thee the sweet ; the condemnation is out. Christ drank the 
Father's wrath at one draught ; and nothing but salvation 
is left for thee. Thou sayest, I cannot believe, I cannot 
repent. Christ is exalted a Prince and a Saviour, to give 
repentance and remission of sins. Acts 5 : 31. Hast thou 
nothing but sin and misery ? Go to Christ with all thy 
impenitence and unbelief, to get faith and repentance from 
him : that is glorious. Say unto him, " Lord, I have brought 
no righteousness, no grace, to be accepted in, or justified by : 
I am come for thine." We would be bringing to Christ, 
and that must not be. Not a penny of nature's highest 
improvements will pass in heaven. Grace will not stand 
with works. Tit. 3:5; Rom. 11:6. That is a terrible 
point to nature, which cannot think of being stripped of all, 
not having a rag of duty or righteousness left to look at. 

Self-righteousness and self-sufficiency are the darlings of 
nature, which she preserves as her life. That makes Christ 
obnoxious to nature. Nature caimot desire him. He is just 
opposite to all nature's glorious interests. Let nature but 
make a gospel, and it would make it quite contrary to Christ : 
it would be for the just, the innocent, the holy. Christ 
makes the Gospel for thee ; that is, for 'needy sinners — the 
ungodly, the unrighteous, the accursed. 

Nature cannot endure to think the Gospel is only for 
sinners ; it will rather choose to despair than to go to Christ 
upon such terms. When nature is oppressed with guilt or 
wrath, it will go to its old haunts of self- righteousness. An 
infinite Power must cast down those strongholds. None 
but the self-justiciary stands excluded by the Gospel. To 
such an one Christ cannot be made justification. He does 



10 CHRIST IS ALL. 

not know nor confess his sin. John 9 : 41. To say, " I am 
a sinner," is easy ; but to pray with the pubhcan, indeed, 
" Lord, be merciful to me a sinner," is the hardest prayer in 
the world. It is easy to say, " I believe in Christ ;" but to 
see Christ full of grace and truth, " of whose fulness thou 
mayest receive grace for grace," that is saving. It is easy 
to profess Christ with the mouth ; but to confess him with 
the heart, as Peter did, "to be the Christ, the Son of the 
living God," the alone Mediator, that is above flesh and 
blood. Many call Christ Saviour; few Imow him to be so. 
To see grace and salvation in Christ is the greatest sight 
in the world. Sights will cause applications. Men may 
be ashamed to think, that in the midst of so much profession, 
they have known so little of the blood of Christ, which is 
the main thing of the Gospel. A Christless, formal pro- 
fession is the blackest sight next to hell. Thou mayest 
have many good things ; and yet one thing may be wanting, 
that may make thee go away sorrowful from Christ. Thou 
hast never sold all that thou hast, never parted with all 
thine own righteousness. Thou mayest be high in duty, yet 
a perfect enemy and adversary to Christ in every prayer, in 
every ordinance. 

Labor after sanctification to thy utmost, but make not a 
Christ of it to save thee : if so, it must come down one way 
or other. Christ's obedience and sufferings, not thy sanctifi- 
cation, must be thy justification before God ; for if the Lord 
should appear terrible out of his holy place, fire would con- 
sume it as hay and stubble. This is religion : to build all 
upon the everlasting mountains of God's love and grace in 
Christ ; to look continually at Christ's infinite righteousness 
and merits ; to see the full guilt and defilement of sin par- 
doned and washed away : in these views to trample upon 
all self-righteousness, and be found continually in the right- 
eousness of Christ only, Phil. 3 : 9, that Christ alone, as 
Mediator, may be exalted in his throne — mourning over all 
thy duties which thou hast not performed in the sight and 
sense of Christ's love. Without the blood of Christ on the 
conscience, all is dead service. Heb. 9:14. 



CHRIST IS ALL. H 

Christ is so infinitely holy, that nature durst not look at 
him ; so infinitely good, that nature can never believe him 
to be such, when it lies under fiill sights of sin. Christ is 
too high and glorious for nature so much as to touch. There 
must be a divine nature first put into the soul, to make it 
lay hold of Him who lies so infinitely beyond its sight. That 
Christ which the natural man can apprehend, is but a Christ 
of his own making ; not the Father's Christ — not Jesus the 
Son of the living God, to whom none can come without the 
Father's drawing. John 6 : 44, 45. 

Search the Scriptures daily, as mines of gold, wherein 
the heart of Christ is laid. John 5 : 39. Watch against 
constitutional sins, Psa. 59 : 5 ; see them in their vileness, 
and they shall never break out into act. Keep always a 
humble, empty, broken frame of heart, sensible of any 
spiritual miscarriage, observant of all inward workings, fit 
for the highest communications. Keep not guilt in the con- 
science, but apply the blood of Christ immediately. God 
chargeth sin and guilt upon thee, to make thee look to 
Christ, the brazen serpent. 

Judge not Christ's love by providences, but by promises, 
Psa. 73; Heb. 12; Eccles. 9. Bless God for shaking ofi^ 
false foundations ; and for any way whereby he keeps the 
soul awakened and looking after Christ. Better is sickness 
and temptation, than security and slightness. 

A slighting spirit will turn a profane spirit, and will sin 
and pray too. If it be not rooted out of the heart by con- 
stant and serious dealings with, and beholdings of Christ in 
duties, it wall grow more strong and more deadly by being 
under ordinances. Measure not thy graces by others' attain- 
ments, but by the Scripture. Be serious and exact in duty, 
having the weight of it upon thy heart ; but be as much 
afraid of taking comfort from duties as from sins. Comfort 
from any hand but Christ's is deadly. Be much in prayer, 
or you will never keep up much commiTnion with God. 
As you are in closet-prayer, so you will be in all other 
ordinances. 

Reckon not duties by high expressions, but by low frames 



12 CHRIST IS ALL. 

and views of Christ. Tremble at duties and gifts. It was 
the saying of a great saint, " he was more afraid of his 
duties than his sins :" the one often made him proud, the 
other made him humble. Slight not the lowest, meanest 
evidences of grace : God may put thee to make use of the 
lowest as thou thinkest, 1 John 3 : 14 ; even that may be 
worth a thousand worlds to thee. 

Be true to truth, but not turbulent and scornful. Re- 
store such as are fallen ; help them up again with all the 
bowels of Christ. Set the broken disjointed bones with the 
grace of the Gospel. 

High professor, despise not weak saints. Thou mayest 
come to wish to be in the condition of the meanest of them. 
Be faithful to others' infirmities, but sensible of thine o\vn. 
Visit sick-beds and deserted souls much : they are excellent 
schools. 

Abide in your calling. Be dutiful to all relations as to 
the Lord. Be content with little of the world ; little will 
serve. Think every little of the earth much, because un- 
worthy of the least. Think much of heaven ; not little, 
because Christ is so rich and free. Think others better than 
thyself, and ever carry self-loathing about thee, as one fit to 
be trampled upon by all saints. See the vanity of the world, 
and love nothing but Christ. Mourn to see so little of Christ 
in the world, so few feeling their need of him — trifles please 
them better. To a secure soul, Christ is but a fable, the 
Scriptures but a story. Mourn to think how many are under 
ordinances who are not under grace ; looking much after 
outward duties, little after Christ or grace. Prepare for the 
cross ; welcome it ; bear it triumphantly, as Christ's cross, 
whether it be scofis, mockings, jeers, contempt, or imprison- 
ments ; but see it be Christ's cross, not thine own. 

Sin will hinder from glorying in the cross of Christ. 
Omitting little . truths against light may burden the con- 
science, as well as committing the greatest sins against light. 
If thou hast been taken from the depths of sin into Christ's 
bosom, and made to sit among princes in the household of 
(tO(1. O how phouldst tliou live a pattern of mercy. 



rilRIST IS ALL. 13 

Redeemed, restored soul, what infinite sums dost thou 
owe Christ. With what a spiritual frame oughtest thou to 
walk and to do every duty. Sabbaths, what praising days, 
singing hallelujahs, should they be to thee. What a heaven 
is communion with Christ, and angels, and saints. What a 
bathing of the soul in eternal love ; what a burial with 
Christ, dying to all things besides him. Every time thou 
thinkest of Christ, be astonished, and wonder : when thou 
seest sin, look at Christ's grace which did pardon it : when 
thou art proud, look at Christ's grace — that will humble and 
strike thee down to the dust. 

Remember Christ's time of love, Ezek. 16:8, 9 ; when 
thou wast naked, then he chose thee. Canst thou ever have 
a proud thought ? remember whose arms supported thee 
from sinking, and delivered thee from the lowest hell, Psa. 
86 : 13; and shout in the ears of angels and men, Psa. 98, 
and for ever sing, " Praise, praise ; grace, grace." Daily 
repent and pray, and walk in the sight of grace as one that 
hath the anointings of grace upon thee. Remember thy 
sins, Christ's pardonings ; thy deserts, Christ's merits ; thy 
weakness, Christ's strength ; thy pride, Christ's humility ; 
thy many infirmities, Christ's restoring; thy guilt, Christ's 
new applications of his blood ; thy failings, Christ's assist- 
ance ; thy wants, Christ's fulness ; thy temptations, Christ's 
tenderness ; thy vileness, Christ's righteousness. 

Blessed soul, whom Christ shall find, not having on 
his own righteousness, Phil. 3:9, but having his robes 
washed, and made white in the blood of the Lamb. Rev. 
7:14. 

Woful, miserable professor, who hast not the Gospel 
within. Rest not on the judgment of thy fellow- creatures. 
Thou may est be applauded by them, and cast away in 
Christ's day of trial. Thou mayest come to ordinances, and 
never "come to Jesus and the blood of sprinkling," Heb. 
12 : 24. Whatever workings or attainments are short of 
Christ's blood, merits, righteousness — the main object of the 
Gospel — fall short of the truth, and leave the soul in a condi- 
tion of doubtings and questionings : and doubtings, if not 

VOL. VII. 7 



14 CHRIST IS ALL. 

looked into betimes, will turn to a slightness of spirit, one of 
the most dangerous frames. 

Trifle not with ordinances. Be much in meditation and 
prayer. Be constant and diligent in hearing Christ's word. 
We have need of doctrine, reproof, exhortation, consolation, 
as the tender herbs and the grass have of the rain, the dew, 
the small rain, and the showers. Deut. 32 : 2. Do all thou 
doest as soul-work unto Christ, Zech. 7 : 5, 6 ; as immedi- 
ately dealing with Christ Jesus, as if he were looking 
on thee, and thou on him ; and gain all thy strength from 
him. 

Observe what holy motions you find in your soul to du- 
ties. Prize the least good thought thou hast of Christ — the 
least good word thou speakest of him sincerely from the 
heart, Rich mercy ; 0, bless God for it. Observe, if every 
day you have the Day-spring from on high, with his morn- 
ing dews of mourning for sin, constantly visiting thee. Luke 
1:78. Have you the bright Morning-star, with jTres^ influ- 
ences of grace, and peace constantly arising, Rev. 22 : 16, 
and Christ sweetly greeting the soul in all duties ? What- 
ever duty makes not more spiritual, will make more carnal ; 
what doth not quicken and humble, will deaden and harden. 

Judas may have the sop, the outward privileges of the 
supper of the Lord ; but John leaned on Christ's bosom. 
John 13 : 23. That is the gospel-ordinance posture, in which 
we should pray, and hear, and perform all duties. Nothing 
but lying in that bosom will dissolve hardness of heart, and 
make thee mourn kindly for sin, and cure a careless spirit, 
that gangrene in profession. That will humble indeed, and 
make the soul cordial to Christ, and sin vile to the soul ; 
yea, transform it into the glory of Christ. Never think thou 
art as thou shouldst be, a Christian of any attainment, until 
thou comest to this — always to see and feel thyself lying 
in the bosom of Christ, who is in the bosom of his Father. 
John 1:18. Come and pray the Father for near views of 
Christ, and you will be sure to speed. You can come with 
no request that pleaseth him better. He gave him out of 
his own bosom for that very end, to be held up before the 



CHRIST IS ALL. 15 

eyes of all sinners >is the everlasting monument of his un- 
speakable love. 

Looking at the natural sun weakeneth the eye. The 
more you look at Christ the Sun of righteousness, the 
stronger and clearer will the eye of faith be. Look but at 
Christ, you will love him, and live on him. Think on him 
contirmally. Keep the eye constantly upon Christ's blood, 
or every blast of temptation will shake you. If you would 
see sin's sinfulness, to loathe it and mourn, do not stand look- 
ing upon sin, but look upon Christ first, as sufiering and sat- 
isfying for it. If you would see your graces, your sanctifica- 
tion, do not stand gazing upon them, but look at Christ's 
righteousness first, and through him at your graces. See the 
Son, and you see all. 

In believing, what you first look at you expect stability 
from, and make the foundation of your hope. Go to Christ 
in sight of thy sin and misery, not of thy grace and holiness. 
Have nothing to do with thy graces and sanctification — they 
will but veil Christ — till thou hast seen Christ. He that 
looks upon Christ through his own graces, is like one that 
sees the sun in water, which wavereth and moves as the 
water doth. Look upon Christ only as shining in the firma- 
ment of his Father's love and grace, then you will see him 
in his own glory which is unspeakable. 

Pride and unbelief will put you upon seeing somewhat 
in yourself first ; but faith will have to do with none but 
Christ, who is inexpressibly glorious, and must swallow up 
thy sanctification as well as thy sins ; for God made him 
both for us, and we must make him both. 1 Cor. 1 : 30 ; 
2 Cor. 5 : 21. He that sets up his sanctification to look at 
for comfort, sets up a great idol, which will but strengthen 
his doubts and fears. Do but look ofi^from Christ, and pres- 
ently, like Peter, you sink in doubts. 

A Christia7i never wants comfort, but by breaking the 
order and method of the Gospel : lookmg on his own, and 
looking off from Christ's perfect righteousness ; which is to 
choose rather to live by candlelight than by the light of the 
sun. The honey that you suck from your own righteous- 



16 CHRIST IS ALL. 

ness will turn into perfect gall ; and the light that you take 
from that to walk in, will turn into black night upon the 
soul. Satan is tempting thee to look at thine own graces, to 
get comfort from them. Then the Father comes and points 
thee to Christ's grace, as rich, glorious, and infinitely pleas- 
ing to him, and biddeth thee study Christ's righteousness. 
His biddings are enablings — a blessed power — a sweet whis- 
per, checking thine unbelief Follow the least hint close 
with much prayer ; prize it as an invaluable jewel ; it is an 
earnest of more to come. 

Again, if you would pray and cannot, and so are discour- 
aged, see Christ praying for you, using his interest with the 
Father for you. John 14 : 16, and ch. 17. If you be troub- 
led, see Christ your peace, Eph. 2 : 14, leaving you peace 
when he went up to heaven ; again and again charging you 
not to be troubled, no, not in the least — sinfully troubled — 
so as to obstruct thy comfort or thy believing. John 14 : 1-27. 
He is now upon the throne, having spoiled upon the cross, 
in the lowest state of his humiliation, all that can hurt or 
annoy thee. He hath borne all thy sins, sorrows, troubles, 
temptations, and is gone to prepare a mansion for thee. 

Thou who hast seen Christ all, and thyself absolutely 
NOTHING ; who makest Christ all thy life, and art dead to 
all righteousness besides ; thou art the Christian — one highly 
beloved, who hast found favor with God, a favorite of heaven. 
Make Christ this one return for all his love to thee : love his 
poor saints and people — the meanest, the weakest, notwith- 
standing any difference in judgment — they are graven on 
his heart as the names of the children of Israel on Aaron's 
breastplate. Exodus 28 :21. Let them be so on thine, 
" Pray for the peace of Jerusalem ; they shall prosper that 
love thee." Psa. 122 : 6. 

Note. — The above is the substance of "A Choice Drop of 
Honey from the Rock Christ, by Rev. T. Wilcox," as revised by 
Rev. Henry Pcckwell. D. D. 



Wo. 328. 
MORAL DIGNITY 

OF 

THE MISSIONARY ENTERPRISE. 



BY REV. FRANCIS WAYLAND, D.D 



THE FIELD IS THE WORLD. 

Philosophers have speculated much concerning a pro- 
cess of sensation, which has commonly been denominated 
the emotion of sublimity. Aware that, like any other 
simple feeling, it must be incapable of definition, they have 
seldom attempted to define it ; but, content with remarking 
the occasions on which it is excited, have told us that it 
arises, in general, from the contemplation of whatever is vast 
in nature, splendid in intellect, or lofty in morals. Or, to 
express the same idea somewhat varied, in the language of 
a critic of antiquity, " That alone is truly sublime, of which 
the conception is vast, the effect irresistible, and the re- 
membrance scarcely, if ever, to be erased." 

But although philosophers alone have written about this 
emotion, they are far from being the only men who have 
felt it. The untutored peasant, when he has seen the au- 
tumnal tempest collecting between the hills, and, as it ad- 
vanced, enveloping in misty obscurity village and hamlet, 
forest and meadow, has tasted the sublime in all its reality ; 
and whilst the thunder has rolled and the lightning flashed 
around him, has exulted in the view of nature moving forth 
in her majesty. The untaught sailor boy, listlessly hearken- 
ing to the idle ripple of the midnight wave, when, on a 
sudden, he has thought upon tli^ unfathomable abyss be- 
neath him, and the wide waste of waters around him, and 
VOL. VII. 7* 



2 MORAL DKJNITY OF 

the infinite expanse above him, has enjoyed, to the full, the 
emotion of sublimity, whilst his inmost soul has trembled 
at the vastness of its own conceptions. But why need I 
multiply illustrations from nature ? Who does not recollect 
the emotions he has felt whilst surveying aught in the ma- 
terial world of terror or of vastness ? 

And this sensation is not produced by grandeur in ma- 
terial objects alone. It is also excited on most of those 
occasions in which we see man tasking to the uttermost the 
energies of his intellectual or moral nature. Through the 
long lapse of centuries, who, without emotion, has read of 
Leonidas and his three hundred, throwing themselves as a 
barrier before the myriads of Xerxes, and contending unto 
death for the liberties of Greece ? 

But we need not turn to classic story to find all that is 
great in human action ; we find it in our own times, and in 
the history of our own country. Who is there of us that, 
even in the nursery, has not felt his spirit stir within him, 
when, with childlike wonder, he has listened to the story of 
Washington ? And althouQ-h the terms of the narrative 
were scarcely intelligible, yet the young soul kindled at the 
thought of one man's working out the deliverance of a na- 
tion. And as our imderstanding, strengthened by age, was 
at last able to grasp the detail of this transaction, we saw 
that our infantile conceptions had fallen far short of its 
grandeur. if an American citizen ever exults in the con- 
templation of all that is sublime in human enterprise, it is 
when, bringing to mind the men who first conceived the 
idea of this nation's independence, he beholds them esti- 
mating the power of her oppressor, the resources of her 
citizens, deciding in their collected might that this nation 
should be free, and through the long years of trial that en- 
sued, never blenching from their purpose, but freely re- 
deeming the pledge they had given, to consecrate to it 
."their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor." 



THE MIS::'1<\\AKY EXTEUrRlHi:. 3 

" Patriots have toiled, and in their country's cause 
Bled nobly ; and their deeds, as they deserve, 
Receive proud recompense. We give in charge 
Their names to the sweet lyre. The historic muse. 
Proud of her treasure, marches with it down 
To latest times ; and sculpture, in her turn, 
Gives bond in stone and ever-during brass, 
To guard them, and immortalize her trust." 

It is not in the field of patriotism alone, that deeds have 
been achieved to which history has awarded the palm of 
moral sublimity. There have lived men, in whom the name 
of patriot has been merged in that of philanthropist ; who, 
looking with an eye of compassion over the face of the 
earth, have felt for the miseries of our race, and have put 
forth their calm might to wipe off one blot from the marred 
and stained escutcheon of human nature, to strike off one 
form of suffering from the catalogue of human woe. Such 
a man was Howard. Surveying our world like a spirit of 
the blessed, he beheld the misery of the captive, he heard 
the groaning of the prisoner. His determination was fixed. 
He resolved, single-handed, to gauge and to measure one 
form of unpitied, unheeded wretchedness, and, bringing it 
out to the sunshine of public observation, to work its utter 
extermination. And he well knew what this undertaking 
would cost him. He knew what he had to hazard from the 
infection of dungeons, to endure from the fatigues of inhos- 
pitable travel, and to brook from the insolence of legalized 
oppression. He knew that he was devoting himself upon 
the altar of philanthropy, and he willingly devoted him- 
self. He had marked out his destiny, and he hastened for- 
ward to its accomplishment, with an intensity " which the 
nature of the human mind forbade to be more, and the 
character of the individual forbade to be less." Thus he com- 
menced a new era in the history of benevolence. And hence, 
the name of Howard will be associated with all that is sub- 
lime in mercy, until the final consummation of all things. 



4 MORA!. DIGMTV OF 

Such a man was Clarkson. We have seen him, laying 
aside the vestments of the priesthood, consecrate himself to 
the hoty purpose of rescuing a continent from rapine and 
murder. We have seen him and his fellow-philanthropists 
for twenty years never waver from their purpose. We have 
seen them persevere amidst neglect, and obloquy, and con- 
tempt, and persecution, until, having roused the sensibilities 
of their nation, she rose in her might, and, by one act, 
separated herself from the foul iniquity. 

It will not be doubted that, in such actions as these, 
there is much which may be truly called the moral sublime. 
If, then, we should attentively consider them, we might, 
perhaps, ascertain what must be the elements of that en- 
terprise which may lay claim to this high appellation. It 
cannot be expected that in the few j^ages of a Tract we 
should analyze them critically. It will, however, we think, 
be found, upon examination, that to that enterprise alone has 
been awarded the meed of subhmity, of which the concep- 
tion was vast, the execution arduous, and the means to he 
employed sim^ple, hut efficient. Were not the object vast, it 
could not arrest our attention. Were not its accomplish- 
ment arduous, none of the nobler energies of man being- 
tasked in its execution, we should see nothing to admire. 
Were not the means to that accomplishment simptle, our 
whole conception being vague, the impression would be 
feeble. Were they not efficient, the most intense exertion 
could only terminate in failure and disgrace. 

And here we may remark, that, wherever these elements 
have combined in any undertaking, public sentiment has 
generally united in pronouncing it sublime, and history has 
recorded its achievements among the noblest proofs of the 
dignity of man. Malice may for a while have frowned, and 
interest opposed ; men who could neither grasp what was 
vast, nor feel what was morally great, may have ridiculed. 
But all this has soon passed aAvay. Human nature is not 



THE MISSlONAllY ENTERPRISE. 5 

to be changed by the opposition of interest, or the hiugh of 
folly. There is still enough of dignity in man to respect 
■what is great, and to venerate what is benevolent. The 
cause of man has at last gained the suffrages of man. It 
has advanced steadily onward, and left ridicule to Avonder 
at the impotence of its shaft, and malice to weep over the 
inefficacy of its hate. 

And we bless God that it is so. It is cheering to ob- 
serve that, amidst so much that is debasing, there is still 
something that is ennobling in the character of man. But 
whilst the general assertion is true, that he is awake to all 
that is sublime in nature, and much that is sublime in mor- 
als, there is reason to believe that there is a single class of 
objects, whose contemplation thrills all heaven with rap- 
ture, at which he can gaze unmelted and unmoved. The 
pen of inspiration has recorded, that the cross of Christ, 
w^hose mysteries the angels desire to look into, was, to the 
tasteful and erudite Greek, foolishness. And we fear that 
cases very analogous to this may be witnessed at the present 
day. But Avhy should it be so ? Why should so vast a 
dissimilarity of moral taste exist between seraphs who bow 
before the throne, and men who dwell upon the footstool ? 
Why is it that the man, whose soul swells with ecstasy 
whilst viewing the innumerable suns of midnight, feels no 
emotion of sublimity when thinking of their Creator ? 
Why is it that an enterprise of patriotism presents itself to 
his imagination beaming with celestial beauty, whilst the 
enterprise of redeeming love is without form or comeliness ? 
Why should the noblest undertaking of mercy, if it onl}- 
combine among its essential elements the distinctive princi- 
ples of the Gospel, become at once stale, flat, and unprotit- 
able ? When there is joy in heaven over one sinner that 
repenteth, why is it that the enterprise of proclaiming peace 
on earth and good- will to man, fraught, as it would seem, 
with more than angelic benignity, should, to many of our 



6 :\10RAL DIGMTY OF 

fellow-men, appear worthy of nothing better than neglect 
or obloquy ? 

The reason for all this we shall not now pretend to as- 
sign. We only express our regret that such should be the 
fact. Confining ourselves, therefore, to the bearing which 
this moral bias has upon the missionary cause, it is with 
pain we are obliged to believe, that there is a large and 
most respectable portion of our fellow- citizens, for many of 
Avhom we entertain every sentiment of personal esteem, and 
to whose opinions, on most other subjects, we bow with 
imfeigned deference, who look with perfect apathy upon 
the present system of exertions for evangelizing the heathen : 
and we have been greatly misinformed, if there be not an- 
other, though a very different class, who consider these 
exertions a subject for ridicule. Perhaps it may tend some- 
what to arouse the apathy of the one party, as well as to 
moderate the contempt of the other, if we can show that 
this very missionary cause combines Avithin itself the ele- 
ments of all that is sublime in human purpose, nay, com- 
bines them in a loftier perfection than any other enterprise 
which was ever linked with the destinies of man. To show 
this will be our design ; and in prosecuting it, we shall 
direct your attention to the grandeur of the object ; the 
arduousness of its execution ; and the nature of the means 
on which w^e rely for success. 

I. The grandeur of the object. In the most enlarged 
sense of terms, the field is the ivorld. Our design is radi- 
cally to affect the temporal and eternal interests of the whole 
race of man. We have surveyed this field statistically, and 
find, that of the eicfht hundred millions Avho inhabit our 
globe, but two hundred millions have any knowledge of the 
religion of Jesus Christ. Of these, we are willing to allow 
that but one half are his real disciples, and that therefore 
there are seven of the eight hundred millions to whom the 
Gospel must be sent. 



THE xMlSSlONARV EXTKRPRIjSK. 7 

We have surve3"ed this field geographically. We ha\e 
looked upon our own continent, and have seen that, with 
the exception of a narrow strip of thinly- settled country, 
from the gulf of St. Lawrence to the mouth of the Missis- 
sippi, the whole of this new world lieth in wickedness. 
Hordes of ruthless savages roam the wilderness of the West, 
and men almost as ignorant of the spirit of the Gospel, are 
struggling for independence in the South. 

We have looked over Europe, and behold there one na- 
tion putting forth her energies in the cause of evangelizing 
the world. We have looked for another such nation ; but 
it is not to be found. A few others are beginning to awake. 
Most of them, however, yet slumber. Many are themselves 
in need of missionaries. Nay, we know not but the move- 
ment of the cause of man in Europe is at present retro- 
grade. There seems too evidently a coalition formed of the 
powers that be, to check the progress of moral and intellect- 
ual improvement, and to rivet again on the human mind 
the manacles of papal superstition. God only knows how 
soon the reaction w411 commence, which shall shake the con- 
tinent to its centre, scatter thrones and sceptres and all the 
insignia of prescriptive authorit}', like the dust of the sum- 
mer's threshing-floor, and establish throughout the Chris- 
tian world representative governments, on the broad basis 
of common sense and inalienable right. 

We have looked over Africa, and have seen that, upon 
one little portion, reclaimed from brutal idolatry by mission- 
aries, the Sun of righteousness has shined. It is a land of 
Goshen, where they have light in their dwellings. Upon 
all the remainder of this vast continent, there broods a 
moral darkness, impervious as that which once veiled her 
own Egypt, on that prolonged and fearful night when no 
man knew his brother. 

We have looked upon Asia, and have seen its northern 
nations, though under the government of a Christian prince, 



8 MORAL DIGNITY OF 

scarcely nominally Christian. On the West, it is spell- 
bound by Mahommedan delusion. To the South, from the 
Persian gulf to the sea of Kamschatka, including also its 
numberless islands, except where here and there a Syrian 
church or a missionary station twinkles amidst the gloom, 
the whole of this immense portion of the human race is sit- 
ting in the region and shadow of death. Such, then, is the 
field for our exertion. It encircles the whole family of man ; 
it includes every unevangelized being of the species to which 
we belong. We have thus surveyed the missionary field, 
that we may know how great is the undertaking to which 
we stand committed. 

We have also made an estimate of the miseries of this 
world. We have seen how, in many places, the human 
mind, shackled by ignorance and enfeebled by vice, has 
dwindled almost to the standard of a brute. Our indigna- 
tion has kindled at hearing of men, immortal as ourselves, 
bowing down and worshipping a wandering beggar, or pay- 
ing adoration to reptiles and to stones. 

Not only is intellect everywhere, under the dominion 
of idolatry, prostrated ; beyond the boundaries of Christen- 
dom, on every side, the dark places of the earth are filled 
with the habitations of cruelty. We have mourned over 
the savage ferocity of the Indians of our Avestern wilderness. 
We have turned to Africa, and seen almost the whole con- 
tinent a prey to lawless banditti, or else bowing down in the 
most revolting idolatry. We have descended along her 
coast, and beheld villages burnt or depoi3ulated, fields laid 
waste, and her people, who have escaped destruction, naked 
and famishing, flee to their forests at the sight of a stranger. 

We have turned to Asia, and beheld how the demon of 
her idolatry has worse than debased, has brutalized the mind 
of man. Everywhere his despotism has been grievous ; 
here, with merciless tyranny, he has exulted in the misery 
of his victims. He has rent from the human heart all that 



THE MISSIONARY ENTERPRISE. 9 

was endearing in the cliarities of life. He has taught the 
mother to tear away the infant as it smiled in her bosom, 
and cast it, the shrieking prey, to contending alligators. 
He has taught the son to light the funeral pile, and to wit- 
ness, unmoved, the dying agonies of his widowed,'murdered 
mother ! 

We have looked upon all this ; and our object is, to pu- 
rify the whole earth from these abominations. Our object 
will not have been accomplished till the tomahawk shall be 
buried for ever, and the tree of peace spread its broad 
branches from the Atlantic to the Pacific ; until a thousand 
smiling villages shall be reflected from the waves of the 
Missouri, and the distant valleys of the West echo with the 
song of the reaper; till the wilderness and the solitary 
place shall have been glad for us, and the desert has rejoiced 
and blossomed as the rose. 

Our labors are not to cease until Africa shall have been 
enlightened and redeemed, and Ethiopia, from the Mediter- 
ranean to the Cape, shall have stretched forth her hand 
unto God. 

How changed will then be the face of Asia ! Bramins, 
and sooders, and castes, and shasters, will have passed away, 
like the mist which rolls up the mountain's side before the 
rising glories of a summer's morning; while the land on 
which it rested, shining forth in all its loveliness, shall, from 
its numberless habitations, send forth the high praises of 
God and the Lamb. The Hindoo mother will gaze upon 
her infant with the same tenderness which throbs in the 
breast of any Christian mother : and the Hindoo son will 
pour into the Avounded bosom of his widowed parent the oil 
of peace and consolation. 

In a word, point us to the loveliest village that smiles 
upon a Scottish or New England landscape, and compare it 
with the filthiness and brutality of a Caff'rarian kraal, and 
we tell you that our object is to render that Caffrarian kraal 



10 MORAL DIGNITY OF 

as happy and as gladsome as that Scottish or New England 
village. Point us to the spot on the face of the earth, 
where liberty is best understood and most perfectly enjoyed, 
where intellect shoots forth in its richest luxuriance, and 
where all the kindlier feelings of the heart are constantly 
seen in their most graceful exercise ; point us to the love- 
liest and happiest neighborhood in the world on which we 
dwell ; and we tell you that our object is to render this 
whole earth, with all its nations, and kindreds, and tongues, 
and people, as happy, nay, happier than that neighborhood. 
We have considered these beings as immortal, and can- 
didates for an eternity of happiness or misery. And we 
cannot avoid the belief that they are exposed to eternal 
misery. Here, you will observe, the question with us is 
not, whether a heathen, unlearned in the Gospel, can be 
saved. We are willing to admit that he may. But if he 
be saved, he must possess holiness of heart; for without 
holiness no man shall see the Lord. And where shall we 
find holy heathen ? Where is there the vestige of purity 
of heart among unevangelized nations ? It is in vain to talk 
about the innocence of these children of nature. It is in 
vain to tell us of their graceful mythology. Their gods are 
such as lust makes welcome. Of their very religious ser- 
vices it is a shame to speak. To settle the question con- 
cerning their future destiny, it would only seem necessary 
to ask. What would be the character of that future state, 
in which those principles of heart, which the whole history 
of the heathen world developes, were suffered to operate in 
their unrestrained malignity ? 

No ; solemn as is the thought, we do believe, that, dying 
in their present state, they will be exposed to all that is 
awful in the wrath of Almighty God. And we do believe 
that God so loved the world, that he gave his only-begotten 
Son, that whosoever believeth on him should not perish, but 
have everlasting life. Our object is to convey to those who 



THE MISSIONARY ENTERPRISE. H 

are perishing, the news of this salvation. It is to furnish 
every family on the face of the whole earth with the word 
of God, written in its own language ; and to send to every 
neighborhood a preacher of the cross of Christ. Our ob- 
ject will not be accomplished until every idol temple shall 
have been utterly abohshed, and a temple to Jehovah erected 
in its room ; until this earth, instead of being a theatre on 
which immortal beings are preparing by crime for eternal 
condemnation, shall become one universal temple, in which 
the children of men are learning the anthems of the blessed 
above, and becoming meet to join the general assembly and 
church of the first-born, whose names are written in heaven. 
Our design will not be completed until 

" One song employs all nations, and all cry, 
' Worthy the Lamb, for he was slain for us.' 
The dwellers in the vales, and on the rocks, 
Shout to each other, and the mountain tops 
From distant mountains catch the flying joy ; 
Till, nation after nation taught the strain. 
Earth rolls the rapturous hosanna round." 

The object of the missionary enterprise embraces every 
child of Adam. It is vast as the race to whom its opera- 
tions are of necessity limited. It would confer upon every 
individual on earth, all that intellectual or moral cultivation 
can bestow. It would rescue a world from the indignation 
and wrath, tribulation and anguish, reserved for every son 
of man that doeth evil, and give it a title to glory, honor, 
and immortality. You see, then, that our object is, not 
only to affect every individual of the species, but to aftect 
him in the momentous extremes of infinite happiness and 
infinite woe. And now we ask. What object ever undertaken 
by man can compare with this same design of evangelizing 
the world? Patriotism itself fades away before it, and 
acknowledges the supremacy of an enterprise which seizes, 
with so strong a grasp, upon both the temporal and eternal 



12 MORAL DIGNITY OF 

destinies of the whole family of man. But all this is not 
to be accomplished without laborious exertion. Hence we 
remark, 

11. The missionary undertaking is arduous enough 
TO call into action the noblest energies of man. Its 
arduousness is explained in one word, our field is the ivorld. 
Our object is, to effect an entire moral revolution in the whole 
human race. Its arduousness, then, results of necessity 
from its magnitude. 

I need not say, to those acquainted with the nature of the 
human mind, that a large moral mass is not easily and per- 
manently affected. A little leaven does not soon leaven the 
whole lump. To produce a change even of speculative 
opinion upon a single nation, is an undertaking not easily 
accomplished. In the case before us, not a nation, but a 
world is to be regenerated : therefore, the change which we 
would effect is far from being merely speculative. If any 
man be in Christ, he is a new creature. Nothing short of 
this new creation will answer our purpose. We go forth, 
not to persuade men to turn from one idol to another, but 
to turn universally from idols, to serve the living God. 
We call upon those who are earthly, sensual, and devilish, 
to set their affections on things above. We go forth ex- 
horting men to forsake every cherished lust, and present 
themselves a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable unto God. 
And this mighty moral revolution is to be effected, not in a 
family, a tribe, or a nation, but in a vrorld which lieth in 
wickedness. 

We have to operate upon a race, divided into different 
nations, speaking a thousand different languages, imder 
every different form of government, from absolute inertness 
to unbridled tyranny, and inhabiting every district of coun- 
try, salubrious or deadly, from the equator to the poles. 
To all these nations must the Gospel be sent; into all these 
languages must the Bible be translated ; to all these climes. 



THE MISSION All Y ENTERPRISE. 13 

salubrious or deadl}-, must the missionary penetrate ; and 
under all these forms of government, mild or despotic, must 
he preach Christ, and him crucified. 

Besides, we shall frequently interfere with the more 
sordid interests of men ; and we expect them to increase the 
difficulties of our undertaking. If we can turn the heathen 
to God, many a source of unholy traffic Avill be dried up, 
and many a convenience of unhallowed gratification taken 
away. And hence we may expect, that the traffickers in 
human flesh, the disciples of mammon, and the devotees of 
pleasure, will be against us. From the heathen themselves 
we have the blackest darkness of ignorance to dispel. We 
have to assault systems venerable for their antiquity, and 
interwoven with every thing that is proud in a nation's his- 
tory. Above all, we have to oppose the depravity of the 
human heart, grown still more inveterate by ages of con- 
tinuance in unrestrained iniquity. In a word, we go forth 
to urge upon a world dead in trespasses and sins, a thorough 
renewal of heart, and an universal reformation of practice. 

Brief as is this view of the difficulties which surround 
us, and time will not allow us to state them more in detail, 
you see that our undertaking is, as we said, arduous enough 
to task to the uttermost the noblest energies of man. 

This enterprise requires consummate wisdom in the mis- 
sionary who goes abroad, as well as in those who manage 
the concerns of a society at home. He who goes forth un- 
protected, to preach Christ to despotic, or badly-governed 
nations, must be wise as a serpent, and harmless as a dove. 
With undeviating firmness upon every thing essential, he 
must combine the most yielding facility upon all that is 
unimportant. And thus, while he goes forth in the spirit 
and power of Elias, he must, at the same time, become all ■ 
things to all men, that by all means he may gain some. 
Great abilities are also required in him who conducts the 
mission at home. He must awaken, animate, and direct 

VOL. VII. 8* 



14 MORAL DIGNITY OF 

the sentiments of a very large portion of the community 
m which he resides, whilst at the same time, through a 
hundred different agents, he is exerting a powerful influ- 
ence upon half as many nations, a thousand or ten thou- 
sand miles off. Indeed, it is hazarding nothing to predict, 
that if efforts for the extension of the Gospel continue to 
multiply with their present ratio of increase, as great abili- 
ties will, in a few years, be required for transacting the 
business of a missionary society, as for conducting the affairs 
of a political cabinet. 

The missionary undertaking calls for 2yerseverance ; a 
perseverance of that character, which, having once formed 
its purpose, never Avavers from it till death. And if ever 
this attribute has been so exhibited as to challenge the re- 
spect of every man of feeling, it has been in such instances 
as are recorded in the history of the missions to Greenland, 
and to the South Sea Islands, where we beheld men, for 
fifteen or twenty years, suffer every thing but martyrdom, 
and then, seeing no fruit from their labor, resolve to labor 
on till death, if so be they might, at last, save one benighted 
heathen from the erroi' of his ways. 

This undertaking calls for self-denial of the highest and 
holiest character. He who engages in it, must, at the very 
outset, dismiss every wish to stipulate for any thing but the 
mere favor of God. His first act is voluntary exile from 
all that a refined education loves ; and every other act must 
>jbe in unison with this. The salvation of the heathen is the 
object for which he sacrifices, and is willing to sacrifice, 
every thing that the heart clings to on earth. For this ob- 
ject he would live ; for this he would die ; nay, he would 
live anywhere, and die anyhow, if so be he might rescue 
one soul from everlasting woe. , 

Hence, you see that this undertaking requires courage. 
It is not the courage which, wrought up by the stimulus of 
popular applause, can rush now and then upon the cannon's 



THE MISSIONARY ENTERPRISE. 15 

mouth ; it is the courage which, alone and unapplauded, will, 
year after year, look death every moment in the face, and 
never shrink from its purpose. It is a principle which Avill 
''make a man intrepidly dare every thing which can attack 
or oppose him within the whole sphere of mortality, retain 
his purpose unshaken amidst the ruins of the Avorld, and 
press towards his object while death is impending over him." 
Such was the spirit which spake by the mouth of an apostle, 
Avhen he said, ''And now I go bound in the Spirit unto Je- 
rusalem, not knowino; the thinp-s which shall befall me there : 
save that the Holy Ghost witnesseth in every city, saying 
that bonds and afflictions abide me. Yet none of these 
things move me ; neither count I my life dear unto myself, 
so that I may finish my course with joy, and the ministry 
which I have received of the Lord Jesus." 

But, above all, the missionary undertaking requires faith, 
in its holiest and sublimest exercise. And let it not be sup- 
posed that we speak at random, when we mention the sub- 
limity of faith. " Whatever," says the British moralist, 
*' withdraws us from the power of the senses ; whatever 
makes the past, the distant, or the future predominate over 
the present, advances us in the dignity of thinking beings." 
And when we speak of faith, we refer to a principle which 
gives substance to things hoped for, and evidence to things 
not seen ; which, bending her keen glance on the eternal 
weight of glory, makes it a constant motive to holy enter- 
prise; which, fixing her eagle eye upon the infinite of future, 
makes it bear right well upon the purposes of to-day ; a 
principle which enables a poor feeble tenant of the dust to 
take strong hold upon the perfections of Jehovah ; and, 
fastening his hopes to the very throne of the Eternal, "bid 
earth roll, nor feel its idle whirl." This principle is the" 
unfailing support of the missionary, through the long years 
of his toilsome pilgrimage ; and, when he is compared with 
the heroes of this world, it is peculiar to him. By as much, 



16 MORAL DIGNITY OF 

then, as the Christian enterprise calls into being this one 
principle, the noblest that can attach to the character of a 
creature, by so much does its execution surpass in sublimity 
every other. 

III. Let us consider the means by which this moral 
REVOLUTION IS TO BE EFFECTED. It is, in a woi'd, by the 
preaching of Jesus Christ, and him crucified. It is by going 
forth and telling the lost children of men, that God so loved 
the world, that he gave his only-begotten Son to die for 
them ; and by all the eloquence of such an appeal, to entreat 
them, for Christ's sake, to be reconciled unto God. This 
is the lever by which, we believe, the moral universe is to 
be raised ; this is the instrument by which a sinful world is 
to be regenerated. 

And consider the commanding simplicity of this means, 
devised by Omniscience to effect a purpose so glorious. 
This world is to be restored to more than it lost by the fall, 
by the simple annunciation of the love of God in Christ 
Jesus. Here Ave behold means apparently the weakest, 
employed to effect the most magnificent of purposes. And 
how plainly does this bespeak the agency of the omnipotent 
God. The means which effect his greatest purposes in the 
kingdom of nature, are simple and unostentatious ; while 
those which man employs are complicated and tumultuous. 
How many intellects are tasked, how many hands are 
wearied, how many arts exhausted, in preparing for the 
event of a single battle ; and how great is the tumult of the 
moment of decision. In all this, man only imitates the infe- 
rior agents of nature. The autumnal tempest, whose sphere 
of action is limited to a little spot upon our little world, 
comes forth attended by the roar of thunder and the flash 
of lightning ; while the attraction of gravitation, that stu- 
pendous' force which binds together the mighty masses of 
the material universe, acts silently. In the subhmest of 
natural transactions, the greatest result is ascribed to the 



THE MISSIONARY ENTERPRISE. 17 

simplest, the most unique of causes. He spake, and it vras 
done : he commanded, and it stood fast. 

Contemplate the benevolence of these means. In prac- 
tice, the precepts of the Gospel may be summed up in the 
single command, " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with 
all thy heart, and thy neighbor as thyself." We expect to 
teach one man obedience to this command, and that he will 
feel obliged to teach his neighbor, who will feel obliged to 
teach others, who are again to become teachers, until the 
whole world shall be peopled with one family of brethren. 
Animosity is to be done away, by inculcating universally 
the obligation of love. In this manner we expect to teach 
rulers justice, and subjects submission ; to open the. heart 
of the miser, and unloose the grasp of the oppressor. It is 
thus we expect the time to be hastened onward, when men 
shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears 
into pruning-hooks ; when nation shall no more lift up sword 
against nation, neither shall they learn war any more. 

With this process, compare the means by which men, 
on the principles of this world, effect a melioration in the 
condition of their species. Their almost universal agent is 
threatened or inflicted misery. And, from the nature of 
the case, it cannot be otherwise. Without altering the dis- 
position of the heart, they only attempt to control its exer- 
cise. And they must control it, by showing their power to 
make the indulgence of that disposition the source of more 
misery than happiness. Hence, when men confer a benefit 
upon a portion of their brethren, it is generally preceded by 
a protracted struggle to decide which can inflict most, or 
which can suffer longest. Hence, the arm of the patriot is 
generally, and of necessity, bathed in blood. Hence, with 
the shouts of victory from the nation he has delivered, there 
arises also the sigh of the widow, and the weeping of the 
orphan. Man produces good by the apprehension, or the 
infliction of evil. The Gospel produces good by the uni- 



18 MORAL DIGNITY OF 

versal diffusion of the principles of benevolence. In the 
former case, one party must generally suffer ; in the latter, 
all parties are certainly more happy. The one, like the 
mountain torrent, may fertilize, now and then, a valley be- 
neath, but not until it has wildly swept away the forest 
above, and disfigured the lovely landscape with many an 
unseemly scar. Not so the other ; 

" It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven, 
Upon the place beneath ; it is twice blessed, 
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes." 

Consider the efficacy of these means. The reasons which 
teach us to rely upon them with confidence, may be thus 
briefly stated. 

1. We see that all which is really terrific in the misery 
of man, results from the disease of his moral nature. If this 
can be healed, man may be restored to happiness. Now, 
the Gospel of Jesus Christ is the remedy devised by Om- 
niscience, specifically for this purpose, and therefore we do 
certainly know that it will inevitably succeed. 

2. It is easy to be seen, that the universal obedience to 
the command, " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all 
thy heart, and thy neighbor as thyself," would make this 
world a heaven. But nothing other than the Gospel of 
Christ can persuade men to this obedience. Reason cannot 
do it ,* philosophy cannot do it ; civilization cannot do it. 
The cross of Christ alone has power to bend the stubborn 
will to obedience, and melt the frozen heart to love. For, 
said one who had experienced its efficacy, the love of Christ 
constraineth us ; because we thus judge, that if one died for 
all, then all were dead ; and that he died for all, that they 
which live should not live to themselves, but unto him who 
died for them, and rose again. 

3. The preaching of the cross of Christ is a remedy for 
the miseries of the fall, which has been tested by the expe- 



THE MISSIONARY ENTERPRISE. 19 

rience of eighteen hundred years ; and has never, in a single 
instance, failed. Its efficacy has been proved by human 
beings of all ages, from the lisping infant to the sinner an 
hundred years old. All climates have witnessed its power. 
From the ice-bound chfFs of Greenland to the banks of the 
voluptuous Ganges, the simple story of Christ crucified 
has turned men from darkness to light, and from the power 
of Satan unto God. Its effect has been the same with men 
of the most dissimilar conditions, from the abandoned inhab- 
itant of Newgate to the dweller in the palaces of kings. 
It has been equally sovereign amidst the scattered inhab- 
itants of the forest, and the crowded population of the dens- 
est metropolis. Everywhere, and at all times, it has been the 
power of God unto salvation to every one that believeth. 

4. And lastly, we know from the word of the hving 
God, that it will be successful, until this w^iole w^orld has 
been redeemed from the effects of man's first disobedience. 
As truly as I live, saith Jehovah, all the earth shall be filled 
with the glory of the Lord. Ask of me, saith he to his Son, 
and I w^ill give thee the heathen for thine inheritance, and 
the uttermost parts of the earth for thy possession. In the 
Revelation which he gave to his servant John, of things 
which should shortly come to pass : I heard, said the apos- 
tle, great voices in heaven, saying, The kingdoms of this 
world are become the kingdoms of our Lord, and of his 
Christ ; and he shall reign for ever and ever. Here, then, 
is the ground of our unwavering confidence. Heaven and 
earth shall pass away, but one jot or one tittle shall in no 
wise pass from the word of God, until all be fulfilled. Such, 
then, are the means on which we rely for the accomplish- 
ment of our object, and such the grounds upon which we 
rest our confidence of success. 

And now, deliberately consider the nature of the mis- 
sionary enterprise. Reflect upon the dignity of its object ; 
the high moral and intellectual powers which are to be 



20 MORAL DIGNITY OF 

called forth in its execution ; the simplicity, benevolence, 
and efficacy of the means by which all this is to be achieved ; 
and we ask you. Does not every other enteriDrise to which 
man ever put forth his strength, dwindle into insignificance, 
before that of preaching Christ crucified to a lost and per- 
ishing world ? 

Engaged in such an object, and supported by such as- 
surances, you may readily suppose we can very well bear 
the contempt of those who would point at us the finger of 
scorn. It is written, In the last days there shall be scoffers. 
We regret that it should be so. We regret that men should 
oppose an enterprise, of which the chief object is to turn 
sinners unto holiness. We pity them, and we will pray for 
them. For we consider their situation far other than envi- 
able. We recollect that it was once said by our Lord, to 
the first band which he commissioned, " He that despiseth 
you, despiseth me ; and he that despiseth me, despiseth him 
that sent me." So that this very contempt may at last in- 
volve them in a controversy infinitely more serious than they 
at present anticipate. The reviler of missions, and the mis- 
sionary of the cross, must both stand before the judgment- 
seat of Him who said, " Go ye into all the world, and 
preach the Gospel to every creature." It is affecting to 
thinli, that, whilst the one, surrounded by the nation who, 
through his instrumentality, have been rescued from ever- 
lasting death, shall receive the plaudit. Well done, good and 
faithful servant, the other may be numbered with those de- 
spisers who wonder and perish. that they miglit knoAV, 
even in this their day, the things which belong to their 
peace, before they are hidden from their eyes ! 

You can also easily perceive how it is that we are not 
soon disheartened by those who tell us of the difficulties, 
nay, the hopelessness of our undertaking. They may point 
us to countries once the seat of the church, now overspread 
with Mohammedan d<^hision : or, biddino- us look at nations 



THE MISSIONARY ENTERPRISE. 21 

who once believed as we do, now contending for what we 
consider fatal error, they may assure us that our cause is 
declining. T6 all this we have two answers. First, the 
assumption that our cause is declining is utterly gratuitous. 
We think it not difficult to prove, that the distinctive prin- 
ciples we so much venerate, never swayed so powerful an 
influence over the destinies of the human race as at this very 
moment. Point us to those nations of the earth to whom 
moral and intellectual cultivation, inexhaustible resources, 
progress in arts, and sagacity in council, have assigned the 
highest rank in political importance, and you point us to 
nations whose religious opinions are most closely allied to 
those we cherish. Besides, when was there a period, since 
the days of the apostles, in which so many converts have 
been made to these principles, as have been made, both 
from Christian and Pagan nations, within the last thirty 
years? Never did the people of the saints of the Most 
Hif^h look so much like ffoinw forth in serious earnest, to 
take possession of the kingdom and dominion, and the 
greatness of the kingdom under the whole heaven, as at this 
very day. We see, then, nothing in the signs of the times 
which forebodes a failure, but every thing which promises 
that our undertaking will prosper. But, secondly, suppose 
the cause did seem declining, we should see no reason to 
relax our exertions, for Jesus Christ has said, '' Preach the 
Gospel to every creature." Appearances, whether pros- 
perous or adverse, alter not the obligation to obey a positive 
command of Almighty God. 

Again, suppose all that this affirmed were true. If it 
nuist be, let it be. Let- the dark cloud of infidelity over- 
spread Europe, cross the ocean, and cover our own beloved 
land. Let nation after nation swerve from the faith. Let 
iniquity abound, and the love of many wax cold, even until 
there is, on the face of this earth, but one pure church of our 
Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. All we ask is, that we may 

VOL. VIT. 9 



22 MORAL DIGNITY OF 

be members of that one church. God grant that we may 
throw ourselves into this Thermopylae of the moral universe. 

But, even then, we should have no fear that the church 
of God would be exterminated. We would call to remem- 
brance the years of the right hand of the Most High. We 
would recollect there was once a time, when the whole 
church of Christ not only could be, but actually was gath- 
ered with one accord in one place. It was then that that 
place was shaken as with a rushing mighty wind, and they 
were all filled with the Holy Ghost. That same day, three 
thousand were added to the Lord. Soon, we hear, they 
have filled Jerusalem Avith their doctrine. The church has 
commenced her march. Samaria has, with one accord, be- 
lieved the Gospel. Antioch has become obedient to the 
faith. The name of Christ has been proclaimed throughout 
Asia Minor. The temples of the gods, as though smitten 
by an invisible hand, are deserted. The citizens of Ephe- 
sus cry out in despair. Great is Diana of the Ephesians ! 
Licentious Corinth is purified by the preaching of Christ 
crucified. Persecution puts forth her arm to arrest the 
spreading ''superstition." But the progress of the faith 
cannot be stayed. The church of God advances unhurt, 
amidst racks and dungeons, persecutions and death ; yea, 
*' smiles af the drawn dagger, and defies its point." She 
has entered Italy, and appears before the walls of the Eter- 
nal City. Idolatry falls prostrate at her approach. Her 
ensign floats in triumph over the capitol. She has placed 
upon her brow the diadem of the Caesars ! 

After having witnessed such successes, and under such 
circumstances, we are not to be moved by discouragements. 
To all of them we answer. Our field is the world. The 
more arduous the undertaking, the greater will be the glory. 
And that glory Avill be ours ; for God Almighty is with us. 

This enterprise of mercy the Son of God came down 
from heaven to comraenoe, and in commenoins- it, he laid 



THE MISSIONARY EXTERPRISE. 23 

down his life. To us has he granted the high privilege of 
carrying it forward. The legacy w^hich he left us, as he 
was ascending to his Father and our Father, and to his 
God and to our God, was, Go ye into all the world, and 
preach the Gospel to every creature ; and, lo, I am with you 
always, even unto the end of the world. With such an ob- 
ject before us, under such a Leader, and supported by such 
promises, other motives to exertion are unnecessary. Each 
one of you will anxiously inquire, how he may become a 
coworker with the Son o^God, in the glorious design of 
rescuing a world from the miseries of the fall. 

Blessed be God, this is a work in which every one of us 
is permitted to do something. None so poor, none so weak, 
none so insignificant, but a place of action is assigned him ; 
and the cause expects every man to do his duty. 

1. You may assist in it by your 2^t ay ers. After all that 
we have said about means, we know that every thing Avill 
be in vain without the influences of the Holy Spirit. Paul 
may plant, and Apollos water, it is God who giveth the in- 
crease. And these influences are promised, and promised 
alone, in answer to prayer. Ye, then, who love the Lord, 
keep not silence, and give him no rest, until he establish 
and make Jerusalem a praise in the whole earth. 

2. You may assist by your personal exertions. This 
cause requires a vigorous, persevering, universal, and sys- 
tematic efifort. It requires that a spirit should pervade every 
one of us, which shall prompt him to ask himself every 
morning. What can I do for Christ to-day? and which 
should, make him feel humbled and ashamed, if at evening 
he were obliged to confess he had done nothing. Each one 
of us is as much obligated as the missionaries themselves, 
to do all in his power to advance the common cause of 
Christianity. We, equally with them, have embraced that 
Gospel, of which the fundamental principle is, JSfone of us 

to himself. And not only is every one bound to ex- 



24 DIGNITY OF THE MISSIONARY ENTERPRISE. 

ert himself to the uttermost, the same obhgation rests upon 
us so to direct our exertions, that each of them may produce 
the greatest effect. Each one of us may influence others to 
embark in the undertaking. Each one whom we have in- 
fluenced may be induced to enlist that circle of which he is 
the centre, until a self- extending system of intense and re- 
verberated action shall embody into one invincible phalanx 
"the sacramental host of God's elect." Awake, then, 
brethren, from your slumbers. Seek first the kingdom of 
God and his righteousness. And recollect, that what you 
would do must be done quickly. The day is far spent ; the 
night is at hand. Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do 
it with thy might ; for there is no work, nor device, nor wis- 
dom in the grave, whither thou goest. 

3. You may assist by your pecuniary contributions. And 
here, I trust, it is unnecessary to say, that in such a cause 
we consider it a privilege to give. How so worthily can 
you appropriate a portion of that substance which Provi- 
dence has given you, as in sending to your fellow-men, who 
sit in the region and shadow of death, a knowledge of the 
God who made them, and of Jesus Christ whom he hath 
sent ? We pray you, so use the mammon of unrighteous- 
ness, that when ye fail, they may receive you into everlast- 
ing habitations. But, I doubt not, you already burn with 
desire to testify your love to the crucified Redeemer. En- 
throned in the high and holy place, he looks down continu- 
ally upon the heart of every individual, and will accept of 
your oftering, though it be but the widow's mite, if it be 
given with the widow's feeling. In the last day of solemn 
account, he will acknowledo-e it before an assembled uni- 
verse, saying, Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the least of 
these my brethren, ye did it unto me. 

May God of his grace enable us so to act, so that, on 
that day, we may meet with joy the record of our life ; and 
to his name shall be the glory in Christ. Amen. 



SELF-COMMUIION. 



BY REV. ANDREW FULLER. 



Presumptuous and thoughtless sinners are admonished 
to stand in awe, and sin not ; to commune tvith their own 
hearts upon their bed, and be still. Psalm 4 : 4. Bold as 
you may be in sin, there is One above you, who will call you 
to an account : pause, therefore, and think what you are 
about. To commune with our hearts, means much the same 
as to ponder the matter with ourselves. It is said of the 
adulteress, that " lest thou shouldst ponder the path of lifey 
her ways are movable, that thou canst not knoio themT She 
leads on her thoughtless admirers from one degree of sin to 
another, in quick succession ; just as a person who should 
wish to bewilder you in a wood, and there murder you, 
would lead you on, under some fair pretence, from path to 
path, through one winding direction after another, never 
suffering you to stand still and pause, lest you should turn 
back and eftect your escape. Thus it is with sinners : they 
are hurried on by delusion, from sin to sin, from company 
to compan)^, and from one course of evil to another, while 
the enemy of their souls is doing every thing in his power 
to secure his dominion over them. 

That which the adulteress most dreaded, was thought, 
close and serious thought ; and this it is which the enemy 
of your souls most dreads. It is by " pondering the path 
of life," if at all, that you must escape the snare. If sinners 
are saved, it is from their sins. Their souls must be con- 
verted to the love of Christ; and the ordinary way that 
God takes to convert them is, by convincing them of sin, 
which is never effected but by their being brought to close 
and serious thought. It was by thinking of his ways, that 
David turned his feet to God's testimonies. 

The place and time particularly recommended for this 

VOL. vii. 9* 



2 SELF-COMMUNION. 

exercise is, upon your bed, at night. If there he any time 
more favorable to reflection than others, it must be that in 
which you are free from all intruding company and inter- 
ruptions from without. Then, when you have retired from 
the world, and the world from you; when the hurry of 
business is withdrawn ; when the tumult of the soul sub- 
sides, and is succeeded by a solemn stillness ; when the 
darkness which surrounds you prevents the interference of 
sensible objects, and invites the mental eye to look inward, 
then commune with your own heart ; take a reckoning with 
your soul ; inquire what course you are in, and whither it 
will lead you. 

It might be well to examine the actions of your life ; 
but as the heart is the spring-head of action, the state of 
your heart must be the chief object of your inquiry. As to 
actions, they are neither good nor evil, but as they are the 
expressions of the heart. Were you to kill a fellow- creature, 
you know there would be no evil in it, provided it was by 
mere accident, and not from any malicious design, criminal 
passion, or careless neglect ; and if you did ever so much 
good to your neighbor, yet if it were by accident and not 
from design, there would be no goodness in it. It is the 
disposition of our hearts that denominates our character in 
the sight of God. In all your communing, therefore, com- 
mune with your own heart. 

Perhaps you will say, '' I find great difficulty in collect- 
ing my thoughts, and fixing them upon those things which 
are of the greatest importance ; when I would think, I 
scarcely know what to think about." Well, give me leave, 
then, to suggest a few plain questions, which I would ear- 
nestly recommend you to put home to your own soul. 

First : Does my heart choose and follow after those things 
which my conscience tells me are riyht ? I can assure you, 
many do not. Their consciences tell them that they ought 
to fear God, to keep holy the Sabbath-day, to read and hear 
the word of God, and to perform various other duties ; but 
their hearts are at variance with all these things. Their 
consciences tell them that they ought not to swear, lie, steal. 



vSELF-COMMUNION. 3 

get intoxicated, cheat their creditors, and ruin their famihes ; 
but their hearts, nevertheless, are set upon these, and many 
other such Avicked courses ; and they will pursue them, at 
all events. Is this the case with you ? It is a miserable 
life to have the heart and conscience at variance. You are 
sensible it is so ; and, therefore, if this is your character, 
you labor, I dare say, to lull conscience asleep, that you may 
enjoy the desires of your heart without interruption from its 
remonstrances. But this is a desperate way of going on. 
Conscience will not always sleep ; and when it does awake, 
which perhaps may be upon a death-bed, its voice will be 
more terrible than thunder, and its accusations more painful 
than the sting of a scorpion. Did you never see a wicked 
man upon a dying bed ? Perhaps not ; possibly you cannot 
bear such sights, and therefore shun them. There are per- 
sons, however, who have ; and, witnessing his agony, have 
longed to alleviate it. The guilt, the fear, and the horror, 
which have appeared in his eyes ; the bitter regret that has 
preyed upon his dying heart, and the forebodings of ever- 
lasting misery that seemed to have seized his soul, have 
wrung their hearts with anguish ; but all they could do was 
to drop an unavailing tear. Given up to the hardness of 
his heart, even the doctrine of salvation by the blood of the 
Lamb has had no effect upon him, and he has died in all the 
misery of despair. that this may not be your end ! Yet, 
if such be your life, and you persist in it, there is no reason 
but to expect that it will. 

But it is possible that you may not sustain this character. 
Your heart and conscience may not be at such variance as 
to give you any considerable pain. If so, let me recommend 
a second question. Is my conscience instructed and formed 
hy the word of God ? Though you may be certain that you 
are in a wrong course if you live in the violation of conscience, 
yet you cannot always conclude that you are in a right one 
when you do not violate it, because conscience itself may 
err. Saul was conscientious in persecuting the followers of 
Christ ; yet he was one of the chief of sinners for so doing. 
You may ask, ''What can a man do, but follow that which 



4 SELF-COM.MU.MON. 

he thinks to be right ?" True ; but it becomes him to com- 
pare his thoughts with the word of God : for we are easily 
persuaded to think favorably of that conduct which suits 
our inclinations ; and, where this is the case, the error of 
the conscience, instead of excusing the evil conduct, becomes 
itself an evil. 

The consciences of many people tell them, that, if they 
take care of their families, pay every man his due, and attend 
public worship once or twice a week, this is all that can 
reasonably be expected at their hands. And I have heard 
this Scripture passage brought in proof of it. " What doth 
the Lord thy God require of thee, but to do justly, to love 
mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God ?" But — to say 
nothing of the love of mercy towards our fellow- creatures — 
to walk humbly with God is a very different thing from the 
above exercises. 

A man's conscience may be easy, and he may persuade 
himself that he is in the way to life, while, in fact, he is as 
far from it as the old Pharisees, against Avhom the heaviest 
woes of damnation were denounced. The case 'of such 
people seems to be worse, on some accounts, than of the 
openly profane ; these, acting in opposition to their own 
consciences as well as to God, a faithful warning sometimes 
takes hold of their fears ; but those, deluded by vain hope, 
consider all such warnings as inapplicable to them. Both 
are steering the same course ; but the one is impeded by 
wind and tide, while the other is aided by the current of a 
perverted conscience. Do not forget to inquire, Is my con- 
science instructed and formed by the word of God ? Perhaps 
you have not been in the habit of reading that sacred book, 
or of having it read to you. The neglect of it may occasion 
your eternal overthrow. 

But let me recommend a third question. Have any, or 
all my pursuits, lohether after natural or swful enjoymentSy 
ever yet afforded me satisfaction ? The answer to this ques- 
tion is of importance ; because if they never have, there is 
no reason to conclude they ever will ; and, if so, what have 
you been pursuing all this time ? You have spent perhaps 



SELF-COxMMUNiOX. 5 

thirty, forty, fifty, or more years in the world, and, by a 
thousand different methods, have been seeking satisfaction ; 
yet you have not found it. You thought, when you were 
young, to have found it in forbidden pleasures, and, perhaps, 
you gave a loose to appetite and desire ; but, you were dis- 
appointed. Guilt, infamy, and misery, were the fruits of 
those excesses. Your own heart will tell you this, if you 
ask it. Since that time, having felt the effects of your for- 
mer folly, it may be you have turned your attention to other 
things ; you have settled ; and now your object has been to 
raise yourself in the world. Saving money has seemed the 
one thing needful to render you happy. Perhaps you have 
saved a little of this article ; and are you happy ? Ask your 
own heart, and it will tell you. No, you want to save a 
little more. Poor man ! you are unhappy ; and unhappy 
m this course you will be. Can you tell the reason ? You 
have been trying to satisfy yourself with " that which is not 
bread." Do you not know that God has created you with 
desires which it is not in the power of the whole creation to 
satisfy? Alexander and Ceesar, those mighty monarchs, 
who each in his day conquered the world, were as far off 
from happiness as you are. The one is said to have wept 
because there was not another world to conquer ; and the 
other to have exclaimed, when in the full possession of 
empire, "Is this all?" 

If you inquire wherefore God has planted desires in your 
nature that it is not in the power of creation to satisfy, I 
answer, that you might be led to seek satisfaction where it 
is to be found. There is much meaning, and merciful mean- 
ing, too, in those divine expostulations : " Ho, every one that 
thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that hath no money : 
come ye, buy and eat ; yea, come, buy wine and milk, with- 
out money, and without price. Wherefore do ye spend 
money for that which is not bread ; and your labor for that 
which satisfieth not ? Hearken diligently unto me, and eat 
ye that which is good, and let your soul delight itself in 
fatness. Incline your ear, and come unto me : hear, and 
your soul shall live, and I will make an everlasting covenant 



SELF-COMMUNION. 



with you, even the sure mercies of David." Again: "In 
the last day, that great day of the feast, Jesus stood and 
cried, saying, If any man thirst, let him come unto me and 
drink !" And again : " Thou say est, Lam rich, and increased 
Avith goods, and have need of nothing ; and knowest not that 
thou art wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and 
naked. I counsel thee to buy of me gold tried in the fire, 
that thou mayest be rich; arid white raiment, that ;thou 
may est be clothed, and that the shame of thy nakedness do 
not appear ; and anoint thine eyes with eye-salve, that thou 
mayest see." 

A fourth question I would recommend is this : Will the 
course I am in do to die with ? If it will, pursue it with all 
your might ; but first be well satisfied that it will. There 
is no way of answering this question but by comparing your 
character with the Avord of God. There you find our Lord 
declaring to his disciples, " Except ye repent, ye shall all 
likewise perish. Except ye be converted, and become as 
little children, ye shall in nowise enter into the kingdom of 
heaven." And again: "Except a man be born again he 
cannot see the kingdom of God." Do you understand these 
things by experience ? Did you ever seriously think about 
them ? They are subjects of no little importance. Some 
men, and even some preachers, may tell you, that all this 
signifies nothing more than your being baptized, or, at most, 
living a sober, regular life ; but it is at your peril to believe 
them, against the solemn declarations of Christ. Nicode- 
mus, a master in Israel, was ignorant of these things. Other 
teachers now may be the same ; and, if blind themselves, 
no wonder that they lead others, equally blind, till both fall 
into the ditch. But, as you value your soul, remember who 
it is that has said, Ye must he horn again. 

If you have never experienced this change, you are, at 
present, a stranger to yourself, to God, to Christ, and to the 
way of hfe ; exposed to the curse of almighty God ; and, 
dying in your present state, must perish for ever. 

One question more let me recommend, and I will con- 
clude this part of the subject : If I should die in an uncon- 



SELF-COMMUNION. 



verted state, and perish for ever, can I endure the lorath of 
an offended God? If you can, then let every man help his 
neighbor, and every one say to his brother, Be of good 
courage, laugh at death, set judgment at defiance, and make 
a jest of an hereafter ; but if not, pause and think. 

Who can forbear remarking the cowardice of wicked 
men ; how, even in this world, their bold spirits are cut 
down with a Uttle affliction ? Those who trifle most with 
hell, and whose lips are so full of damnation that it becomes, 
in their mouths, a mere matter of bravado, how do they 
sink under the first touch of God's indignation ! Gaal and 
his company could eat and drink, and curse Abimelech at a 
distance ; but when Abimelech draws near, lo, they are 
covered with dismay. Judges, chap, 9. 

Oh, profane man ! can thine hands be strong, and thine 
lieart endure iii the day that he shall deal with thee ? If 
you cannot tell how to endure the sufferings of life, what- 
will you do in the hour of death ? How, especially, will 
you grapple with the bitter pains of eternal death ? "If 
thou hast run with the footmen, and they have wearied thee, 
how wilt thou contend w^th horses ? and if, in the land of 
peace, wherein thou trustedst, they wearied thee, how wilt 
thou do in the swellings of Jordan ?" Such, or nearly such, 
my dear reader, will be your own reflections, if, upon your 
bed, you commune w^ith your own heart to any good pur- 
pose. 

But let us consider, 

II. The importance of self-commuxiox. There is 
nothing more dreaded, by unconverted sinners, than solitarv 
reflection ; and, therefore, nothing more necessary. They 
are like a person whose affairs are going to ruin, and who 
feels a strong reluctance to enter into a thorough examina- 
tion of his accounts. And wherefore ? Because such an 
examination would destroy his present peace, and he would 
be under the necessity of making a full stop. To avoid this, 
he puts far from him the evil day, and cherishes a vain hope 
that things are not so bad as they appear. But as, in this 
case, the longer a thorough examination is deferred, the 



8 SELF-COMMUNION. 

deeper he sinks ; so it is in the other. Let me request your 
attention to a few observations on this part of the subject. 

1. There are things that you have doubted, or acted as 
if you doubted, which, if you Avould but retire and converse 
with your own heart, you would find to be true. You have 
acted but in too many instances as though you doubted 
whether you Avere an accountable and immortal creature, 
and as though an agreeable subsistence in the present world 
were the only thing that should concern you. But, if you 
be not accountable to Him that made you, how is it that sin, 
which is unknown to every creature but yourself, should, 
nevertheless, be accompanied with remorse ? Is there not 
a tribunal erected within your own bosom that forebodes a 
judgment to come ? If there were no hereafter, why that 
dread of death, and that fearful looking for of judgment, in 
the hour of threatening affliction ? Oh, sinner, you shall 
not be able to plead ignorance at the bar of heaven ; your 
own heart, depraved as it is, will bear witness against you. 

2. There are things to which you are apt to object, in 
God's dealings with you, which, were you to commune with 
your own heart, would be found to be unobjectionable. If 
you are told of the strictness of God's holy law, and that 
nothing short of truth in the inward parts can answer to its 
requirements, you think it hard, and feel disposed to com- 
plain of the grievousness of his yoke ; but ask your own 
hearts, would you be contented with any thing less from a 
fellow- creature ? 

Perhaps you are a parent or a master ; and what if your 
children or servants were, through fear, ever so assiduous ; 
if you knew they had no love for you, would you be satis- 
fied? Or, perhaps, you are a husband. If the partner 
of your life were alienated from you and attached to another, 
though, through fear of your displeasure, she were studious 
to the utmost to oblige you in her outward deportment, 
would this satisfy you ? Would you not disdain to accept 
of her services, unless you could have her heart with them ? 
You must know that this is the truth. Out of your own 
mouth, therefore, will tlie Lord judge you. 



SELF-COMMUNIOX. 9 

Again: If you are told of God's awful threatenings 
against sin, j^our spirit rises against him, and you are ready 
to accuse him of cruelty ; but ask your own heart if you 
would spare one that had treated you as you have treated 
him. If )^ou had a son, and, with all the tenderness of a 
father, nursed him, fed him, clothed him, and instructed 
him ; and if, when he arrived at years of maturity, instead 
of behaving towards you with filial obedience and gratitude, 
he should prove undutiful, malignant, false, and do all he 
could to ruin you and your family, would you not give him 
up to his evil courses, and let him take the consequences of 
his behavior ? Or should you, from paternal pity, be dis- 
posed to pass over his transgressions ; and should a common 
friend, with your approbation, intercede on his behalf, en- 
treating him to beg your pardon, assuring him of your readi- 
ness to forgive the past ; if, in addition to his former crimes, 
he continued to despise the overtures of mercy, what would 
you do with him ? Or should he, when overwhelmed with 
troubles of his own procuring, affect to be sorry for what 
he had done, and write to you in the strain of humble con- 
fession, praying you to deliver him this once, and vowing 
how different his conduct should be towards you in future ; 
if, as soon as his troubles had subsided, he were to return 
again to his former courses, what would you do with him ? 
Alas, all this, and a thousand times more, have you done 
against the best of Fathers, the God in whose hands your 
breath is, and whose are all your ways 1 " Yet ye say, The 
way of the Lord is not equal. Hear, now, O house of Is- 
rael, Is not my way equal? are not your ways unequal?" 
3, One reason of your knowing so little of your heart- 
sins is, your communing so little with your heart. You go 
on in a hurry of business, and the state and temper of your 
heart is overlooked ; and, being naturally disposed to flatter 
yourself, you imagine it to be much better than it is. You ' 
may be governed by the love of this world, yea, and be very 
covetous ; so much so, that all w^ho know you may perceive 
it ; and yet you do not perceive it yourself, but are ready to 
be offended witli any person who tells you of it. You think 

VOL. VII. ' ' 10 



IQ SELF-COMMUNION. 

yourself as good as your neighbors, and flatter yourself that 
your sin is not so very great. " It is true," say you, " I have 
my failings, as all men have ; but, thank God, I never was 
guilty of such things as many are." So said the Pharisee 
in the parable, God, I thank thee that lam not as other men; 
and so said the wicked priests, in the days of Malachi, 
What have loe sjmken so much against thee ? O my dear 
reader, commune with your own heart, and you will find it 
to be very different from your present thoughts of it. 

There is one thing in particular which, perhaps, never 
struck your attention — your total loant of love to God. This 
is the sin of our nature, and the fruitful parent of all other 
sins. God requires the whole heart — ^as, indeed, he justly 
may, for he is worthy of it ; but you have no heart to give 
him ; it is preoccupied, and that with such things as are 
contrary to God. All your actual sins are but little com- 
pared M^ith this. They have been committed only at differ- 
ent times; but this is a tide deep and large, that flows 
without cessation or interruption. Those are the fruits, but 
this is the poisonous root from which they spring. If you 
loved God, you could not love the world, and the things of 
the world, as you do. You could not blaspheme his name, 
neglect his worship, or trample on his laws ; and all with 
unconcern. Neither could you feel towards your neighbor 
as you do in many instances. All bitterness, and wrath, 
and malice, and evil- speaking ; all envy towards them that 
are above you, and pride, oppression, and unfeeling treat- 
ment towards them that are beneath you ; all arise from a 
want of the love of God ; for he that loveth God, will love 
his brother also. 

All unconverted sinners, I believe, retain a good opinion 
of their hearts, however they may differ in expressing it ; 
which is evidently owing to their ignorance of its deceitful- 
ness and desperate wickedness. Some make no secret of it. 
" It is true," say they, " I now and then swear, when in a 
passion, and get too much liquor once in a while; but I 
mean no evil; my heart is good." Others who have been 
brought up under evangelical preaching, are ashamed of this 



SELF-C'OMMUMON. H 

language, and would despise the ignorance of the person 
•who would use it. They will not deny in words that their 
hearts are bad ; hoAvbeit they mean not so. By heart they 
understand they know not what, something distinct from in- 
tention, dis2)osition, or desire. Therefore they are sometimes 
heard to say, " It is true, I am not converted ; but I desire 
to be so. I cannot say I love Christ; but I wish I did.'* 
This is the same thing as saying, " My heart is good. If I 
be not a converted man, it is not my fault. I am willing at 
any time, if God would but convert me." But all this is 
false and delusive. If you were willing to return to God, 
by Jesus Christ, there is nothing in heaven or earth that 
stands in your way. The truth is, you love your sins too 
well to part with them for Christ or heaven ; and have no 
desires after conversion for its oivn sake, but merely as a 
something Avhich, at times, you think you could submit to, 
rather than suffer eternal damnation. Whoever neglects to 
commune with his own heart, it is necessary for you, that 
you may know your true character ; of which, w ith all your 
advantages, you are hitherto totally ignorant. 

Even in the concerns of men Avith men, there is much 
blindness to their own motives, and deception in forming a 
judgment of their own conduct ; which is owing to a want 
of looking into themselves. A thousand things are defended 
by persons in company, which, were they to retire alone, 
and commune with their own hearts, they would be obliged 
to condemn. In how many instances have contentions been 
cherished, and half a neighborhood either brought in as 
witnesses, or in some way implicated in the contest, which 
might all have been decided in a quarter of an hour, if the 
party had only retired alone, and asked himself this ques- 
tion : Have I done to my neighbor what I should have wished 
him, in like circumstances, to have done to me ? 

4. There are things on account of which you may value 
yourself, and of which you may malce a rigldeousness, that, 
if you were to retire alone, would be found of a very oppo- 
site nature. It is possible, you may have been in the habit 
of reading a chapter in the Bible once a week, or oftener. 



12 SELF-COMM UNION. 

in your family ; of frequenting public worship ; of giving 
away something to people who are poorer than yourself; 
and of shunning public-houses and riotous assemblies. It is 
possible, likewise, that you may consider this as the Avay to 
heaven, and from hence lay your account with being happy 
in the world to come. But, if you look into your heart, you 
may find that the motives Avhich have influenced you have 
been such as God can never approve ; and, if so, instead of 
justifying, they will serve only to condemn you. If you have 
read the Scriptures, or gone to a place of worship, merely 
from custom, and not from any love you had to these things ; 
if you have relieved the poor out of pride, rather than pure 
compassion ; and if that which has preserved you from the 
grossest vices, has been rather a regard to your interest, 
health, or character, than any concern for the honor of God ; 
can such things be acceptable in his sight ? 

But, if your motives Avere ever so pure, and your good 
deeds ever so many ; yet, having broken the holy, just, and 
g-ood law of God, you cannot be justified by any thing which 
you can do. If you commune with your heart to any good 
purpose, you will never think of being saved by the works 
of your own hands ; but feel the necessity of a Saviour, and 
of a great one. The doctrine of salvation by the death of 
Jesus will be glad tidings to your soul. You will offer the 
sacrifices of righteousness, and put your trust in the Lord. 
In other words, with a broken and contrite spirit, you will 
approach the God against whom you have sinned ; mourn 
over your unprovoked offences, as one mourneth for an only 
son ; and be in bitterness as one that is in bitterness for his 
first-born ; and this, Avithout thinking of either your prayers 
or tears as being any thing, or of any account ; but placing 
all your hope and help in him who, " when we were without 
strength, in due time died for the ungodly." To him be 
glory for ever ! 



THE 



DOMESTIC altar; 



BY REV. EDWARD BICKERSTETH 



There are some very important means of grace and 
outward observances, which are plainly implied in the word 
of God, for the performance of which we have few, if any, 
positive, plain, and express precepts. We are left to gather 
them from the examples of holy men, and from >'arious 
incidental circumstances : such, in some degree, is the duty 
of public, and such, more plainly, is the duty of family 
prayer. 

The reasons may be these : The Christian dispensation is 
designed as a religion for people in every country, and in 
every situation in which a human being can be placed. It 
is more of a spiritual transaction between God and the soul 
than the Mosaic dispensation was. Had there then been 
positive precepts respecting the means of grace and the 
circumstantials of religion, and particularly respecting time, 
place, or frequency, the tender conscience, of which God 
has ever manifested particular regard, would necessarily 
have been burdened when placed in situations where the 
duty w^as impracticable. 

By this, also, another important end is answered. A 
trial is made of men's spirit. It is seen whether, because a 
positive precept cannot be brought requiring its perform- 
ance, men will neglect a duty plainly implied. Thus, more 
of the real state of our minds is discovered, and it is mani- 
fested whether w^e have, or have not, a full and ardent love 
for God, his worship and service. 

* This Tract may be read with advantage by the head of a 
family when first commencing family worship with his household. 
VOL. VII. 10^ 



2 THE DOMESTIC ALTAR. 

It will not, however^, be difficult to prove the obliga- 
tion TO FAMILY WORSHIP ill various ways. 

Consider the example of Abraham, the father of the 
faithful, and the friend of God. His family piety is that 
for which he is blessed by Jehovah himself: "I know 
Abraham, that he will command his children, and his house- 
hold after him, and they shall keep the way of the Lord, to 
do justice and judgment, that the Lord may bring upon 
Abraham that which he hath spoken of him." Abraham is 
here commended for instructing his children and his house- 
hold in the most important of all duties — the way of the 
Lord, the great doctrines of religion; and justice and judg- 
ment, its great duties. And observe, "he will command" 
them ; that is, he will use that just authority which God 
gives the father and the head of a family in the religious 
instruction of his children. Abraham also prayed with, as 
well as instructed his family. Wherever he fixed his tent, 
there he built an altar to the Lord. This we read he did in 
the plain of Moriah. And when he removed to a mountain 
on the east of Bethel, " there he built an altar, and called, 
upon the name of the Lord." Gen. 12 : 7, 8. Now, we. 
may say to those who neglect family worship, that, as all 
real Christians are Abraham's seed, Gal. 3 : 29, " If ye 
were Abraham's children, ye would do the works of Abra- 
ham." John 8 : 39. Your neglect of this duty tends to 
show that you do not really belong to Christ. 

The examjyles of other holy men are similar to that of 
Abraham. Consider the holy determination of Joshua, who 
declared to all Israel, "Choose ye this day whom ye will 
serve ; but as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord." 
Josh. 24 : 15. Neither the exalted station which he occu- 
pied, nor his various and pressing public labors, prevented 
his attention to the religion of his family. When David had 
brought the ark of God into Jerusalem with gladness, sacri- 
fices, and thanksgiving, after discharging all his public du- 
ties, and blessing the people in the name of the Lord of 
hosts, " he returned to bless his household." 2 Sam. 6 : 20. 



THE DOMESTIC Ar/FAR. 3 

In addition to these might be broiiglit the examples of Job, 
Daniel, and others. Job 1:5; Dan. 6:10. While the 
ark rested in the house of Obed-edom, a blessing came upon 
him and all his household. Would you then obtain the 
blessing of God on your household, let your family be daily 
assembled for prayer and praise. Observe the praise given 
to Cornelius : he was " a devout man, and one that feared 
God, with all his house ; which gave much alms to the peo- 
ple, and prayed to God always." Acts 10:2. The early 
Christians practised this duty. St. Paul greets the church 
in the house of Priscilla and Aquila, when they were at 
Rome, Rom. 16:5, and sends the salutation of the church 
that ivas in their house, when they were in Asia. 1 Cor. 
16 : 19. We may probably gather hence, that he alludes 
rather to the assembly of a religious family, than to that of 
a stated congregation. See also Col. 4:15; Philemon 2. 
When Peter was released by the angel from prison, "he 
came to the house of Mary the mother of John, where many 
were gathered together praying." Acts 12 : 12. 

These examples are brought forward to show that, in 
duly attending to family worship, you are ''followers of 
them who through faith and patience inherit the promises." 

The examjyle of Jesus Christ confirms the obligation 
arising from. that of good men. He was the head of his 
family, and his apostles belonged to his household.-' Matt. 
10 : 25. We perpetually read how he instructed them in 
private, and asked them various questions as to their relig- 
ious knowledge. Matt. 13: 51; 16: 13. He often prayed 
with his disciples. Luke 9:18; 11:1. You call yourself 
a Christian ; then remember, " he that saith he abideth in 
him, ought himself also so to walk, even as he walked." 
1 John, 2:6. 

Threatenings are pronounced against those loho disregard 
this duty. Those who neglect the worship of God in their 
families, lie — awful thought ! — under the displeasure of the 
Almighty, under the frown of the Most High. Observe 
what is said,.Jer. 10 : 25 : "Pour out thy fury upon the 



4 THE DOMESTIC ALTAR. 

lieatlicn that know thee not, and upon the famihes that call 
not upon thy name." Now, if heathen nations and families 
are to be thus punished, judge you what will become of 
those families in a Christian land, living as heathens, without 
regard to God and his worship. Indeed, " If any provide 
not for his own, and especially for his own house," both in 
temporal and spiritual things, "he hath denied the faith, 
and is worse than an infidel." 1 Tim. 5 : 8. Ah, Christian, 
I am sure, if you have hitherto neglected this duty, you 
should, without delay, " fly for refuge to the hope set before 
you in the Gospel;" seek for pardon through the blood of 
Christ ; and henceforth Avalk in newness of life. Yes, begin 
"to-day, while it is called to-day," Heb. 3 : 13, to practise 
the duty. 

Family prayer has also some peculiar advantages. It 
is a most imiJortant means of propagating piety to posterity. 
Children are creatures of imitation. They love to copy all 
that they see in others. The character of unborn genera- 
tions may depend on your conduct in this matter. Eph. 6:4; 
Prov. 22 : 6. David says of the Lord, "He established a 
testimony in Jacob, and appointed a law in Israel, which he 
commanded our fathers that they should make them knoAvn 
to their children, that the generations to come might know 
them, even the children which should be born, who should 
arise and declare them to their children, that they might 
set their hope in God, and not forget the works of God, but 
keep his commandments." Ps. TS : b-^. Perhaps the pres- 
ent degraded condition of the millions of immortal souls 
now living in idolatry, with all their guilt and misery, might 
be traced up to the neglect of family instruction, as one 
principal cause. 

Family worship, when duly conducted, is attended tvith 
many happy effects on your ivhole family . No wonder thai 
those who neglect this, are continually troubled with the 
misconduct andperverseness of those under them and about 
them ; no wonder that jarrings, dissensions, and other dis- 
agreeable circumstances, are continually disquieting them. 



THE DOMESTIC ALTAR. 



It is just what might be expected. How can they who 
neglect the worship of God in their famihes, look for peace 
or comfort in them ? I am sure, also, that I may confidently 
appeal to those who have regular and daily family prayer, 
that, when conducted in a simple and devout spirit, it has a 
tendency to remove, or allay, all those unhappy passions to 
which our common nature is subject, and which, more or 
less, appear in every family. It unites the members of the 
family together, gives the head of it a feeling of tenderness 
and affection for those under him, and makes them esteem 
and love him. Some masters are, on this account, almost 
considered as angels in then* families. Cecil says of family 
worship, rightly conducted, " It may be used as an engine 
of vast power in a family. It diffuses a sympathy through 
the members. It calls the mind off from the deadening 
effect of worldly affairs. It arrests every member Avitli a 
morning and evening sermon, in the midst of all the hurries 
and cares of life. It says, ' There is a God !' ' There is a 
spiritual world !' ' There is a life to come !' It fixes the 
idea of responsibility in the mind. It furnishes a tender 
and judicious father, or master, with an opportunity of gently 
glancing at faults, where a direct admonition might be inex- 
pedient. It enables him to reheve the weight with which 
subordination or service often sits on the minds of inferiors." 

Family prayer gains for us the iwesence and blessing of 
our Lord. There is a promise of his presence, which ap- 
pears peculiarly applicable to this duty. Matt. 18 : 19, 20. 
Many have found in family worship that help and that com- 
munion with God which they had sought for with less effect 
in private prayer. It was the experience of one Christian, 
" I find more of the presence of God, and more of the real 
spirit of prayer, in praying with my family, than in almost 
any other means of grace." Surely the Christian who 
really loves his Saviour, would regularly call his family 
together to pray with him, from this consideration alone, 
that he might enjoy more of his Lord's presence. 

Dr. Buchanan strikingly contrasts a family which wor- 



6 THE DOMESTIC ALTAR. 

ships God, and a family Avhicli M^orships him not ; and the 
excellence of the remarks will justify the length of the quo- 
tation. *' How painful is it to reflect," he says, " that there 
should be, in this country, many domestic societies among 
whom the worship of the Deity is not known, in whose 
houses no grateful accents are ever head, no exultation of 
heart for the divine goodness. There are, indeed, accents 
of exultation and mirth ; * and the harp and the viol, and the 
tabret and the pipe, are in their feasts ;' but there is no 
remembrance of God ; they regard not the operation of his 
hands. While even inanimate nature, in a certain sense, 
offereth praise to the great Creator, and fulfilleth his will, 
these men pass through life in silence ; insensible to the 
mercies, or judgments, or power, or providence of the unseen 
God ; yes, more insensible than the inhabitants of heathen 
lands, upon whom the light of truth hath never shined. 

" How different is the scene which is presented in those 
happy famihes, where the voice of prayer and thanksgiving 
consecrates every day ; where the word of God is devoutly 
read, and infants are taught to lisp their Creator's praise T 
There, from day to day, domestic peace, and love, and har- 
mony are cherished by the sublimest motives, and strength- 
ened by the tenderest and the most powerful sanctions. 
On the hallowed day they repair, with gladness of heart, to 
their respective places of worship, and mingle with assem- 
blies which meet with much more delight for praise and 
prayer than other assemblies for worldly mirth. And let 
not the world contemn or disturb their holy exercise. For 
we learn from Scripture, that it is from such families and 
assemblies, who are the salt of the earth, worshipping in the 
midst of us, that the incense of prayer ascends in behalf of 
the country, and is accepted in heavenly places through the 
intercession of the Mediator." 

Though these reasons would of themselves be sufficient 
to establish this duty, and therefore be a sufficient answer 
to any objections, it may be proper to consider some of the 

OBJECTIONS USUALLY MADE. 



THE DOMESTIC ALTAR. 7 

One objection sometimes offered is, / have no aUlity to 
pray in my family ; I have no talents or gifts for this work, 
and should only expose myself. It has been remarked, 
" This is almost the only case in which people are apt to 
have a very mean opinion of their own abilities. But this 
is not the language of Christian humility." 

Another objection is, I am afraid of being ridiculed, or 
thought unnecessarily precise and strict. This, though not 
much brought forward, has frequently great weight with 
those who neglect this duty. Now here, I say, the irre- 
ligion of others is the very reason why you should be faithful 
to God. Imitate here the holy example of Noah, Abraham, 
Joshua, and all the servants of God. If your religion were 
real, though you stood alone in the whole world, it might 
still be said of you, in the striking expression of Milton, 
" Faithful found 

Among the faithless, faithful only he ; 

Among innumerable false, unmoved, 

Unshaken, unseduced, unterrified. 

His loyalty he kept, his love, his zeal ; 

Nor number, nor example, with him wrought 

To swei-ve from truth, or change his constant mind." 
Perhaps in this very thing God is bringing the touch- 
stone to your character ; he here tries you Avhether you will 
indeed confess Christ before men. Remember, then, " If 
we deny him, he will also deny us ; if we confess him before 
men, he will also confess us before his Father and the holy 
angels in heaven." Some have regular family worship in 
general ; but when they have any friend in the house, unac- 
customed to this service, they are induced by the fear of 
man, or perhaps the pretence of not giving offence, to neg- 
lect it. This conduct is utterly unworthy of a true Christian. 

Others object, / have not time for the duty ; I am ■ 
engaged in business from morning to night. Is this true? 
then surely you, who have so much to do, above all men, 
ought especially to seek the favor and help of God. His 
blessing maketh rich, and he addeth no sorrow with it ; but 
without it all vour endeavors and labors will profit you 



8 THE DOMESTIC ALTAR. 

nothing ; they will never make you happy. But have you 
never any leisure for amusement, for vanity, trifling, and 
folly ? Remembering that God knows how you employ all 
your time, will you venture to say, that you cannot collect 
your family together for a few minutes in the morning and 
in the evening ? Have you time to provide food for their 
perishing bodies, but no time to dispense the bread of life 
for their never-dying souls ? The want of time proceeds, in 
most cases, from indisposition to the duty ; or, at best, from 
want of proper management. If you appoint those stated 
and fixed times which shall be found most convenient, and 
keep to them regularly, you will find that it will be as easy 
to collect your family together, and as indispensable to have 
regular family prayer, as it is to have your daily meals. 

Some bring an objection of another kind. / should meet 
with opposition from some in the family. Are you only an 
inferior member of the family ? you should still, at proper 
times, use what influence you have to obtain so great a 
blessing;* and if, after doing this, you cannot, God will not 
lay the sin to your charge. But whatever weight this 
objection may have with those in inferior stations in the 
family, sure I am that this objection should have no weight 
with the master or the head of the family. Do not have 
thus plainly to confess that you fear man rather than God. 
Remember, that you are responsible for the duties of that 
station in which you are placed. Be firm, and of good 
courage in this matter ; and, whatever you may give up of 
your own ease and inclination in worldly things, for the sake 
of quietness and rest, give nothing up, where it concerns 
your duty, the good of immortal souls, and the glory of 
God to be firm and resolute. See Ps. 101. 

* I know an instance of a child, in a family where this duty was 
neglected, upon her return from a visit in another where it was 
daily performed, being the instrument of effecting a reform in this 
particular, by only asking her parents, " Why can we not have 
daily family prayer ?" The remonstrance of the child, through 
God's blessino-, was effectual. 



THE DOMESTIC ALTAR. 9 

But you say, / do pray ivith my family on a Sunday. 
It is doubtless better thus to collect your family together on 
the Sabbath than not at all ; but you are required to instruct 
your family, not merely on the Lord's day, but " when you 
lie down, and when you rise U2).'^ Deut. 6:7. Your lim- 
ited performance of the duty shows that you do not really 
love and enjoy it ; if you did, you would be more frequent 
in practising' it. And I may appeal to you, whether you 
and your family do not generally find it a weariness, Mai. 
1:13, after the duties of the Sabbath, to be engaged in a 
service which daily custom and habit have not yet made 
necessary and delightful. 

But is not the real, though not the avowed objection, 
this : / ain afraid of too great a restraint on myself? I am 
afraid that more will be expected from me : that I must be 
more consistent in my character, and more circumspect in 
my conduct. Look well into your heart, and see if this be 
not the real difficulty ; and if it be, only consider what a 
sad mark it is of a man's spiritual condition, when he is 
afraid of a restraint on his sins. Job 21 : 14, 15. 

**We should look on family religion," says one, ''not 
merely under the notion of a duty imposed, but as a privi- 
lege, and a singular vouchsafement of grace that there may 
be such a thing." 

*' It has been accounted so even in the very pagan world. 
A divine presence, to have a Numen, deity, at hand, and 
ready ; how great a privilege has it been reckoned ! In the 
dark and dismal days of popery, what a terrible thing it has 
been counted to excommunicate a nation, to put it under an 
interdict. Now, let us consider this subject in the same 
point of light. What if, instead of being hidden to pray in 
our families, we should he forbidden to pray in them. Make 
but that fearful supposition. Suppose there should be a" 
special interdict on your house, and that by some particular 
signification of the mind of God from heaven it should be 
said, * I will have no worship of God in this house ; from 
your house I will accept no sacrifice, I will hear no prayer.' 

VOL. VII. 11 



10 THE DOMESTIC ALTAR. 

What a terrible doom were this ! What a dark and horrid 
cloud would be drawn over that habitation, if it should be 
said', ' Here shall be no prayers ; here shall be no mention 
of the name of God !' That so, as in a like case represented 
to us in reference to the people of the Jews, the poor for- 
lorn members of that family should say, ' We may not make 
mention of the name of the Lord.' Amos 6:10. What a 
dismal thing were this !" 

Trustinsf, then, that the reader is now satisfied as to the 
duty and privilege of daily family prayer, and only wishes 
to know how he may best practise it, we will make some 
remarks with reference to the due performance of family 

WORSHIP. 

Every head of a family should consider himself as the 
minister or priest of his own family, and that he is as re- 
sponsible to God for the welfare of the souls thus commit- 
ted to him, as the minister is on a larger scale. The sin of 
omission lies at his door, if it be neglected. '' Masters, give 
unto your servants that which is just and equal, kno wing- 
that ye also have a Master in heaven," may be applied to 
their spiritual as well as their temporal wants. Let the 
head of the family then consider it his duty and his privi- 
lege to conduct family worship. 

A preparation of mind for this duty, by taldng a few 
moments of retirement for self-recollection and prayer, has 
been found by many to be highly advantageous. 

Where circumstances will admit of it, read the Scrip- 
tures, and sing a psalm or hymn, as well as pray with your 
family. 

Read the Scrrptures ; a portion perhaps from one Tes- 
tament in the morning, and from the other in the evening. 
Both the Old and the New Testaments will be thus con- 
stantly brought before your families. Those Avho have the 
talent of explaining the Scriptures in an impressive and 
lively way to their families — and this talent will increase as 
it is used — will be able to give much additional interest by 



THE DOMEv«TIC ALTAR. H 

a few short observations on what has been read. Only in 
all take care to be brief, practical, familiar, and serious. Any- 
thing long, or critical, is out of place and tedious. Let each 
member of the family bring their Bible. Some have found 
that it helps to keep alive their attention to refer them oc- 
casionally to parallel passages, one of the family reading the 
passage.* The reading of the Scriptures daily in family 
■worship is a plain and positive duty. How can you other- 
wise fulfil the express directions of the Scriptures them- 
selves ? Deut. 6:7. 

Occasionally sing a psalm or hymn. When you have 
time, and your family can join in singing, this adds much to 
the cheerfulness of family devotion. " Psalmody," says Dr. 
Hammond, " made up a very great part of the early Chris- 
tian devotion, both in the public assembly and more pri- 
vately in the family, and in their retirements in the closet." 
When our Lord had instructed his family, the twelve apos- 
tles, he sung a hymn with them. Matt. 26 : 30, and then 
prayed with them. John 17. This great example may 
encourage us to " go and do likewise." St. Paul says, " Be 
filled with the Spirit, speaking to yourselves in psalms, and 
hymns, and spiritual songs, singing and making melody in 
your heart to the Lord." Eph. 5:19; see also Col. 3:16. 
Anticipate thus, on earth, the songs of the blessed above ; 
learn here below the employments of heaven, and fulfil the 
promise, " The ransomed of the Lord shall return, and come 
to Zion, with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads." 
Isa. 35 : 10. 

* Some have found it an excellent practice, and it is one which 
is recommended to pious masters and mistresses, to take some 
time in the course of the Sabbath, or any other fixed time that 
may be more convenient, to converse apart Avith each member of 
the family on the state of their mind, giving them suitable advice. 
This has been attended v/itli the liappiest effects. It discovers the 
true state of your family, enables you better to pray for them and 
with them, and gives you many happy opportunities of arousing 
the careless, strengthening the weak, encouraging the desponding, 
and confirming the strong. 



12 THE DOMESTIC ALTAR. 

Conclude loith prayer. To some, God has eviderxtly 
given the spirit of grace and supplication, so that they can, 
after some practice and experience, pour out with ease and 
fluency the continued and refreshing stream of holy feel- 
ings and ardent devotion. This gift is bestowed on them 
for the benefit of others, and they ought freely to use it. It 
is also a gift which may be more generally attained than is 
commonly supposed. Many pious poor, without human 
learning, possess it in a great degree. Happy are the fam- 
ilies that have devout and heavenly-minded masters or par- 
ents, who pray for them in private, and edify them by 
praying with them ! 

The Lord's prayer seems particularly appropriate as a 
family prayer ; and while comprehending the case and cir- 
cumstances of the universal church, it still has a reference 
to that church, under the idea of a family, " a whole family ,'^ 
one in heart and mind, however separated or dispersed in 
person. 

Respecting the proper subjects to be mentioned, there 
are some things which may, with great propriety and inter- 
est, be brought before the family altar. 

Any particular circumstances which have occurred should 
be mentioned. Is any member of the family umvell ? the 
prayer of faith may save the sick. Is any afflicted ? " call 
upon God in the time of trouble, and he will deliver him.'* 
Has any member left your family for a season ? by praying 
for him, though absent in body, you will be present in spirit, 
serving the Lord. Are any changes about to take place, 
any scheme to be effected in which the family are interested, 
any one about to join or leave the household, or are any 
special means of grace before you ? these things may prop- 
erly be mentioned, and their due improvement be requested 
of God in family prayer. 

Much of the substance of the Scriptures which you have 
read, may generally be advantageously turned into prayer. 
This, while it gains the blessing and averts the evil about 
which you pray, will also impress the passages of Scripture 



THE DOMESTIC AI.TAR. 13 

more deeply in the mind and on the heart, and will prevent 
sameness and repetition of expression. 

These local circumstances induce the writer to think that 
extempore prayer is often more suitable and affecting for a 
family, than a form of prayer. For is the objection, that 
those who pray with you do not know what is coming, and 
therefore cannot join you, a really solid one. Experience 
conJSrms the remark of Bishop Wilkins, "that as a man 
may in his judgment assent unto any divine truth delivered 
in a sermon which he never heard before, so may he join 
in his affections unto any holy desire which he never before 
heard." 

But to sum up the heads of family prayer in a few 
words, attend to these four things : 

Family sins. " Confess your faults one to another, and 
pray one for another." James 5:16. '' Humble yourselves 
in the sight of the Lord, and he shall lift you up." James 
4 : 10. This habitual and mutual confession, morninor and 
evening, of your mutual infirmities, your pride, your selfish- 
ness, your impatience, and your sinfulness, will have a great 
tendency also to soften down what is harsh and forbidding, 
and to unite you together. 

Family ivants, whether spiritual or temporal. Here is 
a large scope for daily prayer. And here you may pray 
that each may fulfil their relative duties as father and mother, 
husband and wife, master and mistress, inmate, servant, and 
child ; and that all may apply themselves faithfully, con- 
stantly, and diligently, in their respective situations, to the 
work which God has given them to do ; that they may ex- 
hibit the truth of David's saying, " Behold, how good and 
how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity." 

Family friends. The parents, brothers, sisters, relatives, 
and friends of those assembled together, and the minister 
by Avhom they are instructed, should not be forgotten. Your 
immediate neighborhood, the town in which you dwell, the 
nation to which you belong, all in authority, and especially 
the cause and church of Christ throughout the world, the 
VOL. VII. 11='^ 



14 THE DOMESTIC ALTAR. 

Jews and the benighted Gentiles, should all have place in 
your prayers. 

Family mercies. In the morning, after having been kept 
in safety through the defenceless hours of night, free from 
fire, accidents, or disturbance ; in the evening, when the 
wants of the family for the day have all been supplied, it is 
surely right, and almost natural for you, to unite in acknow- 
ledging God's mercies. That you have bread enough and to 
spare, that you havo light, life, liberty, health, and strength, 
call for your united praise. But above all, the common 
salvation, Jude 3, offered to you all ; the common faith, 
Titus 1 : 4, which you all profess to receive ; the union in 
Christ Jesus. All these things, bestowed on Christians 
through the inestimable love of God in Christ, require you 
to offer united sacrifices of thanksgiving. 

Giving thanks at meals is another part of family prayer, 
which no Christian master can neglect. The apostle's 
direction is express. After reproving those who commanded 
to abstain from meats, he goes on : " which God hath cre- 
ated to be received with thanksgiving of them which believe 
and know the truth. For every creature of God is good, 
and nothing to be refused, if it be received with thanksgiv- 
ing ; for it is sanctified by the word of God and prayer." 
1 Tim. 4 : 3, 4, 5. Only beware of using a few mere formal 
words. Be serious and devout in every approach to the 
great God. 

The manner of conducting family worship is of much 
importance. Be not, on the one side, needlessly tender 
about your own reputation in mere outward things, nor, on 
the other, careless and remiss. Let us have a greater awe 
of God's majesty than of man's presence. We will now 
notice some things to be avoided. 

Some, by a voice too loud or too low, or from using a 
particular whine or tone, or by a repulsive manner, or by 
excessive length, fatigue and perhaps disgust those whom 
they desire to edify. Let all be natural and simple, short 
and devout, and your voice such as you use in conversing 



THE DaMESTIC ALTAR. 



15 



with your friends on serious subjects. In the multiplied 
engagements of large towns, long prayers are not suited to 
the situations of most families ; yet do not abridge the duty 
so as to make it a mere form, and as if you were glad to 
hurry through it. Seek, in short, to have your worship 
such that a piously disposed family may rejoice when the 
time of prayer is come, and, amid the cares, distractions, 
and sorrows of life, may count it a relief and a privilege. 

We have hitherto considered the duty of the head of the 
family. The duties of those luho join in family ivorsliip are, 
duly to prize the privilege, and to beware of a wandering, 
cold, and careless spirit, which will destroy all your benefit 
and comfort in it, whoever teaches, whoever prays. It is 
the joining of every heart in the requests offered up, which 
gives to family prayer its greatest efficacy. You should 
agree to ask ; your spirit should join the spirit of him who 
prays ; let there be a secret amen in your hearts to every 
petition, 1 Cor. 14 : 16, and thus you will obtain the prom- 
ised blessing. And do not think it sufficient for you to have 
joined in family worship, and that you may then neglect 
secret prayer. Never forget to pray in secret also. 

What a lovely sight it is to see a whole family thus 
uniting together, morning and evening, preparing and being 
made meet, day by day, for " the inheritance of the saints 
in light ;" obtaining on earth the humble, dependent, thank- 
ful, holy, and heavenly state of mind which fits them for 
joining the family of their Lord in heaven. Whatever storms 
rage without, such a family, obeying the direction, " Come, 
my people, enter thou into thy chambers, and shut thy doors 
about thee ; hide thyself as it were for a little moment, till 
the indignation be overpast," Isa. 26 : 20, are safe. They 
are able to say, " God is our refuge and strength." Ps. 
46:1. 

May what has been said induce those who have hitherto 
lived in the neglect of this duty to take up at once David's 
firm resolution : " Surely, I will not come into the taber- 
nacle of my house, nor go up into my bed ; I will not give 



16 THE DOMESTIC ALTAR. 

sleep to mine eyes, nor slumber to mine eyelids, until I find 
out a place for the Lord, an habitation for the mighty God 
of Jacob." Ps. 132. Let me beseech you, lose no time; 
not a single day. Diflficulties may be multiplied ; but only 
set about it in faith and prayer, wisely and vigorously, and 
they will all vanish. Say firmly, as Jacob did to liis house- 
liold, and to all that Avere with him, *' Put away the strange 
gods that are among you, and be clean, and change your 
garments ; and let us arise and go up to Bethel ; and I will 
there make an altar unto God." Gen. 35 : 2, 3. 

And may those who have attended to this duty find the 
hints which have been given an additional help to the per- 
formance of it, and also feel pledged, by their prayers and 
instructions, to bring into the family in the day the charac- 
ter which they have manifested, and the graces which they 
requested in their united devotions. 

But let them not think, as some have been ready to 
think, that a discharge of this duty will absolve them from 
the constant practice of daily morning and evening devotions 
in secret. He who prays only before others, has much rea- 
son to suspect that he prays to be seen of men, and has no 
real love to God, nor true knowledge of the nature of prayer. 

Now, let me entreat every head of a family, into Avhose 
hands the pages of this Tract have come, seriously to weigh 
these considerations ; and, as he would be prepared for the 
visitations of disease and death ; as he would meet his family 
in peace at the judgment-seat of Christ, and spend with 
them a blessed eternity in the devotions of heaven ; as he 
has any love to their souls or his own ; let me earnestly 
entreat him' not to give sleep to his eyes, till the altar of 
daily sacrifice is raised within his dwelling, and his family 
has become ^family of prayer. 



THE 



EIBLE II SCHOOLS. 

FROM A LETTER OF DR. BENJAMIN RUSH. 



Dear Sir — It is now several months since I promised 
to give you my reasons for preferring the Bible as a school- 
book, to all other compositions. Before I state my argu- 
ments, I shall assume the five following propositions : 

1. That Christianity is the only true and perfect religion ; 
and that, in proportion as mankind adopt its principles, and 
obey its precepts, they will be wise and happy. 

2. That a better knowledge of this religion is to be 
acquired by reading the Bible, than in any other way. 

3. That the Bible contains more knowledge necessary to 
man in his present state, than any other book in the world. 

4. That knowledge is most durable, and religious in- 
struction most useful, when imparted in early life. 

5. That the Bible, when not read in schools, is seldom 
read in any subsequent period of life. 

My arguments in favor of the use of the Bible as a 
school-book are founded, 

I. In the constitution of the human mind. 

1. The memory is the first faculty which opens in the 
minds of children. Of how much consequence, then, must 
it be, to impress it with the great truths of Christianity, 
before it is preoccupied with less interesting subjects, 

2. There is a peculiar aptitude in the minds of children 
for religious knowledge. I have constantly found them, in- 
the first six or seven years of their lives, more inquisitive 
upon rehgious subjects than upon any others. And an in- 
genious instructor of youth has informed me, that he has 
found young children more capable of receiving just ideas 
upon the most difficult tenets of religion, than upon the 



THE BIBLE IN SCHOOLS. 



most simple branches of human knowledge. It would be 
strange if it were otherwise ; for God creates all his means 
to "suit his ends. There must, of course, be a fitness be- 
tween the human mind and the truths which are essential 
to its happiness. 

3. The influence of early impressions is very great upon 
subsequent life ; and in a world where false prejudices do 
so much mischief, it would discover great weakness not to 
oppose them by such as are true. I grant that many men 
have rejected the impressions derived from the Bible ; but, 
how much soever these impressions jnay have been despised, 
I believe no naan was ever early instructed in the truths of 
the Bible, without having been made wiser or better by the 
early operation of these impressions upon his mind. Every 
just principle that is to be found in the writings of Voltaire, 
is borrowed from the Bible ; and the morality of Deists, 
which has been so much admired and praised where it has 
existed, has been, I believe, in most cases, the effect of 
habits produced by early instruction in the principles of 
Christianity. 

4. We are subject, by a general law of our natures, to 
what is called haUt. Now, if the study of the Scjtptures 
be necessary to our happiness at any time of our life, the 
sooner we begin to read them, the more we shall probably 
be attached to them ; for it is peculiar to all the acts of 
habit, to become easy, strong, and agreeable, by repetition. 

5. It is a law in our natures, that we remember longest 
the knowledge we acquire by the greatest number of our 
senses. Now, a knowledge of the contents of the Bible is 
acquired in school by the aid of the eye and the ear ; for 
children, after getting their lessons, read or repeat them to 
their instructors in an audible voice ; of course, there is a 
presumption that this knowledge will be retained much 
longer than if it had been acquired in any other way. 

6. The interesting events and characters recorded and 
described in the Old and New Testaments, are calculated, 
above all others, to seize upon all the faculties of the minds 



THE BIBLE IN SCHOOLS. 3 

of children. The understanding, the memory, the imagina- 
tion, the passions, and the moral powers, are all occasionally 
addressed by the various incidents which are contained in 
those divine books, insomuch that, not to be delighted with 
them, is to be devoid of every principle of pleasure that 
exists in a sound mind. 

v. There is in man a native preference of truth to fic- 
tion. Lord Shaftesbury says, that *' truth is so congenial 
to our minds, that we love even the shadow of it;" and 
Horace, in his rules for composing an epic poem, establishes 
the same law in our natures, by advising that '* fictions in 
poetry should resemble truth." Now, the Bible contains 
more truth than any other book in the world : so true is the 
testimony that it bears of God in his works of creation, 
providence, and redemption, that it is called truth itself, by 
way of preeminence above other things that are acknow- 
ledged to be true. How forcibly are we struck with the 
evidences of truth, in the history of the Jews, above what 
we discover in the history of other nations. Where do we 
find a hero or an historian record his own faults or vices, 
except in the Old Testament? Indeed, my friend, from 
some accounts which I have read of the American revolu- 
tion, I begin to grow sceptical to all history except that 
which is contained in the Bible. Now, if this book be known 
to contain nothing but what is materially true, the mind will 
naturally acquire a love for it from this circumstance ; and 
from this affection for the truths of the Bible, it will acquire 
a discernment of truth in other books, and a preference of 
it in all the transactions of life. 

8. There is a wonderful property in the memory, which 
enables it in old oge to recover the knowledge acquired in 
early life, after it had been apparently forgotten for forty ■ 
or fifty years. Of how much consequence, then, must it be 
to fill the mind with that species of knowledge in childhood 
and youth, which, when recalled in the decline of life, will 
support the soul under the infirmities of age, and smooth 
the avenues of approaching death. The Bible is the only 



4 THE BIBLE IN SCHOOLS. 

book which is capable of affording this support to old age ; 
and it is for this reason that we find it resorted to Avith so 
much diligence and pleasure by such old people as have 
read it in early life. I can recollect many instances of this 
kind in persons who discovered no special attachment to the 
Bible in the meridian of their days, who have, notwithstand- 
ing, spent the evening of life in reading no other book. The 
late Sir John Pringle, physician to the queen of Great 
Britain, after passing a long life in camps and at court, 
closed it by studying the Scriptures. So anxious was he 
to increase his knowledge in them, that he wrote to Dr. 
Michaelis, a learned professor of divinity in Germany, for 
an explanation of a difficult text of Scripture, a short time 
before his death. 

11. My second argument in favor of the use of the Bible 
in schools, is founded upon an implied command of God, 
and upon the practice of several of the ivisest nations of the 
world. In the sixth chapter of Deuteronomy, we find the 
following words, which are direct^ to my purpose: "And 
thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and 
with all thy soul, and with all thy might. And these 
words, Avhich I command thee this day, shall be in thine 
heart. And thou shalt teach them diligently unto thy chil- 
dren, and shalt talk of them when thou sittest in thine house, 
and when thou walkest by the way, and when thou liest 
down, and when thou risest up." 

It appears, moreover, from the history of the Jews, that 
they flourished as a nation in proportion as they honored 
and read the books of Moses, which contained the only 
revelation that God had made to the world. The law was 
not only neglected, but lost, during the general profligacy 
of manners which accompanied the long and wicked reign 
of Manasseh. But the discovery of it amid the rubbish of 
the temple, by Josiah, and its subsequent general use, were 
followed by a return of national virtue and prosperity. We 
read further of the wonderful effects which the reading of 
the law by Ezra, after his return from his captivity in Baby- 



THE BIBLE IX SCHOOLS. 5 

Ion, had upon the Jews. They hung upon his hps with 
tears, and showed the sincerity of their repentance by their 
general reformation. 

The learning of the Jews, for many years, consisted in a 
knowledge of the Scriptures. These were the text-books of 
all the instruction that was given in the schools of their 
Prophets. It w^as by means of this general knowledge of 
their law, that those Jews who wandered from Judea into 
other countries, carried with them, and propagated certain 
ideas of the true God among all the civilized nations upon 
the face of the earth. And it wtis from the attachment they 
retained to the Old Testament, that they procured a trans- 
lation of it into the Greek language, after they had lost the 
Hebrew tongue by their long absence from their native 
country. The utility of this translation, commonly called 
the Septuagint, in facilitating the progress of the Gospel, is 
well known to all who are acquainted with the history of 
the first age of the Christian church. 

But the benefits of an early and general acquaintance 
wdth the Bible were not confined to the Jewish nation : they 
have appeared in man}^ countries in Europe since the Refor- 
mation. The industry and habits of order which distinguish 
many of the German nations, are derived from their early 
instruction in the principles of Christianity by means of the 
Bible. In Scotland, and in parts of New England, where 
the Bible has been long used as a school-book, the inhabi- 
tants are among the most enlightened in religion and science, 
the most strict in morals, and the most intelligent in human 
affairs, of any people whose history has come to my know- 
ledge upon the surface of the globe. 

I wish to be excused for repeating here, that if the Bible 
did not convey a single direction for the attainment of future 
happiness, it should be read in our schools in preference to 
all other books, from its containing the greatest portion of 
that kind of knowledge which is calculated to produce pri- 
vate and public temporal happiness. 

We err, not only in human affairs, but in religion like- 

VOL. VII. 12 



6 THE BIBLE IX SCHOOLS. 

wise, only because we do not " know the Scriptures " and 
obey their instructions. Immense truths, I beheve, are 
concealed in them. The time, I have no doubt, will com.e, 
when posterity will view and pity our ignorance of these 
truths, as much as we do the ignorance sometimes manifest- 
ed by the disciples of our Saviour, who knew nothing of the 
meaning of those plain passages in the Old Testament which 
were daily fulfilling before their eyes. 

But further, we err, not only in religion, but in philoso- 
phy likewise, because we "do not know or believe the 
Scriptures." The sciences have been compared to a circle, 
of which religion composes a part. To understand any one 
of them perfectly, it is necessary to have some knowledge 
of them all. Bacon, Boyle, and Newton, included the Scrip- 
tures in the inquiries to which their universal geniuses 
disposed them, and their philosophy was aided by their 
knowledge in them. A striking agreement has been lately 
discovered between the history of certain events recorded 
in the Bible, and some of the operations and productions of 
nature, particularly those which are related in Whitehurst's 
observations on the deluge, in Smith's account of the origin 
of the variety of color in the human species, and in Bruce's 
travels. It remains yet to be shown how many other events 
related in the Bible, accord with some late important dis- 
coveries in the principles of medicine. The events and the 
principles alluded to, mutually establish the truth of each 
other. 

I know it is said, that the familiar use of the Bible in 
our schools has a tendency to lessen a due reverence for it. 
But this objection, by proving too much, proves nothing. 
If familiarity lessens respect for divine things, then all those 
precepts of our religion which enjoin the daily or weekly 
worship of the Deity, are improper. The Bible was not 
intended to represent a Jewish ark ; and it is an anti-Chris- 
tian idea, to suppose that it can be profaned by being carried 
into a school-house, or by being handled by children. 

It is also said, that a great part of the Old Testament is 



THE BIBLE IX SCHOOLS. 7 

no way interesting to mankind under the present dispen- 
sation of the Gospel. But I deny that any of the books of 
the Old Testament are not interesting to mankind under the 
Gospel dispensation. Most of the characters, events, and 
ceremonies mentioned in them, are personal, providential, or 
instituted types of the Messiah ; all of which have been, or 
remain yet to be fulfilled by him. It is from an ignorance 
or neglect of these types that we have so many Deists in 
Christendom ; for so irrefragably do they prove the truth of 
Christianity, that I am sure a young man who had been 
regularly instructed in their meaning, could never doubt 
afterwards of the truth of any of its principles. If any 
obscurity appears in these principles, it is only, to use the 
Avords of the poet, because they are darJc loith excessive 
brightness. 

I know there is an objection among many people to 
teaching children doctrines of any kind, because they are 
liable to be controverted. But let us not be wiser than our 
Maker. If moral precepts alone could have reformed man- 
kind, the mission of the Son of God into our world would 
have been unnecessary. He came to promulgate a system 
of doctrines, as well as a system of morals. The perfect 
morality of the Gospel rests upon a doctrine which, though 
often controverted, has never been refuted, I mean the 
vicarious life and death of the Son of God. This sublime 
and ineffable doctrine delivers us from the absurd hypothe- 
sis of modern philosophers, concerning the foundation of 
moral obligation, and fixes it upon the eternal and self- 
moving principle of love. It concentrates a Avhole system 
of ethics in a single text of Scripture. "A new command- 
ment I give unto you, that ye love one another, even as I 
have loved you." By withholding the knowledge of this 
doctrine from children, we deprive ourselves of the best 
means of awakening moral sensibility in their minds. AVe 
do more ; we furnish an argument for withholding from 
them a knowledge of the morality of the Gospel likewise ; 
for this, in many instances, is as supernatural, and therefore 



8 THE BIBLE IN SCHOOLS. 

as liable to be controverted, as any of the doctrines or mira- 
cles which are mentioned in the New Testament. The 
miraculous conception of the Saviour of the world by a 
virgin, is not more opposed to the ordinary course of natural 
events, nor is the doctrine of the atonement more above 
human reason, than those moral precepts which command 
us to love our enemies, or to die for our friends. 

I cannot but suspect, that the present fashionable prac- 
tice of rejecting the Bible from our schools has originated 
with Deists. And they discover great ingenuity in this new 
mode of attacking Christianity. If they proceed in it, they 
will do more in half a century in extirpating our religion, 
than Bolingbroke or Voltaire could have eifected in a thou- 
sand years. 

But passing by all other considerations, and contemplat- 
ing merely the pohtical institutions of the United States, I 
lament that we waste so much time and money in inmuhing 
crimes, and take so little pains to prevent them. We pro- 
fess to be republicans, and yet we neglect the only means 
of establishing and perpetuating our republican forms of 
government ; that is, the universal education of our youth 
in the principles of Christianity by means of the Bible ; for 
this divine book:, above all others, favors that equality among 
mankind, that respect for just laws, and all those sober and 
frugal virtues which constitute the soul of republicanism. 

Perhaps an apology may be necessary, for my having 
presumed to write upon a subject so much above my ordinary 
studies. My excuse for it is, that I thought a single mite 
from a member of a profession which has been frequently 
charged with scepticism in religion, might attract the notice 
of persons who had often overlooked the more ample contri- 
butions, upon this subject, of gentlemen in other professions. 
With great respect, I am, etc. 

BENJAMIN RU 



rUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



iVo. S3S. 

DO I GROW IN GRACE? 



BY REV. PHILIP DODDRIDGE, D. D. 



If by divine ^race vou have " been born ao-ain, not of 
corruptible seed, but of incorruptible," you will, "as new- 
born babes, desire the sincere milk of the word, that you 
may grow thereby." I would therefore endeavor to assist 
you in making the inquiry, whether religion be on the ad- 
vance in your soul. 

And here I shall warn you against some false marks of 
growth. In this view I would observe, that you are not to 
measure your growth in grace only or chiefly by your ad- 
vances in knowledge, or in zeal, or any other passionate 
impression of the mind — no, nor by the fervor of devotion 
alone ; but by the habitual determination of your mind for 
God, and by your prevailing disposition to obey his com- 
mands, submit to his disposal, and promote the highest 
welfare of his cause in the earth. 

It must be allowed, that knowledge and affection in re- 
ligion are indeed desirable. Without some degree of the 
former, religion cannot be rational ; and it is very reasonable 
to believe that, without some degree of the latter, it cannot 
be sincere in creatures whose natures are constituted like 
ours. Yet there may be a great deal of speculative know- 
ledge, and a great deal of rapturous affection, where there is 
no true religion at all ; and still more, where religion exists, 
though there be no advanced state of it. The exercise of 
our rational faculties, upon the evidences of divine revela- 
tion, and upon the declaration of it as contained in Scrip- 
ture, may furnish a very Avicked man with a well- digested 
body of orthodox divinity in his head, when not one single 
doctrine of it has ever reached his heart. An eloquent de- 
scription of the sufferings of Christ, of the solemnities of 
judgment, of the joys of the blessed and the miseries of the 
damned, might move the breast even of a man who did not 
firmly believe them ; as we often find ourselves strongly 
moved by well-wrought narrations or discourses, which at 
the same time we know to have their fQundation in fiction. 

VOL. VII. 12* 



2 DO I GROW IN GRACE 1 

Natural constitution, or sucli accidental causes as are, some 
of them, too low to be here mentioned, may supply the eyes 
Avith a flood of tears, which may discharge itself plenteously 
upon almost any occasion that shall tirst arise. And a 
proud impatience of contradiction, direct!}'- opposite as it 
is to the gentle spirit of Christianity, may make a man's 
blood boil when he hears the notions he has entertained, 
and especially those which he has openly and vigorously 
espoused, disputed and opposed. This may possibly lead 
him, in terms of strong indignation, to pour out his zeal and 
his rage before God, in a fond conceit that, as the God of 
truth, he is the pattern of those favorite doctrines, by whose 
fair appearances perhaps he himself is misled. But these 
speculative refinements, and these affectionate sallies of the 
mind, may exist where there is a total absence of true religion. 

I would desire to lead you, my friend, to sublimer notions 
and JUSTER marks ; and refer you to other practical writers, 
and, above all, to the book of God, to prove how material they 
are. I would therefore entreat you to bring your own heart 
to answer, as in the presence of God, such inquiries as these : 

Do you find divine love, on the whole, advancing in your 
soul? ' Do you feel yourself more and more sensible of the 
presence of God ; and does that sense grow more delightful 
to you than it formerly was ? Can you, even when your nat- 
ural spirits are weak and low, and you are not in any frame 
for the ardors and ecstasies of devotion, nevertheless find a 
pleasing rest, a calm repose of heart, in the thought that God 
is near you, and that he sees the secret sentiments of your 
soul, while you are, as it were, laboring up the hill, and cast- 
ing a longing eye towards him, though you cannot say you 
enjoy any sensible communications from him? Is it agree- 
able to you to open your heart to his inspection and regard, 
to present it to liim laid bare of every disguise, and to say, 
with David, " Thou, Lord, knowest thy servant?" 2 Sam. 
V : 20. Do you find a growing esteem and approbation of 
that sacred law of God, which is the transcript of his moral 
perfections? Do you inwardly "esteem all his precepts 
concerning all things to be right?" Psalm 119: 128. Do 
you discern, not only the necessity, but the reasonableness, 
the beauty, the pleasure of obedience ; and feel a growing 
scorn and contempt of those things which may be offered as 
the price of your innocence, and would tempt you to sacri- 



DO I GROW IN GRACE? 3 

fice or hazard your interest in the divine favor and friend- 
ship ? Do you find an ingenuous desire to please God, not 
only because he is so powerful, and has so many good and 
so many evil things entirely at his command, but from a 
veneration of his most amiable nature and character ; and 
do you find your heart habitually reconciled to a most hum- 
ble subjection both to his commanding and to his disposing 
will ? Do you perceive that your own will is now more 
ready and disposed, in every circumstance, to bear the yoke, 
and to submit to the divine determination, whatever he ap- 
points to be borne or forborne? Can you "in patience 
possess your soul?" Luke 21:19. Can you maintain a 
more steady calmness and serenity, when God is striking 
at your dearest enjoyments in this world, and acting most 
directly contrary to your present interests, to your natural 
passions and desires ? If you can, it is a most certain and 
noble sign that grace is growing up in you to a very vigor- 
ous state. 

Examine, also, what affections you find in your heart 
towards those who are about you, and toioards the rest of man- 
kind in general. Do you find your heart overflow with un- 
dissembled and unrestrained benevolence ? Are you more 
sensible than you once were, of those most endearing bonds 
which unite all men, and especially all Christians, into one 
community ; which make them brethren and fellow-citizens ? 
Do all the unfriendly passions die and wither in your soul, 
while the kind, social affections grow and strengthen ? And 
though self-love Avas never the reigning passion since you 
became a true Christian, yet, as some remainders of it are 
still too ready to work inwardly, and to show themselves, 
especially as sudden occasions arise, do you perceive that 
you are getting the victory over them ? Do you think of 
yourself only as one of a great number, whose particular 
interests and concerns are of little importance when com- 
pared with those of the community, and ought by all means, 
on all occasions, to be sacrificed to them ? 

Reflect especially on the temper of your mind towards 
those whom an unsanctified heart might be ready to imag- 
ine it had some just excuse for excepting out of the list of those 
it loves, and from whom you are ready to feel some secret 
alienation or aversion. How does your mind stand aftected 
towards those who differ from you in their religious senti- 



DO I GROW IN GRACE t 



ments and practices? I do not say that Christian charity 
will require you to think every error harmless. It argues 
no want of love to a friend, in some cases, to fear lest his 
disorder should prove more fatal than he seems to imagine ; 
nay, sometimes the very tenderness of friendship may in- 
crease that apprehension. But to hate persons because we 
think they are mistaken, and to aggravate every difference 
in judgment or practice into a fatal and damnable error that 
destroys all Christian communion and love, is a symptom 
generally much worse than the evil it condemns. Do you 
love the image of Christ in a person who thinks himself 
obliged in conscience to profess and Avorship in a manner 
different from yourself? Nay, farther, can you love and 
honor that which is truly amiable and excellent in those in 
whom much is defective ; in those in whom there is a mix- 
ture of bigotry and narrowness of spirit, which may lead 
them perhaps to slight, or even to censure you ? Can you 
love them as the disciples and servants of Christ, who, 
through a mistaken zeal, may be ready to " cast out your 
name as evil," Luke 6 : 22, and to warn others against you 
as a dangerous person ? This is none of the least triumphs 
of charity, nor any despicable evidence of an advance in 
religion. 

And, on this head, reflect farther, how you can hear inju- 
ries. There is a certain hardness of soul in this respect, 
which argues a confirmed state in piety and virtue. Does 
every thing of this kind hurry and ruffle you, so as to put 
you on contrivances how you ma}'- recompense, or, at least, 
how you may disgrace and expose him who has done you 
the wrong ? Or can you stand the shock calmly, and easily 
divert your mind to other objects, only, when you recollect 
these things, pitying and praying for those who, with the 
worst tempers and views, are assaulting you? This is a 
Christlike temper indeed, and he will own it as such ; will 
own you as one of Ins soldiers, as one of his heroes : especial- 
ly if it rises so far, as, instead of being " overcome of evil, 
to overcome evil with good." Rom. 12:21. Watch over 
your spirit and over your tongue, when injuries are offered, 
and see whether you be ready to meditate upon them, to 
aggravate them in your own view, to complain of them to 
others, and to lay on all the load of blame that you in 
justice can ; or, whether you be ready to put the kindest 



DO I GROW IN GRACE 1 5 

construction upon the offence, to excuse it as far as reason 
will allo^y, and where, after all, it will wear a black and 
odious aspect, to forgive it, heartily to forgive it, and that 
even before any submission is made or pardon asked ; and 
in token of the sincerity of that forgiveness, to be contriving 
what can be done, by some benefit or other towards the 
injurious person, to teach him a better temper. 

Examine farther, with regard to other evils and calami- 
ties of life, and even with regard to its uncertainties, how 
you can bear them. Do you find your soul is in this respect 
gathering strength ? Have you fewer foreboding fears and 
disquieting alarms than you once had, as to what may hap- 
pen in life ? Can you trust the wisdom and goodness of 
God to order your afi:airs for you with more complacency 
and cheerfulness than formerly ? Do you find yourself able 
to unite your thoughts more in surveying present circum- 
stances, that you may collect immediate duty from them, 
though you know not what God will next appoint or call 
you to ? And when you feel the smart of affliction, do you 
make a less matter of it ? Can you transfer your heart more 
easily to heavenly and divine objects, without an anxious 
solicitude whether this or that burden be removed, if it may 
but be sanctified to promote your communion with God and 
your ripeness for glory ? 

Examine, also, v/hether you advance in humility. This 
is a silent, but most excellent grace ; and they who are most 
eminent in it, are dearest to God, and most fit for the com- 
munications of his presence to them. Do you then feel your 
mind more emptied of proud and haughty imaginations, not 
prone so much to look back upon past services which it has 
performed, as forward to those which are yet before you, 
and inward upon the remaining imperfections of your heart ? 
Do you more tenderly observe your daily failures and mis- 
carriages, and find yourself disposed to mourn over those 
things before the Lord that once passed with you as slight 
matters, though, when you come to survey them as in the 
presence of God, you find they w^ere not wholly involun- 
tary or free from guilt ? Do you feel in your breast a deeper 
apprehension of the infinite majesty of the blessed God, and 
of the glory of his natural and moral perfections, so as, in 
consequence of these views, to perceive yourself, as it were, 
annihilated in his presence, and to shrink into " less than 



6 DO I GROW IN GRACE 1 

nothing, and vanity ?" Isa. 40 : 17. If this be your tem- 
per, God will look upon you with peculiar favor, and wdll 
visit you more and more with the distinguishing blessings 
of his grace. 

But there is another great branch and effect of Christian 
humility, wiiich it would be an unpardonable negligence to 
omit. Let me therefore farther inquire, are you more fre- 
quently reneAving your application, your sincere, steady, de- 
termined aiYplicat'ion to the righteousness and blood of Christ, 
as being sensible how unworthy you are to appear before 
God otherwise than in him ? And do the remaining corrup- 
tions of your heart humble you before him, though the dis- 
orders of your life are in a great measure cured ? Are you 
more earnest to obtain the quickening influences of the Holy 
Spirit ? And have you such a sense of your own weakness 
as to engage you to depend, in all the duties you perform, 
upon the communications of his grace " to help your in- 
firmities ?" Rom. 8 : 26. Can you, at the close of your 
most religious, exemplary, and useful days, blush before 
God for the deficiencies of them, wdiile others perhaps may 
be ready to admire and extol your conduct ? And w^hile you 
give the glory of all that has been right to him from whom 
the strength and grace has been derived, are you coming to 
the blood of sprinkling, to free you from the guilt w4nch 
mingles itself even with the best of your services ? Do you 
learn to receive the bounties of Providence, not only with 
thankfulness as coming from God, but with a mixture of 
shame and confusion too, under a consciousness that you 
do not deserve them, and are continually forfeiting them ? 
And do you justify Providence in your afflictions and dis- 
appointments, even while many are flourishing around you 
full in the bloom of prosperity, whose oflFences have been 
more visible at least, and more notorious than yours ? 

Do you also advance in zeal and activity for the service 
of God and the happiness of mankind ? Does your love 
show itself solid and sincere, by a continual flow of good 
works from it ? Can you view the sorrows of others with 
tender conipassion, and with projects and contrivances w^hat 
you may do to relieve them ? Do you feel in your breast 
that you are more frequently "devising liberal things," 
Isaiah 32 : 8, and ready to wave your own advantage or 
pleasure that you may accomplish them ? Do you find your 



DO I GROW IN GRACE 1 7 

imagination teeming, as it were, with conceptions and schemes 
for the advancement of the cause and interest of Christ in 
the world, for the propagation of his Gospel, and for the 
happiness of your fellow- creatures ? And do you not only 
pray, but act for it ; act in such a manner as to show that 
you pray in earnest, and feel a readiness to do what little 
you can in this cause, even though others, who might, if 
they pleased, very conveniently do a vast deal more, will do 
nothing ? 

And, not to enlarge upon this copious subject, reflect 
once more, how your affections stand 2vith regcwd to this 
■world and another. Are you more deeply and practically 
convinced of the vanity of these " things which are seen, 
and are temporal?" 2 Cor. 4 : 18. Do you perceive your 
expectations from them and your attachments to them to 
diminish ? You are willing to stay in this world as long as 
your Father pleases ; and it is right and well ; but do you 
find your bonds so loosened from it, that you are willing, 
heartily willing, to leave it at the shortest warning ; so that 
if God should see fit to summon you away on a sudden, 
though it should be in the midst of your enjoyments, pur- 
suits, expectations, and hopes, you would cordially consent 
to that remove, without saying, " Lord, let me stay a little 
while longer, to enjoy this or that agreeable entertainment, 
to finish this or that scheme ?" Can you think, with an ha- 
bitual calmness and hearty approbation, if such be the divine 
pleasure, of waking no more when you lie down on your 
bed, of returning home no more when you go out of your 
house ? And yet, on the other hand, how great soever the 
burdens of life are, do you find a willingness to bear them, 
in submission to the will of your heavenly Father, though it 
should be to many futui'e years, and though they should be 
years of far greater affliction than you have ever yet seen ? 
Can you say calmly and steadily, if not with such overflow- 
ings of tender aft'ection as you could desire, " Behold, ' thy 
servant,' thy child is ' in thine hand, do with me as seemeth 
good in thy sight ?' 2 Sam. 15 : 26. My will is melted into 
thine ; to be lifted up or laid down, to be carried out or 
brought in, to be here or there, in this or that circumstance, 
just as thou pleasest, and as shall best suit thy great ex- 
tensive plan, which it is impossible that I, or all the angels 
in heaven, should mend." 



8 • DO I GROW IN GRACE 7 

These, if I understand matters aright, are some of the 
most substantial evidences of growth and estabhshment in 
religion. Search after them : bless God for them, so far 
as you discover them in yourself, and study to advance in 
them daily, under the influences of divine grace ; to which 
I heartily recommend you, and to which I entreat you fre- 
quently to recommend yourself. 



THE CHRISTIAN BREATHING EARNESTLY AFTER GROWTH IN 
GRACE, 

" thou ever-blessed Fountain of natural and spiritual 
life ! I thank thee that I live, and know the exercises and 
pleasures of a religious life. I bless thee that thou hast 
infused into me thine own vital breath, though I was once 
* dead in trespasses and sins,' Eph. 2:1; so that I am be- 
come, in a sense peculiar to thine own children, ' a living 
soul.' Gen. 2 : 7. But it is my earnest desire that I may 
not only live but grow, ' grow in grace, and in the know- 
ledge of my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.' May I be 
seeking after an increase of divine love to thee, my God and 
Father in Christ, of unreserved resignation to thy wise and 
holy will, and of extensive benevolence to my fellow- crea- 
tures ! May I grow in patience and fortitude of soul, in 
humility and zeal, in spirituality and a heavenly disposition 
of mind, and in a concern 'that, whether present or absent, 
I may be accepted of the Lord,' 2 Cor. 5:9; that whether 
I live or die, it may be for thy glory. In a word, as thou 
knowest I hunger and thirst after righteousness, make me 
whatever thou Avouldst delight to see me ! Draw on my soul, 
by the gentle influences of thy gracious Spirit, every trace 
and every feature which thine eye, heavenly Father, 
may survey with pleasure, and which thou mayest acknow- 
ledge as thine own image. This I ask and hope through 
our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ : to him be glory both 
now and for ever." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



IVo. ^33. 

APPEAL TO YOUTH. 

A TRACT FOR THE TIMES. 



BY REV. AUSTIN DICKINSON. 



To arrest a great moral evil, and elevate the general 
standard of character in a community, the influence of the 
young is all-important. They can, if they please, put an 
end to the most demorahzing scourge that has ever invaded 
our country, and introduce a state of society far more pure 
and elevated than the world has yet seen. 

Consider then, beloved youth, some of the numerous 
motives for abstaining from intoxicating liquor and other 
hurtful indulgences, and employing your time and faculties 
■with a view to the highest improvement and usefulness. 

The use of such liquor, as a beverage, will do you no 
good. It will not increase your property or credit : no 
merchant would deem a relish for it any recommendation 
for a clerk or partner in business. It will not invigorate 
your body or mind ; for chemistry shows, that alcohol con- 
tains no more nutriment than fire or lightning. It will not 
increase the number of your respectable friends : no one, in 
his right mind, would esteem a brother or neighbor the 
more, or think his prospects the better, on account of his 
occasional use of intoxicating liquor. Nor will it in the 
least purify or elevate your affections, or help to fit you for 
the endearments of domestic life, or social intercoiu'se ; but 
on the contrary, Scripture and observation alike testify, that 
mne and its kindred indulgences " take away the heart.''' 
Why, then, should a rational being, capable of the purest 
happiness, and capable of blessing others by an example of. 
temperance, indulge in a beverage in no respect useful to 
those in health, but the occasion of countless miseries ! 

But strict temperance has a direct influence on the 
health and vigor of both mind and body. The most eminent 
physicians bear uniform testimony to its propitious effect. 

VOL. VII. 13 



2 APPEAL TO YOUTH. 

And the Spirit of inspiration has recorded, He that striveth 
for the mastery, is tem2:)erate in all things. _ Many striking 
examples might be adduced. The mother of Samson, that 
prodigy of human strength, was instructed by an angel of 
God to preserve him from the slightest touch of " wine, or 
strong drink, or any im clean thing." And Luther, who 
burst the chains of half Europe, was as remarkable for tem- 
perance, as for great bodily and intellectual vigor. Sir 
Isaac Newton, also, while composing his Treatise on Light, 
a work requiring the greatest clearness of intellect, it is said, 
very scrupulously abstained from all stimulants. The im- 
mortal Edwards, too, repeatedly records his conviction and 
experience of the happy effect of strict temperance, both 
on mind and body. And recent reformations from moder- 
ate drinking have revealed numerous examples of renovated 
health and spirits in consequence of the change. 

But not to multiply instances, let any youth, oppressed 
with heaviness of brain or dulness of intellect, judiciously try 
the experiment of temperance in all things, united with ha- 
bitual activity, and he will be surprised at the happy effect. 

Consider, again, that in the purest state of morals, and 
the most elevated and refined circles, the use of intoxicating 
drink is now discountenanced, and regarded as unseemly. 
Inspiration has declared, " It is not for kings to drink wine, 
nor for princes strong drink." And who would not regard 
any of the truly noble, as lowering themselves by dispar- 
aging this sentiment ? What clerical association, or what 
convention of philanthropists, would now be found " min- 
gling strong drink?" What select band of students, hop- 
ing soon to officiate honorably at the altar of God, before 
the bench of justice, or in the chamber of affliction, would 
now call for brandy or wine? What circle of refined 
females would not feel themselves about as much degraded 
by familiarity with such indulgences, as by smoking, or 
profane language ? Or what parent, inquiring for an eligi- 
ble boarding-school, would think of asking, whether his son 
or daughter might there have the aid of such stimulus, or 
the example of its use ? If, then, intoxicating liquor is thus 
disparaged in the most moral and intelligent circles, why 
should it not be universally abjured by individuals ? Why 
should not the young, especially, of both sexes, keep them- 
selves unspotted, and worthy of the most elevated societv ? 



APPEAL TO YOUTH. 3 

Consider, moreover, that if the habit of drinking be 
indulged, it may he difficult, if not impossible, should you 
live, to break off in more advanced life. Thus, even in this 
day of reform, there are individuals, calling themselves 
respectable, so accustomed to drink, or traffic in the poison, 
that all the remonstrances of philanthropists and friends, 
the wailings of the lost, the authority of Heaven, and the 
anathema of public sentiment combined, cannot now restrain 
them. Let the youth, then, who turns with shame from 
such examples of inconsistency, beware of a habit so hard- 
ening to the conscience, so deadening to the soul. 

But, to increase your contempt for the habit of drinking, 
think how it especially prevails among the most degraded 
portions of the community. Inquire through the city, or 
village, for those who are so polluted as to be shut out from 
all decent society — so inured to vice that they cannot be 
looked upon but with utter disgust ; learn their history, and 
you invariably find that the insidious glass has been their 
companion, their solace, and their counsellor. And should 
not dark suspicion and decided reprobation be stamped 
upon that which is thus associated with the lowest debase- 
ment and crime ? 

Such drink, in its very nature, has a perverting and 
debasing tendency — leading to foul speeches, foolish con- 
tracts, and every sensual indulgence. Those under its influ- 
ence Avill say and do, what, in other circumstances, they 
would abhor : they will slander, reveal secrets, throw away 
property, oftend modesty, profane sacred things, indulge 
the vilest passions, and cover themselves and friends with 
infamy. Hence the solemn caution, '' Look not thou on the 
wine, when it giveth its color in the cup : at the last it bit- 
eth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder : thine eyes 
shall behold strange women, and thy heart utter perverse 
things." Those who, by gaming or intrigue, rob others of 
their property, and those who allure ''the simple" to ruin, 
it is said, fully understand its perverting influence. " Is it 
not a little one ?" say they ; and so the unwise are *' caused 
to fall, by little and little." 

" She urged him still to fill another cup ; 
* * * and in the dark, still night, 
When God's unsleeping eye alone can see, 
He went to her adulterous bed. At morn 



4 APPEAL TO YOUTH. 

I looked, and saw him not among the youths ; 
I heard his father mourn, his mother weep ; 
For none returned that Avent witli her. The dead 
Were in her house ; her guests in depths of hell : 
She wove the winding-sheet of souls, and laid 
Them in the urn of everlasting death." 

Such is ever the tendency of the insidious cup. For 
the unerring word declares, " Wine is a mocker, strong 
drink is raging ; and whosoever is deceived thereby is not 
wise." " "i'liey are out of the way through strong drink ; 
they err in vision, they stumble in judgment." 

Indeed, the lohole sjnrit of the Bible, as well as uncor- 
rupted taste, is in direct hostility to this indulgence. Its 
language in regard to all such stimulants to evil is, Touch 
not, taste not, handle not. And to such as glory in being 
above danger, it says, Avitli emphasis, " We, then, that are 
strong, ought to bear the infirmities of the w^eak, and not to 
please ourselves." 

He who hath declared, Drunkards shall not inherit the 
kingdom of God, cannot, surely, be expected to adopt, as 
heirs of his glory, any who, under all the light that has been 
shed on this subject, perseveringly resolve to sip the exhil- 
arating glass for mere selfish pleasure, when they know that 
their example may probably lead others to endless ruin. 
Common sense, as well as humanity, revolts at the thought. 

On the other hand, strict temperance is pleasing to the 
Most High. Hence, it is said of him who was honored to an- 
nounce the Saviour's advent, " He shall be great in the sight 
of the Lord, and shall drink neither wine nor strong drink." 

Moreover, the habit of strict temperance, being allied to 
other virtues, will secure for you the resiKct and confidence 
of the best 'portions of the community, as well as the appro- 
bation of God, and thus lead to your more extensive useful- 
ness. The youth who promptly comes up to the pledge 
and practice of total abstinence, and persuades others to do 
so, gives evidence of decision and moral courage — gives 
evidence of an intellect predominating over selfish indul- 
gence, and superior to the laugh of fools ; and such is the 
man whom an intelligent community will delight to honor. 

But you are to live, not merely for self-advancement, or 
happiness : consider, then, that true imtriotism a:nd 'philan- 
thropy ricjhtfully demand your cordial support of the Tern- 



APPEAL TO YOUTH. 5 

perance cause. A thick, fiery vapor, coming up from the 
pit, has been overspreading our whole land and blighting 
half its glory. Thousands, through the noxious influence of 
this vapor, have yearly sunk to that pit, to weep and lament 
for ever. Thousands more are groping their miserable way 
thither, who, but for this pestilence, might be among our 
happiest citizens. Still greater numbers, of near connections, 
are in consequence, covered with shame. Ah, who can say, 
he has had no relative infected by this plague ? But Prov- 
idence, in great mercy, has revealed the only effectual course 
for exterminating the plague — total abstinence from all that 
can intoxicate. And the adoption of this course, instead of 
involving any real sacrifice, might be an annual saving to 
the nation of many millions of dollars. What youth, then, 
w^ho loves his country, will not cheerfully cooperate with 
the most respected of every profession in encouraging this 
com'se? Who does not see its certain efiicacy, and the 
grandeur of the result ? 

Were a foreign despot, with his armies, now invading 
our country, every youthful bosom would swell with indig- 
nation. And will you not combine to arrest the more cruel 
despot, Intemperance, whose vessels are daily entering our 
ports, whose magazines of death are planted at the corners 
of our streets, and whose manufactories are like " the worm 
that dieth not, and the fire that is not quenched?" 

Were all who have, in the compass of a year, been found 
drunk in the land, assembled in one place, they would make 
a greater army than ever Bonaparte commanded. And yet, 
unless patriot hearts and hands interpose, myriads more, 
from generation to generation, coming on in the same track, 
will go down like these to the drunkard's grave. 

Were all the thousands that annually descend to the 
drunkard's grave, cast out at once into an open field, their 
loathsome carcases Avould cover many acres of ground. 
And yet the source of all this pollution and death is mod- 
erate drinking. 

Were the thousands of distilleries and breweries, still at. 
work day and night in the land, placed in one city or county, 
they would blacken all the surrounding heavens with their 
smoke. And could all the oaths, obscenities, and blasphe- 
mies they occasion every hour, be uttered in one voice, it 
would be more terrific than *' seven thunders." 

VOL. VII. 13* 



6 APPEAL TO YOUTH. 

And are those armies of drunkards, that hquid fire, those 
carcases of the slain, those ever-burning manufactories, and 
those blasphemies in the ear of Heaven, less appalling, less 
stirring to patriotism, because scattered throughout the 
land ? Shall there be no burst of indignation against this 
monster of despotism and wickedness, because he has msid- 
iously entered the country, instead of coming in by bold 
invasion ? Shall he still deceive the nation, and pursue his 
ravages ? Or shall he not, at once, be arrested, vi^hen it can 
be done without cost, and with infinite gain ? 

It must not be forgotten, that, in this country, every 
drunkard has equal power in the elective franchise with the 
most virtuous citizen. Nor must it be forgotten, that should 
the reform now cease, and intemperance again increase for 
the fifty years to come, in only the same ratio that it did 
for twenty years previous to the commencement of general 
reform in 1826, about one-third of our voters would be 
drunkards. What, then, would be the character of our 
beloved republic ? 

But should intemperance increase in that ratio for eight ij 
years, a majority of our voters would be drunkards, and 
our population amovmt to several hundred millions. Who 
then could turn back the burning tide ; or w^ho could gov- 
ern the maddening multitudes ? 

It is not a vain thing, then, that patriots have waked 
up to this subject. Their trumpet should now thrill through 
the land, and urge all the young to enlist, at once, on the 
side of virtue. These can, if they will, cause the river of 
abominations to be dried up. 

But the subject of temperance has still another aspect^ 
far more serious. It must be a solemn consideration to 
such as realize, in any measure, the worth of the soul and 
the necessity of its regeneration, that indulgence in the use 
of intoxicating drink, in this day of light, may grieve the 
Holy Spirit, whose presence alone can insure salvation. 
Indeed, to say nothing of the deadening influence of such 
liquor on the conscience, unless heaven and hell can mingle 
together, we cannot, surely, expect God to send his Spirit 
to cooperate ivith that which is peculiarly ofi:ensive to the 
most devoted and self-denying of his friends, and which 
Satan employs, more than any other agent, in fitting men 
for his service. For, " what communion hath light with 



APPEAL TO YOUTH. 7 

darkness ?" — '' what concord hath Christ with Belial ?" Be- 
ware, then, of the arch-deceiver, in this matter. " It is 
not a vain thing for you, because it is your life." 

It is obvious that if such stimulants were wholly done 
away, tlte Gosjyel ivoidd have far mightier sivay, and human 
nature generally assume a higher character. Pure moral 
stimulus would take the place of what is low, sensual, and 
selfish. Better health, better temper, higher intellect, and 
more generous benevolence would everywhere appear. 

It is obvious, likewise, that Providence has great de- 
signs to be accomplished by the younger portions of this 
generation. Unto us are committed those oracles which 
declare, " Instead of thy fathers shall be thy children, 
whom thou mayest make princes in all the earth." And 
already do I see, in the silent kindhng of unnumbered 
minds, in our Sabbath- schools and other institutions, the 
presage of unexampled good to the nations. Who, then, 
of the rising race, is so dead to generous feeling, so deaf to 
the voice of Providence, so blind to the beauty of moral 
excellence, that he will not now aspire to some course of 
worthy action ? Let this motto, then, stand out like the 
sun in the firmament: He that striveth for the mastery, 
IS temperate in all things. 

One word in reference to making and observing a pledge 
for abstinence. As it respects yourself, it will show a reso- 
lute, independent mind, and be deciding the question once 
for all, and thus supersede the necessity of deciding it a 
thousand times, when the temptation is offered. It will, 
moreover, supersede the inconvenience of perpetual war- 
fare with appetite and temptation. And as it respects 
others, of feebler minds, or stronger appetites, your exam- 
ple may be immeasurably important. Multitudes may thus 
be secured to a life of sobriety, who, but for this pledge, 
would never have had the requisite firmness. Your influ- 
ence may thus extend on the right hand and on the left, 
and down to future ages ; and by such united pledges and 
eftorts, countless multitudes may be saved from a life of. 
wretchedness, a death of infamy, and an eternity of woe. 

But does any one still say, " I will unite in no pledge, 
because in no danger?" Suppose you are safe ; have you 
then no benevolence ? Are you utterly selfish ? Think of the 
bosom now wrung with agony and shame, over a drunken 



g APPEAL TO YOUTH. 

husband, or father, or brother. And have you no pity ? 
Think of the milhons of hopes, for both worlds, suspended 
on the success of the temperance cause. And will you do 
nothing to speed its triumph ? 

Do you say, your influence is of no account ? It was 
one ''poor man" that saved a "little city," when a "great 
king besieged it." Another saved a "great city," when 
the anger of Jehovah was provoked against it. Small as 
your influence may be, you are accountable to God and 
your country ; and your finger may touch some string that 
shall vibrate through the nation. 

But are you conscious of possessing talent ? Then rally 
the circle of your acquaintance, and enlist them in the 
sacred cause. And do you save a little by abstinence? 
Then give a little to extend the benign influence. What 
youth cannot, at least, circulate a few Tracts, and perhaps 
enlist as many individuals ? And Avho can estimate the 
endless influence of those individuals, or their capacity for 
rising with you in celestial splendor ? 

But have you wealth, or power with the pen ? Then 
speak by ten thousand tongues : send winged messengers 
through the city, the country, the town, the village, the 
harbor; and thus may you eii]OY tioiv iha highest of all 
luxuries — the luxury of doing good. And, at the same 
time, trusting in Him who came from the abodes of light, 
" to seek and save the lost," you may secure durahle riches 
in that world, where, saith the Scripture, neither covetous, 
nor drunkards, nor extortioners, nor revilers, nor the sloth- 
ful, nor mere lovers of pleasure, nor any thing that defileth, 
shall ever enter ; but where they that be wise shall shine 
forth as the brightness of the firmament for ever and ever. 

When these opposite characters and their changeless 
destinies are seriously weighed, none, surely, can hesitate 
which to prefer. But, " what thou doest, do quickly." 



Note. — A premium of fifty dollars, offered by a friend, was 
awarded to the author of this Tract. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



THE 



ADYANTAGES OF PEAYER. 



I BEG serious attention to the subject of these pages. 
Their design is to show the utiUty of pra3-er, by unfolding 
its manifold beneficial tendencies. 

1. Prayer, more than any other means, is adapted, in its 
own nature, to improve all the pioivers and properties of the 
human soul. The different parts of prayer require corre- 
spondent acts and affections of mind, Avhich comprise the 
substance of all moral excellence, and which prayer, by 
frequently calhng them forth, tends, beyond every thing 
else, to invigorate and mature. 

Prayer is adoration ; and when are the divine perfections 
so likely to expand the soul with the ardors of holy love 
and delight, as when brought distinctly before her eye in 
this heavenly employment ? The philosopher may be inde- 
vout, while he traces these perfections in the frame of na- 
ture ; and the theologian may coldly speculate and discourse 
concerning them, as exhibited in Scripture ; but he who 
fixes a firm and single eye on God in prayer, and dwells on 
one attribute and another with adoring admiration, will not 
be long unconscious of that pure flame in which are blended 
all the elements of virtue and happiness. 

Prayer is confession of sin ; and when is sin more apt to 
melt the heart into the soft relentings of godly contrition, 
than Avhen carefully recounted to Him against whom it has 
all been committed, with a spirit awed into reverence and 
submission by the pure majesty of the Divine Presence ? 
You may speak lightly of sin, when your words are directed 



2 THE ADVANTAGES OF PRAYER. 

to the sinful ear of a creature like yourself ; but get you into 
some solitary place, and set the Lord distinctly and imme- 
diately before you ; and spread out your offences before his 
nndefiled eye ; and imder his pure and piercing gaze, lay 
your heart and life open ; and I see not how you are ever 
to become repentant, if your sorrovfs do not then begin to 
flow forth. 

Prayer is supplication for mercy, grounded upon the 
blood of Christ, and the promises which in him are yea and 
amen ; and if ever the heart has advantages for becoming 
all subdued and possessed by the sentiments and feelings 
which these wonders of divine love should excite, it is now. 
Men may speak to one another of these subjects with as 
little sensibility as they feel towards common things ; but 
when the soul collects herself, and comes, and, convinced 
of her guilt, stands trembling and pleading before her great 
Judge, and tells him of his professed clemency and gracious- 
ness, and how his own Son has loved her, and how he him- 
self has said, and sworn, that for his worthy Son's sake he 
will withhold no blessing from any humble contrite sup- 
pliant — what a resistless tendency has all this to transfuse 
the soul with confidence, and faith, and full assurance of 
hope. 

Prayer, finally, is thanksgiving for favors received : and, 
sure, if ever gratitude unfeigned and unextinguishable do 
glow in a mortal's breast, this is the occupation in which 
the ethereal passion is generated and nourished. You may 
be reminded that goodness and mercy have followed you all 
the days of your life, and look around you upon a thousand 
witnesses of the divine benignity still compassing you about ; 
and your heart still be but little awake to its numberless 
and everlasting obligations. But not so, if, in a secret in- 
terview with your Father in heaven, you yourself tell over 
to him but some few of the countless mercies which his 



THE ADVANTAGES OF PRAYER. 3 

band has been incessantly bestowing on you since you first 
became the object of his providential and gracious care. 
Thus does it appear, how the various excellencies of holy 
character are instrumentally produced and promoted by 
means of this exercise ; and it would appear more convinc- 
ingly, if our limits permitted more detail. Great, there- 
fore, and unparalleled is the direct tendency of prayer to 
improve the human character. But, 

2. Its utihty is further manifest in its counteracting in- 
fluence on whatever tends to injure that character. There 
are many things in tliis world always acting upon the soul 
with a most debasing and ruinous tendency ; and there are no 
means of overcoming this tendency so efficacious as prayer. 

To speak first generally, there is an influence in worldly 
things so hostile to the things of the Spirit of God, as some- 
times to make these latter things appear hke empty shad- 
ows, or cunningly devised fables ; and the mysteries of 
the everlasting Gospel, as the superstitious stories which 
frighten credulous children ; and judgment and eternity, 
heaven and hell, as words by which crazed or criminal 
imaginations have expressed their fictions of happiness and 
horror. It needs no demonstration, that this is an influence 
utterly subversive of all religion and virtue — adapted to 
brutalize man's rational nature ; and of course, if there be a 
future state in fact, to involve him in all its untold terrors 
and torments. Nor need I stay long to show to what vast 
extent this baleful influence has full and domineering as- 
cendency over infatuated mankind ; how, though there be 
few professed sceptics and scorners, there are but a few 
whose lives do not preach scepticism from beginning to 
end ; which practical scepticism is, to all terrible intents, as 
bad as any other. Now, to overcome this influence, there 
is no other way than to have the soul brought under a strong 
impression and bearing from spiritual things. You must be 



4 THE ADVANTAGES OF PRAYER. 

exposed to the action of unseen things, or remain in un- 
worthy bondage to things which are seen. You must be 
in such circumstances that the spiritual glories of God and 
Christ, and the promises and threatenings of Scripture, may 
pour their peculiar influence on your heart, or else you 
must remain the slave of mammon, and sordid drudge of 
the flesh. 

Now, it is almost unnecessary to remark, that there are 
no circumstances in which these objects are so nearly ap- 
proached, and so deeply felt, as when the soul solemnly 
betakes herself to the exercises of prayer. I grant that 
reading, and hearing, and conversing about divine things, 
rightly managed, may make profitable impressions, and 
should by no means be omitted. But there are thousands 
that read, and hear, and converse, and though some feeling 
may be generated, it passes over their minds as the little 
circles produced by the falling pebble pass over the surface 
of the smooth water. If those persons could be persuaded 
to try the influence of true and fervent prayer, they would 
find it more availing. Retired from the world, shut up 
alone with Him who dwelleth in secret, kneeling in his 
awful presence, fixing the heart for communicating and 
receiving, speaking to him and not of him merely : Oh, this 
brings the unseen world into view, and casts earth into shade 
and emptiness ; this takes importance and reality oflf from 
temporal things, and puts those qualities on eternal and 
spiritual things ; this places the soul on the verge of eter- 
nity, and subjects her to the beams, and breezes, and blessed 
visions of heaven. Here there is hope of her losing her 
scepticism and worldliness. In these circumstances this 
world has little power; and it Avere not surprising, if he 
who habituates himself to an exercise like this, should soon 
have his conversation more in heaven than on earth, and 
his walk more with God than with men. 



THE ADVANTAGES OF PRAYER. 5 

But it may show yet more forcibly the counteracting 
poAver of prayer, to consider its operation in some particu- 
lar instances of its resistance to the world. 

The world then, we all know, tends to make the sons 
and daughters of men light-minded ; and levity is no orna- 
ment of man's rational being ; nor is it at all suited to our 
condition in a region full of dangers, and lamentations, and 
arrows of death ; neither is it compatible with our present 
or our eternal well-being. But how can levity stand before 
prayer? Books and sermons may be unable to contend 
with it. You may tell me of those who let no day pass 
without running through a chapter, and no Sabbath pass 
without a visit to the house of God, and yet have just as 
much of this world's vanity in their hearts, and gayety in 
their looks, and giddiness in their lives, as other people. 
Further, I liave heard professors gravely reason in defence 
of worldly levities, and reason themselves into a persuasion 
that they are, to say the least, innocent ; and with this per- 
suasion they have freely gone into them, and led their un- 
thinking offspring along with them in the wildering path. 
But what if these persons would but seek in prayer to know 
the way of duty ; what if they would try whether they 
could keep the spirit of levity at the throne of grace ; or 
get leave of him, who sitteth thereon, to be guided by that 
spirit ? What if they would go to our Father who is in 
secret, and ask his blessing upon their intended indulgen- 
ces ; or what if, after leaving their gay companions and 
diversions, they would go and tell him of the way in which 
their time and faculties had been employed, to see Avhether 
it would be sanctioned by the uplifted light of his counte- 
nance ! How could levity endure such experiment ? How 
manifestly must a man of true prayer be a man of pure and 
permanent sobriety ; serene and settled, and cheerful with- 
out lightness. 

VOL. VII. 14 



6 THE ADVANTAGES OF PRAYER. 

Again, the world often fills the bosoms of men with av- 
arice and ambition ; under the former of which they make 
haste to be rich, and under the latter to be great ; under 
either, or both, to be undone — since the love of money is a 
root of all evil ; and since they have no heart to believe the 
Gospel, who receive honor one of another. 

Would you then regard that as a useless thing, which 
has a tendency to eradicate these base passions from the 
hearts of men? But if men would give themselves to 
prayer, they would soon cease to be the slaves of these 
passions. Prayer would quickly dethrone and banish these 
guilty usurpers of dominion over the immortal minds of men. 
If men would acknowledge God in all their ways, God him- 
self would be their ruler and guide, and his Holy Spirit 
would hold the throne of their hearts. If, before they 
undertake their plans and enterprises, they would submit 
them, with the calmness and seriousness of pure devotion, 
for the approbation of Him on whom they depend for suc- 
cess, how many of them would they relinquish, and with 
what moderation would they prosecute the rest ! Seest 
thou a man hurrying, and scrambling, and scuffling for the 
pelf or the praise of this world ? Assuredly thou seest a 
prayerless soul : professor or not, he is a prayerless soul : 
one who, if he deals at all with God in prayer, deals with 
him only so far as to mock and insult him ! A praying man 
knows too much concerning the true riches, and the honor 
which cometh from God, to discover such miserable infat- 
uation for the things of an hour. To such a man it matters 
little, whether he rank with this world's rich or poor, its 
mighty or its mean. Riches cannot exalt, nor poverty 
depress him ; honors cannot elate him, nor reproaches break 
his heart. He dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High, 
abiding under the shadow of the Almighty — afraid neither 
for the terror bv night, nor for the arrow tliat tlieth bv dav. 



THE ADVANTAGES OF PRAYER. 7 

Once more, the world is full of blinding and infatuating 
influences, whereby the ears of men are turned away from 
the truth and are turned unto fables ; and some have one 
doctrine and some another ; while the ungodliness of others 
takes occasion from the variance, to renounce all religious 
opinions, and to hold every thing pertaining to God and 
another world uncertain, unsettled, and incapable of ever 
being placed on any sure basis. Such confusion and doubt 
has human depravity engendered in a world to which God's 
oracles have been given for a guide and directory in the 
way of truth ! Nevertheless, men must be extricated from 
this labyrinth, if they would be either sanctified or sa^ ed. 
As salvation is inseparable from holiness, so is hoHness from 
the belief of the truth. They have pleasure in unrighteous- 
ness who believe not the truth ; and against all the ungodli- 
ness and unrighteousness of men, the everlasting wrath of 
God is revealed from heaven. 

Yet they plead the impossibility of knowing what is 
truth. The Bible cannot satisfy them ; books cannot satisfy 
them ; sermons but multiply their difficulties ; and what are 
they to do ? The eternal source of truth has informed them 
that they would arrive at certainty if they would but cease 
their rebellion against God. *' If any man will do his will, 
he shall know of the doctrine." It is nothing but the spirit 
of disobedience that subjects any man to the domination of 
heresy and delusion. But not to enter on the proof of this, 
in its universal scope, I affirm, that obedience to God, in the 
single article of prayer, will prove a sure touchstone of truth, 
and an impregnable defence to the soul against all the inno- 
vations of ruinous opinions and dogmas. The soul in prayer 
stands too near the fountain of light and truth to be invaded 
by the fatal infections of error. Her temper, in this exer- 
cise, is incongenial to every thing in error's likeness, and 
shrinks away from its polluting approach, as modesty recoils 



8 THE ADVANTAGES OF PRAYER. 

from the approacli of impudence. Nothing certainly but 
pure truth is capable of being either relished or expressed 
by the spirit of genuine prayer. For the spirit of such 
prayer is the spirit of humility and submissiveness, of heav- 
enly sincerity and holy love : and how with such a spirit 
can any falsehood have agreement ? On such a spirit light 
will be poured from all nature, as well as from the provi- 
dence, and book, and Spirit of God. And hence the 
common observation, that good men always think alike in 
prayer. Nor is prayer an unthoughtful business. Much of 
intellect, as well as feeling, is breathed forth in true devo- 
tion ; nay, from almost every true prayer an epitome of the 
Gospel might be extracted. 

Wherefore nothing is more unfounded than the pretence 
of not beinor able to come to the knowledsfe of the truth in 
the midst of this world's jargon of opinions. There is a sure 
and an eas}'- way ; nor is the existence of that destructive 
jargon resolvable into any thing else than the world's for- 
getfulness of God and known character for prayerlessness. 
Let no one question it, that prayer, universally tried, would 
unite the whole world, substantially, in the same mind and 
judgment, nor leave any man doubtful as to an essential 
article of faith. 

Thou, reader, art perhaps an unsettled, unhappy scep- 
tic ; yet, desirest not to be so, and hast long tried to convince 
thyself. Thou hast read ; thou hast disputed ; and thou hast 
listened, in hope that thy doubts might be dissipated. I 
will not question that thou hast done all this ; but full well 
I know there is one thing thou hast not done : thou hast not 
disinterred thy heart out of this world's pollutions and 
vanities. Thou hast been living in the spirit and in the 
ways of them who fear not God. It has not been thy daily 
delight to enter into thy closet and shut thyself in from all 
earthly society, and then bow down thy spirit before His 



THE ADVANTAGES OF PRAYER. Q 

presence who seeth in secret. Hadst thou done but this, 
thou wouldst not have been now a tired wanderer, near 
eternity's dread brink, with a mind full of doubt, void of 
fixed hope, aching with ungrateful desire, and anon shiver- 
ing Avith apprehension of what may yet befall. 

Thus have I considered the influence of prayer in coun- 
teracting the debasing and soul-destroying tendencies of the 
world. 

3. There are other tendencies favorable to the soul's wel- 
fare, and I now wish to show briefly the efficacious influence 
of prayer upon these. 

I begin with the loord of God. That word is, in its 
unresisted applications to the heart, quick and powerful, and 
as the fire and the hammer which breaketh the rock in 
pieces. It is perfect, converting the soul ; sure, making 
wise the simple ; right, rejoicing the heart ; pure, enlighten- 
ing the eyes — but the time would fail me to repeat a small 
part of what inspiration hath spoken in its praise. It is 
nevertheless powerless, independently of prayer ; for, how- 
ever great its excellencies, prayerlessness will either keep 
them out of view, or turn them into deformities and stum- 
bling-blocks. What are the beauties of the rainbow, or the 
beams of the sun, to the blind man ? And who more blind, 
though voluntarily so, than the prayerless soul ? What was 
the glory of the Only-begotten of the Father to the earthly- 
minded Jews, when he dwelt among them, full of grace and 
truth ? And what, also, are the wonders of truth and wis- 
dom in sacred Scripture, to those who are so swayed by an 
obstinate will, that they cast off" fear, and restrain prayer to 
God. Depravity can see no beauty in holiness ; and who 
are depraved, if not the prayerless ? When such persons 
have read the Bible, till they have it all in their memories, 
what are they better ? Which has the greater charms in 
their eye, God's truth, or their riches ; salvation, or the 

VOL. VII. 14* 



10 THE ADVANTAGES OF PRAYER. 

pleasures of sin ? Even the renewed find prayer still indis- 
pensable to a profitable meditation in Scripture ? Remaining 
pollution will blind their eye if the anointing of the Holy 
One be not constantly sought ; and therefore, though the 
sacred pages lie open before them, and though they have 
once been truly enlightened to understand them, they shall 
not, without unremitted prayer, continue to behold the 
wonders of God's law. 

But the Bible is not the only book that may profit the 
soul of man. There are profound treatises on every subject 
of theology and morals, in which treasures of light and 
learning are contained for the edification of mankind ; and 
here, where man speaks to man, what can hinder the 
acquisition of benefit by the dihgent student? Without 
meaning to discourage deep study, let me rather ask, what 
can hinder its resulting fatally, if prayer be restrained ? It 
matters not what the subjects of human thought are, if 
intellect alone be conversant with them — if the other facul- 
ties of the soul, the conscience, the will, the aftections, be 
not duly exercised, the reign of depravity, instead of being 
overthrown, is established ; and the danger is not imaginary, 
that in deep and retired studies these other faculties will 
not be proportionately engaged. Study, in short, will much 
advance the soul, if it be conducted with a prayerful spirit ; 
but if prayer be slighted, while study accumulates knowledge, 
it also engenders spiritual leanness and impotence ; and it is 
Avell if it prove not a savor of death unto death at last. 

Thus, also, as to the divine ordinance of 'public preach- 
ing — that ordinance by means of which more has been done 
for man's spiritual interest than by all other means besides. 
A man may make his boast of having the ablest minister in 
the land, and of hearing habitually the most clear and pun- 
gent discourses that the human tongue ever pronounced ; 
and yet the good of every sermon may be lost to that man, 



THE ADVANTAGES OF PRAYER. U 

for want of the spirit of prayer in his hearing. No other 
influence but that which prayer draws down upon the soul, 
can make the word preached eflfectual to its benefit. A 
church-going man, who is not also a man of prayer, has no 
better reason to expect spiritual benefit from the ordinances 
of grace, than a husbandman has to expect a harvest, who 
plants his grain and leaves his field an unfenced common. 
It is he who enters his closet before he comes to the house 
of God, and prays in secret before he takes his place in the 
pubhc assembly, and keeps still praying while the word is 
sounding powerfully in his ear, and forgets not another 
retreat to his private chamber after dismission from the 
courts of the Lord — this is the man who grows and thrives, 
as every one ought, under the ministration of the word. 

The same necessity is there for prayer, to make provi- 
dential dis2Mnsations available to the advancement of man's 
salvation. For though adversities have a tendency to draw 
him away from the idolatry of the world, and mercies should 
lift his aftections to their glorious Source, yet all experience 
testifies, that the former will only sink him into sullen mel- 
ancholy or fretfulness, and the latter infatuate him with 
pride and self-suflficiency, unless he keep near to God in the 
exercise of prayer. 

4. But all the truth on this subject has not yet been 
told. Prayer has another bearing — another kind of influ- 
ence than any which has yet been considered. It has an 
influence, not only upon ourselves, and upon all the means 
and second causes which tend either to our injury or advan- 
tage, but upon Him, likewise, to who7n it is addressed — upon 
the mind and conduct of God himself. 

So, most obviously, are we taught in holy Scripture, 
especially in those winning words of Christ : " What man is 
there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a 
stone ? or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent ? If 



12 THE ADVANTAGES OF PRAYER. 

ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your 
children, how much more shall your Father Avhich is in 
heaven give good things to them that ask him." For what 
are we to gather from this, and many parallel texts, if the 
only influence of prayer is that which it exerts either directly 
or indirectly upon ourselves? Is it consistent with any 
just rule of interpreting language, to give this, or any thing 
compatible with this, as the meaning of passages which rep- 
resent God as bestowing hene^is in answer to earnest suppli- 
cation for them ? How in answer, if the supplication has no 
influence to procure them ? Is it not clear, that any ren- 
dering of these passages which admits not that prayer has 
in some way a persuasive influence on God, is a wresting, 
not an explaining of Scripture — adapted to make men heart- 
less and cold in an exercise which should never be otherwise 
than fervent ? 

Look at scriptural examples of prayer. When Jacob, 
after Avrestling in this exercise till break of day, still refused 
to cease without a blessing, how far was he from supposing 
that the only influence of prayer was that which it had on 
his own mind ? Did those eff"ectual prayers of Moses, which 
turned away wrath from rebellious Israel, even after God 
had threatened to destroy them, exert no influence except 
on Moses himself? Were those prayers of Elijah, which 
availed to shut, and afterwards to open heaven, without all 
influence, except on Elijah's own heart ? And what shall 
we say of Abraham's prayer for Sodom ; or Daniel's for 
Jerusalem ; or that of the first Christians, which brought 
an angel down from heaven for St. Peter's enlargement ; 
or, indeed, of any prayer in behalf of others, if the influence 
of prayer is confined to those who off"er it ? 

And why should it be thought inconsistent with the 
infinite perfection of God, that he should be influenced by 
prayer ? It is surely agreeable to God's perfection to love 



THE ADVANTAGES OF PRAYER. 13 

righteousness and hate iniquity; and give due expression 
of that love and hatred, by distributing equal rewards and 
punishments. As well deny the being of God as make him 
indifferent to holiness and sin. But true prayer is holiness, 
and prayerlessness is sin. In him, then, who prays, God 
discerns something excellent ; something which, consistently 
with his perfection, he may approve and reward. In him 
who does not pray, God discerns something evil and hate- 
ful ; and which, therefore, must draw forth his abhorrence 
and indignation. Just as a prodigal son, who asks forgive- 
ness of his father, presents, in his penitent and submissive 
spirit, a reason why his father should receive him to his 
arms — a reason, it may be, that prevails ; while another 
unreformed prodigal, who implores no forgiveness, presents 
no such reason, and receives no such favor. 

But does not this doctrine make God changeable ? Not 
more so, I first reply, than God's being influenced by the 
obstinacy of sinners, suddenly and without remedy to de- 
stroy them ; and by the holiness of his people, to smile upon 
them with complacency and loving-kindness. But Avherein, 
let me ask, consists the unchangeableness of God ? Not in 
his being always entirely destitute of moral feeling ; but in 
his feeling always alike towards the same objects in the same 
circumstances. God, doubtless, has perfectly pure and 
proper feelings towards all things. But all things being 
eternally present in his view, he is eternally and always in 
the same degree and manner aftected by them. The prayer 
that forms a reason for his showing favor at this moment, 
has always been before his infinite mind ; and before it with 
all its present persuasive influence. 

Nor is there any conflict between our doctrine of prayer 
and that of the divine purposes. The purposes of God 
embrace all events, and embrace them in that very order in 
which they occur in time. If, in the order of actual occur- 



14 THE ADVANTAGES OF PRAYER. 

rence, prayer always precedes the bestowal of blessings, it 
precedes it agreeably to the order of the divine purposes ; 
if, in the purpose of God, prayer eternally stands as the 
immediate condition of his favor, it were inconsistent if 
things w^ere not so in event. 

It does not appear, therefore, that we speak otherwise 
than soberly and truly, when we say that prayer has power 
with God, There is nothing in the Avord of God, nothing 
in his nature, nothing in his purposes, to discourage the 
hope of prevailing with him by prayer. Far, infinitely far 
different is the fact. Has the hungry child encouragement 
to hope he shall not ask his parent in vain for wholesome 
food ? The most affectionate parent would sooner give such 
a child a stone for bread, or a scorpion for a fish, than the 
Father of mercies refuse his Holy Spirit to them that ask 
him. There is not in the universe a being who, compared 
with God, has any susceptibility to the influence of prayer. 
AVhat emanations of love has it drawn from his heart ! 
What blessings of goodness from his hand ! His mightiest 
acts have been achieved in answer to prayer. ** What ter- 
rible judgments have been averted; what mighty armies 
conquered ; nay, more, the very course of nature changed 
— the sun himself arrested — by the power of prayer!" 
Who can assign the limits of that power ? Who can tell 
what influence prayer has had on the government of God 
in this world ? But since all the parts of God's empire are 
united, its influence has travelled beyond earth's boundary, 
and is now exerting itself, and will exert itself for ever, on 
the far distant tracts of creation. 

While I muse on this, Oh how refreshing and invigorat- 
ing is the recollection, that, at this present period, the smoke 
of the incense of prayer is rising up to heaven day and night 
from God's universal church in the four quarters of the 
globe ! Assuredly, the time draws nigh of the restitution 



THE ADVANTAGES OP PRAYER. ]5 

of all things. What wonders shall the arm of God pres- 
ently achieve in fulfilment of the desires of his saints. Away- 
fly all obstructions to the universal spread of Christian truth. 
Away pass the infidels and scorners of the day to their own 
proper places, and the Gospel of the kingdom becomes the 
glory of all nations, and earth resounds with " Hallelujah, 
Salvation !" 

Transporting scene ! and yet is it not possible that some 
man may hear all this, and, without gainsaying it, remain 
unapprised of his private concern in the blest contemplation ? 
Let me put thee in mind, then, ray brother, that the end of 
hearing is practice ; and that thou wilt be but a despiser of 
divine counsel, if thy life henceforth be not a life of true 
prayer. It depends upon thy conduct concerning prayer, 
how it is to fare with thy soul for ever. It depends upon 
this, whether thou find in God a friend or an enemy ; and 
of course, whether all things shall work together for thy 
good, or thy ruin. It may not, indeed, depend upon thy 
praying, whether the ordinary fruits of the divine bounty 
shall be bestowed or not. God's sunshine and rain are 
given to the praying and tlie prayerless ; and even blas- 
phemers and atheists riot on his exhaustless beneficence. 
But prayer makes this difference : that while temporal 
blessings become as wings, with which a praying man soars 
to his eternal rest, they become as millstones about the 
necks of the prayerless, with which they will be sunk down 
in the deep of eternal despair ! " I will curse your bless- 
ings," saith He who gave them ; '' yea, I have cursed them 
already, because ye lay it not to heart to give God the 
glory." Whether thou prayest or not, a smooth, full tide 
of prosperity may float thee along for a season ; but a storm 
is gathering, and soon the current will turn against thee : ' 
and if thou art not a man of prayer, the proud waters shall 
overwhelm thee, and thy prosperity be thy destruction. 



16 THE ADVANTAGES OF PRAYER. 

WHAT IS PRAYER? 

Prater is the soul's sincere desire, 

Unuttered or expressed ; 
The motion of a hidden fire 

That trembles in tlie breast. 

Prayer is the burden of a sigh, 

The falling of a tear ; 
The upward glancing of an eye, 

When none but God is near. 

Prayer is the simplest form of speech 

That infant lips can try ; 
Prayer, the sublimest strains that reach 

The Majesty on high. 

Prayer is the Christian's vital breath. 

The Christian's native air ; 
His watchword at the gates of death — 

He enters heaven Avith prayer. 

Prayer is the contrite sinner's voice, 

Returning from his ways ; 
While angels, in their songs, rejoice. 

And cry, " Behold, he prays !" 

The saints in prayer appear as one 
In word, and deed, and mind ; 

While with the Father, and the Son, 
Sweet fellowship they find. 

Nor prayer is made on earth alone : 

The Holy Spirit pleads ; 
And Jesus, on the eternal throne. 

For mourners intercedes. 

O thou by whom we come to God, 

The life, the truth, tlie way; 
Tlie path of prayer thyself liast trod : 

Lord, teach us how to pray ! Montgomery. 



TVo. aso. 



THE 



HONEST WATERMAN; 

OR, 

HISTORY OF THOMAS MANN, 

DISTINGUISHED FOR HIS RELIGIOUS CHARITIES. 




A GENTLEMAN ill Loiidoii, wlio was Treasurer of a re- 
ligious society, was called upon one day by a waterman of 
respectable appearance, whose business was to pay into the 
treasury of the institution a legacy of fifty pounds. The 
legacy had been left by his uncle, the late Thomas Mann, of . 
St. Catharines, by the Tower, London. The circumstances 
and the interview deeply aflected the mind of the gentle- 
man, and gave rise to the folloAving conversation. 
VOL. ni. 15 



2 THE HONEST WATERMAN. 

Learning that the uncle was also a waterman, the gentle- 
man asked, " Was he a lighterman ? — did he keep barges ?" 

" No, sir, he was only a scullerman ; he had nothing 
but a small boat for taking passengers, laboring with his 
own hands," 

" But how could a scullerman save so much money as 
to leave fifty pounds in chEirity ?" 

" He was very industrious, sir, and very frugal ; he has 
left a great many legacies to religious and benevolent soci- 
eties, besides money to his relations." 

" Was he, then, a miser ?" 

*' no, sir ; the very opposite of that ; he was a very 
generous man." 

" How then could he acquire so much property ?" 

" Why, sir, he was a very early riser, for one thing, and 
would often do nearly a day's work before other people 
were up in the morning ; and then he was so honest, in 
never asking more than his fare, and so civil, and his boat 
and his person always so clean, and neat, and comfortable, 
that I suppose he had generally more fares than other wa- 
termen. His character was so well known on the river, that 
he was commonly called 'The Honest Waterman.' " 

" What lepfacies has he left besides this ?" said the ojen- 
tleman. 

" I can hardly remember them all. There is a hundred 
pounds to the Bible Society, another hundred to the Church 
Missionary Society ; another hundred, I believe, to the 
Bethel Union ; another to the Spitalfields Benevolent So- 
ciety. I do not remember them all, but there are nine of 
a hundred pounds to nine different societies. There is a 
legacy to the Charity-school in which he was brought up ; 
there is also a hundred pounds to his brother-in-law, who 
married his sister ; there are other legacies to his relations 
and friends ; and he has left me the remainder." 

*' How much did he die worth ?" 

" Between two and three thousand pounds." 

*' Was your uncle a married man ?" 



THE HONEST WATERMAN. 3 

" No, sir ; but he supported his mother and sisters, after 
his father's death, till they died." 

" You said he was a generous man : how could he be 
generous, besides supporting his mother and sisters, and j-et 
save so much money ?" 

*' Sir, his industry and frugality were so remarkable, 
that he always had wherewith to help a poor man. If any 
waterman happened to lose his boat, my uncle was always 
the first to relieve him ; and he used, on Sundays, to take a 
quantity of silver to give to poor persons whom he might 
see at church, or in the street, who appeared in distress, 
and proper objects of relief. I know he put a sovereign 
in the plate at the last charity- sermon which he attended." 

*' How old was he ?" 

"He was seventy-five when he died." 

*' What kind of a man was he in his person ?" 

" He was particularly neat. On a Sunday he appeared 
somewhat like a Quaker, for he latterly wore a broad- 
brimmed hat, and a light wig, with a sort of double curl." 

" Was he at all singular in his manners ?" 

" Not at all ; he had nothing eccentric about him : he 
was a fine, open-hearted man as ever you saw. He was a 
very sensible man, too, and a good scholar, considering he 
was brought up in a charity-school." 

*' Was he a pious man ?" 

'' He was indeed, sir ; and he died, as he lived, like a 
Christian. I have written down a great many of his ex- 
cellent sayings while he was ill ; he had a great deal of the 
Scriptures by heart. sir, he was very happy ! he said 
such things as would have delighted you. I am sure it 
would have done you good to have seen him, and heard him 
talk." 

"Well," said the gentleman, "you should write down 
all you can remember and collect respecting so excellent a 
man." 

Such was literally the information of this deserving 
nephew, concerning his worthy uncle. The gentleman to 



4 THE HOXEST WATERMAN. 

whom it was thus, apparently by accident, communicated, 
struck by a recital at once so simple and so extraordinary, 
immediately committed what he had heard to writing. He 
subsequently made dihgent inquiry among those who had 
known " The Honest Waterman " during his hfe. Their 
testimony was imiform. Such a character, so extensively 
useful, yet so little known, had never before met his obser- 
vation. 

He was bom in the precinct of St. Catharine, by the 
Tower of London, June 4, 1747. In the Tower Ward 
Charity-school he learned to write a good hand, and made 
some pro:?ress in arithmetic. He was accustomed fre- 
quently to express his sense of these advantages, and his 
gratitude for a benefit then much less common than at pres- 
ent, and without which he must have remained uninstruct- 
ed. At the age of fifteen he was apprenticed to a water- 
man on the Thames, with whom he served the usual term of 
seven vears. Durinof that early period, his attachment was 
marked to his mother and sisters, his piincipal recreation 
beinor the enjoyment of their society : to the latest period 
of his life, he never spoke of the former but as his '* dear 
mother." 

When he had served five years of his apprenticeship, it 
pleased God to deprive him of his father, and thus to bring 
into active exertion that warmth of affection, and excel- 
lence of principle, which might otherwise have remained 
concealed. The death of his father was sudden. He was 
drowned in the Thames, while engaged in the duties of his 
caUinsr. Manv plans were immediately devised by Thomas 
for the support of his mother and sisters : he at first thought 
of obtaininor from his master a release from the remainder 
of his apprenticeship, but this he was not able to accom- 
plish. A circumstance, apparently trifling, but in its results 
evidently providential, led to one of his sisters procuring a 
supply of needle- work : the rest joined their efforts to hers, 
and bv their skill and industry, they supported themselves, 
for some vears, with credit. Thomas used to sit with them 



THE HOXEST VVATEEMAX. 5 

during the evening, and cheer their labors by his company, 
at the conclusion of his own. 

Young Mann had been led to expect that, at the con- 
clusion of his apprenticeship, he should be presented bv his 
master with the boat in which he had been accustomed to 
ply : he was not only disappointed in this hope, but further 
chagrined by his master's selling the boat without apprisincr 
him of any such intention. He was, therefore, obliged to 
begin the world with a few pence which his mistress gave 
him, his only boon at the expiration of seven years' dilicrent 
service. He was of a spirit not to be discouracred bv diffi- 
culties ; and, with an ardor never diminished during a long 
life, he entered his calling on his own accoimt, at first bor- 
rowing a boat from any friend who had the kindness and 
abihty to lend him one. His persevering industry, and a 
little assistance from one of his sisters, at length enabled 
him to purchase a new wherry for twelve pounds. 

There was a peculiarity in the manner in which our 
"Waterman perforiMd his labor. He was what is called a 
*' Hard-rowed Sculler ;" and was generally admitted to be 
the hardest woi-king man on the river. Xot only in his 
youth, but when far advanced in years, it was commonly 
his custom to row as if matched against time, endeavorinor 
to pass every boat ahead of him, and to keep completely 
ahead of those astern, even if they had the advantatre of a 
pair of oars. His second boat carried about thirty himdred 
weight, for the greater convenience of conveying stores for 
the navy, yet he never shrunk from contending with boats 
much more hghtly laden than his own. He made a point, 
however, of not rowing for a wager, and was never known 
to lay a bet of any kind. It was his practice not to wait 
for the turn of the tide ; but, wherever his business took 
him, to return immediately to his usual plying- place, Iron- 
Gate Stairs, by the Tower. After rowing twenty or thirty 
miles, he would row up to the stairs in the hvely, spirited 
manner in which he set out. 

As an instance of his power of body, and also of his 
VOL. yri, 15* 



Q THE HONEST WATER MAX. 

attachment to home, it may be mentioned, that he one day 
rowed a party to Twickenliam, and brought them back to 
Brentford, where he landed them about eleven o'clock at 
night ; instead of passing the night there, he pursued his 
way to London, which he did not reach till one in the morn- 
ing. He was prepared to recommence his labor as usual at 
six o'clock, remarking to his nephew, who accompanied him, 
how much benefit they had derived from a few hours' rest 
at home. 

He was almost always fully employed, and many were 
disappointed at not being able to procure his boat ; but, as 
he never asked more than the regular fare, he had not any 
extraordinary means of increasing his property. So strict 
were his ideas of the principles of justice, that he frequently 
refused or returned money when it exceeded the amount 
due to liim, and was intended by the donors to show how 
much they had been pleased by his unusual intelligence and 
attention. Bystanders would sometimes smile, and say, 
** See, if I had been offered money, whether I should have 
refused it." Once, when inquisitively questioned as to his 
property, which, in order to discover the exact amount, the 
inquirer rated too highly, Mann replied, "How can I be 
worth so much ? I never got an easy shilling in my life." 

He Avas frequently the first at his post in the morning, 
and gained much of his earnings before other watermen 
were out of their beds. He thought hard labor never in- 
jured any one. With the exception of some bilious com- 
plaints, and occasional headaches, he enjoyed uninterrupted 
health ; nor was he confined to his bed during his whole 
life, till his first and last illness. His food was simple and 
frugal, and he seldom drank any thing but water to allay 
his thirst. During the summer he allowed himself cooling 
fruits ; and when suffering much, found tea a most refresh- 
ing beverage, and would take it in large quantities. He 
used malt liquor with his dinner only ; nor could he be pre- 
vailed upon to share any of those indulgences which his 
constant labor would have rendered very allowable. To 



THE HONEST WATERMAN. 7 

his temperance, to liis industry, and to the subjugation of 
temper which he had attained, there is no doubt he owed, 
under Providence, that robust health and extraordinary 
strength for which, to his last years, he was remarkable ; 
as well as that competency which enabled him not only to 
" provide things honest in the sight of all men," but to 
abound in acts of benevolence. 

His charity was so universal, so constantly and daily 
practised, that the detail of it would be as monotonous as 
it was unceasing : a few anecdotes only will be related, and 
a few of the methods detailed, by which, with all humility, 
he " let his light shine before men," and by which those who 
come after may be led to " glorify his Father which is in 
heaven." 

He gave liberally after charity- sermons, and always 
lamented seeing persons pass the plate without contributing. 
"They love a cheap Gospel," he would say. He had not 
courage to enter a place of worship at which he was unac- 
customed to attend, unless the sermon was to be followed 
by a collection, "and then," said he, " I can enter boldly." 
Between the hours of service, he would often walk up and 
down the streets, instead of going home ; and if he saw 
persons who seemed to suffer silent distress, he would accost 
them in a kind manner, inquire into their circumstances, and 
administer relief where it seemed to be required. For this 
purpose he always put a quantity of silver into his pockets 
on Sabbath morning. He used to say that it was a man's 
duty, when he possessed enough to supply his own wants, 
to continue the exercise of his calling for the benefit of 
others. 

One Sabbath he observed a poor man, much dejected, 
looking carefully on the ground as he walked. At length 
he found the leg bone of a fowl or turkey, which he picked 
up eagerly, and was proceeding to scrape it with a small 
knife, when perceiving himself watched, he became much- 
confused, and went on so rapidly, that the waterman lost 
him, but contrived, by going round a street, to meet him 



8 THE HONEST WATERMAN. 

again. Addressing him kindly, " My friend," said he, '' that's 
poor cheer — you seem to be in great distress ;" and pro- 
ceeded to inquire the cause. It was a poor mechanic, out 
of employ, to whom he spoke, and finding the case a deserv- 
ing one, he instantly gave him all the money he had in his 
pockets. He often mentioned this circumstance as having 
greatly affected him. 

He frequently purchased boats, or parted Avith his own, 
when half worn out, for poor watermen with families, some- 
times receiving payment from them by instalments, accord- 
ing to their ability. He never prosecuted for the recovery 
of a debt, or received interest upon any sum borrowed of 
him by friends for their accommodation. 

Noticing a person, by whom he was one day employed, 
in great apparent dejection of spirits, he inquired the cause, 
and was told that it was occasioned by the want of a sum 
of money of the utmost importance to him. He immediately 
advanced it, to be gradually repaid ; and he said that had 
the sum been twice the amount mentioned, he must have 
done the same, so deeply was his mind affected by the un- 
easiness he had witnessed. 

A poor man one day crossed the river from Iron- Gate 
Stairs to Horslydown. Returning soon after to the person 
who had rowed him over, he asked if he had left any thing 
in the boat. Being answered in the negative, he was much 
dismayed, burst into tears, and said he had lost two pounds, 
w^hich he missed on landing ; that his wife and family were 
in want of the money, and he knew not what they would 
do without it. He then proceeded disconsolately over Little 
Tower-hill. Thomas Mann was at the plying-place, and, 
having heard his tale, was seen to follow, overtake, and give 
him something ; but the value of the gift was never known, 
excepting to himself and the poor man whom it relieved. 

Equally frequent were the cases in which he relieved the 
aged and infirm, by little weekly stipends, as a method of 
adding to their comforts; the occasionally distressed, by 
sums of money proportioned to the emergency of their cir- 



THE HONEST WATERMAN. Q 

cumstances ; those who were out of work, by employing 
them, and paying them for what he gave them to do. In 
this manner he furnished a poor man, who asked alms at his 
door, with a quantity of religious Tracts, one of which he 
was to present at every house in the neighborhood, and then 
remunerated him for his trouble. Sometimes his stock of 
matches, bought of the poor, would so accumulate that he 
would furnish the baskets of other necessitous persons from 
his store. He was once seen going up to a poor boy, who 
sat by the side of Tower-hill, and after wiping his naked 
feet with a handkerchief, putting on them a new pair of 
shoes and stockings, which he had provided for the pur- 
pose. Many whom he assisted with articles to sell in the 
street, were so struck with his generosity, as to declare they 
could not trouble him any more ; some, for whom he had 
procured employment, would wait on him to return thanks 
for the comfortable circumstances in which they found them- 
selves placed. 

He was in the habit of giving half a crown at a time to 
poor, industrious men, remarking, that it was to get them 
something to eat for the morrow. This he often did on 
Saturday night. According as God had prospered him, he 
was able to distribute ; and the gift was calculated to remind 
poor persons of the approaching Sabbath, and lead them to 
prepare for it. 

When the minister and overseers went round the pre- 
cinct to collect money for occasional charitable purposes, he 
w^as always grieved if they passed his door without calling 
for his aid. The last time they called, which was when 
making subscriptions for the distressed Irish, he contributed 
a sovereign. 

He was fond of children; his behavior towards them 
was kind and endearing, and he would often purchase cakes 
of the poor people whom he saw in the streets, in order to 
distribute among the little ones around. On finally retiring 
from labor, he laid in a stock of various sorts of clothing, 
blankets, etc. ; and it formed a part of his employment, 



10 THE HONEST WATERxMAN. 

during that time which had previously been devoted to the 
duties of his calhng, to select from his repository the proper 
articles for such as were in need. 

He contributed statedly and regularly to many of the 
religious and benevolent institutions. On those occasions, 
when asked his address, it was his custom generally to say 
.no more than "The Tower." Secrecy was, probably, his 
motive for not becoming nominally an annual subscriber to 
any public charity. His nephew happening once to observe, 
in the Sailor's Magazine, mention of a donation of five 
pounds from ''An Aged Waterman," said to his uncle, "I 
suppose you were meant." ''There are many aged water- 
men besides myself," said the old man coolly. The dona- 
tion was to the Bethel Union, for promoting religion and 
morality among seamen. 

He has been heard to say that his first impression of 
the importance of religion was occasioned by the death of 
his father. He then began to pray frequently, and to form 
many resolutions as to his future conduct ; at the same 
time endeavoring to act conscientiously, and attending reg- 
ularly on the performance of religious duties. He appears 
to have had an idea of his own ability to commend himself 
to God, independently of divine influence ; and a consitler- 
able tendency towards self- righteousness seems at this time 
to have existed in his mind. Through divine grace, by 
searching the Scriptures, examining his own heart, and 
attending the means of grace, he was led to feel that he 
was by nature a sinful and polluted creature, totally unable 
to save himself, and destitute of any spiritual strength. 
Thus humbled, under a sense of his sins, and feeling that 
all his own services, prayers, and resolutions, were in them- 
selves insufficient, he was led by faith to apply to the Lord 
Jesus Christ for the pardon of his sins and the salvation of 
his soul. He beheld the justice and mercy of God uniting 
to secure, by tlie atonement of Christ, the divine glory, and 
the salvation of all that come unto him and believe on him. 
He felt his need of a divine Saviour, and that Jesus Christ 



THE HONEST WATERMAN. 1 1 

was his only and all-sufficient Redeemer; and while the 
death and intercession of Christ were the foundation of his 
faith, he felt it his duty and his delight to live unto Him 
who died for him, and who was his gracious Advocate 
above. Hence, he lived a life of faith on the Son of God, 
who loved him and gave himself for him. Hence, he was 
constrained by the love of Christ to walk in his ways, to 
obey his commands, and to live to his glory. And you 
too, reader, must seek the salvation of your soul througli 
faith in tlie Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of 
the world ; for there is none other name given among men 
whereby you can be saved. And if this faith be in you, as 
it was in Thomas Mann, it will work by love, and lead you 
to adorn the doctrine of God your Saviour in all things. 

His observance of the Sabbath was unvaried ; and on 
hearing of the profanation of this holy day by some persons 
with whom he was acquainted, he remarked, " They do not 
know the value of the Sabbath." He was accustomed, on 
that day, to take a lighter dinner than usual, in order to 
avoid drowsiness at church, to which the cessation of his 
customary labor might otherwise have made him liable. 
His conduct in the house of God evinced the sincerity of 
his devotion, and was observed as a lesson by some who 
noticed it, but who never, till inquiry elicited the knowledge 
after his death, learned to whom they had been indebted 
for so striking an example. 

He set great value on the Scriptures, and had many 
parts of them in his memory. No day passed without his 
reading them, generally very early in the morning, in win- 
ter by candlelight ; and at night, after the labors of the day 
were ended. He used to commence, and read regularly 
through his Bible, a practice he had heard recommended 
from the pulpit, by Mr. Newton, under Avhose ministry he 
sat for some tirne previous to Mr. Newton's death. 

He was a man of prayer ; his devotion was regular and 
fervent, though modest and retiring. On one occasion, 
when, after being restored from circumstances of apparently 



12 THE HONEST WATERMAN. 

imminent danger, his nephew brought him some food, he 
burst out into a strain of gratitude highly spiritual and ex- 
cellent. 

He did not rest his hopes on his own virtuous conduct, 
or his devoted attention to religious services, public and 
private : these he esteemed his duty and his delight, but he 
did not make them substitutes for a Saviour, or the ground 
of his hopes before God. No ; he felt that his best services 
needed cleansing in the blood of Christ, and that salvation 
must be through his grace alone. Hence, to humble self, 
and to exalt the Lord Jesus Christ, was his constant desire, 
while he united in the language and feelings of the apostle, 
" God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of our 
Lord Jesus Christ, by whom the world is crucified unto 
me, and I unto the world." Gal. 6 : 14. And if you, 
reader, admire, and would succeed in imitating the conduct 
of Thomas Mann, you must not fail to receive these divine 
truths with your whole heart, because they are the secret 
springs and motives to all that is truly excellent and well- 
pleasing in the sight of God. 

Such was the religion of the Honest Waterman ; arising 
from divine influences governing his thoughts, words, and 
actions — influencing alike his daily walk and conversation, 
and the conduct he pursued in any emergency. It was this 
indwelling principle which induced the open cheerfulness, 
the constant equanimity, the unvaried tranquillity for which 
lie was remarkable ; causing his peace to flow as a river, 
and rendering his life so serene as to leave little of variety 
in its progress. 

After his retirement from labor, he appeared to lay him- 
self out entirely for the glory of God and the good of his 
fellow-creatures ; his acts of benevolence were continual, 
but as private as he could possibly make them ; and he 
manifested a pecuhar dislike to flattery, whenever it was 
mingled with expressions of gratitude for the benefits he 
conferred. 

Although ndopting a mode of life so diff*erent from that 



THE HONEST WATERaiAN. 13 

to which he had been accustomed, time never appeared to 
hang heavy on his hands ; ho was not gloomy or fretful : 
the Bible was his constant companion, and when not en- 
gaged in reading or meditating on its contents, he scorned 
to eat the bread of idleness. Accordingly, besides the dis- 
tribution of clothing and money to the poor, which occupied 
him during some parts of the week, as well as on the Sab- 
bath, he found various ways of employing himself, some- 
times using edge-tools, and making boxes, stools, etc. 

In the spring of 1822, the house in which he was born, 
and had resided during his whole life, with the exception 
of his seven years' apprenticeship, was, with several others 
in the neighborhood, pulled down. He purchased a quan- 
tity of the old materials, and watchful for an employment 
which, while it amused himself, might benefit others, he 
sawed the wood and put it up into bundles, which he sold 
to the poor around him at a price much below its value. 

It was pleasant to see the old waterman, when he had 
left off labor, on a fine, sunshiny day, sitting on a bench, at 
his former plying- place, conversing Avitli his old friends, and 
with the younger ones who had succeeded him. Hither he 
frequently repaired. He always seemed happy and agree- 
able ; but his mind was sometimes much pained at the oaths 
and offensive language which too often met his ears. Per- 
haps some of those who thus grieved him, have since seen 
the error of their ways, and mourned that they should have 
wounded the Christian spirit of so good a man, and still 
more, that they should have broken the express command 
of a holy God. Perhaps some of them may see in these 
pages the record of their fault, and, struck for the first time 
with a sense of its enormity, may determine to renounce the 
sinful practice. If so, though it is too late for Thomas 
Mann to rejoice on earth at being the means of their refor- 
mation, yet "joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that 
repenteth." 

Sometimes the old man would take a boat and row him- 
self about the river for exercise ; or, if not equal to so much 

VOL. VII. 10 



14 THE HONEST WATERMAN. 

exertion, he would employ another waterman to row him : 
occasionally he would go in a boat in quest of coal for his 
own use, or to bestow gratuitously on his poor neighbors. 
These gifts were always made with much method, and with 
due attention to the various wants of those for whom they 
were intended. 

On Sabbath, October 6th, he was not well enough to go 
to church in the morning, but he went in the afternoon and 
in the evening. In returning home, which he reached with 
difficulty, owing to an affection of his breath, he was seized 
with so much debihty as to be obliged to ask the assistance 
of an arm from more than one person ; and he fell down 
once on his way. During the following week he seemed to 
recover ; but on the week succeeding, being worse, he con- 
sented to have medical fidvice. On the 1 '7th of October he 
kept his bed during the day, for the first time since his 
childhood. He now desired his nephew to write, from his 
dictation, the manner in which he would have his property 
disposed of, mentioning his anxious wish to " send forth 
evangelical missionaries." The various objects to which 
he was desirous of contributing, were then taken down in 
WTiting, and the sums affixed to each according to his direc- 
tion : on their being read over to him, he often said, " That 
is not enough ;" and this was repeated so many times, that 
he afterwards found diminution necessary, when his will 
came to be regularly made. " These are blessed institu- 
tions," said he, referring to the societies to which he made 
bequests. 

Being afterwards in violent pain, he requested his 
nephew to procure some one to pray with him, and a pious 
neighbor was sent for. On liis arrival, he asked what should 
be the subject of his petitions. " My dismissal from the 
body," said the sufferer. His friend expostulated with him, 
questioning the propriety of such a prayer, and adding, in 
the language of St. Paul, " Perhaps your abiding in the flesh 
is more needful for us." Mann replied, that the apostle was 
u great and holy man, and could not be compared to himself. 



THE HONEST WATERMAN. 15 

*' Of what use," he continued, ''can I be to myself or oth- 
ers ? I am now only a burden." His friend reasoned with 
him on the subject, and pointed out the duty of God's 
people in suffering, as well as in doing* his will. No 
expression of impatience was afterwards heard. When 
questioned by this visitor as to the state of his mind, he 
replied, in the words of the apostle, " I find a law in my 
members warring against the law of my mind. wretched 
man that I am ! who shall deliver me from the body of this 
death?" He then added, of his own accord, "None but 
Jesus, none but Jesus ; my reliance is on Christ alone, who 
loved me, and gave himself for me." 

Many of his sayings, sometimes longing for stronger 
confidence in the Saviour, always expressive of ardent love 
to him, and an eager desire for his appearing, were recorded 
by his nephew. Scripture now seemed quite famihar to 
him, and his quotations from its pages were very frequent. 
Once he exclaimed, " 0, that blessed book! O, that men 
would take it for their guide !" Sometimes he was enabled 
to rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Happening to 
say that he felt no pain, his nephew remarked, " That is a 
mercy." ''Yes," said he, "I am made up of mercies, and 
that through no merit of my own." Being asked to take 
some wine, he said, " I have got the wine of the New Je- 
rusalem — the wine of the consolation of Christ — I, a poor, 
guilty, depraved creature — nothing but Christ and his sal- 
vation." 

In the midst of acute pain he exclaimed, " Lord, thy 
sufferings were great when thou criedst, ' My God, my God, 
why hast thou forsaken me ?' and in the agony of the gar- 
den, when thou saidst, ' My soul is exceeding sorrowful, 
even unto death.' " In similar circumstances he said, " Thou 
knowest I have cried heartily in thy house for ' deliverance 
in the hour of death, and in the day of judgment ;' Father; 
Son, and Holy Spirit, the great incomprehensible Jehovah, 
help my feeble frame ! I am very weak ; but no — no wrath. 
0, it was a joyful sound of the angelic host. ' Glory to 



16 THE HONEST WATERMAN. 

God in the highest.' Joy, joy, joy, in the presence of the 
angels." 

Being desired to keep himself warm and comfortable, 
he said, " My comfort is in death, when I shall join the 
heavenly throng, 

' Then will I sing more sweet, more loud, 
And Christ shall be my song.' " 

Many were the hymns and texts of Scripture which, in 
the intervals of pain, he quoted : imconnected as they were, 
they showed where his thoughts were fixed, and what was 
the prevailing tenor of his mind. 

To a little girl Avho came to make inquiries, in the hope 
of seeing him, he said, "The fear of God is the guard of 
youth ; give yourself up to him without reserve." 

Though variously exercised, sometimes depressed by a 
deep sense of unworthiness, and by a natural dread of pain 
and of death, his mind appears to have been still fixed on 
spiritual things, and his whole conversation was either drawn 
from the oracles of truth, or related to his own religious 
feelings. Short petitions for the spread of the Gospel, for 
the good of others, for his own pardon and acceptance with 
God, were frequently uttered. They were occasionally 
indistinct, but always scriptural. " I can say the Lord's 
prayer from my heart," he once exclaimed ; "■ Lord, let my 
will be dissolved in thine. I know that Jesus Christ has 
lived and died for me, and purchased my pardon with his 
most precious blood." At another time, ** I desire to be 
where Mr. Newton wished to be — at the foot of the thief 
on the cross." "The best of doings is worth nothing." 
"My object has been to hate sin, and flee from it. I have 
hated it with a perfect hatred." "I can say, with pious 
Job, ' Thy hand is heavy upon me, but thy comforts delight 
my soul.' " 

Being told that one of the pocket-books for 1823 con- 
tained a portrait of the Rev. Thomas Scott, he mentioned 
the last time he had heard him preach ; and then spoke of 



THE HONEST WATEHMAX, 17 

the late Rev. Mr. Foster, adding, '* They are now before the 
throne — O, that I was with them !" 

He continued expressing himself in a similar manner, till 
he was reduced so low as to be unable to speak, and only- 
capable of making signs. After remaining a short time in 
a state of extreme debility, he suddenly appeared to revive, 
recovered strength sufficient to take some nourishment, and 
Avas spared several weeks afterwards. One day, while still 
very weak, his nephew, sitting by his bedside, begun hum- 
ming the hundredth psalm, when the old man joined him, 
and recollected some verses which the nephew had forgot- 
ten. Afterwards he beo-an, and thev sun^ tosfether that 
beautiful hymn of Dr. Watts: 

" When I surv^ey the wondrous cross 
On which the Prince of glory died, 
My richest gain I count but loss, 

And pour contempt on all my pride." 

This was the only time at which he w^as ever heard to 
sing, unless when joining in public worship. 

Soon afterwards, one morning, when left alone, he was 
heard to fall. His nephew instantly repaired to him, arid 
found that he had fallen on his side from his knees, through 
weakness. On being raised, he again requested to be left, 
in order to continue the private worship in which he was 
engaged. 

Some hopes w^ere now entertained of his recovery, pain 
having left him, and debility being his only remaining com- 
plaint. But his constitution had sustained a shock so severe 
that the prospect w^as speedily relinquished. He was, how- 
ever, again able to go down stairs ; and, though extremely 
apprehensive of proving troublesome, he was at length pre- 
vailed on to allow himself to be removed to his nephew's 
house. There it was his custom to retire early to rest ; 
but if, in order to lengthen his repose, his aflectionate rela- 
tive did not appear to assist him to rise in the morning so 
Boon as he wished, he would exert his remaining strength, 

VOL. VII. 16* 



18 THE HONEST VVATERMAX. 

and dress himself unaided. It was in vain to mention the 
debiUtated state of his frame as a reason for self-indulgence ; 
he seemed to think time as valuable, and as necessary to be 
fully occupied as ever. His usual equanimity of temper 
continued manifest ; thankfulness was expressed for every 
trifling service he received ; and he always aimed to give as 
little trouble, and cause as little inconvenience in the family 
as possible. 

This interval of convalescence appears to have been very 
mercifully appointed. During his first severe illness, his 
apprehension of continued bodily suflfering seemed to exceed 
that Avhich he was actually enduring ; and great anxiety for 
a speedy dismissal from the body was evidenced. The sweet 
submission, holy composure, and perfect acquiescence in the 
will of God, which marked his whole behavior subsequently 
to the last attack, showed that the season which h^ elapsed, 
of suspended suffering, and of comparative ease — during 
which, though his debilitated frame i^endered him quite 
aware of approaching dissolution, yet the cessation of actual 
pain enabled his vigorous mind fully to contemplate his 
situation on the verge of eternity — was used to the utmost 
advantage, in acquiring, from the treasures of the Scripture 
with which his memory was stored, and those which re- 
newed prayer and meditation opened to his experience, that 
heavenly tranquillity which led the Psalmist to exclaim, 
" Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright ; for the 
end of that man is peace." 

He was one day much delighted at hearing an account of 
the conversion of the Islanders in the South Seas, exclaim- 
ing, "Now, is not that pleasing ?" and on information being- 
communicated from another part of the world, in which the 
efforts for the spread of Christianity had been less success- 
ful, he said, emphatically, " If a man is dead in sin, nothing 
will awake him but the almighty power of Jehovah." 

Speaking of himself one morning, in a cheerful manner, 
he applied to his own history two lines of Bunyan, which 
were certainly never more strikingly exemplified. 



THE HONEST WATERMAN. 19 

" There was a man, Avhorn some accounted mad ; 
The more he gave away, the more he had." 

'' I am sure," said he, " I have found it so." 

One night, after being assisted to bed, his nephew say- 
ing, "Good night, God bless you!" and observing the old 
man to reply only " Good night !" he asked the reason, and 
was answered, that as those words were generally spoken 
in a sense quite unmeaning, if not profane, he never used 
them. ^ 

On the 8th of December, symptoms appeared which 
indicated approaching dissolution. The kindly feelings of 
his heart were still vigorous. Some one present blamed his 
nephew for betraying his grief. " You do not know," said 
the old man, " wiiat a strong affection there is between him 
and me." " You are not afraid of death," said the nephew. 
"0 no," he exclaimed, repeating the words, ''I am not 
afraid of death." His nephew calling him his only friend, 
he said, ''Make God your friend." 

The following Monday, as he ^vas sitting by the fire, he 
was seized with violent pain, and was overheard by those 
near him in earnest prayer. The severity of his sufferings 
extorted from him a groan : he afterwards observed, " Many 
Christians bear their pain without a sigh or groan. How 
they do it, I don't know ; I am sure I do not cry out wil- 
fully or wantonly ; my pain forces it from me." He then 
said, '' Lord, accept me in and for the sake of the adorable 
Redeemer !" On something being mentioned concerning 
God's time, he said, "Happy time!" This was a day of 
continued suffering ; and after retiring to rest, he was over- 
heard importuning his heavenly Father to pity and release 
him. 

The next morning he rose without assistance, but in a 
short time returned to his bed. He did not then appear in 
much pain, but seemed reluctant to converse, and said he 
needed rest. In the course of the day, seeing his nephew 
with a book in his hand, he said, " Read your Bible, and 



20 THE HONEST WATERMAN. 

pray for the light of God's Spirit upon it." Afterwards, 
being asked if he was happy, and if he relied on the great 
work wrought out on Calvary, he replied, " Nowhere else ; 
God forbid that I should glory save in the cross of Jesus 
Christ." One present, in allusion to the "Pilgrim's Prog- 
ress," said, "Poor Christian had Hopeful to hold up his 
head while passing through the river ; and you have a good 
hope." "Yes," said he, "the love of God is shed abroad 
in my heart." Afterwards he added, " My strength is per- 
fect weakness. Finish thy work, Lord, and let me join thy 
heavenly host, to sing thy praise for ever and ever." 

It was difficult to suppose his end so near as it proved. 
He seemed like a person taking comfortable repose after a 
long and fatiguing journey. In fact, his soul Avas already 
entering into that rest which remaineth for the people of 
God. Being asked if his mind continued happy, he said, 
" Yes;" and to the question whether he suffered much pain, 
he replied, " No." This was his last word. He fell into a 
peaceful slumber, which lasted two hours without any ap- 
pearance of restlessness, and then calmly yielded iip his 
soul into the hands of his faithful Creator and merciful 
Redeemer. 

Thus died Thomas Mann, on Wednesday, December 11, 
1822, aged 75 years. He left one hundred pounds ster- 
ling three per cent, annuities, to each of the following insti- 
tutions : namely, the Bible Society; the Church, London, 
Baptist, and Home Missionary Societies ; the Religious 
Tract Society ; the Irish Evangelical Society ; the Spital- 
fields Benevolent Society ; and the London Female Peni- 
tentiary ; also fifty pounds, in money, to the Tower- Ward 
Charity-school ; the Wesleyan Missionary Society ; the 
Lying-in Society, Knight Ryder-street ; the Charity-school, 
St. Catharine, Tower ; and the Bethel Union. 

Note. This strictly authentic narrative was originally pub- 
lished in a more extended form, by the Religious Tract Society 
in London, one of the institutions to which the Waterman be- 
queathed 100 pounds at his death. 



]\o. 3S6. 

LET ME ALONE! 



Did he say that ? He did say it. There was a painful 
pressure of truth upon his conscience — truth which set before 
him his guilty career, which urged him to abandon the sin- 
ful ways he loved, and enter a religious life to which he was 
utterly averse. 

Reason and conscience took the side of truth ; but his 
wicked heart opposed. Here was a conflict, and consequently 
trouble. It would all have been ended by the soul's surren- 
der to the love and service of God ; but this was refused. 
The trouble could be partially and temporarily ended by 
repelling the truth and keeping its pressure from the mind ; 
and this course that sinner chose. Hence his prayer, " Let 

ME ALOlSrE I" 

1 . This is a coimnon prayer. If the very ivords have 
not been upon the tongue, the desire has been in the heart. 
A searching sermon stirs the soul's depths. A Christian 
friend's kind admonition rouses conscience. The eye falls 
on a startling passage of the Bible, or of a religious Tract, 
and a burning thought leaps into the soul to trouble it. 
The conversion of a friend is announced, compelling anxious 
thought. A funeral knell constrains reflection upon death 
and its eternal issues. In a thousand ways truth reaches 
the mind, and a most unwelcome guest it is to the lover of 
sin ; never failing, in proportion to its power, if conscience 
is not dead, to give trouble. And how few fail of saying, 
Let me alone I How common such a prayer. 

2. Yet it is a tcicked prayer ; for it resists divine benev- 
olence. It was God's own most precious kindness that scat- 
tered those rays of light upon that sinful mind, which have 
so disturbed it. There is no act of divine mercy more purely 
benevolent and far-reaching, and aiming at more noble 
results, than when, by any agency, a sinful mind is made 
acquainted with its guilt, and is roused and urged to seek 
its spiritual and eternal good. The morning is beginning to 
dawn upon a most gloomy midnight. But the troubled sin- 
ner cries, "Let me alone I Disturb me not I" And the 



2 LET ME ALONE. 

rebuke falls upon divine mercy. It is a sin against infinite 
love. 

But it is also violence to his own moral nature. Con- 
science is the voice of that nature, and answering to the ap- 
peals of God, would stir up the soul to seek its everlasting 
interests. This noble faculty does its divinely appointed 
office. But the troubled sinner would escape its warnings. 
He resists them. Persistence in this dreadful process would 
sear the conscience " as with a hot iron." It is doing wrong, 
therefore, to one of the noblest endowments of the human 
mind, and thus a great sin. 

3. Notice, too, that this is a comprehensive prayer. See 
how much is involved. 

It asks for the souVs c/uietness. Not the jf:>e«ce of con- 
science certainly ; for, by ill-treatment of that noble faculty, 
the surest of all paths is pursued to prevent such a blessing. 
And as certainly, it is not peace ivith God that is sought ; 
for this prayer is a repulse of that holy and blessed Being. 
The quietness wanted is that of stupor in sin — that of a 
mind undisturbed in a guilty alienation from its Maker. 

It implies the expulsion of all holy influences from the 
mind. The stand is taken against influences which, being 
holy, throw light on the soul, declare its guilt, rouse con- 
science, and thus alarm and trouble it. And resistance is 
thus made against every kind and variety of influence that 
does this. Hence, there is a most fearful comprehensiveness 
in such a prayer, namely, " Let all the holy influences in the 
universe retire from my soul I" 

And are not cdl holy beings in the universe as much re- 
pelled as holy influences ? In the presence and influence of 
a holy being, holiness is more strikingly and impressively 
developed than it is in any other way. The holiness of 
Christ's example roused the enmity of carnal-minded Jews 
even more than his doctrines ; and it is now as true as ever, 
that holiness, in the living and visible example of a follower 
of Christ, troubles a sinful mind. Hence, the prayer " Let 
me alone" just as really repels all holy beings, as it does 
holy laws, doctrines, or precepts. Angel, patriarch, prophet, 
apostle, saint, even God himself, all these holy beings, as by 
their visible holiness brought to bear upon the sinful soul 
they would disturb it, are virtually, one and all, addressed 
by the rebuke, " Let me alone I" What a comprehensive 



LET ME ALONE. 3 

prayer that must be, which asks all the holy hitelligences 
in the universe to stand aloof and pain not the soul by their 
holy presence I 

But does not the prayer embrace another item ? Does 
it not virtually imply a surrender of tlie soul to the society 
ofimholy associates ? Its spirit is, " Leave me to the moral 
state I now possess and enjoy." But such a moral state of" 
the soul has no affinity to any holy beings in the universe. 
But it has affinity to the unholy. Such a mind is in har- 
mony with minds which are governed by principles similar 
to its own. If left to its own principles, and to the society 
into which those principles naturally carry it, it must go 
into the society of those who are utterly and for ever alien- 
ated from God. The prayer amounts to this : " Leave me 
in the undisturbed possession of my present moral character, 
and all the associations which naturally grow out of it I" 
Who will deny that this is a comprehensive prayer ? And 
it cannot be denied that, 

4. It may be a incvalent prayer. How many facts in 
God's moral government affirm this I Look at this ancient 
record: "But my people would not hearken to my voice ; 
and Israel would none of me. So I gave them up to their 
own hearts' lusts, and they walked in their owai counsels." 
They desired to be let alone in their sins, and to remain 
undisturbed in their own hearts' lusts, and it was granted. 
And a later instance of the action of the divine government 
is thus recorded : " Ephraim is joined to his idols ; let him 
alone." The service of idols was more agreeable than that 
of the living and true God, and Ephraim was left to his 
choice. And when a sinner now virtually offers the same 
prayer, by resisting holy influences, there is nothing more 
proper than that he should be heard. Those influences 
which are sent to lead men to reflect upon and seek the 
great salvation, could come only through the great atoning 
sacrifice of Christ, and by the agency of the Eternal Com- 
forter. They, therefore, not only cost an infinite price, but 
they aim solely at the highest possible good of men, even 
their everlasting welfare. They are, therefore, the noblest 
possible expressions of divine love. To say to such influences 
as these — as every resisting sinner does — "Let me alone," 
is to cast the highest possible aflront upon God. What a 
wicked repulse of the SAveetest and purest mercy ! This is 



4 LET ME ALONE. 

" treading under foot the Son of God, and counting the blood 
of the covenant an unholy thing, and doing despite unto the 
Spirit of grace." Why not expect an answer to such a 
prayer ? Is there an attribute of God which would hold 
him back from answering such a prayer ? He grants what 
was desired. That was, exemption from the pain the pres- 
sure of God's claims produced upon the conscience, so that 
the sinner might go on in his sinful pleasures undisturbed. 
And this is granted by the departure of the Holy Spirit, and 
the withholding of all those holy influences which trouble 
that sinful mind. Why should not such a prayer prevail ? 
How often it does. Hence, 

5. It must be a fatal prayer I Such a prayer being 
heard and granted, what can more certainly secure the soul's 
ruin ? W^hat is it for a sinful mind to be let alone ? The 
Spirit of Giod, resisted and grieved, retires, and returns no 
more. Conscience, seared by long opposition, and no longer 
quickened by the truth, utters no farther remonstrance. The 
world, unchecked, rushes in like a flood, and completely en- 
grosses the heart. Eternity retires. Its voice, once so loud, 
dies away, and troubles the sinner no more. He has nothing 
to struggle against now. There is nothing to oppose the 
strengthening tide of sinful passions. He has his own chosen 
path, which carries him away from all those precious influ- 
ences which can reclaim, sanctify, and save. Given up of 
God — left to himself — what can there be before him but 
everlasting banishment from the presence of the Lord and 
the glory of his power ? 

Where, dear reader, does the topic now presented find 
you ? Are you, by cold neglect and indifierence, or by active 
and positive resistance, turning from your soul those precious 
influences of the truth and Spirit of God which are now 
seeking to win you to Christ, and lead you to heaven ? Are 
you now virtually saying. Let me alone ? Will you not be 
entreated to pause, and consider whether it is wise and safe 
to ofier that common, that wicked, that comprehensive, that 
prevalent, that fatal prayer ? 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



I¥o. 237. 

SPIRITUAL EELIGION. 



There are three kinds of religion among those who call 
themselves Christians. Of one kind it were well if the 
world were destitute. Excepting by the observance of re- 
ligious rites and solemnities, it does not distinguish the lives 
of those who practise it from the lives of irreligious men. 
It is the form of godliness without its power; the religion 
which would serve at the same time two masters ; would 
join light and darkness, Christ and Belial, believers and 
infidels together. 

There is another kind of relisjion which has been called 
the middle path of Christianity. It is the religion manifestly 
of the generality of those who are considered Christians. 
It embraces, besides a profession and the observance of 
ordinances, a belief of the doctrines and an irreprehensible 
outward conformity to the duties of the Gospel. But it falls 
short of the privileges of the Gospel ; not including those 
lively hopes and anticipations, those holy joys and sorrows, 
that sensible intercourse and fellowship with God and Christ, 
that enrapturing communion Avith the Holy Spirit, that vivid 
and permanent earnest and assurance of heaven, which the 
Gospel warrants and encourages in every believer. 

A third kind of religion is that which does include these 
peculiar experiences. We would designate it Spiritual 
Religion. It is a religion which can be satisfied with 
nothing merely external, however blameless and fair. The 
offering up of prayer and praise, meditation on the Scrip- 
tures, attendance upon ordinances, liberality towards the 
poor, the utmost exactness and iireproachableness of life — 

VOL. VII. IT 



2 SPIRITUAL RELIGION. 

these do not meet its demands unless there is correspond- 
dent sensibiUty and hfe in the heart. There must be a 
feehng of the divine presence — a rehshing of the divine 
excellence — a heart-assured persuasion of the divine favor 
and complacency. God must be enjoyed ; or there will be 
disquietude of soul, as in the patriarch, " that I knew 
where I midit find him;" and in the Psalmist, ''As the 
hart panteth after the water-brooks, so panteth my soul after 
thee, God." If the light of God's countenance ceases at 
any time to shine upon the soul, the darkness which then 
covers it no outward prosperity can dispel; its sorrows 
nothing can alleviate. No loveliness, no excellence remains, 
when the heart cannot taste the excellency of the know- 
ledge of Christ. No satisfaction is taken in the intercourse 

o 

of the dearest friends when returns of grace from the holy 
Comforter are suspended. The visible world is a waste 
wilderness when the world imseen is clouded or remote. 
There is no peace, no pleasure in life, when there is no 
sensible relish and delight in God and divine things. 

The difference between this last kind of religion, and 
those alluded to above, is very apparent in examples of 
each. Who does not see a remarkable difference in piety 
between such men as Leighton, Baxter, Edwards, Brainerd, 
and Martyn, and the mass of those who bear, and are not 
supposed to dishonor, the Christian name ? Dr. John Mason 
Good, the distinguished and excellent author of the "Book 
of Nature," said, on his death-bed, "I have taken what 
unfortunately the generality of Christians too much take — I 
liave taken the middle walk of Christianity. I have en- 
deavored to live up to its duties and doctrines, but 1 have 
lived below its privileges." The men first mentioned were 
not content to pursue what is here called the middle walk 
of Christianity. Their religion w^as strictly and eminently 

EXPERIMENTAL AND SPIRITUAL, 



SPIRITUAL RELIGION. 3 

It is the design of these pages to commend and enforce 
this kind of religion above every other. 

1. It is Scriptural rehgion. 

The rehgion of the Scriptures is the fruit of the Spirit^ 
which is "love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, good- 
ness, faith, meekness, temperance ;" embracing frames and 
dispositions of soul more agreeable to that lively, affection- 
ate, spiritual religion of which we speak, than to any other. 

Manifestly, likewise, is this sort of religion most congenial 
with that view of holi/ living given us in the Scriptures : 
walking Avith God ; having fellowship with the Father and 
the Son ; communing with the Spirit ; walking after the 
Spirit ; walking in the Spirit ; walking in the fear of the 
Lord and in the comfort of the Holy Ghost. It is most 
accordant also with those passages which call upon the 
saints to delight themselves in God ; to rejoice in the Lord ; 
to rejoice in him always; and which represent them as 
having peace with God, and the love of God shed abroad in 
their hearts, as having the ^w-itness of the Spirit with their 
own spirit ; as walking by faith, not by sight, looking more 
at the things of the unseen world than at things which 
address themselves to their bodily senses. 

It is, moreover, most like the religion of Scripture char- 
acters ; as of Enoch, and ll^J'oah, and Abraham, who walked 
with God ; of Moses, and Samuel, and David, and Elijah, 
and Daniel ; of the Apostles and the first Christians also, as 
far as their history has been written in the Bible. The 
religion of these men, who are held up to us as patterns 
and exemplars, was eminently a vital, affectionate, spiritual' 
religion. They conversed closely and delightfully with God, 
and lived habitually under the light of his countenance, and 
in the sensible enjoyment of his love. 

But especially was the personal religion of Christ of 
this kind ; all whose plans and principles, ways and move- 



4 BPIRITUAL RELIGIOxN". 

ments, discourses and doctrines, made it manifest, that his 
heart and spirit and will were constantly one with the heart 
and spirit and will of God. 

2. Spiritual religion is the most rational kind of religion. 

If the things of religion are not merely imaginary, they 
ought in fitness and reason to command the whole heart, 
and rule the whole inner and outer man. If they are real, 
they are comparatively the only realities ; all else is shadow 
and illusion. If the God of the Scriptures, and the objects 
revealed to us in eternity, do indeed exist, well may the 
prophet pronounce the world and its affairs to be less than 
nothing in the comparison. Such objects then, so trans- 
cendently important in themselves, ought to have a corres- 
pondent influence on our character and conduct. 

And what is such an influence ? If that Being who is 
the infinite fountain of all being, Avho made me, and sustains 
me every moment ; who, in all the glory of his infinite per- 
fections, "compasses my path and my lying down," and is 
ever with me ; the Being on whom m}^ happiness wholly 
depends, and from whom my last sentence is to proceed — 
if he has that influence on me which his character and rela- 
tions to me ought to exert, shall I not always be in his fear ; 
shall I not always dwell in love to him ; and rejoice when 
he smiles upon me, and be troubled when he suspends the 
communications of his favor? Towards such a Being, so 
related to me as God is, do I not express a reasonable 
aff"ection when I exclaim, " whom have I in heaven but 
Thee, and there is none upon earth that I desire besides 
Thee ?" If I have any love at all for such a Being, and one 
so related to me as Christ, ought I not to be constrained by 
that love, as Paul was, to live and die to this infinite bene- 
factor — making it my whole duty and happiness to serve 
and enjoy him ? 

And what would be the result upon my heart and life. 



SPIRITUAL RELIGION. 5 

of a reasonable operation of the Gospel upon them ? What 
manner of person should I be in all holy conversation and 
godliness, if my example were a just transcript of the great 
truths of the Gospel ? That religion has been thought by 
some to be the most enlightened and reasonable which has 
least to do with the affections of the heart ; but never was 
there a more manifest mistake. Reasonableness in religion 
is absorption of mind and heart — the Avhole man ruled and 
overborne by the transcendent importance and glory of the 
objects of religion. For a man to pretend to be religious, 
and yet be cold and backward in the concerns of religion, 
and contentedly uncertain whether the infinite objects which 
it discloses may not be adverse to his eternal happiness — 
this is not reason, but the supreme of inconsistency and 
stupidity. 

3. It is spiritual religion alone in which the human mind 
can find sensible and satisfying enjoyment. 

True religious enjoyment consists in a heartfelt com- 
placency in God and divine things. There is indeed a 
feeling of quietude arising from the regular discharge of 
moral duties, and the routine of religious observances, which 
is not spiritual joy or peace, but the fruit of predominant 
self-righteousness and fatal delusion. It imphes a great 
abiding spiritual apathy and thoughtlessness ; for if sensi- 
bility were awake, and thought intelligently exercised on 
the person's habitual coui-se of life, a general worldliness of 
spirit would be seen to pollute and vitiate the services of 
religion ; and then these services, instead of yielding hope 
and comfort, would conspire with other things to work fear, 
and doubt, and misery, in the heart. There is, however, a 
hope of heaven different from that of the self-righteous, 
which springs from reflection on the general tenor of our 
conduct, regarded as an evidence of our spiritual character 
and state. This probably is the hope of the mass of pro- 

VOL. VII. 17* 



6 SPIRITUAL RELIGION. 

fessed Christians. We speak not against it, except by 
lamenting that it should be made so generally the measure 
of spiritual enjoyment. 

What is the amount of positive happiness that a hope of 
this kind yields ? It is not the assurance of hope — the liv- 
ing, refreshing, soul -elevating hope of the first Christians. 
It does not preclude doubt, but only despair. It leaves its 
subjects uncertain of their state. They are not svre of their 
calling and election. The Spirit does not so '' witness v^^ith 
their spirits" but that they remain halting, hesitating, trem- 
bling, in respect to their final sentence ; or if not trembling, 
wondering that they do not, amidst their want of satisfy- 
ing evidence. Such is the general feeling of professed 
Christians, in respect to their character and prospects for 
eternity ; and such, or worse than this, must necessarily be 
the feeling of all who do not cultivate and exercise a spiritual 
religion. 

Nothing but a sensible, living, joyous intercourse with 
God and Christ and the things of the Spirit, can wholly dis- 
place anxiety or even torment from the heart. Without 
this there may be self-complacency, there may be delusion, 
there may be negative hope mingled with fear ; but a soul- 
satisfying evidence of present acceptableness in the sight of 
God, and of ultimate admission into the joys of his kingdom, 
there cannot be, without the pleasurable consciousness of 
the reality and excellency of heavenly things. This con- 
sciousness is a witness that cannot be resisted ; it is itself 
the earnest and foretaste of eternal life, and can no more 
coexist with doubt, than the consciousness of an outward 
world can coexist with hesitation as to the reality of such 
a world. Let a man feel habitual love to God — let him feel 
the peace of God in his heart — let him feel the Spirit of 
Christ living in him — let him feel pleased and delighted with 
the truths and promises of the Gospel, and he will then 



SPIRITUAL RELIGION. 



enjoy evidences of his state, which will displace every doubt, 
and yield him ''glory begun below." 

If, therefore, our readers would have a religion full of 
comforts and pleasures, a religion which will yield them 
solid satisfaction, let them fix their minds, not on that cus- 
tomary rehgion which rests in periodical services and out- 
ward strictness, but on a rehgion of intimate, sensible, living- 
communion and intercourse with God. 

4. This is the only kind of religion which imxejptihly 
advances the soul in the life and likeness of God. 

They who sensibly commune with God, and keep their 
hearts alive to the excellency of divine things, from day to 
day, cannot but become more and more assimilated to those 
glorious objects. These objects, operating upon susceptible 
and affectionate minds, must make upon them their own 
impression and image ; and that image must at length be- 
come too resplendent in the spirit and life, to leave it doubt- 
ful whether there has been progress and growth in grace. 
Men of spiritual religion, therefore, must be advancing, as 
time passes, towards the measure of the stature of a perfect 
Christian. In their views, feelings, and conversation, they 
must be rising nearer and nearer to " the just made perfect." 
The beauty of holiness must be gradually brightening upon 
them, and their affinity and relationship to heaven must be 
becoming increasingly manifest. It must be so, by the very 
laws of such intercourse as they maintain with heavenly 
objects ; and that it is so in fact, no one can be ignorant. 
These men, of whatever country or age, do advance in 
moral worth and loveliness, as they advance in years. Time 
invigorates them in all the principles, and beautifies them 
in all the graces of holiness. Even while " their outward 
man perishes " — while the animal vivacity and vigor of their 
earlier years decay, " they are renewed in the inward man, 
day by day." Was it not thus with all the spiritually-minded. 



S SPIRITUAL RELIGION. 

whose names we have mentioned, or of whom Ave have ever 
read or heard ? 

But the same cannot be truly said of men of other kinds 
of religion. They are, in regard to religion and holiness, 
little better at one time than at another. Take them when 
you will, in the middle of life, or in old age, they are not, 
as far as man can see, much improved in spirit. Their hearts 
do not seem to be much more in heaven ; their affections do 
not appear to be more spiritual ; their devotedness to God 
and his interests does not seem increased. Call to mind 
instances of the customary sort of religion — think of those 
whose religion is of this kind, and consider whether these 
remarks are not exemplified in their conduct. Do they pre- 
sent themselves to our thoughts as Christians advancing in 
the life of God ? Are they evidently holier men now than 
some years ago ? Do we feel more confident of their final 
salvation at this moment than we did when they first pro- 
fessed conversion? Is it more certain now — more certain 
to themselves or to any others— that they will be saved, 
than it was then ? Alas, it is well if the probability of their 
final salvation is not diminished. Professed Christians who 
have not a spiritual and affectionate religion, often degen- 
erate, but seldom improve. 

It is not merely praying, or reading, or hearing, that 
profits the soul, but just feeling towards the objects with 
which the soul converses, or should converse, in prayer, 
reading, and hearing. These exercises are nothing, except 
as sensihiliUj of heart pervades and animates them. It is 
by this sensibility, that God and our own spirits come into 
union and fellowship. It is by this, that our souls mingle 
with the invisible things of the sanctifying Spirit. Two 
lifeless masses are not more inoperative on each other, than 
the unseen world on the human character, if sensibility to- 
wards that world is wanting. We may speak, and read, 



SPIRITUAL RELIGION. g 

and think, but we shall never be made better, if we do not 
feel. 

Now when we remember what the Scriptures teach con- 
cerning the essential progressiveness of tme grace in the 
heart, that it is as the little " leaven which leaveneth the 
whole lump ;" and join with this the fact, that professed 
Christians who are not spiritual in their feelings, do not vis- 
ibly advance in the divine life, can we rest satisfied with a 
religion like theirs ? Is it by any means certain that their 
religion will save the soul ? 

5. Spiritual religion is far more useful than any other. 

Usefulness depends on three things : power, readiness to 
use it, and using it in a proper manner; and no kind of 
religion includes these things in so eminent a degree as the 
spiritual religion of which we now speak. 

There is more power in this than in any other sort of 
religion. Knowledge is power in religious concerns as well 
as every other ; and there is no religion so favorable as this 
to the acquisition of divine knowledge. Men may be led to 
pursue such knowledge by curiosity, ambition, and other 
motives ; but the attainments so made will be superficial, 
w^hen compared with the illumination shed down from the 
Holy Spirit into the mind and heart of the spiritually dis- 
cerning and inquiring Christian. How sure and substantial, 
how deep and enduring, is the knowledge of the spiritually- 
minded, in comparison with theirs who know every thing in 
speculation only ! And ordinarily their knowledge is greater, 
as well as of a better kind. They meditate more on the 
Scriptures, they I'eflect more, they pray more, and the relish 
for divine things which inclines them to do so, makes them 
quick of spiritual understanding, and thus becomes the 
means of a more rapid growth in divine knowledge than 
would otherwise be possible. And as the religion of which 
we treat joins to greater knowledge, greater grace and \\oY\~ 



10 SPIRITUAL RELIGION. 

ness, which hkewise is the highest kind of power, it must, 
in respect to its intrinsic strength and efficiency, be incom- 
parably superior to every other. 

But not only have the men of this religion more strength, 
they are also more disposed to use their strength than others. 
It is a false notion of spiritual- mindedness, that it inclines 
men to a secluded and, inactively contemplative life. It had 
not this tendency in Christ and his apostles, or the prophets ; 
the influence of whose untiring labors is felt over the world 
to this day. Spiritual-mindedness is nothing but a living 
and efficient benevolence, duly awake and active. From 
the secret place of the Most High, in which it dwells, it looks 
abroad upon the sensual world with a self-sacrificing, self- 
devoting compassion, like that of our blessed Saviour ; and 
is ever ready to go forth, in his spirit and strength, to every 
work of faith and love. Customary religion, and even prin- 
ciples of natural goodness, have led men to practise some 
forms of benevolence ; but it is spiritual-mindedness that has 
cared for the bodies and souls of men on the largest scale, 
and has wrought miracles of mercy and love, the record of 
which will endure longer than the sun and the moon. 

But the religion here recommended is preeminent, as 
we have already said, not only in power and in aptitude to 
use that power, but in the excellence of the manner in which 
it uses it. It is both in labors more abundant, and in wis- 
dom and propriety of action more perfect. It does its work 
aptly, skilfully, prudently, with a spirit congenial to its ends ; 
a spirit of meekness and love, and dependence on God. In 
the highest instances and sorts of benevolent labor, men of 
little spirituality would not find themselves in their proper 
element. The unsuitableness of their spirit and manner 
would make their work irksome, and mischief might be the 
result. How much out of place do such men find them- 
selves under remarkable effusions of the Holy Spirit ; when 



SPIRITUAL RELIGION. H 

the accessions to the happiness of the universe are as the 
"clouds, and as when doves fly to their windows." It is 
spirituahty alone that can make men as " polished shafts " 
to the consciences of their fellow-men at such seasons. It 
is only this, indeed, which can insure a right and successful 
way of fulfilling any of the offices of the holiest and noblest 
order of well-doing. 

These things demonstrate the superior usefulness of the 
spiritual kind of religion. Observation also confirms this 
conclusion. One spiritual Christian in a church is often 
more useful than a hundred ordinary professors. How many 
hundred Christians of the common kind would be required 
to make, in point of usefulness, one Baxter, or Edwards, or 
Martyn ! These, it is true, were men of powerful minds, 
but it was their superior spirituality that made their power 
the means of exalting the ages in which they lived. There 
were other professed Christians of minds as powerful, and 
of learning as great as theirs, who did very little towards 
advancing the cause of holiness in the world. If our read- 
ers, then, would pass their days in the most useful manner, 
if they would give the church and their generation the 
greatest reason to bless God for their existence, let their 
religion be of the spiritual kind. 

6. This kind of religion will best sustaiji us under evil. 

He who is accustomed to converse affectionately and 
delightfully with God, to lay open his heart to the influence 
of his " excellent glory " and of eternal objects, will acquire 
a capacity of enduring evil, altogether peculiar to himself. 
His frame of spirit, and the blessedness of that intercourse, 
make him in a manner invulnerable to evil. The day of evil, 
to the man of the world, is insupportable ; because, besides 
his unholy spirit, he has no counterbalancing good in pros- 
pect. Past prosperity cannot be recalled ; the future is 
unknown, and may be worse than the present. The un- 



12 SPIRITUAL RELIGION. 

spiritua!, unexercised professor of religion, too, may not be 
prepared for that day ; the hope which now supports him, 
may fail him then. He will then need other evidences of 
the divine favor than those on which he is accustomed to 
rely ; evidences which may not be afforded him then, as they 
are not sought for now. But the spiritual Christian is not 
thus forlorn in heart Avhen his time of trial comes. The 
feeling towards God expressed by the Psalmist, " Whom 
have I in heaven but thee, and there is none upon earth 
that I desire besides thee," having been habitual with him 
even in the days of prosperity, he will not be desponding 
and heart-smitten now ; for God, his chosen portion, remains 
the same, and his delight in God is the same also ; and 
how small a loss can befall that person, how little can he be 
injured by any calamity in the whole creation, whose hap- 
piness was not in the creation, but in its infinite Author. 

Besides, if there is a man to whom the Father of com- 
passion will show himself especially gracious in the hour of 
need, that man, doubtless, is the spiritually-minded Chris- 
tian. Who is an heir of the promises, if he is not ? Whom, 
if not him, does God love and delight in ? There may be 
room for doubt whether other sorts of professed Christians 
— all other sorts — may not be deceivers or deceived ; but 
who doubts his piety who lives a spiritual and heavenly life ? 
Such persons, then, are assuredly the children of God, whom 
God will not forsake in times of trouble. The night of their 
affliction shall be as the brightest and best of their prosper- 
ous days. They shall glorify God in " passing through the 
fire ;" their end shall be peace, and they shall depart, leav- 
ing mankind impressed with the certainty, that whoever 
may find their hope of ultimate happiness disappointed, 
these men were more fit for heaven than for earth, and have 
passed "through the gates into the city" of God. 

These are some of the considerations which show what 



SPIRITUAL RELIGION. 1^ 

manner of persons we all should be who call ourselves by 
the name of Christ. But there is one objection which we 
fear will Aveigh more with some persons than all these con- 
siderations, however solemn and conclusive : it is this, that 
the religion we recommend is not a ^practicable one. It may- 
do, perhaps, for a very few peculiarly favored and pecuharly 
situated persons ; but it will not answer for the generality 
of mankind ; it is too refined, too elevated, too difficult a 
religion for the mass of the people. 

It is not, we suppose, the import of this objection, that 
this is a difi;erent religion from that which the Scriptures 
teach. The scriptural certificate to this religion we have 
already presented. If there is a religion on earth that cor- 
responds to the very religion of the Bible, it is unquestion- 
ably this. Other religions may not be scriptural ; but no 
one can doubt whether this religion is either scriptural or 
true. The evidences of its genuineness are like the sun's 
meridian beams. The conscience of the world decides that 
it is genuine — the religion of the Bible, the religion of God, 
the religion which God has revealed to man as the sure way 
to heaven. 

But has God bound his creatures to an impracticable 
kind of religion ? Or has he prescribed a religion for all 
the world, which cannot be practised by more than one man 
in a million? It is obvious, that if the objection means 
that the rehgion which, beyond all others, has the best 
claim to be received as the religion of the Scriptures, is 
strictly, and in plain truth, an impracticable religion to the 
bulk of mankind, the objection is profane and reproachful 
to the divine goodness and wisdom, and can hardly find a 
welcome lodgment in any other than an unholy breast. No ! 
The fact that this religion is practicable by one man, proves 
it to be practicable by any and every other man. If any 
one man has ever exemplified this religion, the matter is at 

VOL. VII. \^ 



14 SPIRITUAL RELIGION. 

rest : man may exemplify it ; it is a religion for man, and a 
relio-ion which evei-i/ man is bound to exemplify. 

It should be considered by those who make this objec- 
tion, that they are limiting, not merely the physical capa- 
bility of man, but the resources of the Holy One himself. 
The question as to practicability — the true question is not, 
whether I, in my own strength, shall succeed in practising 
this religion, but whether the Spirit and grace of God can 
enable me to practise it. We are not required to do any 
thing in reliance on our own strength, which truly would 
fail us, even for the exercise of a good thought. On the 
contrary, we are warned against self-confidence, as the cer- 
tain way to be ruined, and are directed to Him for strength 
in whom it hath pleased the Father that "all fulness should 
dwell ;" and certain it is, that destruction awaits us, if we 
do not go to him, and put our exclusive trust in the provis- 
ion made for us in him. The question is this. Is there not 
a sufficiency for us in all the fulness of the Godhead ? Can 
we not do all things included in this religion "through 
Christ strengthening us ?" Is there a man on earth whom 
Christ cannot strengthen to live the life of a spiritual Chris- 
tian ? Let this be demonstrated — let the arm of the Al- 
mighty be shortened — and then may it be affirmed that the 
religion we contend for is not a practicable religion. 

The truth is, that the generality of professed Christians 
never strive for, never aim at this kind of religion. It is 
not in their hearts deliberately to purpose and intend that 
this religion shall be theirs. They content themselves with 
what is customary ; and that, for the most part, is to be as 
religious as expediency or personal convenience may dictate. 
What labors, what pains-taking do they practise to keep 
themselves in the love and fear of God all the day long ? 
What care do they exercise not to grieve the Holy Spirit ? 
What aspirations of soul have they for eminent holiness of 



SPIRITUAL RELIGION. 15 

heart? What forgetting do we see in them of the things 
which are behind ; or what " reaching forth unto those 
which are before ?" What mortifications of the flesh, what 
fastings and watchings unto prayer do they practise ? Who 
then are they that pronounce spiritual Christianity to be 
impracticable, but those who have never put it to the test 
of experiment? It must be confessed, that if professed 
Christians will not try and intend to live spiritually, they 
cannot live so. Paul could not have lived so without de- 
liberate purpose and constant effort. 

Still, some will think that, although spiritual religion is 
the best and safest kind, yet, as the more common sort may 
suffice, they will content themselves with that. But does 
not this savor more of a low and calculating selfishness, than 
of that spirit of regeneracy which instinctively pants after 
entire freedom from sin, and entire conformity to the image 
of God ? Have those persons any true holiness who desire 
no more than may answer to keep them out of hell ? 

But is it certain that the common sort of religion will 
suffice ? Who feels certain of it ? Have the professors of 
that religion an assurance of their salvation ? Their hearts 
answer, No ! Has the world any assurance of their salva- 
tion ? All men stand in doubt — and it is indeed a doubtful 
matter. St. Paul thought he should be a castaway if he 
did not keep his body imder, and bring it into subjection. 
Do these professors of religion practise such discipline on 
themselves, that their souls may not be lost ? Who would 
stand in their souls' stead ? In the infinite concerns of re- 
ligion, no uncertainty, no suspense of mind, ought to be 
tolerated, if it can possibly be prevented ; and prevented it 
may be, by giving due diligence to that end. And what 
is due diligence in this case? Not more than men gener- 
ally employ to secure worldly things. But shall men — shall 
professors of religion use more diligence to secure to them- 



16 SPIRITUAL RELIGION. 

selves things that perish in the using, than to lay hold on 
eternal life ? Are such men Christians ? I tremble at the 
question. 

Thus irresistible and overwhelming, my dear readers, 
are the arguments for spiritual religion. I beseech you, 
venture upon no other. Destitute of this kind of religion, 
there is no man who, for a thousand worlds, would take your 
place at death or judgment. 



Thou only Sovereign of my heart, 

My Refuge, my Almighty Friend ! 
And can my soul from thee depart, 

On whom alone my hopes depend ? 

Whither, ah ! whither shall I go, 

A wretched wanderer from my Lord ? 
Can this dark world of sin and woe 
One glimpse of happiness afford ? 

Eternal life thy words impart, 

On these my fainting spirit lives ; 
Here sweeter comforts cheer my heart 

Than all the round of nature gives. 

Let earth's alluring joys combine, 

While thou art near, in vain they call : 

One smile, one blissful smile of thine. 
My dearest Lord, outweighs them all. 

Thy name my inmost powers adore ; 

Thou art my life, my joy, my care : 
Depart from thee ? 'tis death — 'tis more ! 

'Tis endless ruin — deep despair 1 

Low at thy feet my soul would lie. 

Here safety dwells, and peace divine; 
Still let me live beneath thine eye, 

Steele 



No. 338, 

DISAPPOINTED HOPE. 



Hope is one of the strongest passions of the soul. It 
is the principal incentive to action, and the chief source of 
comfort. Disa2)2'>ointed hcpe is equally fruitful of sorrow. 
When a delightful object, towards which we have long 
looked with anxious expectation, at once disappears, it fills 
the soul Avith ano-uish. He who has felt such ano^uish needs 
not to be reminded of its bitterness, for he can never forget 
it. And who has not felt it? Who has not wept over 
expectations cut off ? How often have we seen the noblest 
powers of nature prostrated ; horror depicted in every fea- 
ture of the once cheerful countenance ; and the man of 
promise driven to all the wildness and frenzy of a maniac, 
by the tortures of disappointment ! Hoav often have we 
seen the impress of the destroyer exhibited in the emaciated 
frame, and in premature death ! 

All these deeply afflictive effects are produced by the 
illusions of worldly objects — objects confessedly trifling, 
compared Avith the realities of eternity. But if the poAvers 
of nature cannot sustain disappointment like this, aa' hat must 
be the anguish of that soul Avhose long-cherished lio^e of 
heaven shall at last prove fallacious ? If no poAvers of de- 
scription, nor gloAA'ing figures can adequately express the 
sorroAv Avhich drinks up the spirit of him Avhose favorite 
worldly expectations are destroyed, aa^Iio shall estimate the 
sorroAv of the man Avhose hope of eternal life has been made 
strong by the indulgence and culture of many years but to 
vanish aAvay under the searching eye of Jehovah in the day 
of judgment ? FoHoav him as he reclines upon the bed of 
death, and parts Avith all that the Avorld holds dear, in ex- 
pectation of a throne of glory. VieAv him approaching the 
throne of God AAdth hands extended to receive his croAvn. 
See him standing, all expectation — Jehovah speaks, " Depart, 

VOL. VII. 18* 



2 DISAPPOINTED HOPE. 

accursed, to everlasting fire" — and all heaven resounds, 
"Amen." Can your imagination conceive the fainting — 
sinking — withering — dying-away of that soul ? This is the 
end of the hypocrite's hope : of his not only whose false 
professions deceived others, but of his who deceived him- 
self. Suffer me, then, to advert to some of the reasons for 
supposing that the number of the self-deceived is fearfully 
great — so great as to render our own case alarming, if our 
renewal by the Holy Ghost, our faith in Christ, and love to 
his cause, are not permanent and decisive. 

The nature of the exercises of many who indulge hope, 
renders it probable that they are deceived. There are views 
and feelings peculiar to all who are the subjects of renew- 
ing grace. To them, all the law of God wears a new aspect. 
The evil of sin, the sinner's danger and desert of punish- 
ment, and his entire dependence on God, are all new subjects. 

These things, indeed, by being often repeated, may be- 
come, in theory, as familiar to the sinner as to the saint. 
And when his attention is arrested by the Spirit of God, 
instead of coming at once to yield himself, a ruined sinner, 
into the hands of the Saviour, he not unfrequently chooses 
to pass throtigh a course of discipline, because he thinks it 
necessary. He looks within himself, with strong desire to 
find those feelings he has so often heard expressed by oth- 
ers. This strong desire will help him to believe that he 
has those feelings, and Satan will tempt him to call them 
genuine ; but unless they are genuine, they are not saving 
grace : they only burden the soul with a weight of guilt 
from which it seeks in some way to be relieved. 

A hope of pardon, perhaps, changes this sorrow to joy. 
But from how many and how various sources may this hope 
spring ? Entire submission of the will, the heart, the soul, 
the body, into the hands of the Saviour, to be moulded and 
used, in time and in eternity, according to his holy pleas- 
ure, with implicit trust in him, will produce the hope, and 
it will result in everlastins^ blessedness : but without genu- 
ine submission and faith, the hope may arise from the fact 
that all previous convictions are found to be such as it is 



DISAPPOINTED HOPE. 3 

believed regenerated souls experience. The natural relief 
and calmness which result from pouring forth a flood of 
tears, may beget it. Satan may suggest that there has been 
distress enough, and it is time to hope. The favorable judg- 
ment of a pious friend, especially of a respected minister, 
may produce it. Sympathy in the rejoicings of another 
who has hope, may create it. It often springs from the 
entire relief which is felt when the convincing Spirit of God 
is grieved aAva3^ False instmctions, that the soul may be 
saved without believing or loving the humbling doctrines of 
the Bible, give it to thousands. Hope arising from all these 
different sources may give great joy, because it is the hope 
which gives the joy ; and love for an imaginary deity may 
be ardent, as well as love for the God of heaven. Add to 
these the strong desire of every wounded spirit for relief, 
and its readiness to receive it from any source, and we must 
tremble with apprehension lest the revelations of the judg- 
ment shall show that multitudes are deceived with fallacious 
hopes. 

Do not the lives of many j'^^'ofessors of religion also 
evince that they are deceived ? " By their fruits ye shall 
know them." Call to mind the great object for which 
Christians are associated in covenant : their bond of union, 
their name, their Master, their business, and their high des- 
tination ; and in view of all these, how should such a com- 
pany appear ? God has told us how they should appear, 
and how they would appear, did they all obey him. Take 
then his word, and from it collect and cluster together the 
peculiar characteristics of the children of God ; the divinely 
declared ''fruits of the S2>it'it,'^ which are '' love, joy, peace, 
long-suft'ering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, tem- 
perance." 

" He that loveth God, loveth his brother also." How 
many come to the table of the Lord, as his children, whose 
distrust and disesteem of real Christians are topics of their 
own familiar, unreserved remark. How many, by compla- 
cently hearing and repeating the faults of their brethren, 
show that the principle of brotherly love is wanting m 



4 DISAPPOLNTED HOPE. 

them. And if they love not their " brother whom they 
have seen," how can they love " God, whom they have not 
seen ?" 

" If ye love me," says the Saviour, " ye will Iceep my 
commandments y Collect the commands given by the Lord 
to govern the lives of his people ; and between them and 
the lives of many Avho call themselves his children, how 
faint is the resemblance. 

" If any man have not the S2nrif of Christ, he is none of 
his." In the character of Christ, benevolence to a dying 
world is a broad, prominent feature. For this world, per- 
ishing in sin, Christ exchanged riches for poverty, heaven 
for earth, bliss for sorrow, songs of angels for revilings, a 
throne of glory for the cross. For the same object, they 
who loved him of old, and had his spirit, suffered cheerfully 
the loss of all things, and endured, Avith patience, all that 
malice could invent and cruelty inflict. The same object is 
still before every Christian, in clearer light, and with increas- 
ing claims. To every one does inspiration say, while it 
presents the wants and woes of his fellow- creatures. Re- 
member the example of the Lord Jesus, who, " though he 
was rich, for your sake became poor, that ye through his 
poverty might be rich." ''Preach the Gospel to every 
creature." " Freely ye have received, freely give." Now, 
if the benevolent spirit of Christ were exemplified by all 
professors of religion, what would be the effect? What 
effects, under his blessing, Avould ten such produce ? How 
would Christ act were he in your place ? 

Thanks to the great Head of the church, that there are 
some whose zeal, and labors, and sacrifices, and influence, 
approve this text of inspiration. The Spirit of Christ in 
their hearts produces an humble imitation of him in their 
lives. But alas, how many, who profess to be Christians, 
neither feel nor sacrifice as much for a dying world as they 
do for toys and temporal pleasures. That object which 
brought the Saviour from heaven, and bore him to the 
cross; for which apostles bled, and for which the whole 
Deity is engaged — the salvation of millions from eternal 



DISAPPOINTED HOPE. 5 

misery — excites in tliem no such deep feeling as the loss of 
some earthly good. 

I know it is objected against making these characteris- 
tics of Scripture the sole test of a good hope, that none 
expect to come up to them ; that few indeed can bear ex- 
amination by their searching light ; that, with such a test, 
few Avill be saved. Christ will doubtless " see of the travail 
of his soul," in vast accessions to his kingdom ; but is there 
not sad reason to apprehend that multitudes who are now 
hoping they are Christians, are deceived ? If they cannot 
bear the tests of sincerity laid down in the Bible, they are 
certainly deceived. This is the only rule. They whom it 
admits to heaven, will be admitted there. They Avhom it 
condemns, Avill be condemned and banished. The farther 
men wander from the Bible, and the less they regard its 
instructions, the more, in their estimation, will be saved. 
They who disregard it entirely, and dare to treat it with 
contempt, profess to believe that all will be saved ; while 
those Avho believe, and act in correspondence with its holy 
requisitions, feel that " strait is the gate, and narrow the 
way that leadeth unto life, and/eii^ there be that find it.'' 

The diversity of sentiments which exists among professors, 
on the essential princi2:)les of the Gospel, shows that many 
are deceived. On subjects not of the first importance, or 
not clearly revealed, it is not surprising that the views of 
men should dififer. But, in the Bible, God has given a sys- 
tem of doctrines which clearly exhibit his character and the 
principles of his government, the character and condition of 
man, and the way of reconciliation and salvation through 
the blood of atonement. This system, in the language of 
the Bible, is called "the faith once delivered to the saints." 
The subjects embraced are all infinitely momentous. If we 
deviate here from the revelation which God has given us, 
we may have another god than the God of heaven, and 
another answer than that he has given, to the inquiry, 
*'What must I do to be saved?" — which will lead us to 
perdition. 

I will not attempt to draw the fine beyond which all 



6 DISAPPOINTED HOPE. 

hope is lost. But I can, without hesitation, say, trifling or 
presumption here is dangerous in the extreme ; and hopes 
founded on premises wholly diverse, cannot all be safe. 
Respecting the perfections and government of God, the 
moral character and condition of man, and the principles of 
faith and practice, there are not merely different sentiments, 
but sentiments utterly contradictory ; and the moral feel- 
ings, and character, and worship of their advocates will be 
equally diverse. 

The pious feelings of one are enkindled by worshipping 
the Lord Jesus Christ as " God over all, and blessed for 
ever." In the view of another, such worship is idolatry. 
One regards himself as an entirely depraved, ruined, help- 
less sinner, and rests his hope of salvation solely on the 
unmerited mercy of God in Jesus Christ, and feels himself 
safe and happy when at the disposal of the Saviour for 
time and eternity, as clay in the hands of the potter. An- 
other discards the idea that he is wholly sinful and morally 
dead, and feels safe only as he relies on something he is 
doing for himself. It is plain that these do not worship the 
same God, nor are they preparing for the same heaven. 
And since there is but one God, one heaven, and one spirit 
that can enter there, it is obvious that multitudes of those 
who hope they are Christians will find that they have been 
self-deceived. 

From the Bible we learn, that our position, though 
alarming, is certainly true. Of the characters there brought 
into view, many who had indulged the hope of being saved, 
were found hypocrites while living. Judas was a prominent 
disciple, and received the confidence of the brethren, but 
his end was destruction. The young man in the Gospel 
was in morals pure, in the observance of many duties strict, 
and in the view of men, a promising candidate for heaven ; 
but he lacked one thing, and that was the ''one thing need- 
ful." xVnanias and Sapphira probably professed to be sub- 
jects of renewing grace. The sorcerer believed and was 
baptized, but had neither lot nor part in Christ. The early 
schisms in the church detected many who were numbered 



BISAPPOIXTED HOPE. 7 

with the saints, but were not of them. Other tryino- cir- 
cumstances, of a different character, might have discovered 
many more. But it is not the plan of infinite wisdom always 
to expose hypocrites in this world. In general, we are 
informed, the wheat and the tares will grow together until 
the harvest. The net encloses of every kind, and the sep- 
aration is deferred until the judgment. Oh, what a time ! 
Then the hopes of all the deceived shall perish. " Many,'' 
saith the Judge, '' will say unto me in that day. Lord, Lord," 
to whom he will say, "I never knew you." Mark this lan- 
guage ! It is not the claim of those who live in this world 
without religion and without hope, but of those who had 
strong expectation. 

Unsanctified ministers of Christ, at whose command 
devils may have been submissive, who have led the devo- 
tions of the sanctuary, and distributed the emblems of a 
Saviour's dying love; whose instructions may have cheered 
the drooping saint, and alarmed the slumbering sinner, and 
pointed him, for safety, to the Lamb of God — false pro- 
fessors, who, from Sabbath to Sabbath trod the courts of 
Jehovah, listened to the instructions of the Saviour, and 
often repeated their vows to be wholly the Lord's — these 
are the men whose doleful case no language can portra3\ 
Their hopes of being saved, strengthened by long indul- 
gence, sustained them until this eventful hour. Those fal- 
lacious hopes perhaps cheered in adversity, supported in 
sickness, gave composure in death, and brought them, con- 
fiding in their good estate, to the judgment-seat. Oh, how 
does the voice, " I never knew you," now surprise their 
souls ! While the horrors of despair are gathering around 
them, they have time only to utter, once more, their una- 
vailing plea, and to hear their irrevocable doom. Now they 
are gone — for ever gone ! Not a few, but many. The 
Saviour says, ** many." 

I have presented some of the considerations which ren- 
der it certain that the number to whom these alarming 
descriptions apply will be great. I have done it to excite, 
if possible, the inquiry, "Am I of this number?" Does 



8 • DISAPPOINTED HOPE. 

your heart throb at the thought, It is possible ? Or are you 
unmoved ? Unmoved, because you do not reflect that your 
" heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wick- 
ed." If this is your state, let me tell you, with the plain- 
ness of one who loves your soul, it is not ot\\j possible, but 
is even more than probable. That calmness, that want of 
sohcitude, on a subject of such interest, especially in one 
who is not alive in the service of Christ and seeking: the 
salvation of men, is a fearful sign that the soul is yet under 
the dominion of moral death. Your worldly interests you 
never leave in jeopardy. Why then hazard your eternal 
all ? To a real Christian the soul appears infinitely more 
precious than the body. 

This subject should impel us all to an immediate trial 
of our hopes. The voice of reason unites with the voice of 
God in the exclamation, "Examine yourselves!" "Prove 
your own selves, whether ye be in the faith !" And the 
groans of the damned urge it too. On the blackest volume 
of the cloud of torment, for ever rolling up from the bot- 
tomless pit, is painted, " disappointed hope." The innu- 
merable company beneath, who weep, and wail, and gnaw 
their tongues for pain, continually groan out, "deceived — 
DECEIVED." They hoped to live in heaven, and lulled to 
rest by that hope, they slept away probation, and awoke to 
an eternity of despair. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



No. S39. 

ALARM TO DISTILLERS 



BY REV. BAXTER DICKINSON, D. D, 



The art of turning the products of the earth into a fiery 
spirit was discovered by an Arab, about nine hundred years 
ago. The effects of this abuse of nature's gifts were soon 
viewed with alarm. Efforts Avere made, even by a heathen 
people, to arrest the evil ; and it shows the mighty agency 
and cunning of Satan, that Christian nations should ever 
have been induced to adopt and encourage this deadliest of 
man's inventions. In the guilt of encouraging the destruc- 
tive art, our own free country has largely participated. In 
the year 1815, as appears from well- authenticated statis- 
tics, our number of distilleries had risen to nearly forti/ 
thousand ; and, until within a few years past, the progress 
of intemperance threatened all that was fair and glorious in 
our prospects: The reformation recently commenced is one 
of the grandest movements of our world ; and to secure its 
speedy triumph, the concurrence of distillers is obviously 
indispensable. They must cease to provide the destroying 
element. This they are lu'ged to do by the following con- 
siderations : 

1. The business of distilling confers no henefits on your 
fellow-men. Ardent spirit is not needed as an article of 
living. In the first ages of the world, when human life 
was protracted to hundreds of years, it was unknown. By 
the first settlers of this country it was not used. It was 
scarcely used for a whole century. And those temperate 
generations were remarkably robust, cheerful, and enter- 
prising. To this we may add, that several hundred thou- 
sand persons, accustomed to use it, have given it up en- 
tirely within a few years past ; and their united testimony 
is, that they havo made no sacnficc either of health, or 

VOL. VII. 19 



2 ALARM TO DISTILLERS. 

strength, or any real comfort. Indeed few, if any, except 
such as have the intemperate appetite, will now seriously 
contend that distilled liquor is necessary or useful. The 
little that may perhaps be desirable as medicine, might be 
made by the apothecary, or the physician. 

The talents God has given you might be applied to ad- 
vance the welfare of your fellow-men. It is your duty — 
your highest honor — thus to apply them. And on the bed 
of deati, in near prospect of the judgment, it will surely 
be a melancholy reflection that, as regards the happiness 
of mankind, your life has been an utter blank. 

2. The business of distilling is not only useless, but is 
the occasion of many and great evils. Recent examination 
has developed a number of appalling facts, which few, if 
any, pretend to question. It is admitted that the use of 
ardent spirit has been a tax on the population of our coun- 
tiy, of from fifty to a hundred millions of dollars annually. 
It is admitted that three-fourths of all the crimes of the 
land result from the use of intoxicating liquor. It is ad- 
mitted that at least three-fourths of all the sufferings of 
poverty arise from the same source. It is admitted that 
upwards of thirty thousand of our citizens have annually 
descended to the drunkard's grave. It is admitted, by 
those who believe the Bible, that drunkards shall not 
inherit eternal life, but must have their part in the lake that 
hurneth with fire and brimstone. In a word, it is admitted 
that health, fortune, social happiness, intellect, conscience, 
heaven, are all swept away by the tide of intemperance. 

And now, what you are specially bound to ponder is, 
that this burning tide, with all its desolations, flows from 
those very fountains you have opened — the boiling flood 
can be perpetuated only by those fires which your hands 
kindle, and which it is your daily task to tend. 

The position you occupy, then, is one of most fearful 
responsibility. You are directly and peculiarly accessary 
to a degree of guilt and misery which none but the infinite 
mind can comprehend. I hear for you a loud remonstrance 
from every court of justice, from every prison of collected 



ALARM TO DISTILLERS. 3 

crime, from every chamber of debasement, and from every 
graveyard, as well as from the dark world of despair. I 
hear the cries of unnumbered mothers, and widoAvs, and 
orphans, all with one voice imploring you to extinguish 
those fires, to dry up those fountains, and to abandon an 
occupation pregnant with infamy, and death, and perdition. 

3. The business of distilling destroys, to a great extent, 
the bounties of Providence. Many of the substances con- 
verted into ardent spirit are indispensable to the comfort 
of man — some of them the very staff of life. But the work 
of distillation not only destroys them as articles of food, but 
actually converts them to poison. An incalculable amount 
of grain, and tens of thousands of hogsheads of sugar and 
molasses, besides enormous quantities of other useful arti- 
cles, are every year thus wickedly perverted in this Christian 
land. Who does not know the odious fact that, in many 
places, the distiller?/ has regulated the price of bread? 
Who does not know that this engine of iniquity has at times 
so consumed the products of industry as to make it difficult 
for the poorer classes to get a supply? *'The poor we 
have always with us ;" and cries of the suffering are often 
heard from other lands. Such facts, it would seem, mio-ht 
reach the conscience of all who are wantonly destroying 
Heaven's gifts. Can you, for a little selfish gain, persist in 
converting the bread of multitudes into pestilential fire ? 
How utterly unlike the example of Him who, while feeding 
thousands by miracle, could still say, *' Gather up the frag- 
ments which remain, that nothing be lost." 

4. By continuing this destructive business, you greatly 
offend the virtuous and respectahle part of the community. 
The temperance reformation has been commenced and pros- 
ecuted by enlightened men. It is not the enterprise of any 
political party or religious sect. It has the general support 
of ministers and Christians of different denommations, of 
statesmen, judges, lawyers, physicians, and hundreds of 
thousands in the walks of private life. They regard the 
enterprise as one, on the success of which hang the liberties 
of our republic and the happiness of future millions. 



4 ALARM TO DISTILLERS. 

You cannot be surprised, then, that they look with pain 
on operations directly adapted to defeat their plans, and 
perpetuate the dread evil they deplore. You cannot sup- 
pose that their eye will light on i\\Q fountains of this mighty 
evil but with inexpressible grief, disgust, and indignation. 
And if you have the common magnanimity of our nature, 
you will surely cease to outrage the feelings of the virtuous 
throughout the nation. 

5. You pursue a pernicious calling, in opposition to 
great light. The time was when good men extensively en- 
gaged in the distilUng business, and when few seemed to 
be aware of its fearfully mischievous tendency. The mat- 
ter had not been a subject of solemn and extensive discus- 
sion. The sin was one of comparative ignorance. But cir- 
cumstances have changed. Inquiry has thrown upon the 
community a flood of light. The evil of intemperance has 
been exhibited in its complicated horrors. Ardent spirit 
has been found to be not only useless, but fearfully destruc- 
tive ; so that the guilt of manufacturing it is now enor- 
mously aggravated. 

Good men Avere once engaged in importing slaves. 
They suspected not the iniquity of the business ; and an 
apology can be oftered for them, on the ground of igno- 
rance. But their trade has now come to be regarded by the 
civilized world in the same odious light as piracy and mur- 
der. The man who engages in it is stamped with everlast- 
ing infamy. And the reason is, that, like the distiller, he 
now sins amid that fulness of light which an age of philan- 
thropy has poured around him. 

6. Perseverance in the business of distilhng 7nust neces- 
sarily he at the expense of your own reputation and that of 
your posterity. You are creating and sending out the ma- 
terials of discord, crime, poverty, disease, and intellectual 
and moral degradation. You are contributing to perpetuate 
one of the sorest scourges of our world. And the scourge 
can never be removed till those deadly fires you have kin- 
dled are all put out. That public sentiment which is worthy 
of respect calls upon you to extinguish them. And the 



ALARM TO DISTILLERS. 5 

note of remonstrance will wax louder and louder till every 
smoking distillery in the land is demolished. A free and 
enlightened people cannot quietly look on while an enemy 
is working his engines and forging the instruments of 
national bondage and death. 

Without a prophet's vision, I foresee the day when the 
manufacture of intoxicating liquor, for common distribution, 
will be classed with the arts of counterfeiting and forgery, 
and the maintenance of houses for midnight revelry and 
corruption. Like these, the business will become a work 
only of darkness, and be prosecuted only by the outlaw. 

Weigh well, then, the bearing of your destructive em- 
ployment on personal and family character. The employ- 
ment may secure for you a little gain, and perhaps wealth. 
But, in a day of increasing light and purity, you can never 
rid treasures, thus acquired, of a stigma, which will render 
him miserably poor who holds them. Upon the dwelling 
you occupy, vipon the fields you enclose, upon the spot that 
entombs your ashes, there will be fixed an indescribable 
gloom and odiousness, to oftend the eye and sicken the heart 
of a virtuous community, till your memory shall perish. 
Quit, then, this vile business, and spare your name, spare 
your family, spare your children's children such insupport- 
able shame and reproach. 

7. By prosecuting this business in a day of light and 
reform, you i:>eculiarly offend God, and jeopard your immor- 
tal interests. In "times of ignorance," God, in a sense, 
" winked at " error. But let the error be persisted in under 
a full blaze of light, and it must be the occasion of a dread 
retribution from his throne. 

The circumstances of the distiller are now entirely 
changed. His sin was once a sin of ignorance, but is such 
no longer. He knows he is taking bread from the hungry, 
and perverting the bounties of Providence. He knows he 
is undermining the very pillars of our republic. He knows 
that, by distilling, he confers no benefits upon mankind. 
He knows he is directly accessary to the temporal wretch- 
edness and the endless wailing of multitudes. And knowing 

VOL. VII. 19* 



6 ALARM TO DISTILLERS. 

these things, and keeping on his way, he accumulates guilt 
which the Holy One cannot overlook. If endless exclusion 
from heaven be the drunkard's doom, can he be held guilt- 
less who deliberately prepared for him, and perhaps placed 
in his hand, the cup of death and damnation ? This is not 
the decision either of Scripture or of common sense. Wil- 
fully persevering to furnish the sure means of death, you 
carry to the judgment the murderer's character as clearly 
as the midnight assassin. 

And now, what is the apology for prosecuting a busi- 
ness so manifestly offensive to God, and ruinous to yourself, 
as well as others ? Do you say, It is necessarij as a means 
of sup2^ort ? But whence have you derived authority to 
procure a living at the sacrifice of conscience, character, and 
the dearest interests of others ? And is the maintenance 
of a public nuisance really necessary to your support ? In 
a country like this, the plea of necessity for crime is glar- 
ingly impious. Many and varied departments of honest 
and honorable industry are before you, all promising a gen- 
erous reward ; and, neglecting them for a wicked . and mis- 
chievous occupation, you must bear the odium of a most 
sordid avarice, or implacable malignity. 

You virtually, too, impeach the character of God. You 
proclaim that he has made your comfort, and even subsist- 
ence, to depend upon the practice of iniquity. It is an 
imputation he must repel with abhorrence and wrath. Nor 
is it sustained by the conscience, reason, or experience of 
any man. 

But possibly you urge, in self-justification, Others will 
manufacture spirit, if I do not. But remember, the guilt 
of one is no excuse for another. " Every one of us shall 
give account of himself to God." If others pursue a busi- 
ness at the sacrifice of character and of heaven, it becomes 
you to avoid their crime, that you may escape their doom. 

It is not certain, however, that others will prosecute 
the destructive business, if you abandon it. Men of fore- 
thought will not now embark their silver and gold on a pes- 
tilential stream, soon to be dried up under that blaze of light 



ALARM TO DISTILLERS. 7 

and heat which a merciful God has enkindled. They will 
not deem it either -wise or safe to kindle imholy and deadly 
fires where the pure river of the water of life is so soon to 
overflow. In the eye of thousands, the distillery on your 
premises adds nothing to their value. Indeed, should they 
purchase those premises, the filthy establishment would be 
demolished as the first effort of improvement. And every 
month and hour is detracting from its value, and blacken- 
ing the curse that rests upon it. 

Let the thousands now concerned in distilling at once 
put out their fires, and the act would cause one general 
burst of joy through the nation ; and any eflfoi-t to rekindle 
them would excite an equally general burst of indignation 
and abhorrence. None but a monster of depravity would 
ever make the attempt. 

But again, perhaps you say, No one is ohliged to use the 
spirit that is made. But remember, that you make it only 
to be used. You make it with the desire, with the hope, 
with the expectation that it will be used. You know it has 
been used by thousands — by millions — and has strewed the 
land with desolation, and peopled hell with its victims ; and 
you cannot but acknowledge that you would at once cease 
to make the liquor, did you not hope it would continue to he 
used. Indeed, you must see i\\?ii just in propo7-tion to your 
success will be the amount of mischief done to your fellow- 
men. 

It seems hardly needful to say that the foregoing con- 
siderations are all strictly applicable to such as furnish 
THE MATERIALS for the distiller. Were these withheld, his 
degrading occupation would of course cease. By suffering, 
then, the fruits of your industry to pass into his hands, you 
perpetuate his work of death. You share all his guilt, and 
shame, and curse. And remember, too, that the bushel of 
grain, the barrel of cider, the hogshead of molasses, for 
which you thus gain a pittance, may be returned from the 
fiery process only to hasten the infamy and endless ruin of 
a beloved son, or brother, or friend. 

Nor is the crime of the retailer of ardent spirit essen- 



ALARM TO DISTILLERS. 



tially different. He takes the poison from the distiller, and 
insidiously deals it out to his fellow-men. It is truly stir- 
ring to one's indignation to notice his variety of artifice for 
rendering it enticing. His occupation is one which the civil 
authorities have, in some places, with a noble consistency, 
ceased to tolerate ; and one which must soon be put down 
by the loud voice of public sentiment. 

Indeed, the retailer, the distiller, and he who furnishes 
the materials, must be looked upon as forming a triple 
LEAGUE, dangerous alike to private and social happiness, 
and to the very liberties of the nation. And an awakened 
people cannot rest till the deadly compact is sundered. 
Why not, then, anticipate a little the verdict and the ven- 
geance of a rising tone of public sentiment, and at once pro- 
claim the unholy alliance dissolved ? Why not anticipate 
the verdict of an infinitely higher tribunal — why not believe 
God's threatening, and escape the eternal tempest that low- 
ers for him ivho lyutteth the cup to his 7ieighhors lips ? Why 
not cooperate promptly in a pubhc reform that is regarded 
with intense interest in heaven, on earth, and in hell ? 

review, as men of reason, and conscience, and immor- 
tality, this whole business. And if you have no ambition 
to benefit your felloiv- men — if you can consent to ruin many 
for both worlds — if you can persist in wasting and pervert- 
ing the bounties of a kind Providence — if you can outrage 
the feelings of the most enlightened and virtuous — if you 
can pursue a work of darkness amid noonday light — if you 
can sacrifice a good name, and entail odium on all you 
leave — and if you can deliberately offend God, and jeopard 
your immortal interests for paltry gain, then go on — go on 
a little longer ; but, '' my soul, come not thou into 

THEIR SECRET ; UNTO THEIR ASSEMBLY, MINE HONOR, BE NOT 
THOU UNITED." 

Note. — A premium, offered by a friend of temperance, was 
awarded to the author of this Tract. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



IVo. 340. 

PUTNAM AND THE WOLF; 



OR, 



THE MONSTER DESTROYED. 

lN address originally delivered at pomfret, conn., 
BY REV. JOHN MARSH 




I REMEMBER, wheii a boy, reading a story which chilled 
my blood in my veins ; but which taught me never to sit 
down and try to bear an evil which might, by bold and 
persevering effort, be remedied. The story was this. A. 
certain district of country was infested by a wild beast. 
The nuisance was intolerable. The inhabitants rallied, and 
hunted it day and night, until they drove it into a deep 
den. There, with dogs, guns, straw, fire, and sulpher, they 
attacked the common enemy ; but all in vain. The hounds 
came back badly wounded, and refused to return. The 
smoke of blazing straw had no effect ; nor had the fumes 
of burnt brimstone. The ferocious animal would not quit 
its retirement. And now the shadows of evening gathered 



2 PUTNAM AND THE WOLF ; OR, 

around them. The clock struck nine, and ten. And should 
they lose their prey ? They must, unless some one should 
be so daring as to descend into this den of monsters and 
destroy the enemy. One man offered to go ; but his neigh- 
bors remonstrated against the perilous enterprise. Perilous 
indeed it was ; but live so they could not, and stripping off 
his coat and waistcoat and having a long rope fastened 
round his legs, by which he might be pulled back, he en- 
tered with a flaming torch in his hand, head foremost. The 
most terrifying darkness appeared in front of the dim circle 
afforded by his light. It was still as the house of death. 
But proceeding onwards with unparalleled courage, he dis- 
covered the glaring eyeballs of the ferocious beast, who 
was sitting at the extremity of the cavern. For a moment 
he retreated ; but again descended with his musket. The 
beast howled, rolled its eyes, snapped its teeth, and threat- 
ened him with instant death, when he levelled, fired, and 
brought it forth dead, to the view of his tremblinof and 
exulting neighbors. 

Little did I then think that I should one day see the 
country rallied on the same spot, to hunt a more terrible 
monster, whose destruction will require Putnam courage. 

The old enemy, gentlemen, which your fathers hunted 
about these hills and dales, was visible to the eye, and could 
be reached with powder and ball ; but the enemy whom 
you assault is, hke the foe of human bliss which entered 
the garden of Eden, invisible, and therefore not to be de- 
scribed, and not to be destroyed by force of arms. That 
enemy did, indeed, to effect his purpose, assume the form 
of a serpent ; and ours has been said, as belonging to the 
same family, to have occasionally the same aspect. A gen- 
tleman in Missouri has recently described a dreadful worm 
which, he says, infests that country. " It is of a dead lead 
color, and generally lives near a spring, and bites the unfor- 
tunate people who are in the habit of going there to drink. 



THE MONSTER DESTROYED. 3 

The symptoms of its bite are terrible. Tlie eyes of the pa- 
tient become red and fiery ; the tongue swells to an immod- 
erate size and obstructs utterance, and delirium of the most 
horrid character ensues. The name of this reptile is, ' the 
WORM OF THE STILL.' " . I suspect it is oue of the same fam- 
ily which is infesting the peaceful villages of New England, 
and whose ravages have alarmed the country, and caused 
you this day to leave your homes and seek its destruction. 
I would not here inquire minutely into its history. It is 
said to have originated in Arabia, the countiy of the false 
prophet. The aborigines of our forests never knew it. 
They could proudly tread on the rattlesnake and copper- 
head, but never fell before the worm of the still. woful 
day when it found its way to our coasts ; when here it first 
generated its offspring. 

Yet there are men who think we belie it ; who say that 
we are needlessly alarmed ; that we are hunting a friend ; 
that we are driving one from our country without whose aid 
we can never check the ravages of disease, or perform our 
labor, or have any hilarity. It is not, say they, a poisonous 
foe. It is a pleasant cordial ; a cheerful restorative ; the 
first friend of the infant; the support of the enfeebled 
mother ; a sweet luxury, given by the parent to the child ; 
the universal token of kindness, friendship, and hospitality. 
It adorns the sideboards and tables of the rich, and enlivens 
the social circles of the poor ; goes with the laborer as his 
most cheering companion ; accompanies the mariner in his 
long and dreary voyage ; enlivens the carpenter, the mason, 
the blacksmith, the joiner, as they ply their trade ; follows 
the merchant to his counter, the physician to his infected 
rooms, the lawyer to his office, and the divine to his study, 
cheeriiio- all and comfortinii: all. It is the life of our traininfrs, . 
and town-meetings, and elections, and bees, and raisings, and 
harvests, and sleighing-parties. It is the best domestic med- 
icine, good for a cold and a cough, for pain in the stomach, 



4 PUTNAM Ax\D 'J'HE WOLF ; OR, 

and weakness in the limbs, loss of appetite and rheumatism 
and is a great support in old age. It makes a market for 
our rye and apples; sustains 100,000 families who are dis- 
tilling and vending, and pours annually millions of dollars 
into our national treasury. Had the wolf possessed the 
cunning of the fox, she would have told Putnam as smooth 
a story as this. But it would have made no difference. 
The old man's cornfields were fattened by the blood of his 
sheep, and he would give no quarter. And the blood of our 
countrymen has been poured out at the shrine of the demon 
Intemperance, and we must give none. Talk we of alcohol 
as a friend ! As well may a mother praise the crocodile 
which has devoured her offspring. 

Look, my countrymen, at the ravages of intemperance. 
Fix your eye on its waste of property. 

At the lowest calculation, it has annually despoiled us 
of a hundred millions of dollars — of thirty millions for an 
article which is nothing worth, and seventy or eighty mill- 
ions more to compensate for the mischiefs that article has 
done — money enough to accomplish all that the warmest 
patriot could wish for his country, and to fill, in a short 
period, the world with Bibles and a preached Gospel. 
What farmer would not be roused, should a wild beast come 
once a year into his borders and destroy the best cow in 
his farmyard ? But 6i cents a day for ardent spirit wastes 
$22 81 cents a year, and in 40 years nearly |1,000, which 
is a thousand times as much as scores of drunkards are 
worth at their burial. 

See the pauperism it has produced. We have sung of 
our goodly heritage, and foreign nations have disgorged 
their exuberant population that they might freely subsist in 
this land of plenty. But in this granary of the world are 
everywhere seen houses without windows, fields without 
tillage, barns without roofs, children without clothino-, and 
penitentiaries and almshouses filled to overflowing ; and a 



THE MONSTER DESTROYED. 5 

traveller might write — beggars made here. We are groan- 
ing under our pauperism, and talking of taxes, and hard 
times, and no trade ; but intemperance has stalked through 
our land and devoured our substance. It has entered the 
houses of our unsuspecting inhabitants as a friend, and 
taken the food from their tables, and the clothing from their 
beds, and the fuel from their fire, and turned their lands 
over to others, and drove them from their dwellings to sub- 
sist on beggary and crime, or drag out a miserable existence 
in penitentiaries and almshouses. Two-thirds, or 150,000 
of the wretched tenants of these abodes of poverty in the 
United States, Avere reduced by intemperance. So them- 
selves confess. It was rum, brandy, and whiskey, that did 
it. And the Prison Discipline report tells of 50,000 cases 
of imprisonment for debt annually in the United States, in 
consequence of the use of ardent spirits. 0, its sweeps of 
property can never be known. 

Look at the crime it has occasioned. 

It is said that there is a spring in China which makes 
every man that drinks it a villain. Eastern tales are found- 
ed on some plain matter of fact. This spring may be some 
distillery or dram-shop ; for this is the natural effect of 
alcohol. It breaks down the conscience, quickens the cir- 
culation, increases the courage, makes man flout at law and 
right, and hurries him to the perpetration of every abomi- 
nation and crime. Excite a man by this fluid, and he is bad 
enough for any thing. He can lie, and steal, and fight, and 
swear, and plunge the dagger into the bosom of his nearest 
friend. No vice is too filthy, no crime too tragical for the 
drunkard. The records of our courts tell of acts committed 
under the influence of rum, which curdle the blood in our 
veins. Husbands butcher their Avives ; children slaughter 
their parents. Far the greater part of the atrocities com- 
mitted in our land, proceed from its maddening power. " I 
declare in this public manner, and with the most solemn 
VOL. vir. 20 



^ PUTNAM AND THE WOLF ; OR, 

regard to truth," said Judge Rush, some years ago in a 
charge to a grand jury, " that I do not recollect an instance 
since my being concerned in the administration of justice, of 
a single person being put on his trial for manslaughter which 
did not orio'inate in drunkenness ; and but few instances of 
trial for murder where the crime did not spring from the 
same unhappy cause." Of 895 complaints presented to 
the police court in Boston in one year, 400 were under the 
statute ao-ainst common drunkards. Of 1,061 cases of 
criminal prosecution in a court in North Carolina, more than 
800 proceeded from intemperance. Five thousand com- 
plaints are made yearly in New York to the city police of 
outrages committed by intoxicated persons ; and the late 
city attorney reports, that of twenty-two cases of murder 
which it had been his duty to examine, every one of them 
had been committed in consequence of intemperate drink- 
ing. " Nine-tenths of all the prisoners under my care," says 
Captain Pillsbury, warden of our own state prison, "are 
decidedly intemperate men, and were brought to their pres- 
ent condition, directly or indirectly, through intoxicating 
liquor. Many have confessed to me with tears, that they 
never felt tempted to the commission of crime, thus punish- 
able, but when under the influence of strong drink." And 
the Prison Discipline report states, "that of 125,000 crim- 
inals committed to our prisons in a single year, 93,T50 were 
excited to their commission of crime by spirituous liquors. 

Look at its destruction of intellect. 

It reduces man to a beast, to a fool, to a devil. The 
excessive drinker first becomes stupid, then idiotic, then a 
maniac. Men of the finest geniuses, most acute minds, and 
profound, learning, have dwindled under the touch of this 
withering demon to the merest insignificance, and been 
hooted by boys for their silly speeches and silly actions, or 
chained in a madhouse as unsafe in society. Of eighty- 
seven admitted into the New York hospital in one year, the 



THE MONSTER DESTROYED. 7 

insanity of twenty-seven was occasioned by ardent spirit ; 
and the physicians of the Pennsylvania hospital report, that 
one-third of the insane of that institution were ruined by 
intemperance. What if one-sixth of our maniacs were de- 
prived of their reason by tlie bite of the dogs, the friendly 
inmates of our houses, or by some vegetable common on. 
our table ; Avho would harbor the dangerous animal, or 
taste the poisonous vegetable ? But, one-third of our ma- 
niacs are deranged by alcohol. Indeed, every drunkard is 
in a temporary delirium ; and no man who takes even a little 
into his system, possesses that sound judgment, or is capa- 
ble of that patient investigation or intellectual effort, which 
would be his without it. Just in proportion as man comes 
under its influence, he approximates to idiotism or mad- 
ness. 

Look at its w^astc of health and life. 

The worm of the still, says the Missouri gentleman, 
never touches the brute creation, but as if the most venom- 
ous of all beings, it seizes the noblest prey. It bites man. 
And where it once leaves its subtle poison, farewell to 
health — farewell to long life. The door is open, and in 
rush dyspepsia, jaundice, dropsy, gout, obstructions of the 
liver, epilepsy — the deadliest plagues let loose on fallen 
man — all terminating in delirium tremens or mania a potu, 
a prelude to the eternal buffe tings of foul spirits in the 
world of despair. One out of every forty, or three hun- 
dred thousand of our population, have taken up their abode 
in the lazar-house of drunkenness, and thirty thousand die 
annually the death of the drunkard. These sweeps of 
death mock all the ravages of war, famine, pestilence, and 
shipwreck. The yellow-fever in Philadelphia, in 1793, felt 
to be one of the greatest curses of heaven, destroyed but 
four thousand. In our last war the sword devoured but 
five hundred a year: intemperance destroys two hundred 
a week. Shipwrecks destroy suddenly, and the country 



8 PUTNAM AND THE WOLF ; OR, 

groans when forty or fifty liuman beings are suddenly en- 
gulfed in the ocean ; but more than half of all the sudden 
deaths occur in fits of intoxication. It needed not a fable 
to award the prize of greatest ingenuity in malice and mur- 
der to the demon who invented brandy, over the demon 
who invented war. 

Look at its murder of souls. 

Not satisfied with filling jails, and hospitals, and grave- 
yards, it must people hell. Every moral and religious prin- 
ciple is dissipated before it. The heart becomes, under its 
influence, harder than the nether mill-stone. It has gone 
into the pulpit and made a Judas of the minister of Christ. 
It has insinuated itself into the church, and bred putrefac- 
tion and death among the holy. It has entered the anxious 
room in seasons of revival, and quenched conviction in the 
breast of the distressed sinner, or sent him, exhilarated 
with a false hope, to profess religion, and be a curse to the 
church. It has accompanied men, Sabbath after Sabbath, 
to the house of God, and made them insensible as blocks 
of marble to all the thunders of Sinai and sweet strains of 
Zion. It has led to lying, profane swearing, Sabbath- 
breaking, tale-bearing, contention ; and raised up an army, 
I may almost say, in every village, who wish for no Sab- 
bath, and no Bible, and no Saviour, and who cry out with 
stammering tongues, *' Away with him, crucify him." It 
has, without doubt, been the most potent of all the emis- 
saries of Satan, to obliterate the fear of the Lord, turn men 
away from the Sabbath and the sanctuary, steel them 
against the word, the providence, and grace of God, stu- 
pefy the conscience, bring into action every dark and vile 
passion, and fill up with immortal souls the dark caverns of 
eternal night. Let a man, day by day, hover around a 
dram-shop, and sip and sip at his bottle, and the devil is 
sure of him. No ministers, no Sabbaths, no prayers, no 
tears from broken-hearted and bleedinir relatives, can avail 



THE iMONSTER DESTROYED. 9 

to save him. He holds that man by a chain which nothing 
but Omnipotence can break. 

And look, too, at its waste of human happiness. 

Yes, look — look for yourselves. The woes of drunken- 
ness mock all description. Some tell of the happiness of 
drinking". 0, if there is a wretched being on earth, it is the 
drunkard. His property wasted, his character gone, his 
body loathsome, his passions wild, his appetite craving the 
poison that kills him, his hopes of immortality blasted for 
ever ; it is all 

" Me miserable, 
Which way I fly is hell, myself am hell." 

And his family. I can never look at it but with feelings of 
deepest anguish. 

" Domestic happiness, thou only bliss 
Of paradise that hast escaped the fall," 

thou art shipwrecked here. Sorrow, woe, wounds, poverty, 
babblings, and contention, have entered in and dwell here. 
Yet we have 300,000 such families in the land ; and if each 
family consists of four individuals, more than a million per- 
sons are here made wretched by this curse of curses. 

And his death. 0, to die in our houses, amid our 
friends, and Avith the consolations of religion, strips not 
death of its character as the king of terrors. But to die 
as the drunkard dies, an outcast from society, in some 
hovel or almshouse, on a bed of straw, or in some ditch, 
or pond, or frozen in a storm ; to die of the hrain-fever, 
conscience upbraiding, hell opening, and foul spirits pass- 
ing quick before his vision to seize him before his time — 
this, this is woe; this is the triumph of sin and Satan. 
Yet, in the last ten years, 300,000 have died in our land, 
the death of the drunkard ; rushing, where ? — " Drunkards 
shall not inherit the kingdom of God" — rushing into hell, 
where their worm dieth not, and their fire can never be 

VOL. VII. 20* 



10 PUTNAM AND THE WOLF ; OR, 

quenched. And if the demon is suffered to continue his 
ravages, 300,000 more of our existing population will, in 
the same way, rush into eternal burnings. 

And his funeral. Have you ever been at a drunkard's 
funeral ? I do not ask, did you look at his corpse ? It 
Avas cadaverous before he died. But did you look at his 
father as he bent over the grave and exclaimed in agony, 
" 0, my son, my son, would to God I had died for thee, my 
son." Did you look at his widow, pale with grief, and at 
his ragged, hunger-bitten children at her side, and see them 
turn away to share the world's cold pity, or, perhaps, re- 
jected and forlorn, follow the same path to death and hell ? 

Such are the ravages of the demon we hunt. Its foot- 
steps are marked with blood. We glory in our liberties, 
and every fourth of July our bells ring a merry peal, as if 
we were the happiest people on earth. But 0, our coun- 
try, our country ! She has a worm at her vitals, making 
fast a wreck of her physical energies, her intellect, and her 
moral principle ; augmenting her pauperism and her crime ; 
nullifying her elections — for a drunkard is not fit for an 
elector — and preparing her for subjection to the most merci- 
less tyranny that ever scourged any nation under heaven. 
We talk of our religion, and weep over the delusions of the 
false prophet and the horrors of Juggernaut ; but a more 
deceitful prophet is in our churches than Mahomet, and a 
more bloody idol than Juggernaut rolls through our land, 
crushina^ beneath its wheels our sons and our dauo-hters. 
Woe, woe, woe to Zion. Satan is in Eden. And if no 
check is put to the ravages of the demon, our benevolent 
institutions must die, our sanctuaries be forsaken, our beau- 
tiful fields be wastes, and the church will read the history 
of her offspring in the third of Romans : Their throat is 
an open sepulchre ; their 7nouth is full of cursing aiid bit- 
terness ; their feet are sivift to shed blood — all, blasting our 
bright hope of the speedy approach of millennial glory. 



THE MONSTER DESTROYED. H 

There is cause, then, for the general alarm that has been 
excited in our country ; reason for this extensive and power- 
ful combination to hunt and destroy the monster. Much, 
by divine help, has been done. He has been routed and 
brought to the light of day ; the mischief he has done has 
been exposed ; his apologists have been confronted ; he is 
driven into his den, and now how can he be destroyed ? 
That he must be destroyed there can be no question. The 
man who does not wish for the suppression of intemperance 
must have the heart of a fiend ; especially, if he wishes to 
grow rich on the miseries of his fellow-men. And he must 
be destroyed now. It is now or never. Men may say 
enough has been done, and talk about his being held where 
he is. He cannot be held there. He has the cunning of a 
serpent, and he w^ill escape through some fissure in the 
rock. He is now in our power. The temperance move- 
ment, which has on' it the impress of the finger of God, has 
brought him within our grasp ; and if we let him escape, 
the curse of curses will be entailed upon our children. 
How then can he be destroyed ? I answer, and thousands 
answer, by starvation. No weapon can reach him so long 
as you feed him. But who has a heart so traitorous to 
humanity as to feed this monster ? Every man who now, 
in the face of the light that is shed upon this subject, dis- 
tils, or vends, or uses intoxicating liquor ; every distillery, 
and every dram-shop in the land, nourishes this foe to 
human peace ; every man who takes the alcoholic poison into 
his system, or imparts it to others, except as he takes and 
imparts other poisons to check disease, gives life to the 
beast. I need not stop 'to prove it. It is manifest to the 
child. Let every distillery in the land cease, and every 
dram-shop be closed, and total abstinence become the prin- 
ciple of every individual, and the demon will be dead ; yes, 
take away from him his wine, his brandy, and his whiskey, 
and he will perish for ever. But here is the very brunt of 



12 PUTNAM AND THE WOLF ; OR, 

the battle. We have hunted the monster through the land, 
and driven him into his den ; and now we must stand at the 
very mouth of the cavern, and contend with our fellow-men 
and fellow- sufferers — yes, and fellow- Christians too — who 
are either afraid to attack the monster, or are determined 
he shall live. 

And first, we are met by a body of men who tell us that 
alcohol is useful. And what if it is ? What if every benefit 
that the moderate and immoderate drinker can think of, 
flows from it ? What will this do to compensate for its 
giant evils which are desolating our land ? Is man so bent 
on self-gratification that he will have every sweet, though 
it be mingled with poison ? Will he exercise no reason ; 
make no discrimination between unmixed good and good 
followed by desolating woes ? Tea was good. But, said 
our fathers, if with it we must have all the horrors of Brit- 
ish tyranny, away with it from our dwellings. My coun- 
trymen, '* the voice of your fathers' blood cries to you from 
the ground, 'My sons, scorn to be slaves !' " Away with 
the shameful plea that you cannot do without an article 
which subjects you to an evil ten thousand times worse 
than all the horrors of British tyranny. You kindle the 
fires of liberty by pointing to the woes of the prison-ship, 
and the bones of your countrymen whitening on the shores 
of New Jersey. 0, crouch not to a tyrant who binds a 
million in his chains, and demands thirty thousand annually 
for his victims. I blush for the imbecility of the man who 
must have an article on his farm Avhich eats up his substance 
and his vitals, and may turn his son into an idiot and a brute. 
Better have no farm. Better go at once, with his family, 
into the poor-house, and be supported by public charity. 

Next comes canting Hypocrisy, with his Bible in his 
hand, telling us that " every creature of God is good, and 
nothing to be refused, if it be received Avith thanksgiving." 
What does he mean ; that ardent spirit is the gift of God ? 



THE MONSTER DESTROYED. 13 

Pray, in what stream of his bounty, from -what mountain 
and hill does it flow down to man ? 0, it is in the rye, and 
the apple, and the sugar, and the Mussulman has taught 
us Christians how to distil it. And so the poet tells us 
Satan taught his legions how to make gunpoAvder. "There 
are," said he, 

" Deep under ground, materials dark and crude, 
Of spirituous and fiery spume. 
These, in their dark nativity, the deep 
Shall yield us, pregnant with internal flame ; 
Which, into hollow engines, long and round, 
Thick ramm'd, at th' other bore with touch of fire 
Dilated and infuriate, shall send forth 
From far, with thundering noise, among our foes 
Such implements of mischief as shall dash 
To pieces and o'erwhelm whatever stands 
Adverse. 

Th' invention all admired ; up they turn'd 
Wide the celestial soil ; sulphurous and nitrous foam 
They found, they mingled ; and, with subtle art 
Concocted and adjusted, they reduced 
To blackest grain." 

And now, to cany out the argument, gunpowder, and 
guns, and swords, are the gift of God, and men must needs 
use them, and kill one another as fast as possible. 

But nothing, it is plead, was made in vain. Spirit is 
good for something, and to banish it from use, and promise 
that we will "touch not, taste not, handle not," is con- 
tempt of the w^orks of God. I should like to have seen 
what the Pomfret hero would have done with a man who 
should have stood before him, and said. Don't you destroy 
that wolf; God made it, and it may be good for some- 
thing. 

Next, we are checked in our principle of starvation by 
a set of thoughtless youth and presumptuous men, who say 



14 PUTNAM AND THE WOLF ; OR, 

there is no danger from the demon if we keep him low. 
All his ravages have been occasioned by his being full fed. 
Let him sip but little, feed him prudently, and he will do 
no harm. 

'' Good," says the demon, growling in his den ; " that 
is all I want. The doctrine of prudent use is the basis of 
my kingdom. Temperate drinking has made all the dinink- 
ards in the land, and keep it up in all your towns and vil- 
lages, and I shall be satisfied." 

O the delusion ! Prudent use ! What is the testimony 
of every chemist and physician in the land ? Alcohol is a 
poison. 

"Not a bloodvessel," says Dr. Mussey, "however 
minute, not a thread of nerve in the whole animal machine 
escapes its influence. It disturbs tlie functions of life ; it 
increases for a time the action of the living organs, but less- 
ens the power of that action ; hence the deep depression 
and collapse which follow preternatural excitement. By 
habitual use it renders the living fibre less and less suscep- 
tible to the healthy operation of unstimulating food and 
drink, its exciting influences soon become incorporated with 
all the living actions of the body, and the diurnal sensations 
of hunger, thirst, and exhaustion, are strongly associated 
with the recollection of its exhilarating effects, and thus 
bring along with them the resistless desire for its repeti- 
tion." More than fifty per cent, of common spirits are alco- 
hol, this deadly substance, holding rank with henbane, 
hemlock, prussic acid, foxglove, poison sumach. Nausea, 
vertigo, vomiting, exhilaration of spirits for a time, and 
subsequent stupor, and even total insensibility and death, 
are their accompaniments. Broussais remarks, " A single 
portion of ardent spirit taken into the stomach produces a 
temporary phlogosis." Now, I submit it to every consid- 
erate man, whether there can be any prudent use of a poi- 
son, a single portion of which produces the same disease of 



THE MONSTER DESTROYED. 15 

which the drunkard dies, and a disease which brinofs alone: 
"with it a resistless desire for a repetition of the draught. 

Thoughtless, self-sufficient men say, they can control 
this desire, can govern their appetite, can enjoy the exhila- 
ration of strong drink, and yet be temperate. Let them 
look at the poor inebriate wallowing in his pollution. He 
once stood just where they stand ; boasted just as they 
boast; had as fair character, and as kind friends, and as 
precious a soul and bright hopes of heaven as they have. 
Let them tell why he does not control his appetite. Per- 
haps they say, he is a fool. Ah, what made him a fool ? 
Or, his reason is gone. And what took away his reason ? 
Or, he has lost his character. And what took away his 
character? Or, his sense of shame is departed. And 
w^hat took away his sense of shame ? Ah, here is the 
dreadful secret, which it may be well for all, boasting of 
their power of self-control, to know. At the very moment 
when the man thinks he stands firm, and reason can control 
appetite, his moral sense departs, his shame is gone, and 
he turns, through the power of his morning bitters and oft- 
repeated drams, into the brute and the maniac. With the 
moral sensibilities laid waste, reason here has only the 
power of the helmsman before the whirlwind. " Twenty 
years ago," says Nott, " a respectable householder came in 
the morning with a glass of bitters in his hand, and offered 
it to his guest, saying, ' Take it ; it Avill do you good. I 
have taken it for some years, and I think it does me good ; 
and I never want any more.' Time passed on, and pres- 
ently the bottle of bitters in the closet was exchanged for 
the barrel of whiskey in the cellar ; and the poor man Avas 
often at the tap for just as much as would do him good, 
and he never wanted any more. Time passed on, and a. 
hogshead was needful ; and its contents were exhausted 
with the same intent, and the same self-deccivings. At 
lenp:th the home of his family was relinquished to his cred- 



1 6 PUTNAM AND THE WOLF ; OR, 

itors ; his polluted body was lodged in a jail, from which 
he presently issued a drunken vagabond, and wandered a 
wretched being, until he found a drunkard's grave." It is 
but the history of thousands. No laws of nature act with 
more uniformity than the laws of intemperance. No inocu- 
hition sends with more certainty disease into the system than 
drinking strong drink. Hundreds have made an agonizing 
struggle to escape from perdition. They have seen their 
sin and danger ; they have walked the streets in agony ; they 
have gone to their homes and looked at their wives and 
children, and into the pit of despair. But their feverish 
stomach has cried. Give, give ! and they have drank often 
and often, with the solemn promise that it should be the last 
time ; until they have exclaimed, with a once interesting 
youth, " I know I am a ruined man, but I cannot stop." 

Some, indeed, through much care and strength of con- 
stitution, may escape ; but the plague, if it appear not in 
their skin and their bone, may break out in their children. 
"■ I will drink some," said an aged deacon of a church of 
Christ, " for it does me good." God was merciful, though 
he tempted Heaven, and it is said that he died with his 
character untarnished ; but six loathsome sons drank up his 
substance, with the leprosy in their foreheads. What a 
meeting must there be between that deacon and his sons on 
the judgment- day ! The doctrine of prudent use must be 
abandoned. It can have no standard. Every man thinks 
he drinks prudently, whether he takes one glass a day or 
five, and is just as much excited and just as liable to drunk- 
enness as all drunkards Avere when they stood Avhere he 
now stands. He only that entirely abstains can properly be 
called a temperate man. And he only is clear from the 
guilt of spreading intemperance througli the land. Mode- 
rate drinkers are the life of this bloody system which is 
wringing with agony the hearts of thousands. Did all at 
once drink to excess, alcohol would be viewed with dread. 



THE MONSTER DESTROYED. 17 

as is laudanum and arsenic. Better that all who tasted it 
were at once made drunkards ; then, drunkards would be as 
scarce as suicides. But men now sip moderately and are 
reputable ; they think themselves safe, but one in every 
forty sinks to drunkenness ; and thus, among twelve millions 
of people, drinking moderately, the demon has perpetually 
300,000 victims. And for these, while all are thus paying 
homage to the bottle, w^iat is the hope ? The lost wretch 
may wake from liis brutality and crime, and resolve that he 
will reform, and his broken-hearted wife may hope that the 
storms of life are over, and his babes may smile at his 
strange kindness and care ; but the universal presence of 
the intoxicating fluid, and the example of the wise and the 
good around him, w^ill thw^art all his resolutions, and he will 
go back, like the dog to his vomit. All the drunkenness, 
then, that shall pollute our land, must be traced to mode- 
rate drinkers. They feed the monster. They keep in coun- 
tenance the distillery and the dram-shop, and every drunk- 
ard that reels in the streets. Moderate use is to this kingdom 
of blood what the thousand rivulets and streams are to the 
mighty river. O how have we been deceived. We long 
searched for the poison that was destroying our life. The 
drop said, It is not in me — I am but a drop, and can do no 
harm. The little stream said, It is not me. Am I not a 
little one, and can do no harm ? And the demon Intem- 
perance, as she prowled around us, said. Let my drops and 
my rivulets alone ; they can do no harm. Go stop, if you 
can, the mighty river. We believed her. But the river 
baffled our efforts. Its torrents rolled on, and we contented 
ourselves with snatching here and there a youth from de- 
struction. But w^e now see that the poison is in the drops 
and the rivulets ; and that without these, that river of death, 
which is sweeping the young and the old into the ocean ot 
despair, would cease for ever. And we call upon these 
self-styled prudent, temperate drinkers, to pause and look 
vol,. VII. '-21 



18 PUTNAM AND THE WOLF; OR, 

at the tremendous responsibility and guilt of entailing drunk- 
enness upon their country for ever. 

But we are met with more serious opposers to the plan 
of starvation. They are, they say, the bone and muscle of 
the country. They come from the farms, the shipyards, 
and workshops, and say. If you starve out this monster, ive 
shall be starved out, for we cannot do our work and get a 
living without rum or whiskey ; though, according to their 
own confession, they have found it hard living with. Their 
rum and their whiskey have cost them double and treble 
their other taxes — their sons have become vile, their work- 
men turbulent, their tools have been broken, and many of 
themselves are already sinking under its enfeebling influ- 
ence. 

With such it is hard to reason. They have tried but 
one side, and are incapable of judging the case. We can 
only tell them there is no danger. Not a particle of nour- 
ishment does spirit afford them. The hard drinker totters 
as he walks. The poor inebriate can neither stand nor go. 
We can point them to hundreds and thousands of their own 
profession, honest men, who solemnly testify that they are 
healthier and stronger, can perform more labor, and endure 
the frosts of winter and heat of summer better without it 
than with it. We can ask them whether they fully beheve 
that the God of heaven, a God of love, has put them under 
the dire necessity of using daily an article which, with such 
awful certainty, makes drunkards ; and whether, when he 
has said. Woe to him that giveth his neighbor drink, he has 
said, too, you must all drink it ; it is necessary for you. But 
such never can be taught and convinced but by experience ; 
and to such we would say. Try it for yourselves. 

Our next opposition, gentlemen, is from a band clothed 
in white — professors of our holy religion — enlisted soldiers 
of Christ, engaged to every work of benevolence : they 
come — tell it not in Gath ! — to intercede for the monster, 



THE MONSTER DESTROYED. 19 

and oppose our enterprise. Is not this, you ask, a libel ? 
Alas, too often, reports of temperance societies tell of oppo- 
sition from professors of religion. 

What can be the meaning of this ? Has not intemper- 
ance been the greatest curse to the church? Has it not 
caused her to bleed at every pore? And have not her 
members cried to heaven that the destroyer might perish ? 
And now, when God has put into their hands a weapon by 
which it may at once be exterminated, will they hesitate ? 
Will they hang back ? Will they say, we cannot make the 
sacrifice ? Avhere lies this astonishing witchery ? What 
has put the church to sleep ? What has made her angry at 
the call to come out from the embrace of her deadliest foe ? 
O what has he, who drinks the cup of the Lord, to do with 
the cup of devils ? Does he need it to make him serious or 
prayerful, or to enable him better to understand the word 
of God, or bear reproach for Christ, or discharge his Chris- 
tian duties, or open his heart in charity ? Does it not palsy 
the heart, quench the spirit of prayer, seal up every holy 
and benevolent feeling, and turn many from Christ, that 
they walk no more with him ? What can a professor mean 
who refuses to enhst under the temperance banner ? Does 
he really want the monster to live ? Does he pray that he 
may ? Will he stand aloof from this conflict ? Is he de- 
termined to deny himself in nothing ? To care not if others 
perish ? To risk shipwreck of character and conscience, 
and to keep in countenance every drunkard and dram-shop 
around him ? Is it nothing to him that intemperance shall 
spread like a malaria, to every city, and village, and neigh- 
borhood, until the land shall send up nothing but the vapors 
of a moral putrefaction, and none shall here pray, or preach, 
or seek God ; but ignorance, and crime, and suffering, with- 
ering comfort and hope, shall go hand in hand, until we can 
be purified only by a rain of fire and brimstone from heaven "^ 
for shame, for shame ! Let the Christian, pleading for a 



20 PUTNAM AND THE WOLF ; OR, 

little intoxicating liquor, be alarmed ; let liim escape as for 
liis life from the kingdom of darkness. " Come out of her, 
my people, that ye be not partakers of her sins, and that 
ye receive not of her plagues." 

Next to diseased appetite, the love of money is the most 
potent principle in the breast of depraved man. Thirty-six 
thousand distillers, and eighty-five thousand venders of 
ardent spirits in our land, form a tremendous host in oppo- 
sition to our enterprise. They live everywhere. 

" Pass where we may, through city or through town 
Village or hamlet, of this merry land, 
* * * * every twentieth pace 
Conducts the unguarded nose to such a whifF 
Of stale debauch, forth issuing from the sties 
That law has licensed, as makes Temperance reel." 

They live wherever the demon has his haunts. Or rather, 
he lives where they live ; for they feed him. And while he 
fattens on the article they make and vend, they receive in 
return the silver and gold of his deluded victims. Now, 
how can this formidable host, who cry out. Our craft is in 
danger, by this demon we have our Avealth — how can they 
be met ? Can they be met at all ? Yes, they can — for 
they are men ; generally reputable men ; in cases not a few, 
pious men ; and all have consciences, and may be made to 
feel their accountableness to God. Now let them be told 
that they keep this monster alive ; that to their distilleries 
and shops may be traced all the poverty, and contention, 
and tears, and blood, which drunkenness produces ; that 
their occupation is to poison the young and the old ; and by 
dealhig out gallons, and quarts, and pints, and gills, they 
fill up, with drunkards, the highway to hell ; that they do 
all this to get the money of the wretched victims ; that the 
tears of broken-hearted widows and orphan children are 
entering into the ears of the Lord of Sabaoth, and that nei- 
ther God nor their consciences will hold them guiltless in 



THE MONSTER DESTROYED. 21 

this thing, and sure I am that they will be filled with hor- 
ror at their OAvn doings, and quit their business. 

If there are some so hardened and dead to all the best 
interests of men as to persist, against the light of the age, 
in the business of making drunkards, let public indignation 
burn against them till they can no longer stand before its 
fires. Let a distillery be viewed as a man would view the 
inquisition, where the racks, the tortures, and the fires, con- 
sume the innocent. Let the dram-shop be ranked, as Judge 
Dagget says it should be, with the haunts of counterfeiters, 
the depositories of stolen goods, and the retreats of thieves ; 
and over its door let it be written, " The way to hell, lead- 
ing down to the chambers of death." The time has been 
when a vender could deal out, day by day, the liquid poison 
to the tottering drunkard, attend his funeral, help lay him 
in the grave ; then go home, post up his books, turn the 
widow and her babes into the streets to perish with hunger 
or be supported by charity, and yet sustain a good reputa- 
tion. But in future, Avhenever the community shall stand 
around the grave of a drunkard, let the eyes of all be fixed 
on the inhuman vender ; let him be called to take one sol- 
emn look into the grave of the slain and the pit of the 
damned ; and if he will return to the ruin of his fellow-men, 
let the voice of his brother's blood cry to him from the 
ground, and his punishment be greater than he can bear. 

Perhaps some reputable vender is offended at the free- 
dom of these remarks. I would ask him if he has never 
been offended at the smell of that filthy drunkard Avho has 
hmig around him ? I would ask him if his conscience has 
never stung him as ragged children have come to him in 
bleak November to have him fill their father's bottle ? I 
would ask him if his soul has never shook within him as he 
passed, in the darkness of night, the graveyard where three, 
four, or five of his neighbors lie without even a tombstone, 
who found their death at his counter ? His traffic may be 
VOL. VH, 21* 



22 PUTNAM AND THE WOLF ; OR, 

profitable, but let liim beware lest while he feeds the mon- 
ster it turns and devours him and his offspring. At least, 
let him solemnly inquire, before God, whether he can be a 
virtuous man and knowingly promote vice ; or an honest 
man, and rob his neighbor by selling an article which pro- 
motes sorrow, disease, and death. 

I congratulate you, gentlemen, on the stand which you 
have taken against the monster Intemperance, and on the 
success with which your efforts have been crowned. You 
are doing a work for this country for which future genera- 
tions will call you blessed. Let your watchword be onward, 
extermination, death ; and victory will be yours. Our weap- 
ons are simple, but mighty. what a discovery is this 
principle of entire abstinence ! Let the name of its author 
be embalmed with that of Luther, and Howard, and Raikes, 
and Wilberforce. What has it not already done for our suf- 
fering country ! What a change meets the eye as it wanders 
from Georo-ia to Maine — from the Atlantic to our western 
borders. Here we see farms tilled ; there buildings raised ; 
here churches built ; there vessels reared, launched, and 
navigated too ; manufactories conducted ; fisheries carried 
on ; prisons governed ; commercial business transacted ; 
journeys performed ; physicians visiting their patients ; leg- 
islators enacting laws ; lawyers pleading for justice ; judges 
deciding the fate of men, and ministers preaching the ever- 
lasting Gospel — without intoxicating liquor. Here we see 
importers vmAvilling to risk the importation of spirituous 
liquor into the land ; there distillers abandoning their distil- 
leries as curses to themselves and the community ; and mer- 
chants, not a few, expelling the poison from their stores, 
and some pouring it upon the ground, choosing that the 
earth should swallow it rather than man. And all this in 
the short space of three years. What has done it ? Entire 
abstinence. What then will not be done, when, instead of 
60,000 who now avow it, 500,000 shall give their pledge 



THE MOXS'J'ER DESTROYED. 23 

that they Avill abandon a kingdom founded in blood. And 
can they not be found in this hind of humane men, and pa- 
triots, and Christians ? Yes, they can. Onward then, gen- 
tlemen. Listen not to those who say you are carrying mat- 
ters too far. So said the wolf. She loved life, and she 
loved blood. But did she ever regard the cry of the sheep ? 
The monster Intemperance has been glutted with blood ; 
and never spared, and had no pity. He still howls for 
blood ; and many plead that he may have some. But de- 
pend upon it, their pleas are only those of debased appetite 
and avarice. Rally the community against them. Enlighten 
the public mind. Collect facts. Let your towns and vil- 
lao-es be searched with candles. Go into the dens. Bringr 
the monster and his suffering victims to light, and the pub- 
lic indignation will no longer slumber. 

Of one thing I will remind you. The demon Avill daunt 
the timid. It is noisy and fiery. Attack it, and it will roll 
its eyes, and snap its teeth, and threaten vengeance. At- 
tempt to starve it, and it will rave like the famished tiger. 
Thousands have fed it against their consciences, rather than 
meet its fury. But fear not. The use of ardent spirit 
meets no support in the Bible or the conscience, and the 
traffic meets none. Be firm. Be decided. Be courageous. 
Connect your cause with heaven. It is the cause of God ; 
the cause for which Immanuel died. 0, as men and pa- 
triots, banish intemperance, with all its sources, from your 
country and the land. As ministers and Christians, banish 
it for ever from the churches of the living God. Let the 
demon no longer hide in the sanctuary. Let entire ab- 
stinence be written in capitals over the door of every 
church. Expel for ever the accursed enemy, that the Spirit 
of the Lord may descend and bless us with life and peace. 

To those not connected with the Temperance Associa- 
tion, I would say, Look at this enterprise. It injures no 
man, wrongs no man, defrauds no man, has no sectarian or 



24 PUTNAM AND THE WOLF. 

political object in view ; it would only relieve our infant 
nation of a burden and a curse which is fast placing it side 
by side with buried Sodom. As wise men, judge ye of its 
importance and merits. As men hastening to judgment, 
act in relation to it. A solemn responsibility rests upon 
you. Shall the land now be rid of intemperance ? You 
reply, Yes — and talk of wholesome laws, and high licenses, 
and prudent use. Three green withes on Samson ! Entire 
abstinence is the only weapon which will destroy the mon- 
ster. " But we can practise that without giving our pledge." 
True. But until you give it, he will count you his friend 
and haunt your dwelling. In this cause there is no neu- 
trality. Have you supported this cruel kingdom of dark- 
ness and death ? Will you do it longer ? Shall conscience 
be riven by the act ? Shall the land that bears you be 
cursed ; the young around you be sporting with hell ; the 
awakened sinner be drowning conviction at his bottle ; the 
once fair communicant be disgraced ; the once happy con- 
gregation be rent ; its ministry be driven from the altar, and 
its sanctuary crumble to ruin ? Shall our benevolent insti- 
tutions fail, and our liberties be sacrificed ? Shall God be 
grieved ? Shall wailings from the bottomless pit hereafter 
reproach and agonize you as the cause of the ruin, perhaps 
of your children and children's children ? Methinks one 
common pulsation beats in your hearts, and you answer, 
No — no. Methinks I see you rising in the majesty of 
freemen and Christians, in behalf of an injured country and 
church, and destroying at once the demon among you. 



ON THE 

HOPE OF FUTURE REPENTANCE. 

FROM THE LETTER OF A FATHER TO HIS SOx\. 

I INFER from your last, that, like most persons who 
have been religiously educated, you are not living alto- 
gether without hope ; but the hope you express, instead 
of comforting me on your behalf, has led to the most pain- 
ful apprehensions. For, what is your hope ? Not that 
you are at present interested in the promises of life, but 
that hereafter you may he. Or, to adopt your own phrase, 
*' I hope my heart is not fatall}^ hardened, but that I shall 
yet come to repentance and the enjoyment of religion." 

You doubtless intended I should infer from this, as I 
do, that you believe religion an important realit}^, and your- 
self a sinner in need of its consolations ; for if you did not 
believe as much as this, j^ou would not Aope to 2>ossess re- 
ligion, or think of delaying it; you would banish it from 
your thoughts at once and for ever. But, my dear child, 
if religion is an important reality, then why delay it at all ? 
For what can you be justified in delaying it ? As has been 
well observed, "If religion is anything, it is every thing." 
If it is of any importance, it is of the utmost importance. 
If it will ever deserve your most earnest attention, does it 
not deserve it now ? 

Besides, it should be remembered that your conclusion 
to delay religion is a deliberate conclusion to persist in sin. 
If you purpose to delay religion another year, you thereby 
purpose, through another whole year, to be a rebel ; you 
purpose to offend the God who made you, to resist the 
hand that supports you, to abuse mercies, pervert blessings, 
to tread under foot the Son of God, and grieve the Holy 
Spirit, and violate all the obligations under which Heaven 
has laid you, another year. Will your heart suffer you to 
form such a purpose ? And yet you cannot conclude to 
delay religion without forming it. 

But what is it that encourages you to form the mad con- . 
elusion to delay ? Is it not this : you believe that God is 
good, and Avill hear luith you if you do offend him ? If you 
did not believe this, you would not dare to offend. If you 
believed he would come out in wrath against you, and strike 



2 ON THE HOPE OF FUTURE REPENTANCE. 

you dead for your next offence, you would tremble at the 
tliought of ever sinning again. But is it right to take en- 
couragement in sin from the consideration that God is good ? 
Can you consent to harden yourself in opposition to your 
heavenly Father by the very consideration which, more than 
any other, should melt you into gratitude and love ? 

But to come more directly to your ho2:)e, in the terms in 
which you have expressed it : " You hope your heart is not 
fatally hardened, but that you shall yet come to repentance." 
Now, what is it, my child, to come to repentance ? What 
is it to repent of a course of sin ? It is doubtless to be 
heartily sorry for it. It is to hate and detest it. It is to 
mourn, and lament, and be in bitterness on account of it. 
Your hope, therefore, comes to this : you are doing that 
now, and choose to do it, which you hojje you shall be 
heartily sorry for at some future day ! You are loving, 
pursuing, and persisting in a course, for which you hope 
you shall mourn, and lament, and be bathed in tears of sor- 
row, before you die ! Just look at this, my son, and tell 
me if a hope so strange, so preposterous, was ever deliber- 
ately indulged in regard to any other subject. What would 
you think of a person who was pursuing a particular kind 
of business, and for the present was resolved to pursue it, 
which he really hoped he should be sorry and distressed for 
before he left the world ? Or, what would you think of the 
traveller who was pursuing a path, and for the present was 
determined to pursue it, which he knew was leading him 
directly out of his way, and every foot of which he hoped he 
should at some future time be obliged to retrace with peni- 
tence and tears ? Would you not think such a traveller 
beside himself ? And yet, what is your hope more con- 
sistent than his ? 

But on what, my dear child, does your hope, your ex- 
pectation of future repentance rest ? What reason have 
3^ou to expect that you shall ever be more ready, or more 
willing to repent of your sins, than you are now ? Do you 
flatter yourself that you shall hereafter be favored with 
more powerful means than you have at present ? But what 
more powerful means can you have ? God will give you 
no other Bible than that he has given you. He will give 
you no more awakening truths, no more exciting motives, 
no better Gospel than he has sent, and you statedly hear. 



ON THE HOPE OF FUTURE REPENTANCE. 3 

And he has himself said, that if you will not be persuaded 
by this Gospel, you would not be persuaded though one 
rose from the dead. Do you imagine, then, that your heart 
will be more tender, and that the same means will have a 
greater effect upon you at some future day ? This seems 
to be implied in the hope you express, that " your heart is 
not yet fatally hardened." But if not fatally hardened, do 
you not know, my son, that under abused privileges and 
resisted means, your heart is continually hardening ? Do 
you not feel that your sensibilities are less easily excited, 
and that your soul is becoming stupid and callous ? And 
have you not reason to know, persisting in your present 
course, that the same means which now affect you and 
make you solemn, will shortly have this power over you no 
more? You cannot expect that while you delay and do 
nothing but sin, the hold of sin upon your affections, the 
power of it in your heart, will be gradually weakened ; for 
the opposite of this must be the inevitable result. Your 
habits of sin are constantly confirming ; the avenues to 
temptation are opening wider and wider ; Satan is confining 
you more closely in his snare ; and the foundation of the 
separating wall between you and your God is becoming 
broader and deeper, and more firmly laid. As the number 
of your sins, too, increases, this wall of separation is grow- 
ing higher as well as broader ; your debt to justice is swell- 
ing to a more enormous amount ; and the work of repent- 
ance is becoming every day and hour more painful and dif- 
ficult. Your last hope, then, must be that God hereafter 
Avill be more propitious than he is now, and will grant jow 
the more effectual strivings of his Spirit. It is my earnest 
praj'er that this may be the case ; but still, on Avhat grounds 
is such an interposition of mercy to be reasonably expected ? 
When you are continually offending God by your sins ; when 
you are wearying out his patience by long and criminal de- 
lays ; if he will not be favorable now, how can you expect 
he will be more propitious at a later day ? 

But, in conclusion, my dear child — for, full as my heart 
is, I must conclude — wlio has j^i'omised you a later day ? 
Where is your assurance of any future time ? If you say, 
" I will delay religion till another Sabbath," recollect, that 
the sun of another Sabbath you may never see. It will 
rise and shine with its accustomed splendor, but it may 



4 Oi\ THE HOPE OF FUTURE REPENTANCE. 

shine upon the clods that cover your mouldering remains. 
We little think, amid the noise and bustle of the world, of 
the shortness and uncertainty of this our last trial. The 
young, especially, are prone to flatter themselves v\^ith the 
promise of long life, and to forget the near but dreaded foot- 
steps of death. I readily admit that you have as much 
assurance of living many years as any of your companions ; 
but this, you are av/are, is no assurance at all. The shuttle 
may have already passed the loom, and woven your wind- 
ing-sheet. The stuff may now be prepared and seasoned 
which is to construct your coffin. The feet of those who 
have entombed others may be almost at the door to carry 
your breathless body out. Is this, then, a place to trifle and 
delay ? Is it safe, under such circumstances, to put off" at 
all the work of preparation for a dying hour ? No, my 
dear child, whom I love as myself, and whose salvation is 
dear to me as my own, you know it cannot be safe. And 
why, then, will you do it ? Why have you done it ? And 
why do you still think of continuing your delay ? But I 
can proceed no farther. 

Remember, that if you slight this warning, you can 
never have a more solemn one from me ; and should I not 
live to meet you again, or to afford you another, you will 
receive this as mij last. I have long hoped, through the 
mercy of God in Christ, to stand hereafter on the right hand 
of my Judge. I charge you, my son, to meet me there. 
Let no worldly pursuit or concern be suffered to take off 
your thoughts from this. Seek, first of all, the kingdom 
of God and his righteousness. Seek these things now — 
yes, NOW, in this accepted time and day of salvation — now, 
whilst the enemy of your soul is fearing lest you should 
escape his snare — now, whilst your best earthly friend is 
pleading with you and for you, with earnestness and hope — ■ 
NOW, whilst Heaven is waiting to rejoice over your repent- 
ance and conversion. At this present moment, so critical, so 
eventful, awake at once from the slumber of your sin ; break 
the chain that has so long bound you ; and in the strength 
of Christ — the proffered strength of the omnipotent Spirit — • 
give away your heart and soul to God. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



ARGUMENT AGAINST THE MANUFACTURE 

OF 

ARDEIT SPIRITS: 

ADDRESSED TO 

THE DISTILLER AND THE FURNISHER OF THE MATERIALS 



BY REV. EDWARD HITCHCOCK, D. D. 



A SENSE of duty impels me to address this portion of 
my fellow- citizens, in the hope that I may persuade them 
to abandon the employment by which they furnish ardent 
spirits to the community. I am not about to charge them 
as the intentional authors of all the evils our country suf- 
fers from intemperance, nor wholly to clear myself from 
the guilt ; for some of these men are my neighbors and 
personal friends, and I know them to be convinced that the 
excessive use of ardent spirits is a frightful evil among us, 
and that they would cheerfully join in some measures for 
its suppression, though not yet satisfied that those now in 
train are judicious or necessary. Not long ago, I was in 
essentially the same state of mind, and encouraged these 
men in the manufacture of spirits, by the purchase and use 
of them. Now I would fain believe that the minds of all 
these individuals are open to conviction, and that the same 
arguments which satisfied me that I was wrong, will satisfy 
them. 

In the first place, therefore, I would reason with these 
men as a chemical philosopher. The distiller is a prac- 
tical chemist ; and although he may never have studied 



2 ARGUMENT AGAINST ARDENT SPIRITS. 

chemistry in the schools, he cannot but have often thought 
of the theory of his operations. And the farmer who re- 
ceives at the distillery, in return for his rye, cider, or molas- 
ses, a liquid powerful substance, obtained from them, will 
very naturally inquire by what strange transformation these 
articles have been made to yield something apparently so 
very different from their nature. Probably, some of them 
may have concluded that the spirits exist naturally in the 
grain, and apples, and sugar-cane, just as flour, and cider, 
and molasses do. And hence they have inferred, first, that 
God inten^d the spirits for the use of man, as much as 
the flour, the apples, or the molasses ; and that it is just as 
proper to separate the spirits by distillation, as it is to 
obtain the flour by grinding and bolting. Secondly, that 
there can be nothing injurious or poisonous in the spirits, 
iany more than in the apples, the grain, or the molasses ; 
the only injury, in either case, resulting from using too 
much. Thirdly, that spirits must be nourishing to the body, 
constituting, as they seem to do, the very essence of the 
fruit, grain, and molasses, which are confessedly nutritious. 
Now, these inferences are all rendered null and void by 
the fact that ardent spirits, or alcohol, which is their es- 
sence, do not exist naturally in apples, grain, or sugar- 
cane. No one ever perceived the odor or the taste of 
alcohol in apples, or the cider obtained from them, while it 
was new and sweet ; but after it had fermented for a time, 
by a due degree of warmth, the SAveetness in a measure 
disappeared, and alcohol was found to be present. And just 
so in obtaining spirits from rye, or any other substance ; a 
sweet liquor is at first obtained, Avhich, by fermentation, is 
found to be partly converted into alcohol. This sweetness 
results from the sugar which the substances naturally con- 
tain, or which is formed by the process. This sugar is next 
destroyed, or decomposed, by the fermentation, and its 
parts go to make up a new substance, then first brought 
into existence, called alcohol. If the fermentation be oar- 



ARGUMENT AGAINST ARDENT SPIRITS, 8 

ricd on still farther, another new substance is produced, 
viz., vinegar. Carried still farther, putrid, unhealthy ex- 
halations are the result, such as we find rising from SAvamps 
and other places where vegetable matter is decaying. If, 
then, we may conclude, because alcohol is obtained from 
grain and other nutritious substances, that therefore God 
intended it for the use of man, the same reason will show 
that he intended man should breathe these poisonous ex- 
halations. If alcohol cannot be poisonous or injurious, 
because derived from harmless and salutary substances, 
neither can these exhalations be so ; nor, indeed, those 
more putrid and deadly ones arising from the putrefaction 
of sweet animal food. And if alcohol must be nutritious, 
because apples, grain, and molasses are so, it follows that 
these exhalations are nutritious. ♦ 

Having thus explained the chemistry of this subject, I 
would, secondly, address these men as 2i physician. I mean 
merely, that I wish to present before them the views of the 
most distinguished and impartial physicians concerning ar- 
dent spirits. It is important, then, to remark, that physicians 
have decided that alcohol is a powerful poison. And how 
do they prove this ? Simply by comparing its effects with 
those of other poisons — particularly the poisons derived, 
as alcohol is, from vegetables — such as henbane, poison 
hemlock, prussic acid, thorn-apples, deadly nightshade, 
foxglove, poison sumach, oil of tobacco, and the essence of 
opium. These poisons, taken in different quantities, ac- 
cording to their strength, produce nausea, dizziness, exhila- 
ration of spirits with subsequent debility, and even total 
insensibiUty ; in other cases, delirium and death ; and alco- 
hol does the same. These poisons weaken the stomach, 
impair the memory and all the powers of the mind, and 
sometimes bring on palsy, apoplexy, and other violent dis- 
orders ; and so does alcohol. Do you say that ardent 
spirits, as they are commonly drank, do not produce these 
effects except in a very slight degree ? Neither do these 



4 ARGUMENT AGAINST ARDENT SPIRITS. 

substances, when much weakened by mixture with other 
things. Even rum and brandy, of the first proof, contain 
only about fifty parts of alcohol in the hundred ; and even 
the high wines, as they are called, are by no means pure 
alcohol ; yet less than an ounce of proof spirits, given to a 
rabbit, killed it in less than an hour. Three quarters of an 
ounce of alcohol, introduced into the stomach of a large 
and robust dog, killed him in three and a half hours. In 
larger quantities, as almost every one knows, this same 
substance has proved immediately fatal to men. Do you 
say that many drink spirits for years, and are not destroy- 
ed ; and do you hence inquire how they can be poisonous ? 
So I reply, not a few take small quantities of other poisons 
every day for years, and continue alive. A horse, indeed, 
may take tne eighth part of an ounce of arsenic every day, 
and yet be thriving. But how many are there, do you sup- 
pose, who habitually drink ardent spirits, and yet sufter no 
bad effects from it ? Have they no stomach complaints, no 
nervous maladies, no headaches ? Do they live to a great 
age ? Not one out of a hundred of those who daily drink 
ardent spirits, escapes uninjured ; though their sickness and 
premature decay, resulting from this cause, are generally 
imputed to other causes ; and as many as this would es- 
cape if arsenic were used, in moderate quantities, instead 
of spirits. 

Farmers and distillers, whom I address, pause, I beseech 
you, and meditate upon this fact. It is poison into whicli 
you convert your rye and apples ; it is poison wliich, under 
the name of whiskey and cider-brandy, you put into your 
cellars ; it is poison which you draw out from the brandy 
and whiskey casks for drink, and which you offer your 
children and friends for drink ; it is poison which you sell 
to your neighbors ; it is producing the same effects as otlier 
poisons upon you and upon them ; that is, it is undermining 
your constitutions, and shortening your lives and happi- 
ness. You would not dare thus to manufacture and dis- 



ARGUMENT AGAINST ARDENT SPIRITS. 5 

tribute among the community calomel or arsenic, if these 
were in use, leaving it to every man to determine how large 
doses he should take. Yet it would not be half as danger- 
ous for men of all descriptions to deal out and administer 
these substances to themselves and others, for there would 
be none of that bewitching temptation to excess, in the case 
of calomel and arsenic, Avhicli attends ardent spirits. But 
if by carelessly distributing calomel or arsenic in society, 
you had destroyed only one life, your conscience would be 
exceedingly burdened with the guilt. And who is to bear 
the guilt of destroying the thirty or forty thousand who are 
cut off annually in this country by intemperance ? Sup- 
pose the distilleries were all to stop, how many would then 
die from hard drinking ? 

But if alcohol is poisonous in a degree, yet it is often 
necessary, you say. Physicians say not, except in a very 
few cases as a medicine ; and even in these cases it is doubt- 
ful whether they have not other remedies as good, or bet- 
ter. Spirits are necessary, you say, to enable a man to en- 
dure great extremes of heat, cold, fatigue, and in exposure 
to wet, and attendance upon the sick. If this be correct, 
farmers will sometimes need them. But many of the most 
hard-working and thorough farmers in the land have, with- 
in a few years past, tried the experiment of laboring without 
spirits ; and their unanimous testimony is, that they are 
stronger, healthier, and better able to bear all extremes and 
severe fatigue without them. Have you ever tried the 
same experiment ? Be persuaded to make the trial, at least 
for one year, before you reject so much substantial testi- 
mony. 

If spirits are necessary for any class, we should suppose 
it would be the West Indian slave. But " on three con- 
tiguous estates," says Dr. Abbot, " of more than four hun- 
dred slaves, has been made, with fine success, the experi- 
ment of a strict exclusion of ardent spirits at all seasons of 
the year. The success has very far exceeded the proprie- 
VOL. VII. 22* 



6 ARGUMENT AGAINST ARDENT SPIRITS. 

tor's most sanguine hopes. Peace, and quietness, and con- 
tentment, reign among the negroes ; Creoles are reared in 
much greater numbers than formerly ; the estates are in 
the neatest and highest state of cultivation ; and order and 
discipline are maintained with very little correction, and the 
mildest means." 

Sailors are another class who must sometimes need 
spirits, if they are needed in case of great exposure to cold 
and wet. But several crews have attempted to winter in 
high northern latitudes, and those furnished with spirits 
have nearly all perished, while those not furnished with 
them have nearly all survived. When exposed to cold and 
wet, and partially immersed in the sea for hours, those who 
have not used spirits have commonly outlived those who 
drank them. 

Soldiers are exposed to even more and severer extremes 
and vicissitudes than sailors. But Dr. Jackson, a most dis- 
tinguished physician in the British army, asserts that spirits 
are decidedly injurious to soldiers on duty, rendering them 
less able to endure labor and hardship. And a general 
officer in the same army thus testifies : "But, above all, let 
every one who values his health, avoid drinking spirits when 
heated ; that is adding fuel to the fire, and is apt to pro- 
duce the most dangerous inflammatory complaints." " Not 
a more dangerous error exists, than the' notion that the 
habitual use of spirituous liquors prevents the effects of 
cold. On the contrary, the truth is, that those who drink 
most frequently of them are soonest affected by severe 
weather. The daily use of these liquors tends greatly to 
emaciate and waste the strength of the body," etc. 

The Roman soldiers marched with a weight of armor 
upon them which a modern soldier can hardly stand under ; 
and they conquered the Avorld. Yet they drank nothing 
stronger than vinegar and water. 

" I have worn out two armies in two wars," says the 
Dr. Jackson mentioned above, " by the aids of temperance 



ARGUMENT AGAINST ARDENT SPIRITS. 7 

and hard work, and probably could wear out another before 
my period of old age arrives. I eat no animal food, drink 
no wine or malt liquor, or spirits of any kind ; I wear no 
flannel, and neither regard wind nor rain, heat nor cold, 
when business is in the way." 

Those men in Europe who are trained for boxing- 
matches would require spirits if they were necessary for 
giving bodily strength and health, since the object of this 
training is to produce the most perfect health, and the 
greatest possible strength. But ardent spirits are not used 
by them at all ; and even wine is scarcely allowed. 

In protracted watching by the bed of sickness, food and 
intervals of rest are the only real securities against disease 
and weakness. Spirits peculiarly expose a man to receive 
the disease, if it be contagious, and if not, they wear out 
the strength sooner than it would otherwise fail. 

The most exposed and trying situations in life, then, 
need not the aid of ardent spirits ; nay, they are in such 
cases decidedly injurious. They are not, therefore, neces- 
sary, but injurious for men in all other situations. The 
distiller must, therefore, give up the necessity of using 
them in the community as a reason for continuins; their man- 
ufacture. 

But spirits, it may be said, do certainly inspire a man 
with much additional strength. Yes; and physicians tell 
us how. It is by exciting the nervous system, and thus 
calling into more vigorous action the strength that God has 
given the constitution to enable it to resist heat, cold, and 
disease. If this strength do not previously exist in the sys- 
tem, spirits can never bestow it ; for they do not afford the 
least nourishment, as food does. They merely call into 
action the stock of strength Avhich food has already implant- 
ed in the body. Hence the debility and weakness which 
always succeed their use when the excitement has passed 
by. Hence, too, it follows, that spirits can never give any 
additional permanent strength to the body. 



8 ARGUMENT AGAIXST ARDExNT SPIRITS. 

But this is not all ; for physicians infer from this state- 
ment, that the use of spirits, even in moderate quantities, 
tends prematurely to exhaust and wear out the system. It 
urges on the powers of life faster than health requires, and 
thus wears them out sooner, by a useless waste of strength 
and spirits. Ti-ue, a moderate drinker may not notice any 
striking bad effects upon his health, from this cause, for 
many years ; nay, the excitement it produces may remove, 
for the time being, many uncomfortable feelings which he 
experiences, and which are the early warnings that nature 
gives him that she is oppressed, for the secret poison is at 
work within ; and if such a man is attacked by a fever, or 
other acute disease, physicians know that he is by no means 
as likely to recover as the water-drinker, because the spir- 
its have partially exhausted the secret strength of his con- 
stitution, all of which is now wanted to resist the disease. 
Let every man who indulges in the use of spirits ponder 
well the declaration of a committee of one of the most en- 
lightened medical societies in our land : " Beyond compari- 
son greater is the risk of life, undergone in nearly all dis- 
eases, of whatever description, when they occur in those 
unfortunate men who have been previously disordered by 
these poisons." Such men, too, it may be added, are much 
more liable to the attacks of disease than those who totally 
abstain from alcohol. In both these ways, therefore, the 
use of spirits, even in the greatest moderation, tends to 
shorten life. 

Distillers of ardent spirits, I entreat you, think seriously 
of these things, as you tend the fires under your boilers. 
Farmers, as you drive your load of cider or rye to the dis- 
tillery, meditate upon them, I beseech you. You have 
here the opinions and advice of the most able and impartial 
physicians in this country and in Europe. True, you may 
find here and there one, of little or no reputation and learn- 
ing, who, either because he thinks it for his interest, or is 
attached to ardent spirits himself, will oppose such views 



ARGUMENT AGAINST ARDENT SPIRITS. 9 

of the subject. But no physician of distinction and good 
moral character would dare, at this day, to come out pub- 
licly in opposition to the principles above advanced, sanc- 
tioned as they are by the united testimony of science and 
experience. O, shut not your ears against this powerful 
voice. 

In the third place, I would expostulate with these 
men as a friend to my country. Can it be that they are 
acquainted with the extent of the mischiefs which our 
country already suffers from intemperance? Do they 
know that fifty-six millions of gallons of ardent spirits 
are annually consumed in the United States, or more 
than four and an half gallons to each inhabitant ; and that 
about forty-four millions of this quantity are prepared in 
the distilleries of our own country : that ten millions of 
gallons are distilled from molasses, and more than nine 
million bushels of rye are used for this purpose? Do 
they know that these forty-four millions of gallons, as re- 
tailed, must cost the community not less than $22,000,000 ; 
that they render from two hundred to three hundred thou- 
sand of our citizens intemperate ; that in consequence of 
this intemperance the country sustains an annual loss, in 
the productive labor of these drunkards, of not far from 
$30,000,000 ; and a loss of more than twenty-five thou- 
sand lives, from her middle-aged citizens, who are thus cut 
off prematurely ? That two-thirds of the pauperism in the 
country, costing from $6,000,000 to $8,000,000, and two- 
thirds of the crime among us, perpetrated by an army of 
eighty or ninety thousand wretches, result from the same 
cause ; and that from forty to fifty thousand of the cases 
of imprisonment for debt, annually, are imputed to the 
same cause ? That the pecuniary losses proceeding from 
the carelessness and rashness of intemperate sailors, serv-. 
ants, and agents, are immense ; and that the degradation of 
mind, the bodily and mental sufferings of drunkards and 
their families, and the corruption of morals and manners, are 



10, ARGUMENT AGAINST ARDENT SPIRITS. 

altogether beyond the reach of calculation to estimate, and 
of words to express ?* 

Can it be that these men have ever soberly looked for- 
ward to see what must be the ultimate effects, upon our free 
and beloved country, of this hydra-headed evil, unless it be 
arrested ? Can they be aware that, judging by the past 
proportion of deaths from intemperance in the most regular 
and moral parts of the land, one third of the six million 
adults now hving will die from the same cause ? Do they 
know how the intemperate entail hereditary diseases and a 
thirst for ardent spirits upon their descendants, and how 
rapidly, therefore, the bodily vigor of our citizens is giving 
way before their deadly influence? And can they doubt 
that vigor of mind Avill decay in the same proportion ? Cor- 
ruption of manners and morals too, how rapidly it will spread 
under the operation of this poison ! Nor can religious prin- 
ciple stand long before the overwhelming inundation ; and 
just in the degree in which alcoholic liquors are used, will 
the Sabbath, and the institutions of religion, and the Bible 
be neglected and trodden under foot. And when the mo- 
rality, and religion, and the conscience of the majority of 
our nation are gone, what but a miracle can save our liber- 
ties from ruin? Corrupt the majority, and what security 
is there in popular elections? Corrupt the majority, and 
you have collected together the explosive materials that 
need only the touch of some demagogue's torch to scatter 
the fair temple of our independence upon the winds of 
heaven. 

But admitting that this picture is not overdrawn, yet the 
distiller and the furnisher of materials may perhaps say, 
that all this does not particularly concern them. They are 

* In order to obtain the result in this paragraph, the well- 
established estimates that have often been made, concerning the 
cost and evils of ardent spirits in our country, have been reduced 
about one fourth or fifth part, to make allowance for the amount 
imported from abroad. 



ARGUMENT AGAINST ARDENT SPIRITS. 11 

not intemperate, they force no man to drink, or even to buy 
their spirits : nay, they generally refuse to sell to the intem- 
perate. The intemperate are the persons to whom these 
expostulations should be addressed. As for the distiller 
and the farmer, Avho manufacture the poison, they are fol- 
lowing a lawful calling, and have a right to the honest pro- 
ceeds of their business. 

The principle, then, which I understand you to advocate, 
is this : that provided your employment be not contrary to 
the laAvs of the state, you are under no obligation to inquire 
particularly as to its influence upon the public happiness 
after the products of your labor get out of your own hands. 
If this be a correct principle for your guidance, it is cer- 
tainly a correct one for others. Let us apply it to the 
intemperate man. 

I expostulate with him on the destructive influence of 
his habits upon his country. "But have I not a right," 
says he, "to use my own property in such a way as I 
choose, provided I do not violate the laws of the land? 
If I may not employ a portion of my money in purchasing 
spirits, neither have you a right to lay out yours for a car- 
riage, or for painting your house, or for any thing else which 
some of your neighbors may regard as unnecessary. I buy 
no more spirits than my health and comfort require ; and I 
have as good a right to judge of the quantity, as you have 
in respect to the needless articles of dress and furniture 
which you procure." 

I urge the man who keeps a licensed gambling-house to 
abandon a pursuit that is ruining his country. " But I am 
not violating the laAvs," he replies, "nor compelling any 
man to gamble and drink to excess in my house. The whole 
responsibility, therefore, rests upon those who do it. Ex- 
postulate with them. I have a right to my earnings." 

You see where this principle leads. Is it one that a true 
patriot ought to adopt ? No : he alone is a true patriot who 
is ready to abandon every pursuit that is injuring his coun- 



12 ARGUMENT AGAINST ARDENT SPIRITS. 

try, however profitable it may be to himself, and however 
tolerated by the civil law. Nor I would not attempt to 
extenuate the guilt of the intemperate man, nor of the mer- 
chant who sells him spirits ; but I do say, that if those who 
distil, and those who furnish the materials, were to aban- 
don the business altogether, it would almost put an end to 
intemperance in the land. For only a small proportion of 
the spirits used is imported ; and its price must always con- 
tinue so high that but few could afford to be drunkards 
were the domestic manufacture to cease. You have it in 
your power, then, to put a stop to this most dreadful na- 
tional evil, and thus to save our liberties and all that is dear 
to us from ruin. Your fathers poured out their blood like 
water to purchase our independence, and to build up a 
bulwark around our rights. But the ten thousand distille- 
ries which you ply are so many fiery batteries, pouring forth 
their forty-four million discharges every year, to level that 
bulwark in the dust. All Europe combined against us in 
war could not do us half as much injury as your distilleries 
are doing every year. Oh, abandon them — tear them doAvn 
— melt your boilers in the furnace — give your grain and 
molasses to the poor, or to the fowls of heaven — make fuel 
of your fruit-trees, rather than destroy your country. 

Some may say, that if they cease to manufacture spirits, 
others will take up the business and carry it on as exten- 
sively as they do. And since, therefore, the country will 
gain nothing by their discontinuance of distillation, they may 
as well have the profit of it as others. But what course of 
Avickedness will not such reasoning justify ? A highway- 
man robs you, or an assassin invades your dwelling at mid- 
night and slaughters your wife and children. Now, would 
you think them justified, should they plead that they knew 
of others about to commit the same outrages, and therefore 
they thought their commission of these deeds was not wrong, 
since they needed the avails of the robbery and murder as 
much as any body ? A man could pursue the slave-trade 



ARGUMENT AGAINST ARDENT SPIRITS. 13 

year after year on this principle, with no upbraidings of 
conscience, if he only suspected that the business would be 
carried on were he to stop. And a traitor might sell his 
country for gold, could he only ascertain that some one else 
was about to do it, and yet be exonerated from blame, if 
this principle be proper to act upon. Oh, how can any 
decent man plead a moment for a principle that leads to 
such monstrous results ! 

Some will say, however, that they sell the spirits which 
they manufacture only to those whom they know to be tem- 
perate, and therefore they are not accessory to the intem- 
perance in the land ; for they are not accountable for the 
sins of those who sell spirits to improper persons. 

You supply them only to the temperate ! The greater 
the blame and the guilt ; for you are thus training up a new 
set of drunkards to take the place of those whom death will 
soon remove out of the way. Were you to sell only to the 
intemperate, you would do comparatively little injury to the 
community. For you would only hasten those out of the 
w^ay who are a nuisance, and prevent the education of others 
to fill their places. But let not any man think that no 
blame attaches to himself because the poison goes into other 
hands before it is administered. A man is to blame fo?- any 
evil to his felloiu-men luhich he could 2yrevent. Now, by 
stopping all the distilleries in the land, you could prevent 
men from becoming drunkards. The very head and front 
of the offending, therefore, lies with you. It is as idle for 
you to attempt to cast all the guilt upon others, in this way, 
as it was for Pilate, when he endeavored to fix the blood of 
Christ upon the people by washing his hands before them 
and declaring himself innocent, and then going back to his 
judgment-seat and passing sentence of death upon him. 
Good man ! He did not touch a hair of the Saviour's head> 
It was the cruel soldiers who executed his orders, that, 
according to this plea, were alone guilty ! 

Some distillers will probably say that they cannot sup- 
voL. VII. 23 



14 ARGUMENT AGAINST ARDENT SPIRITS. 

port themselves and families if they abandon this business ; 
and some farmers Avill sa}^ if we cannot sell our cider and 
rye to the distillers, the products of our orchards must all 
be lost, and rye is the only article which we can raise upon 
our farms with any profit. And if I were not to purchase 
these articles, says the distiller, their price must be so low 
that no farmer could aflford to raise them. Thus to reduce 
a large class of the yeomanry of our country — its very sin- 
ews — to poverty, would be a greater evil than even the 
intemperance that is so common. 

Is it indeed true, that in this free and happy country an 
industrious, temperate, and economical man, cannot find any 
employment by Avhich he can support himself and family 
in a comfortable manner without manufacturing poison and 
selling it to his countrymen ? In other words, cannot he 
live without destroying them? Is land so scarce, or so 
eaten up with tithes and taxes, that he cannot thence derive 
subsistence unless he converts its products into money at 
the expense of others' comfort, reputation, and life ? Is 
every honest calhng so crowded, or so unproductive, that 
every avenue is closed? Have the men who make this 
plea tried, even for a single year, to live without the manu- 
facture of spirits ? It may be, indeed, that for a time they 
will find other pursuits less productive than this. And is 
not this, after all, the true reason why they shrink from the 
sacrifice ? But if superior profits be a sufficient reason for 
continuing distillation, it is a reason that will justify the 
robber, the thief, and every other depredator upon the 
rights of others. 

But how does it appear that the stoppage of all the 
distilleries in the land will reduce the price of cider and 
rye? Their operation has produced a great demand for 
these articles, and that demand has thrown into the market 
an immense supply : the consequence is, that the prices are 
reduced as low as the articles can be aflforded, at a very 
moderate profit, and the great complaint now among farm- 



ARGUMENT AGAINST ARDENT SPIRITS. 15 

ers is, that they are so low. Let the distilleries cease to 
exist, and the special demand for these articles Avill cease ; 
and consequently the market will not be glutted with them, 
because no extra efforts will be made to raise them : the 
result will probably be, that in a very short time their 
price will be very nearly or quite as high as it now is. 

But even if we suppose the worst, that the distiller and 
some farmers should be reduced to absolute beggary by the 
cessation of this manufacture ; no reasonable, or patriotic, 
or Christian man can for a moment regard this as a reason 
why he should continue in any business that is productive 
of immense mischief to his country. Is it not better that 
he and his family should come to want, than that hundreds 
of thousands should be ruined, soul and body, for time and 
eternity ? If he has a right to derive his subsistence from 
the ruin of others, then others, as the thief, the swindler, 
and the robber, have a right to obtain their subsistence from 
his ruin. 

In the fourth place, I appeal to these men as a neigh- 
hor and a parent, and in behalf of the drunkard's ivife and 
childi'en. When Providence cast our lot in the same neie'h- 

o 

borhood, I considered, and doubtless you thought the same, 
that a regard to our mutual welfare bound us to do every 
thing in our power to make the community in which we 
lived intelligent, virtuous, and happy ; and to avoid every 
thing that would mar its peace, degrade its character, or 
stain its purity. My complaint is, that by the manufacture 
of ardent spirits you have violated these obligations. The 
facilities for obtaining spirits, and the temptations to their 
use and abuse, have been thus so multiplied, and brought 
so near, that very many who were once kind neighbors and 
valuable members of society are ruined, or in different 
stages of the path to ruin. One has got as far as an occa- 
sional visit to the grog-shop and the bar-room : another is 
rarely seen there ; but the wretched condition of his house, 
barn, and farm, his impatience of confinement at home, and 



16 ARGUMENT AGAINST ARDENT SPIRITS. 

his many foolish bargains, tell me, in language not to be 
mistaken, that the Avorm which is preying upon the root of 
his prosperity is the worm of the still. The frequent visits 
of the sheriff to the house of another neighbor, whose fam- 
ily is healthy and industrious ; his bitter complaints of the 
hardness of the times ; his constant efforts to borrow money 
to prevent executions from being levied ; the mortgaging of 
his farm to the bank ; his pimpled face, and bloated body, 
and dry hacking cough, are painful testimonies of his fa- 
miliarity with the products of the distillery. It is distress • 
ing to look around upon our once happy neighborhood — 
did you ever do it ? — and to see what havoc your manufac- 
tory of spirits has made upon the peace, property, reputa- 
tion, intelligence, morality, and good order of the community. 
No wasting sickness, no foreign or domestic war, no prema- 
ture frost ; no drought, blasting, or mildew ; nor any other 
visitation of God ; no, not all of them combined have been 
the tenth part as fatal to our prosperity and happiness, as 
this one self-inflicted curse. And this curse we should 
never have felt, had not some of you put into operation 
your distilleries, and others fed them with the products of 
your farms: I mean, such would have been the happy 
effect, had the manufacture of spirits ceased in our land 
before these evils had followed : and I am now supposing 
that some one in every town and neighborhood throughout 
the land, where there is a distillery, is addressing the same 
language to those who conduct it as I am addressing to 
you. We make a united and earnest appeal to you, in view 
of the ruin that rises around us, that you would stop the 
work of destruction and strengthen the things that remain, 
which are ready to die. You stand at the fountain-head of 
that fiery stream which is spreading volcanic desolation 
over the land. Oh, shut up the sluices before every ver- 
dant spot is buried beneath the inundation. 

But to come again into our own neighborhood : I have 
a family of beloved children growing up in the vicinity of 

V 



ARGUMENT AGAINST ARDENT SPIRITS. 17 

your distillery; and when I recollect that every fortieth 
individual among us is a drunkard, and that about every third 
person above the age of twenty dies prematurely through 
intemperance, I cannot but feel a deep anxiety lest my boys 
should be found at lenj^th amons^ the number. True, one 
of the earhest lessons I teach them is total abstinence, 
and I try to excite in their minds a disgust towards every 
species of alcoholic mixture. But they go to one of my 
neighbors and hear him telling of the whiskey and cider- 
brandy that have been produced upon his form, and they 
see him mixing and circulating the bowl among his laborers, 
his visitors, and even his own children ; and it is offered 
also to mine, accompanied with some jeer against cold 
water societies. They see the huge accumulations of cider 
and rye at the distillerv, and mark the glee of the men who 
conduct its operations, and of those who come to fill their 
barrel or keg with spirits. They go also to the store in the 
vicinity, and see one after another filling their jugs with the 
same article. Now, these neighbors who thus distil, and 
vend, and drink whiskey and brandy, my children are taught 
to respect ; and how is it possible that they should not feel 
that their father is too rigid in his requirements, and hence 
be tempted to taste ; and tasting, to love ; and loving, to be 
destroyed by the poison ? Oh, is there no guilt in thus 
spreading a snare for my children ? Should they fall, will 
none of their blood be upon your heads? Shall not the 
entreaties of a parent be felt by those who are themselves 
parents, and whose days may yet be rendered intolerable 
by the cruelty of drunken children ? 

I would invite the manufacturer of spirits, and the farm- 
er who supplies the materials, to go around with me among 
the people in the vicinity of the distillery, that they may 
have some nearer views of the miseries produced by their 
employment. Let us stop for a moment at this tavern. 

Myself. You seem, landlord, to be quite full of busi 
ness to-day. What is the occasion ? 
VOL. VII. 23* 



18 ARGUMENT AGAINST ARDENT SPIRITS. 

Landlord. Neighbors X and Y have their case tried 
here, to-day, before Esquire Z, and you know that these 
matters cannot go on well with dry throats. 

Myself. What is the point in dispute between your 
neighbors ? 

Landlord. Something about swapping a horse, I be- 
lieve ; but it is my opinion that both of thera hardly knew 
what they were about, Avhen they made the exchange. It 
was last town-meeting day, and I recollect that both of 
them called quite frequently at my bar that day. They 
are none of your cold water folks, I assure you. 

Myself. Are these court days generally profitable to 
you, landlord ? 

Landlord. Better, even, than a town meeting ; for 
those who come on such occasions have no qualms of con- 
science about drinking, if they have occasion, I assure you. 
But on town-meeting days, some of the pale-faced temper- 
ance men are always about, to frighten away honest people. 

Myself. Do not these court occasions often lay the 
foundation for other courts ? 

Landlord. Oh, very frequently : but so much the 
better, you know, for my business ; and so I must not 
complain. 

Let us next call at Mr. A's, who has so fine a farm and 
orchard, and every means, one would think, of independ- 
ence and happiness. But hark ; there is a family dialogue 
going on between farmer A, his wife, and son. 

Son. What ; boozy so early, mother ? and father too, 
and quarrelling, as usual, I perceive. 0, 1 wish our orchard 
were all burnt down, and the distillery too, rather than 
live in such a bedlam. 

Mother. But do you not like a little yourself, son, 
when eleven o'clock comes ? 

Father. Aye, and at four, and some bitters in the 
morning. We are old, you must remember, son, and re- 
quire more to warm us and support nature than you do. 



ARGUMENT AGAINST ARDENT SPIRn'S. 19 

Sox. If you would drink only moderately, as I do, I 
would not complain. For I am not one of your cold water 
scarecrows, I assure you. But to have you drink half the 
time, is what vexes me. 

What a fine picture is here, my neighbors, for the men 
to look at who expect to reform the world by moderate 
drinking, without adopting the principle of total abstinence. 

But look at the sheriff yonder, pointing about neighbor 
B's house, from which he seems to be excluded. 

Sheriff. You are too late, gentlemen ; all the prop- 
erty is attached for twice its value. Rum, bad bargains, 
and negligence, have done the business with poor B. But 
I pity his wife and children most, for they have struggled 
hard to prevent it. 

Distiller. Is every thing gone ? The fellow owed me 
two hundred dollars. 

Myself. For whiskey, I suppose. 

Distiller. He was formerly a partner in my still, 3'ou 
recollect. 

Yonder comes from the store the mechanic, neighbor 
D. Well, neighbor D, how do the times go with you now ? 

D. Was there ever such a scarcity of money? When 
the rich are faihng all around, how can a poor mechanic 
stand it ? 

Myself. W^hat have you, friend D, bound up so care- 
fully in your liandkerchief ? 

D. Aye, you belong to the cold water society, I be- 
lieve. But I do know that a little now and then does me 
good. 

Myself. I should suppose that, shut up as you are in 
your shop most of the time, you could not be much exposed 
to heat or cold, or great fatigue, and therefore would hardly 
need spirits. 

D. Well, but I have a weak and cold stomach, and often 
feel so faint and sick that I must either take an emetic or a 
glass of spirits. But the latter cures all my bad feelings. 



20 ARGUMENT AGALNST ARDENT SPIRITS. 

Myself. Ah, friend D, I fear the times will prove too 
hard for you. But Avhy do you try to conceal your jug when 
you go to the store for whiskey ? 

D. Why — why — it is more convenient to carry it tied 
up in this way. 

Let us stop next at this skeleton of a house, which you 
know used to look so tidy before its owner became intem- 
perate. Oh, was misery ever more perfectly personified 
than in his wife and children, whom you see through the 
doors and window-frames ! And there Ues the wretch him- 
self, dead-drunk. 

Myself. Pray, madam, do these children attend school ? 

Wife. Ah, sir, I am ashamed to say it, they have not 
decent clothes. But it was not always as you see it to-day. 
When we were first married our prospects were good ; and 
by industry and economy our little farm supported us, and 
we made some headway. But (turning towards the farmer) 
yet I would not hurt any one's feelings. 

Farmer. Tell your story, madam. 

Wife. Well, sir, you recollect that five years ago your 
orchard produced abundantly, and you proposed to my 
husband to assist you in making the cider, and getting it to 
the distillery, and to take his pay in brandy. He did so, 
and soon a ban-el of the poison, which he could not sell, 
was deposited in our cellar. Oh, what a winter followed ! 
I have known no peace or comfort since, nor shall I, till 
I find them in the grave. Were it not for these poor 
naked children, I could wish to rest there soon. But O, 
what will become of them? Oh, sir, can you think it 
strange if all these things should come into my mind every 
time you and I sit down together at the same communion- 
table ? 

We must not return home without calling at the next 
miserable hovel, where the widow of a drunkard, with half 
a dozen ragged, squalid children, is dragging out a miserable 
existence. Hark, she is reading the Bible. Did you hear 



ARGUME.M' AGALNST ARDENT SPIRITS. 21 

that stifled groan, as she read in tliat holy book, Be not 
deceived : neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor drunkards, 
shall inherit the kingdom of God. 

Myself. I beheve I have not seen you, madam, since 
the death of your husband. I hope you find support. 

Widow. Oh, sir, resignation is easy if we feel a confi- 
dence, or even a feeble hope, that our friends who are taken 
away will escape the agonies of a second death. But how 
can we hope against the express declarations of the word 
of God ? 

Distiller. And yet, madam, your liusband had many 
excellent qualities. 

Widow. And he would still have lived to bless me 
and the world by their exhibition, had it not been for your 
distillery. 

Distiller. I have no idea of sitting in judgment upon 
our departed friends, and sending them to hell because they 
had a few failings. 

Widow. Ah, sir, if my husband has gone there, it was 
your distillery that sent him. Before that was built no man 
was more kind, temperate, and happy. But you persuaded 
him to labor there, and paid him in Avhiskey, and it ruined 
him, and ruined us all. Look at me — look at these chil- 
dren, without food, without raiment, without fire, without 
friends, except their Friend in heaven. I do not ask you 
to bestow upon us any articles for the supply of our tem- 
poral necessities ; but look at us, and be entreated to tear 
down your distillery, so that you may not multiply upon 
you the execrations of the widow and the orphan, wrung 
from them by the extremity of their sufferings. 

Gentlemen, let me exhort you to take such a tour of 
observation as this once a month. Oh, I entreat every one 
in the land, who has any concern in the manufacture of 
ardent spirits, to do the same ; and ere long, I am persuaded, 
you would either abandon every claim to humanity, or 
abandon for ever your pernicious employment. 



22 ARGUMENT AGAINST ARDENT SPIRITS. 

In the fiftli place, I advise and forewarn these men as 
their personal friend. If you distil ardent spirits, or furnish 
the materials, you must use them yourselves and allow of 
their use in your families ; otherwise your inconsistency, not 
to say dishonesty, would subject you to universal contempt. 
Now, to have your children familiar with the sling, the 
toddy, and the flip, as they grow up ! Is here no danger 
that the temptation will prove too strong for them ? Can 
a man take fire in his hosom, and his clothes not he turned ? 
Can one go upon hot coals, and his feet not he hurned ? And 
what compensation for the intemperance of a wife, or a 
child, would be the highest profits of an orchard, a field of 
rye, or a distillery ? Oh, to be a drunkard is to destroy the 
soul as well as the body : and what shall a man give in 
exchange for his soul? And are you yourselves in no dan- 
ger of intemperance, plied as you are by so many allure- 
ments ? Look around you and see how many strong men, 
how many of the wise, the moral, the amiable, and the 
apparently pious, have fallen before the fascinations of this 
prince of serpents. And are you safe who stand even within 
the reach of his forky tongue, and lay the bait for his vic- 
tims, and lure them into his jaws by tasting of it yourselves ? 
Oh, the history of distillers and temperate drinkers, in their 
last days, furnishes an awful warning for you. 

But there is another danger before you, of which, as a 
faithful friend, I wish to forewarn you. I see a dark storm 
gathering over your heads. You cannot be ignorant of the 
mighty movement that is making in our land on the subject 
of temperance. You must have felt the heavy concussion, 
and heard the rolling thunder. The religious, the moral, 
the patriotic, the learned, and the wise, as intemperance has 
been developing its huge and hateful features more and 
more, have been aroused to eftbrt ; they have closed together 
in a firm phalanx ; and as they move on with the standard 
of total abstinence waving before them, the great, and the 
good, and the valiant of every name, are swelling their 



ARGUMENT AGAINST ARDENT SPIRITS. 23 

ranks. The cry is waxing louder and louder, '' Where are 
the strong holds of the monster ; point out to us the foun- 
tains that supply his insatiable thirst, and who it is that 
feeds them ; and who it is that opens the enormous flood- 
gates ? and thither we will march, and against such men 
will we point our heaviest artillery." And to this cry there 
is an answer more and more distinctly breaking out : "To 
the distilleries — to the distilleries." My friends, wait not 
till this storm of public indignation bursts upon you, nor 
fancy that you can face it. Oh, no ; it will be a steady, 
fiery blast, that will bear you down ; and you will find that 
none but the dregs of the community will be left with you 
to sustain you. You will be left with the drunkards, to be 
distinguished from them only as their abettors and support- 
ers ; and from you will every virtuous and patriotic man 
turn away in disgust, as enemies to himself, his children, 
and his country. Think not that all this is imagination : 
look up, and you will see the cloud blackening, and the 
lightning beginning to play, and hear the thunder roaring. 
But it is not yet too late to escape from the fury of the 
storm. 

Finally, I would entreat these men as a Christian. 
Some of them profess a personal and experimental know- 
ledge of vital Christianity, and are members of the visible 
church. What, can it be that a real Christian should, at 
this day, be concerned in the manufacture of ardent spirits 
for general use ? When I think of the light that now illu- 
minates every man's path on this subject so clearly, and 
think how the horrors of intemperance must flash in his face 
at every step, I confess I feel disposed indignantly to reply, 
No ; this man cannot be a Christian. But then I recollect 
David, the adulterer ; Peter, the denier of his master, pro- 
fanely cursing and swearing ; and John Newton, a genuine 
convert to Christianity, yet for a long time violating every 
dictate of conscience and of right: and I check my hasty 
iudorment, and leave the secret ')haracte>- of the raanuiac- 

JO ' 



24 ARGUMENT AGAINST ARDENT SPIRITS. 

turer of ardent spirits to a higher and more impartial tribu- 
nal. But if such a man be really a Christian, that is, if he 
do really love God supremely and his neighbor as himself, 
in what a state of awful alienation and stupidity must he be 
living ! Remaining in such a state, that is, while persever- 
ing in so unchristian an employment, can he have any evi- 
dence himself, or afford any evidence to others, of possessing 
a Christian character ? 

I would not apply these remarks in their unqualified 
severity to every professor of religion who supplies the dis- 
tillery with materials, or who vends or uses wi<ie or ardent 
spirits ; for we shall find some of this description who really 
suppose that, instead of being condemned for such conduct 
in the Bible, they are rather supported by some parts of it : 
they not only find Christ converting water into wine at a 
marriage, and Paul directing Timothy to use a little wine 
for his health, but that, in one case, the Jews had liberty to 
convert a certain tithe into money, and bring it to Jerusa- 
lem and bestow it for what their soul lusted after, for oxen, 
or for sheep, or for wine, or strong drhik, and they were to 
eat there before the Lord their God, and rejoice, they and their 
household. Deut. 14 : 26. But before any one settles 
down into a conclusion that this passage warrants the use 
of wine and ardent spirits, in our age and country, let him 
consider that there may have been, as there doubtless were, 
peculiar reasons, under the Levitical dispensation, for per- 
mitting the Jews to partake of what their soul desired he- 
fore the Lord, which would not apply to mankind generally ; 
as was the case in respect to several other things. But not 
to urge this point, I would say, further, that the fact that 
Judea was a ivine country, that is, a country where the grape 
for the manufacture of wine was easily and abundantly 
raised, puts a different aspect upon this permission. In our 
country, the apple takes the place of the grape, and our 
cider is nearly equivalent to the wine of Judea ; because 
there the apple cioes not dourish, and here the grape cannot 



ARGUMENT AGAIXST ARDENT SPIRITS. 25 

be extensively cultivated. To use wine in wine countries, 
therefore, is essentially the same thing as to use cider in cider 
countries; and it does not appear that the one, in such 
cases, is much more productive of intemperance than the 
other. The fact is, the wines used in countries where they 
are manufactured, contain but little more then half as much 
alcohol as most of the \vine sold in this country, where, as 
a very respectable authority states, " for every gallon of 
pure wine which is sold, there is perhaps a pipe, or fifty 
times the quantity of that, which is adulterated, and in va- 
rious manners sophisticated — the wiiole, without exception, 
the source of a thousand disorders, and in many instances 
an active poison, imperfectly disguised." 

But after all, I am not obliged, in this place, to prove 
that God has forbidden the use of wine, though led into this 
digression from the desire to correct a general misapprehen- 
sion of the Scriptures on this subject ; for the inquiry now 
relates to ardent spirits. And what shall we say concern- 
ing the permission, above pointed out, for the Jews to use 
strong drink ? I say, it was merely a permission to use wine ; 
for the strong drink several times mentioned in the Bible 
was, in fact, nothing more than a particular kind of wine, 
made of dates and various sorts of seeds and roots, and 
called strong drink, merely to distinguish it from the wine 
made from grapes. Nor is there any evidence that it w^as 
in fact any stronger, in its intoxicating qualities, than com- 
mon wine. The truth is, ardent spirits were not known until 
many centm'ies after Christ : not until the art of distillation 
was discovered, Avhich was not certainly earlier than the 
dark ages. JVot a word, therefore, is said in the Bible con- 
cerning distilled spirits. All its powerful descriptions of 
drunkenness, and awful denunciations against it, were found- 
ed upon the abuse men made of wine. How much louder 
its notes of remonstrance and terror would have risen, had 
distillation thus early taught men how to concentrate the 
poison, may be imagined by the reader. 

VOL. VII. ~4 



26 ARGUMENT AGAINST ARDENT SPIRITS. 

After these statements, I trust none of those whom I 
address will any longer resort to the Bible for proofs of a 
divine permission to manufacture or use ardent spirits. But 
do the principles of the Bible condemn such use and manu- 
facture ? 

What do you think of the golden rule of doiyig unto 
others as we would they should do unto us ? Should you 
suppose your neighbors were conducting towards you ac- 
cording to this rule, were they unnecessarily to pursue such 
a business, or to set such an example as would inevitably 
lead any of your children or friends into confirmed drunk- 
enness ? If not, then how can you, consistently with this 
rule, distil, use, or furnish materials for the manufacture of 
ardent spirits, when you thereby, directly or indirectly, 
render intemperate from two hundred thousand to three 
hundred thousand of your fellow- citizens, and every year 
also raise up new recruits enough to supply the dreadful 
ravages which death makes in this army ? This you are 
certainly doing ; for were your distilleries to stop, and you 
to stop drinking, few would become drunkards, from want 
of the means. 

How would you like to have your neighbors one after 
another break down your fences, and turn their cattle into 
your corn-fields, cut down your fruit and ornamental trees, 
set your house or barn on fire, and threaten you with pov- 
erty and slavery ? If you would not have your neighbor 
do thus to you, provided he had the power, then how can 
you, by preparing the food for intemperance, subject the 
property, the peace, the morality, the religion, and the lib- 
erties of your country to those dangers and fearful depre- 
dations which you are now inflicting upon her ? 

How would you like to have your neighbors, directly or 
indirectly, but unnecessarily, cause the premature death of 
every fortieth of your children and friends, and of one in 
three of those above the age of twenty ? I know you 
wruld not that they should do thus to vou, and yet your 



ARGUMExXT AGAl.N'ST ARDENT .SPIRITS. 27 

manufacture of spirits causes the premature death of five 
Hundred of your fellow- citizens every week ; in other words, 
about that number die every week through the intemperance 
produced by your distilleries. 

Again, I ask the men whom I am addressing, how they 
reconcile their manufacture and sale of spirits with another 
command of the Bible? Woe unto him that giveth his 
neighbor drink, that puttest thy bottle to him, and makest 
him drunken also, that thou maijest look on their nakedness. 
True, this applies most emphatically to the retailer of spirits : 
but what could the retailer do if there were no distillery ; 
and what could the distiller do if the farmer withheld tlic 
materials ? All these men are engaged, directly or indirect- 
ly, in giving their neighbors drink ; and though it may pass 
through many hands before it reaches all their mouths, yet 
where must the burden of the guilt rest, if not upon those 
who stand at the head of the series, and first convert the 
articles which God has given to nourish and sustain life into 
active poison for its destruction ; and then, for the sake of 
a paltry pecuniary profit, send it round amongst their neigh- 
bors, accompanied with all the plagues that issued from the 
fabled Pandora's box ? 

Finally, let me ask these men how the business of pre- 
paring ardent spirits for the community appears to them 
when they think most seriously of another world ? In the 
hours of sober reflection, on the Sabbath, during seasons of 
devotion, when sickness overtakes you, and death seems 
near, or you stand by the dying-bed of some one of your 
family or neighbors ; at such seasons can you look back 
upon this pursuit with pleasure ? If conscience then tells 
you that this business ought to be given up. Oh remember, 
that conscience is an honest and faithful friend at such times, 
and tlnit, as this pursuit then appears to you, so will it ap- 
pear when you come actually to die. Test this business J 
beseech you, by bringing it in imagination to the scrutiny 
of your dying hour. Whether it be lawful or unlawful, 



28 ARGUMENT AGAINST ARDENT SPIRITS. 

certain it is that it sends five hundred drunkards into eter- 
nity every week ; and you have the express testimony of 
the Bible, that no drunkard shall inherit the kingdom of 
God. As the Bible is true, then, are not the manufacturers 
of ardent spirits in our land the means of sending five hun- 
dred souls to hell every week ? Tell me, my friends, how 
will this awful truth appear to you on the bed of death ? 
And how does it appear when you look forward to the final 
judgment, and realize that you must meet there fifty or an 
hundred, or five hundred times five hundred drunkards, 
made such through your instrumentality, for one, or two, or 
ten years, and must there justify yourselves for this instru- 
mentality, or go away with them into perdition, covered 
with their blood and followed by their execrations ? 

Oh, my friends, these are realities ; and they are near. 
Do you begin to doubt whether you are in the path of duty ? 
Listen, I beseech you, to the first whispers of the faithful 
monitor in your bosom. 

By the reasonings of philosophy, by the testimony of 
physicians, by the expostulations of your bleeding country, 
by the tears, the rags, and the wretchedness of three hun- 
dred thousand drunkards, with their wives and children ; 
by the warnings of personal friendship, and by the sanctions 
of the divine law, the solemnities of death and the judgment, 
and the groans of ten thousand drunkards, rising from the 
pit, I entreat you, abandon at once and for ever this most 
unrighteous employment, and save yourselves from the 
eternal agonies of conscience, the execrations of millions, 
and the Avrath of Omnipotence. 



^o. 343. 



A VOICE FROM HEAVEN 



Were the Lord to address you from heaven in a plain, 
audible voice, would you not listen to him ? ' But he has 
spoken to you, and he continues to speak in his blessed 
word. Listen, then, to his voice. Consider him as speak- 
ing to you from heaven, and speaking with authority. Hark ! 
what do I hear ? Something declaring that I, that you, that 
all men are hij nature guilty, depraved, polluted sinners. 
He says, 

" There is none righteous, no, not one ; there is none 
that understandeth, there is none that seeketh after God : 
they are all gone out of the way, they are together become 
unprofitable ; there is none that doeth good, no, not one." 
*' That every mouth may be stopped, and all the world may 
become guilty before God." Rom. 3 : 10-12, 19. 

" For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of 
God." Verse 23. 

" But the Scripture hath concluded all under sin." Gal. 
3 : 22. 

"Dead in trespasses and sins." Ephes. 2 : 1. "With- 
out Christ, being aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, 
and strangers from the covenants of promise ; having no 
hope, and Avithout God in the world." Verse 12. 

"Alienated, and enemies in mind by wicked works." 
Col. 1 : 21. 

"That which is born of the flesh, is flesh," John 3:6; 
and "they that are in the flesh cannot please God." Rom. 
8:8. 

" The carnal mind is enmity against God ; for it is not 
subject to the laAv of God, neither indeed can be." Rom. 
8:7. 

"Behold, I was shapen in iniquity, and in sin did my 
mother conceive me." Psalm 51 : 5. 
VOL. VII, 24* 



2 A VOICE FROM HEAVEN. 

Such is the character of all men by nature. But listen 
a little longer to the voice from heaven. You will hear 
that men are not only sinners, but condemned sinners, and 
under an awful curse. 

"The soul that sinneth, it shall die." Ezek. 18 : 4. 

" By the deeds of the law, there shall no flesh be justi- 
fied in his sight." Romans 3 : 20. " Death passed upon 
all men, for that all have sinned." Romans 5 : 12. "For 
the judgment was by one," Adam, *'to condemnation." 
Verse 16. "By the offence of one, judg-ment came upon 
all men to condemnation." Verse 18. 

" The wages of sin is death." Romans 6:23. " Cursed 
is every one that continueth not in all things written in the 
book of the law to do them." Gal. 3 : 10. "By nature 
the children of wrath." Ephes. 2 : 3. 

And if such, man, is your condition, ought you not 
to tremble ? But there is hope. Listen once more. What 
sweet intelligence is brought to your ears — a Saviour, a 
glorious Saviour has been provided. 

" Behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which 
shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day, in the 
city of David, a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord." Luke 
2:10,11. 

" Behold the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin 
of the world." John 1 : 29. 

" For God so loved the Avorld, that he gave his only- 
begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him, should not 
perish, but have everlasting life." John 3 : 16. 

"Be it known unto you, therefore, men and brethren, 
that through this man is preached unto you the forgiveness 
of sins." Acts 13 : 38. 

" For Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to 
every one that believeth." Romans 10 : 4. 

But rememxber there is no other Saviour. 

" Neither is there salvation in any other ; for there is 
none other name under heaven given among men, where- 
by we must be saved." Acts 4:12. 

" For other foundation can no man lay than that is laid, 
which is Jesus Christ." 1 Cor. 3:11. 



A VOICE FROJI HEAVEN. 3 

" For there is one God, and one Mediator between God 
and men, the man Christ Jesus." 1 Tim. 2 : 5. 

"I am the way, and the truth, and the hfe ; no man 
Cometh unto the Father, but by me." John 14 : 6. 

" And may I come to this glorious Saviour for hfe, par- 
don, and salvation ?" Yes, you are welcome, you are invited 
to come, you have every possible encouragement to come. 
Listen again to the voice from heaven. 

" Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord : 
though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as 
snow ; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as 
wool." Isa. 1:18. 

" Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, 
and he that hath no money ; come ye, buy and eat ; yea, 
come, buy wine and milk without money and without price." 
Isa. 55 : 1. 

" Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, 
and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and 
learn of me ; for I am meek and lowly in heart ; and ye 
shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and 
my burden is light." Matt. 11 : 28-30. 

"Come, for all things are now ready." Luke 14 : 17. 
" Him that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out." 
John 6 : 37. 

" He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life." 
John 3 : 36. 

"And the Spirit and the bride say, Come ; and let him 
that heareth say. Come ; and let him that is athirst come ; 
and whosoever will, let him take the w^ater of life freely." 
Rev. 22 : 17. 

And after all these precious invitations and encourage- 
ments, will you refuse to come to Christ? Listen once 
more, I beseech you, to the voice from heaven, and learn 
the awful doom of those who reject the Lord Jesus Christ, 
and persevere in the w^ays of sin and rebellion ! 

" The Son of man shall send forth his angels, and they 
shall gather out of his kingdom all things that offend, and 
them which do iniquity, and shall cast them into a furnace 
of fire: there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth." 
Matt. 13 : 41, 42. 



4 A VOICE FROJM HE A VEX. 

" Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, pre- 
pared for the devil and his angels." Matt. 25 : 41. "And 
these shall go away into everlasting punishment." Verse 
46. 

" He that believeth not, shall be damned." Mark 16 : 16. 
" He that beheveth not the Son, shall not see life ; but the 
wrath of God abideth on him." John 3 : 36. 

" But those mine enemies, which would not that I should 
reign over them, bring hither, and slay them before me." 
Luke 19 : 27. 

"Whosoever shall fall on that stone," Christ, "shall be 
broken ; but on whomsoever it shall fall, it will grind him 
to powder." Luke 20: 18. "If any man love not the 
Lord Jesus Christ, let him be anathema maran-atha," or 
cursed with a curse. 1 Cor. 16 : 22. 

" When the Lord Jesus Christ shall be revealed from 
heaven with his mighty angels, in flaming fire taking ven- 
geance upon them that know not God, and that obey not 
the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ ; who shall be punished 
with everlasting destruction from the presence of the Lord, 
and from the glory of his power." 2 Thess. 1 : 7-9. 

" And whosoever Avas not found written in the book of 
life was cast into the lake of fire." Rev. 20 : 15. 

"But the fearful, and unbelieving, and the abominable, 
and murderers, and whoremongers, and sorcerers, and idol- 
aters, and all liars, shall have their part in the lake which 
burneth with fire and brimstone ; which is the second death." 
Rev. 21 : 8. 

Such are the awful curses denoimced against all the 
finally impenitent. How dare you live any longer in sin ; 
how dare you neglect the great salvation, and despise the 
Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ? "Repent ye, and be- 
lieve the Gospel. Now is the accepted time ; now is the 
day of salvation. Seek ye the Lord while he may be found, 
call ye upon him while he is near : let the wicked forsake 
his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts ; and let 
him return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy upon 
him; and to our God, for he Avill abundantly pardon." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



ADDRESS 

TO 

THE YOUNG MEN OF THE UNITED STATES, 

ON 

TEMPERAICE. 



BY RT. REV. C. P. M'lLVAINE, D. D 



In addressing the Young Men of the United States in 
regard to the great enterprise of promoting the universal 
prevalence of Temperance, we are not aware that any time 
need be occupied in apology. Our motives cannot be mis- 
taken. The magnitude of the cause, and the importance 
of that cooperation in its behalf which this address is 
designed to promote, will vindicate the propriety of its 
respectful call upon the attention of those by whom it 
shall ever be received. 

It is presumed that every reader is already aware of 
the extensive and energetic movements at present advanc- 
ing in our country in behalf of Temperance. That an un- 
precedented interest in this work has been recently excited, 
and is still rapidly strengthening in thousands of districts ; 
that talent, wisdom, experience, learning, and influence are 
now enlisted in its service, with a measure of zeal and har- 
mony far surpassing what was ever witnessed before in 
such a cause ; that great things have already been accom- 



2 ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG MEN OF 

plislied ; that much greater are near at hand ; and that the 
whole victory will be eventually won, if the temperate por- 
tion of society are not wanting to their solemn duty, must 
have been seen already by those living along the main 
channels of public thought and feeling. Elevated, as we 
now are, upon a high tide of general interest and zeal— a 
tide which may either go on increasing its flood till it has 
washed clean the very mountain tops, and drowned intem- 
perance in its last den ; or else subside, and leave the land 
infected with a plague, the more malignant and incurable 
from the dead remains of a partial inundation — it has be- 
come a question of universal application, Avhich those who 
are now at the outset of their influence in society should 
especially consider : " What can we do, and what ought we 
to do in this cause ?" For the settlement of this question 
we invite you to a brief view of the whole ground on which 
temperance measures are noAV proceeding. 

It- cannot be denied that our country is most horribly 
scourged by intemperance.' In the strong language of 
Scripture, it groaneth and travaileth in pain, to he deliv- 
ered from the bondage of this corruption. Our country is 
free ; with a great 2')rice obtained we this freedom. We feel 
as if all the force of Europe could not get it from our em- 
brace. Our shores would shake into the depth of the sea 
the invader who should presume to seek it. One solitary 
citizen led away into captivity, scourged, chained by a 
foreign enemy, would rouse the oldest nerve in the land to 
indignant complaint, and league the whole nation in loud 
demand for redress. And yet it cannot be denied that 
our country is enslaved. Yes, we are groaning under a 
most desolating bondage. The land is trodden down under 
its polluting foot. Our families are continually dishonored, 
ravaged, and bereaved ; thousands annually slain, and hun- 
dreds of thousands carried away into a loathsome slavery. 



THE UNITED STATES, ON TEMPERANCE. 3 

to be ground to powder under its burdens, or broken upon 
the wheel of its tortures. 

What are the statistics of this traffic ? Ask the records 
of madhouses, and they will answer, that one-third of all 
their wretched inmates were sent there by Intemperance. 
Ask the keepers of our prisons, and they will testify that, 
with scarcely an exception, their horrible population is from 
the schools of Intemperance. Ask the history of the 
200,000 paupers now burdening the hands of public char- 
ity, and you will find that two-thirds of them have been 
the victims, directly or indirectly, of Intemperance. In- 
quire at the gates of death, and you Avill learn that no less 
than 30,000 souls are annually passed for the judgment- 
bar of God, driven there by Intemperance. How many 
slaves are at present among us ? We ask not of slaves to 
man, but to Intemperance, in comparison with whose bond- 
age the yoke of the tyrant is freedom. They are esti- 
mated at 480,000 ! And what does the nation pay for the 
honor and happiness of this whole system of ruin ? Five 
times as much, every year, as for the annual support of its 
whole system of government. These are truths, so often 
published, so widely sanctioned, so generally received, and 
so little doubted, that we need not detail the particulars by 
Avhich they are made out. What, then, is the whole 
amount of guilt and of woe which they exhibit? Ask 
Him " imto whom all hearts are open, all desires known, 
and from whom no secrets are hid." Ask Eternity ! 

The biographer of Napoleon, speaking of the loss sus- 
tained by England on the field of Waterloo, says, " Fifteen 
thousand men killed and wounded, threw half Britain into 
mourning. It required all the glory and all the solid ad- 
vantages of that day to reconcile the mind to the high 
price at which it was purchased." But what mourning 
would fill all Britain, if everv year should behold another 



4 ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG MEN OF 

Waterloo ? But what does every year repeat in our peace- 
ful land ? Ours is a carnage not exhibited only once in a 
single field, but going on continually, in every town and 
hamlet. Every eye sees its woes, every ear catches its 
groans. The wounded are too numerous to count. Who 
is not wounded by the intemperance of this nation ? But 
of the dead we count, year by year, more than double the 
number that filled half Britain with mourning. Ah, could 
we behold the many thousands whom our destroyer an- 
nually delivers over unto death, collected together upon 
one field of slaughter, for one funeral, and one deep and 
wide burial-place ; could we behold a full assemblage of 
all the parents, widows, children, friends, whose hearts 
have been torn by their death, surrounding that awful 
grave, and loading the winds with tales of woe, the whole 
land would cry out at the spectacle. It would require 
something more than *' all the glory, ''^ and " all the solid 
advantages " of Intemperance, " to reconcile the mind to the 
high price at 'which they were purchased.'" 

But enough is known of the intemperance of this coun- 
try to render it undeniable by the most ignorant inhabitant, 
that a horrible scourge is indeed upon us. 

Another assertion is equally unquestionable. The time 
has come when a great effort must he made to exterminate 
this unequalled destroyer. It was high time this was done 
when the first drunkard entered eternity to receive the 
award of Him who has declared that no drunkard shall 
enter the kingdom of God. The demand for this effort 
has been growing in the peremptory tone of its call, as 
"the overflowing scourge" has passed with constantly ex- 
tending sweep through the land. But a strange apathy 
has prevailed among us. As if the Avliole nation had been 
drinking tlie cup of delusion, Ave saw the enemy coming in 
like a flood, and we lifted up scarcely a straw against him. 



THE UNITED STATES, ON TEMPERANCE. 5 

As if the magicians of Egypt had prevailed over us by 
their enchantments, we beheld our waters of refreshment 
turned into blood, and a destroying sword passing throuo-h 
till "there was a great cry" in the land, for there was 
scarcely "a house where there was not one dead;" and 
still our hearts were hardened, and we would not let go 
the great sin for which these plagues were brought upon 
us. It seems as if some foul demon had taken his seat 
upon the breast of the nation, and was holding us down 
with the dead weight of a horrid nightmare, while he 
laughed at our calamity and mocked at our fear — when 
our fear came as desolation, and our destruction as a 
whirlwind. 

Shall this state continue? Is not the desolation ad- 
vancing ? Have not facilities of intemperance, temptations 
to intemperance, examples to sanction intemperance, been 
fast increasing ever since this plague began? Without 
some effectual effort, is it not certain they will continue to 
increase, till intemperate men and their abettors will form 
the public opinion and consequently the public conscience 
and the public law of this land — till intemperance shall 
become, like leviathan of old, " king over all the children 
of pride," whose breath kindleth coals, and a " flame goeth 
out of his mouth?" Then what will effort of man avail? 
" Canst thou draw out leviathan with a hook ? His heart 
is as firm as a stone ; yea, as hard as a piece of the nether 
millstone. He drinketh up a river, and hasteth not. When 
he raiseth up himself, the mighty are afraid." 

It is too late to put off any longer the effort for deliv- 
erance. It is granted by the common sense, and urged by 
the common interest ; every feeling of humanity and every 
consideration of religion enforces the belief that the time 
has come when a great onset is imperiously demanded to 
drive out intemperance from the land. 
VOL. VII. 25 



6 ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG MEN OF 

This, to be great, must he universal. The whole coun- 
try is enslaved; and the whole country must rise up at 
once, like an armed man, and determine to be free. Of 
what lasting avail would it be for one section of territory, 
here and there, to clear itself, while the surrounding regions 
should remain under the curse ? The temperance reforma- 
tion has no quarantine to fence out the infected. Geo- 
graphical boundaries are no barriers against contagion. 
Rivers and mountains . are easily crossed by corrupting 
example. Ardent spirits, like all other fluids, perpetually 
seek their level. In vain does the farmer eradicate from 
his fields the last vestige of the noisome thistle, while the 
neighboring grounds are given up to its dominion, and 
every wind scatters the seed where it listeth. The effort 
against intemperance, to be effective, must he universal. 

Here, then, are three important points which we may 
safely assume as entirely unquestionable : that our country 
is horrihly scourged hy intem'perance ; that the time has come 
when a great effort is demanded for the expulsion of this evil ; 
and that no effort can he effectual loithout heing luiiversal. 
Hence is deduced, undeniably, the conclusion that it is the 
duty, and the solemn duty of the people, in every part of 
this country, to rise up at once, and act vigorously and 
unitedly in the furtherance of whatever measures are best 
calculated to promote reformation. 

Here the question occurs. What can he done ? Hoio can 
this woe he arrested ? The answer is plain. Nothing can 
be done, but in one of the three following ways. You must 
either suffer people to drink immoderately ; or you must 
endeavor to promote moderation in drinking ; or you must 
try to persuade them to drink none at all. One of these 
plans must be adopted. Which shall we choose? The 
first is condemned already. 



THE UNITED STATES, ON TEMPERANCE. 7 

^ What say we to the second, tlie moderate use of intoxi- 
cating drinks ? It has unquestionably the sanction of high 
and ancient ancestry. It is precisely the plan on which 
intemperance has been wrestled with ever since it was first 
discovered that *' wine is a mocker," and that " strong drink 
is raging." But hence comes its condemnation. Its long- 
use is its death- witness. Were it new, we might hope 
something from its adoption. But it is old enough to have 
been tried to the uttermost. The wisdom, the energy, the 
benevolence of centuries have made the best of it. The 
attempt to keep down intemperance by endeavoring -to per- 
suade people to indulge only moderately in strong drink, 
has been the world's favorite for ages ; while every age has 
wondered that the vice increased so rapidly. 

At last we have been awakened to a fair estimate of the 
success of the plan. And what is it ? So far from its hav- 
ing shown the least tendency to exterminate the evil, it is 
the mother of all its abominations. All who have attained 
the stature of full-grown intemperance, were once children 
in this nursery, sucking at the breasts of this parent. All 
the " men of strength to mingle strong drink," who are now 
full graduates in the vice, and " masters in the arts " of 
drunkenness, began their education and served their ap- 
prenticeship under the discipline of moderate drinking. All 
that have learned to lie down in the streets, and carry terror 
into their families, and whom intemperance has conducted 
to the penitentiary and the madhouse, may look back to 
this as the beginning of their course — the author of their 
destiny. No man ever set out to use strong drink with the 
expectation of becoming eventually a drunkard. No man 
ever became a drunkard without having at first assured 
himself that he could keep a safe rein upon every disposi- 
tion that might endanger his strict sobriety. " / am in no 
danger ivhile I only take a little,''^ is the first principle in 



8 ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG MEN OF 

tlie doctrine of intemperance. It is high time it were dis- 
carded. It has deluged the land with vice, and sunk the 
population into debasement. The same results will ensue 
again, just in proportion as the moderate use of ardent 
spirits continues to be encouraged. Let the multitude con- 
tinue to drink a little, and still our hundreds of thousands 
will annually drink to death. 

It is settled, therefore, that to encourage moderate 
drinking is not the plan on which the temperance reforma- 
tion can be successfully prosecuted. The faithful experi- 
ment of generation after generation, decides that it must be 
abandoned. A cloud of witnesses, illustrating its conse- 
quences in all the tender mercies of a drunkard's portion, 
demand that it should be abandoned. Its full time is come. 
Long enough have we refused to open our eyes to the 
evident deceitfulness of its pretensions. At last the coun- 
try is awaking, and begins to realize the emptiness of this 
dream. Let it go as a dream, and only be remembered 
that we may wonder how it deceived, and lament how it 
injured us. 

But, if this be discarded, what plan of reformation 
remains ? If nothing is to be expected from endeavoring 
to promote a moderate use of ardent spirits, and still less 
from an immoderate use, what can be done ? There is but 
one possible answer. Persuade people to use none at all. 
Total abstinence is the only plan on which reformation can 
be hoped for. We are shut up to this. We have tried the 
consequences of encouraging people to venture but moder- 
ately into the atmosphere of infection; and we are now 
convinced that it was the very plan to feed its strength and 
extend its ravages. We are forced to the conclusion, that, 
to arrest the pestilence, we must starve it. All the healthy 
must abstain from its neighborhood. All those who are 
now temperate must give up the use of the means of in- 



THE UNITED STATES, ON TEMPERANCE. 9 

temperance. The deliverance of this hind from its pres- 
ent degradation, and from the increasing woes attendant 
on this vice, depends altogether upon the extent to which 
the principle of total abstinence shall be adopted by our 
citizens. 

But suppose this principle universally adopted, Avould it 
clear the country of intemperance? Evidently it is the 
only, but is it the effectual remedy ? Most certainly, if all 
temperate persons would disuse ardent spirits, they could 
not cease to be temperate. Many a drunkard, under the 
powerful check of their omnipresent reproof, would be so- 
bered. His companions would totter, one after another, to 
their graves. A few years would see them buried, and the 
land relinquished to the temperate. Then what would be 
the security against a new inroad of the exterminated vice ? 
Why, public opinion would stand guard at every avenue by 
which it could come in. 

Consider the operation of this influence. Why is it now 
so easy to entice a young man into the haunts of drunken- 
ness ? Because public opinion favors the use of the very 
means of his ruin. He may drink habitually, and fasten 
upon himself the appetite of drink, till he becomes enchained 
and feels himself a slave ; but if he has never fallen into 
manifest intoxication, he has forfeited no character in public 
opinion. All this is a direct result of the fact, that those 
considered as temperate people set the example, and pat- 
ronize the snare of moderate drinking. But suppose them 
to take the ground proposed, and bear down with tlie whole 
force of their example and influence on the side of entire 
abstinence, would they not create an immense force of pub- 
lic opinion against the least use of ardent spirits ? How. 
then could a temperate man ever become a drunkard ? He 
has not yet contracted the desire for ardent spirits ; and 
how will he contract it ? Will h6 risk his character ; fly in 

VOL. VII. 25* 



10 ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG MEN OF 

the face of public feeling and opinion ; despise all the warn- 
ings in the history of intemperance, to get at the use, and 
put himself under the torture of that for which, as yet, he 
has no disposition ? Only post a wakeful public sentiment 
at the little opening of moderate drinking, and the whole 
highway to the drunkard's ruin will be closed up. All its 
present travellers will soon pass away, while none Avill be 
entering to keep up the character of the road. 

Most assuredly, then, the reformation of the land is in 
the power of public opinion. It is equally certain, that pub- 
lic opinion will accomplish nothing but by setting its influ- 
ence directly in opposition to any indulgence in strong drink. 
And it is just as plain, that in order to accomplish this, 
the temperate part of the population must create a power of 
example by setting out upon the firm and open ground of 
total abstinence. In proportion, then, as the temperate 
throughout the country shall come up to this ground, will 
the redemption of our enslaved republic be accomplished. 

Thus have we arrived at the last refuge of this cause. 
Abstain entirely, is the grand principle of life, to be writ- 
ten upon the sacred standard of all temperance movements, 
and under which the contending host may be as sure of 
victory as if, like Constantine, they saw inscribed with a 
sunbeam upon the cloud. In hoc signo vinces.* But such 
being the eminent importance of total abstinence, it deserves 
to be presented in detail. We begin, therefore, with the 
position, that 

Entire ahstineyice from ardent spirits is essential to per- 
sonal security. Such is the insidious operation of strong 
drink upon all the barriers we may set up against excess ; 
so secretly does it steal upon the taste, excite the appetite, 
disorganize the nervous system, and undermine the deepest 
* Under this standard you shall conquer. 



THE UNITED STATES, ON TEMPERANCE. 1 1 

resolutions of him who imagines himself in perfect security ; 
so numerous and awful have been its victories over every 
barrier, and every species of mental and bodily constitution, 
that we may lay it down as an assertion, which none who 
know the annals of intemperance will dispute, that no indi- 
vidual who permits himself to use ardent spirits moderatel}^ 
has any valid security that he will not become a victim to 
its power. 

We know the remarks which instantly mount to the lips 
of many at the sight of such an assertion: "Surely the 
little we take can never hurt us. Look around and see how 
many have done the same, and continued the habit to the 
end of life, without having ever been betrayed into drunken- 
ness." We do look around, and are constrained to remark, 
how many have seemed to live temperately to the end, who, 
if the reality were known, would be quoted as warnings 
against the insidiousness of the poison, instead of examples 
of the security with which it may be used in moderation. 
They were never delirious ; but were they never fevered ? 
Fever is often fatal, without delirium. Ah, did every dis- 
ease with which human beings are fevered, and swollen, and 
slain, receive a candid name ; were every gravestone in- 
scribed with a true memorial, as well of the life, as the 
death of him at whose head it stands ; could every consump- 
tion, and dropsy, and liver-complaint, disclose its secret 
history ; did every shaking nerve, and palsied stomach, and 
aching temple, and burning brain, and ruptured blood-ves- 
sel, relate how it began, and grew, and triumphed, we 
should hear, indeed, of many who died in consumption, or 
dropsy, and other diseases, without any impulse towards 
the grave from the use of strong drink ; but of how many, 
never regarded as intemperate, should we learn that the 
real, though slow and silent cause of their death was drink. 
They hngered long, and their malady was called a disease 



12 ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG ]\1EN OF 

of the lungs ; or they fell suddenly, and it was a case of 
apoplexy ; or they were greatly swollen, and it was consid- 
ered dropsy ; they lost their powers of digestion, and were 
said to be troubled with dyspepsia; every vital function 
refused its natural action, and the poor victim was treated 
for a liver- complaint. But why ? what produced the dis- 
ease ? Alcohol ! They were poisoned. They died of the 
intemperate use of ardent spirits, however moderately they 
may have had the credit of indulging in them. 

But again, we look at the world, and while we cannot 
acknowledge that they have habitually indulged in even a 
moderate use of ardent spirits without receiving some inju- 
ry — for alcohol must hurt a healthy man in some way or 
other — we do acknowledge that many have thus indulged 
with no very perceptible injury. They have continued 
sober. But so it must be acknowledged, that many have 
breathed the air and mingled with the victims of a pesti- 
lence, without being infected ; or stood amidst the carnage 
of battle, without receiving a wound. But were they in no 
danger ? Because they came off unhurt, shall we be willing 
to rush into the streets of an infected city, or join the con- 
flict of charging battalions ? 

But again, we look at the world, and see how many have 
been slain, while many have lived ; how many who, if ex- 
alted station, eminent talents, great attainments, excellent 
feelings, and heavy responsibilities, are any security, might, 
with more than usual reason, have flattered themselves with 
the assurance of safety : men of all professions, of strong 
nerves, and numerous resolutions and precautions, at last 
reduced to a level with the brutes ; and this spectacle forces 
the conviction that entire abstinence is the only security 
against final ruin. Had you a tree in your gardens, the 
fruit of which should be discovered to have inflicted disease 
as often as the prudent use of ardent spirits has resulted in 



THE UNITED STATES, ON TEMPERANCE. 13 

the sorroAvs of intemperance, that tree would be rooted up. 
Its fruit would be entitled lyoison. The neighborhood would 
be afraid of it. Children would be taught to beware of so 
much as venturing to try how .it tastes. 

Again : The total disuse of ardent spirits, on the part of 
2)arents, is the only plan of safety in hringing up their chil- 
dren. How many are the parents whose lives are cursed 
with children who, were it not that " no drunkard hath any 
inheritance in the kingdom of God," they would be relieved 
to hear were dead ! But how were those children ruined ? 
"Ah, hy those corrupting companions ; by that vile dram- 
shop, ^^ the parents would answer. But what first inclined 
their way to that house of seduction ? By what avenue did 
evil associates first effect a lodgment in those children's 
hearts ? How many parents must turn and look at home 
for an answer ! They have not been intemperate ; but while 
the tastes and habits of their children were forming, they 
used to drink moderately of ardent spirits. The decanter 
containing it had an honorable place on the sideboard and 
on the table. It was treated respectfully, as a fountain of 
strength to the feeble, of refreshment to the weary ; and as 
perfectly safe when used in moderation. To offer it to a 
friend was a debt of hospitality. Thus the whole weight 
of parental example was employed in impressing those 
children Avith a favorable idea of the pleasure, the benefit, 
and the security, not to speak of the necessity, of the use of 
ardent spirits. Thus the parents presented the decanter of 
strong drink to their children, with a recommendation as 
forcible as if every day they had encircled it with a chaplet 
of roses, and pronounced an oration in its praise. 

And what consequences Avere to be expected ? Chil- 
dren Avho revere their parents will honor what their parents 
delight to honor. It Avas not to be supposed that those 
children Avould do else than imitate the high example before 



14 ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG MEN OF 

them. Most naturally would they try the taste, and emu- 
late to acquire a fondness for strong drink. They would 
think it sheer folly to be afraid of what their parents used. 
In a little while the flavor would become grateful. They 
would learn to think of it, ask for it, contrive ways of ob- 
taining it, and be very accessible to the snares of those who 
used it to excess. Thus easily would they slide into the 
pit. And thus the history of the decline, and fall, and 
death of multitudes must commence, not at the dram-shop, 
but at the tables of parents ; not with describing the influ- 
ence of seductive companions, but with a lamentation over 
the examples of inconsiderate parents, who furnished those 
companions with their strongest argument, and wreathed 
their cup of death with a garland of honor. 

Such consequences must be looked for wherever paren- 
tal example is expected to be held in reverence among chil- 
dren. A father may venture to the brink of a precipice, 
and stand without giddiness upon the margin of the torrent 
that rushes by and plunges into a deep abyss ; but will he 
trust his child to occupy the same position ? But if the 
child see him there, is there no danger that when the par- 
ent's eye is away, he too will venture, and go and play 
upon the frightful verge, and be amused with the bubbles 
as they dance along the side of the cataract, and at last be- 
come giddy, and be drawn in with the rush of the tide ? 

Entire abstinence from the drink of drunkards is the 
parents' only plan in training up their children. 

Again : The total disuse of ardent spirits is essential to 
the heyiejicial influence of the examiole of the teinj^erate upon 
society at large. 

However novel the assertion to some, it can be easily 
shown that the example of all who use ardent spirits, except 
as they use prescribed medicine, is in the scale of intemper- 
ance. As far as its influence extends, it helps directly to 



Tire UNITED STATES, ON TEMPERANCE. 15 

fill up the ranks of the intemperate, and annually to launch 
a multitude of impenitent souls into a hopeless eternity. 
Can this be true ? Suppose all the rising generation, in 
imitation of their elders, should commence the moderate 
use of strong drink. They are thus attracted into the cur- 
rent of the stream which is setting silently, smoothly, power- 
fully, towards the roaring whirlpool. But now they are 
urged by those whose example they have thus far followed, 
to go no farther. " Beware," they cry, " the tide is strong ; 
do like us ; drop the anchor, ply the oar." Ah, but now 
their influence fails. It was strong enough to persuade the 
thoughtless into danger ; but now it is perfectly impotent 
to keep them from ruin. They have none of the strength 
or prudence by which others have been enabled to keep 
their place. They have no anchor to drop, nor skill at the 
oar. They yield, and go down, and perish. But where 
must we look for the prime cause of this destruction ? To 
those whose example enticed them into the way — the exam- 
2)Ie of 2'>rudent drinkers. 

Such, unquestionably, was the influence by which a 
great portion of those now intemperate were first drawn 
into the snares of death. It is not, as many suppose, the 
odious example of those already under the dominion of 
intemperate habits, by which others are seduced ; the oper- 
ation of such disgusting precedents is rather on the side of 
entire abstinence from the means of their debasement. But 
it is to the honor given the degrading cup, by those who 
can drink without what is considered excess, that Ave must 
ascribe, in a great degree, the first seduction of all who 
receive the ultimate w\iges of intemperance. 

Again : Entire abstinence from strong drink should be 
the rule of all ; because, to one in health, it never does good ; 
hut, on the contrary, it always, of its very nature, does harm. 
We know the «^eneral idea, that hard labor, and cold 



16 ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG MEN OF 

weather, and a hot sun demand its use ; that a little to 
stimulate the appetite, and a httle to help digestion, and a 
little to compose us to sleep, and a little to refresh us when 
fatigued, and a little to enliven us when depressed, is very 
useful, if not necessary. And we know how soon so many 
little matters make a great amoimt. We have often been 
called to " behold how great a matter a little fire kindleth." 
A more unfounded idea never was adopted, than that a 
man in health can need such medicine. Is there any nour- 
ishment in drinking alcohol ? About as much as in eating 
fire. 

But why should not the opinions of physicians suffice on 
this point ? If we take their advice as to what will cure us 
when sick, why not also as to what will injure us when well ? 
The first medical men throughout the land do not more 
perfectly agree, that to breathe a foul atmosphere is perni- 
cious, than that the use of strong drink, in any quantity, is 
hurtful. Abstain entirely, is their loud and reiterated ad- 
vice. Many of them will even maintain that it can easily 
and profitably be dispensed with in medicine. 

But how speaks experience on this head ? Who works 
the longest under the sun of August, or stands the firmest 
against the winter, or abides the safest amidst aboundino^ 
disease, or arrives last at the infirmities of old age ? The 
experiment of total abstinence has been fairly tried in thou- 
sands of cases, by those who once imagined they must drink 
a little every day ; and invariably have they borne a grate- 
ful testimony to its happy effects upon the health of their 
bodies and the peace of their minds. Farms are tilled, har- 
vests gathered, ships built, companies of militia parade, 
associations of firemen labor, fishermen stand their exposure, 
the student trims his lamp, the hungry eat their bread, and 
the weary take their rest, with no debt of thanks to the aid 
of the distillerv. 



THE UxXITED STATES, ON TEMPERANCE. 17 

We say no more upon the plan of entire abstinence. 
But we will mention four reasons which should embolden 
any friend of temperance in urging it upon others. 

1. It is extremely simple. All can comprehend, all 
can execute it. It requires no labor ; costs no study ; con- 
sumes no time. 

2. It contains no coercion. Its whole force is that of 
reason. The influence of laws and of magistrates it does 
not embrace. No man can complain of a trespass upon 
his liberty, when we would persuade him to escape the 
drunkard's slavery by not tasting the drunkard's cup. 

3. In this cure there is no p>ciiii. It is recommended to 
whom ? the temperate — to those who, having formed no 
strong attachment to ardent spirit, can feel no great seh- 
denial in renouncing its use. 

4. In this remedy there is no exi^ense. To those who 
complain of other works of usefulness because of their cost, 
this is without blame. To drink no spirits, will cost no 
money. But what will it save ? It will save the majority 
of the poorer class of the population, in most of our towns, 
one half their annual rent. It will empty all our alms- 
houses and hospitals of two thirds their inhabitants, and 
support the remainder. Yes, such is the tax which the 
consumption of ardent spirits annually levies upon this na- 
tion, that the simple disuse of strong drink, throughout the 
hmd, would save in one year the value of at least live times 
the whole national revenue. 

It is too late to say that a general adoption of the great 
principle of total abstinence is too much to be hoped for. 
A few years ago, Avho would not have been considered almost 
deranged had he predicted wliat has already been accom- 
plished in this cause ? Great things, wonderful things, have 
already been effected. The enemies of this reformation, 
whose pecuniary interests set them in opposition, are unable 
VOL. VII, 26 



1 8 ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG MEN OF 

to deny this fact. It is felt from the distillery to the dram- 
shop. It is seen from Maine to the utmost South and West. 
Every traveller perceives it. Every vender knows it. The 
Avhole country wonders at the progress of this cause. It 
is rapidly and powerfully advancing. One thing, and only 
one, can prevent its entire success. The frenzy of drunk- 
enness cannot arrest its goings. The hundreds of thousands 
in the armies of intemperance cannot resist its march. But 
the temperate can. • If backward to come up to the vital 
principle of this Avork, they will prevent its accomplishment. 
But the banner of triumph will wave in peace over all the 
land, hailed by thousands of grateful captives from the gripe 
of death, in spite of all the warring of the " mighty to drink 
wine," if those who abhor intemperance, and think they 
would be willing to make a great sacrifice to save their 
children or friends from its blasting curse, will only come 
up to the little effort of entire abstinence. This is the 
surest and shortest way to drain off the river of fire now 
flowing through the land. It is the moderate use of the 
temperate that keeps open the smoking fountains from 
which that tide is poured. 

To YOUNG MEN who havc not yet been brought under 
the dominion of intemperate habits, we address the urgent 
exhortation of this cause. Consider the immense responsi- 
bility that devolves upon you. It is not too much to say 
that the question, whether this nation is to be delivered 
from the yoke of death — whether the present march of 
reformation shall go on till the last hiding-place of this vice 
shall be subdued, or else be arrested and turned back, with 
the sorrow of beholding the vaunting triumph, and the 
emboldened increase of all the ministers of woe which attend 
in the train of intemperance, rests ultimately with you. 
You compose the muscle and sinew of this nation. You 



THE UNITED STATES, ON TEMPERANCE 19 

are to set the example by which the next generation is to be 
influenced. By your influence its character will be formed. 
By your stand its position will, in a great measure, be de- 
termined. You are soon to supplant those who have passed 
the state of life which you now are occupying. Soon the 
generation that is to grow up under the influence of your 
example and instruction, will have reached your place. 
Thus are you the heart of the nation. Corruption and de- 
basement here must be felt to the extremities of the na- 
tional body. Temperance here will eventually expel, by its 
strong pulsations, the last remnant of the burning blood of 
drunkenness from the system, and carry soberness and 
health to every member of our political constitution. 

Are these things so ? Suppose them exaggerations. 
Grant that the importance of your vigorous and unanimous 
cooperation in this work of reformation is unreasonably 
magnified ; still, how much can you do. Were our coasts 
invaded by a powerful enemy, come to ravage our cities, 
chain our liberties, poison our fountains, burn our harvests, 
and carry off" our youth into perpetual slaveiy, what could 
young men do ? To whom would the trump of battle be 
sounded so eff'ectually ? Who else would feel upon them- 
selves the chief responsibility for their country's rescue? 
What excuse could they find for supineness and sloth? 
Such indeed is the enemy by which the country is already 
desolated. And now it is to the warm hearts, and the 
strong hands, and the active energies, and the powerful 
example of young men, that the dearest interests of the 
nation look for deliverance. 

' Young men, shall we not enlist heartily and unitedly in 
promoting the extermination of intemperance ? What ques- 
tion have we to decide ? Is it a question whether the coun- 
try is cursed with this plague to a most horrible and alarm- 
ing extent ? No. Is it a question whether the present 



20 ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG ]\IEN OF 

power and the progressive character of intemperance among 
us demand an immediate rising up of all the moral force of 
the nation to subdue it ? No. Is it a question whether the 
most important part of the strength and success of such an 
effort depends upon the part in it which the young men in 
the United States shall take ? No. Then what does the 
spirit of patriotism say to us ? If we love our country ; if 
we would rise in arms to shake off the hosts of an invader 
from our shores ; if every heart among us would swell with 
indignation at the attempt of an internal power to break in 
pieces our free constitution, and substitute a government of 
chains and bayonets ; what does the love of country bid us 
do, when by universal acknowledgment an enemy is now 
among us whose breath is pestilence and whose progress 
desolation — an enemy that has already done and is daily 
doing a more dreadful Avork against the happiness of the 
people than all the wars and plagues we have ever suffered ? 

What does the voice of common humanity say to us ? 
Oan we feel for human woe, and not be moved at the spec- 
tiacle of wretchedness and despair which the intemperance 
of this country presents ? Let us imagine the condition of 
the hundreds of thousands who are now burning with the 
hidden flame, and hastening to utter destruction by this 
most pitiless of all vices ; let us embrace in one view the 
countless woes inflicted by the cruel tempers, the deep 
disgrace, the hopeless poverty, and the corrupting exam- 
ples of all these victims, upon wives, children, parents, 
friends, and the morals of society ; let us stand at the graves 
of the thirty thousand that annually perish by intemperance, 
and there be still, and listen to what the voice of humanity 
speaks. 

What does the exhortation of religion say to us ? What 
undermines more insidiously every moral principle of the 
heart ; what palsies so entirely every moral faculty of the 



THE UNITED STATES, OX TEMPERANCE. 21 

soul ; what so soon and so awfully makes man dead while 
he llveth ; w^hat spreads through the whole frame- work of 
society such rottenness, or so eftectually opens the door to 
all those powers of darkness by which the pillars of public 
order are crumbled and the restraints of religion are mock- 
ed ; W'hat so universally excludes from the death-bed of a 
sinner the consolations of the Gospel, or whites upon his 
grave such a sentence of despair, as intem2')erance ? Behold 
the immense crowd of its victims ! Where are they not 
seen? Read in the book of God that declaration, "nor 
thieves, nor drunkards, shall inherit the kingdom of God;" 
then listen to what the exhortation of Christian benevolence 
speaks to us. Is it asked, What can young men do ? We 
can do this one thing at least. We can continue temperate. 
What if every one of us, now free from the appetite of 
strong drink, should hold on to our liberty ; how would the 
ranks of intemperance, which death is continually wasting, 
be filled up ? But how shall w^e continue temperate ? Not 
by using the means of destruction. Not by a moderate 
indulgence in the cup of seduction. Not by beginning 
where all those began who have since ended in ruin. But by 
entire abstinence from strong drink. Let us renounce entire- 
ly what cannot profit us, what forms no important item in our 
comforts, what may bring us, as it has brought such multi- 
tudes as strong as w^e, to the mire and dirt of drunkenness. 
But we can do something more. We can contribute the 
influence of our example to help bring into disrepute the use 
of ardent spirits for any purposes but those of medicine. If 
any of us are confident that w^e could go on in the moder- 
ate, without ever coming to the immoderate use of strong 
drink, we know that the deliverance of the country from its 
present curse is utterly hopeless while ardent spirit is in the 
hands of the people. It must be banished. Public opinion 
must set it aside. Young men must contribute to form that 
VOL. VII. 2(i* 



22 ADDRESS TO THE YOUNG MEN OF 

opinion. It cannot be formed without the total abstinence 
of the temperate. Let us not dare to stand in its way. 

But Ave can do something more. We have an influence 
which, in a variety of ways, we may use in the community 
to diminish the temptations which, wherever we look, are 
presented to the unwary to entice them to intemperance. 
We can employ the influence of example, of opinion, and 
of persuasion, to drive out of fashion and into disrepute, 
the common but ensnaring practice of evincing hospitality 
by the display of strong drink, and of testifying friendship 
and good-will over the glass. W^e can contribute much 
powerful cooperation in the eff'ort to make the use of ardent 
spirits for the ordinary purposes of drink so unbecoming 
the character of temperate people, that he who wishes to 
have his reputation for temperance unsuspected, will either 
renounce the dangerous cup, or wait till no eye but that of 
God can see him taste it. We can do much, in imion with 
those of more ao'e and more established influence, to create 

o 

a public feeling against the licensing of those innumerable 
houses of corruption where seduction into the miseries of 
drunkenness is the trade of their keepers, and the means of 
destruction are vended so low, and ofi"ered so attractively, 
that the poorest may purchase his death, and the strongest 
may be persuaded to do so. These horrible abodes of ini- 
quity not only facilitate the daily inebriation of the veteran 
drunkard, but they encourage, and kindle, and nourish, and 
confirm the incipient appetite of the novice, and put forth 
the first influence in that system of persuasion by which the 
sober are ultimately subdued and levelled to the degrada- 
tion of wretches, from whose loathsomeness they once turned 
away in disgust. Why are these instruments of cruelty 
permitted ? Not JDecause the authorities will not refuse to 
license them. Public opinion is the conscience of those 
authorities. Let the opinions and feelings of that portion 



THE UMTED STATES, ON TEMPERANCE. 23 

of the community where the strength and patronage of 
society reside, be once enhsted in opposition to such houses, 
and the evil will be remedied ; the morals of society will 
not be insulted, nor the happiness of families endangered at 
every step by the agents and means and attractions of in- 
temperance. Young men have much to do, and are capable 
of doing a great work in creating such a public opinion. 

In order to exert ourselves with the best effect in the 
promotion of the several objects in this great cause to 
which young men should apply themselves, let us associate 
ourselves into Temperance Societies. We know the impor- 
tance of associated exertions. We have often seen how a 
few instruments, severally weak, have become mighty when 
united. Every work, whether for evil or benevolent pur- 
poses, has felt the life, and spur, and power of cooperation. 
The whole progress of the temperance reformation, thus far, 
is owing to the influence of societies ; to the coming together 
of the temperate, and the union of their resolutions, exam- 
ples, and exertions, under the articles of temperance socie- 
ties. Thus examples have been brought out, set upon a 
hill, and made secure. Thus the weak have been strenorth- 
ened, the wavering confirmed, the irresolute emboldened. 
Thus public attention has been awakened, public feeling 
interested, and public sentiment turned and brought to bear. 
Thus works have been performed, information distributed, 
agencies employed, and a thousand instruments set in motion 
which no industry of individual unassociated action could 
have reached. Let temperance societies be multiplied. 
Every new association is a new battery against the strong- 
hold of the enemy, and gives a new impulse to the hearts 
of those who have already joined the conflict. Let us arise,' 
and be diligent, and be united ; and may the God of mercy 
bless our work. 



24 ADDRESS TO YOUNG MEN, 

THE DRUNKARD IN HIS FAMILY. 

His example is seen daily in the house, and in the parent. 
It is seen by children so soon as they can see any thing, and 
long before their minds are capable of distinguishing its na- 
ture, or its tendency. The parent visibly regards spirituous 
liquors as a peculiarly interesting enjoyment of sense, at a 
time when they know no enjoyments but those of sense : of 
course they cannot but think it eminently valuable. The 
means of intoxication are also provided to their hand ; and 
their own home, so far as a dangerous and malignant influ- 
ence is concerned, is changed into a dram-shop. The mother, 
in the meantime, not unfrequently contracts the same evil 
habit from the father ; and thus both parents unite in the 
unnatural and monstrous employment of corrupting their 
children. 

What a prospect is here presented to our view I A hus- 
band and wife, to whom God has given children to be trained 
up by them for heaven, united together in taking them by 
the hand, and leading them coolly to perdition. What heart, 
not made of stone, can look at such a family without feeling 
exquisite distress, and the most terrible forebodings ? Con- 
template, for a moment, the innocent, helpless beings, per- 
fectly unconscious of their danger, and incapable of learning 
it, thus led as victims to the altar of a modern Moloch, less 
sanguinary, indeed, but not less cruel than the heathen god 
before whom the Israelitish parents burnt their own ofi- 
spring, and say, whether you most pity the children, or detest 
the parents. Dr. Dwight. 



i\o. 343. 



CHILDREN OF THE FOREST. 




In a remote settlement upon the head waters of the 
Delaware, where the people live generally by lumbering, 
and in most cases, with difficulty procure a bare subsistence 
for themselves and children, it pleased the great Head of 
the church, while the writer of this was preaching the Gos- 
pel for a little season among them, to pour out his Spirit, 
and greatly to revive his work. Multitudes on every side 
were found turning to the Lord. Let a minister of the Gos- 
pel enter their little cottages, and frequently, before he could 
be seated, even children would come around him, and inquire, 
with tears, what they should do to be saved. When asked, 
as they sometimes were, why they wept, they would reply,- 
" Because we are so great sinners against God ; we have 
offended him, and we fear his wrath upon us." 



2 CHILDREN OF THE FOREST. 

One evening as a prayer-meeting was held in the neigh- 
borhood, and many were weeping for sin, and an unusual 
solemnity rested on all present, just as the exercises com- 
menced a middle-aged man arose, and with a faltering voice 
and evident emotion, said, " I have a request to make to 
the meeting." He paused for a moment, and then pro- 
ceeded nearly as follows : 

" As I was leaving home my two little boys came to me 
and said, ' Father, we wish to go to meeting ; we must die 
as well as you, and have souls to be saved or lost, and we 
cannot be saved unless we are cleansed in the fountain of a 
Saviour's blood, and our darkened souls are enlightened by 
his Spirit. We hear the Lord is among the people, and we 
may never witness a revival of religion here again ; we 
wish very much to go.' My dear children, said I, you 
have no clothes fit to be seen there in : they, however, still 
plead to go, and when I told them they were not in a situa- 
tion to be seen at any public meeting, and must be content 
to remain where they were, they both sat down and wept. 
* Well, father,' said the}^, ' if we cannot go to meeting, will 
you not ask the people to pray for us, that God may have 
mercy upon us, and give us new hearts, and wash our souls 
white in the blood of Christ?' This," he added, "is the 
request I have to make." 

It is hardly necessary to say, that their case was remem- 
bered, many petitions directed to the throne of grace for 
them, and a deep interest awakened in their behalf. 

Sometime afterwards, as I was making a religious visit 
to a family in a remote part of the settlement, while en- 
gaged in the exercises usual on such occasions, two boys 
entered the room, apparently about the age of ten and 
twelve years, and the woman of the house told me that 
they lived in the neighborhood, and were the children that 
a few nights before had been prayed for at the meeting. 



CHILDREN OF THE FOREST. 3 

I was much pleased in seeing them and having an opportu- 
nity of rehgious conversation with them. 

Calhng one of them to me, I said to him, "Well, my 
son, how is it -with your soul? Do you think you have 
yet found Christ to be precious to you?" He rephed, '* I 
hope, sir, I have." 

"Well," said I, "let me know a little how you got 
along: what it was that first made you concerned about 
your eternal interests, and brought you to seek your Crea- 
tor in the days of your youth." 

The following history, essentially, was then given by 
these young and artless pupils in the school of Christ ; in 
narrating w^hich, it is proper to remark, that I use my own 
language rather than theirs, and that several of the par- 
ticulars embodied in the narrative w^ere afterwards more 
fully learned from their parents and others. The principal 
facts, however, and the general tenor and import of their 
communications, were in substance as here recorded. 

The first thing, said the one then standing by my side, 
that made an impression on my mind was a conversation 
which a travelling minister some time ago had at our house 
with my mother and us. Coming into the house, the first 
w ords he said to us w^ere, that he called at our house to- 
day, not on a worldly errand, but on the concerns of the 
immortal soul ; that he came to us in the name of the God 
of heaven, and wished a few moments' conversation. My 
father not being at home, my mother handed him a chair, 
and he sat down. He then requested to have a Bible. My 
mother arose, and after looking in several places, at length 
found the Bible in the back part of a small cupboard, 
covered with dust, and as she gave it to him, wiped off the 
dust with her apron. 

" This dust," said he, lookincr at mv mother with a 



4 CHILDREN OF THE FOREST. 

solemn countenance, " will rise up in judgment against 
you and your husband and children in the great day of 
final account. It is an evidence that the Bible is little 
regarded in your family, that there is here no morning 
and evening worship, and that you are living ' Avithout 
God and without hope in the world.' " He further said 
that the Bible was God's word, and that He alone, by his 
Spirit, could enable us properly to understand it ; and that 
before we undertook to read it, we should always seek for 
wisdom and guidance from on high, that we might not mis- 
take the truth and plunge into error. Without prayer for 
the accompanying influences of the Spirit, many read the 
Bible, said he, to little purpose all their days, and at last 
go down to hell, as it were, with the Bible in their hands. 

He then off'ered a short prayer, the substance of which 
was, that God, for Christ's sake, would pour the light of 
the Gospel into our hearts, that our souls might be cleansed 
from all pollution, and that God would take away the heart 
of stone and give us hearts of flesh. He particularly men- 
tioned my father and mother, and my brother and myself, 
in his prayer ; and when he remarked upon the awful eter- 
nity to which we were hastening, it seemed to go like a 
dao'Ofer to our hearts : mother wept, and I almost cried 
aloud from the distress I felt at the thought of entering 
eternity unprepared. 

After prayer he read a part of the 3d chapter of John, 
where Christ taught Nicodemus the necessity of the new 
birth ; and told us that these words applied equally to each 
one of us : that we could no more enter into the kingdom 
of God without a new heart than Nicodemus could. 

After dwelling on this some time, he suddenly turned 
to my brother and myself and asked us if we ever prayed, 
if we made it a point to direct our thoughts to God and 
call upon his name the first thing we did when we awoke 



CHILDREN OF THE FOREST. 5 

in the morning. "For instance," said he, " how did you 
conduct this morning? What were your first thouglits 
when you awoke and found it was light? Did you think 
of God, or was your worldly business or play uppermost 
in your mind?" I candidly confessed to him what had 
been my own feelings, that the first thing I thought of was 
to get up and go about my play or my work, and that God 
and prayer had occupied no part of my thoughts. 

He then addressed us particularly, and told us that the 
eyes of God, as a flame of fire, were about us every morn- 
ing, and that God noticed whether we called upon his name 
or not. He further told us that we were manifestly living 
far from God, and in the service of the devil ; that we 
worshipped the God of this world instead of the Lord of 
heaven and earth; that the curse of God was upon us, 
according as it is written, '' Cursed is every one that con- 
tinueth not in all things which are written in the book of 
the law to do them ;" and that if we should die in our 
present thoughtless, prayerless condition, everlasting misery 
would be our portion. 

Many other things he said to us, the particulars of 
which I have in a great measure forgotten, but the effects 
of what was said cannot be effaced from my mind. I felt 
like a poor condemned criminal, and had not one word to 
say in reply. I was pained in my very heart. I tried to 
think of some scood thincfs I had done, but could fix on 
none. The more I looked back into my past life for some- 
thino; to comfort me, the more I recollected one sin here 
and another there, until it seemed to me that all the sins I 
had ever compiitted rose up before me, and that the min- 
ister was acquainted with them all. I felt that God saw 
me and was angry with me, and that if I should be called 
away from time to eternity I must be lost for ever. My 
feelings I tried to hide as long as I could, but was not able 
VOL. vir. 27 



6 CHILDREN OF THE FOREST. 

to conceal them. I looked at my brother, and saw him 
weeping as I did, and, as he afterwards told me, from the 
same cause. 

After finishing his address to us, he kneeled and prayed 
with us, and affectionately commended us to God and the 
keeping of his grace. Then rising to take leave of us, he 
took me by the hand, and said. Perhaps I shall never see 
you again till I meet you at the bar of judgment ; will you, 
my child, set out in the strength of the Lord to pray at 
least three times every day, in the name of Christ, that 
God will give you a new heart, and take away the separat- 
ing wall in your soul, until Christ the King of glory shall 
come in, old things shall pass away, and all things become 
new ? 

I told him, the Lord helping me, I would. 

He then put the same question to my brother, and ob- 
tained a similar answer. 

Then taking leave of our mother, he said, God in his 
providence has brought you into the married state, and 
you have become the mother of dear children, and what 
has been your conduct towards them ? When they were 
first laid in your arms, did you by faith and prayer lay 
them at the feet of Christ, and with a broken and contrite 
heart entreat him to plant the seeds of piety early in their 
tender minds, that they might grow up before him as 
plants of righteousness, and become at last heirs of eternal 
life ? Have you from day to day prayed with and for your 
children, and, as God commanded the Israelites, have you 
''talked to them of these things when you sat in the house, 
and when you walked by the way, and when you lay down, 
and when you rose up ?" 

Our mother replied that she had not, and seemed much 
grieved at her conscious omission of duties. 

He then referred her to the example of pious men in 



CHILDREN OF THE FOREST. 7 

every age of the world ; how solicitous they had been to 
cultivate religion in their families, and bring up their chil- 
dren in the fear of God — how ungrateful and unreasonable 
it was to live from day to day upon the bounties of a liberal 
providence, and yet not to acknowledge the hand whence 
her mercies flowed ; and in conclusion he pointed her to 
the awful solemnities of the judgment- day, when she and 
her husband and children must meet their last great trial, 
and account for neglected duties and misimproved privi- 
leges. 

Seeing her much affected with these questions and re- 
marks, he likewise put to her the question he had proposed 
to us, and asked her whether she would not, in good ear- 
nest, from this day, seek her own salvation, and that of her 
dear family. 

Being answered in the affirmative, he further said, ** If 
your husband returns home this evening, will you endeavor 
to prevail on him to read the word of God and pray with 
you and your children ?" She told him she would. 

Then turning to us, he said, *' Children, when your 
father comes in to-night, will one or both of you take him 
by the hand and ask him to pray with you before you go 
to sleep, and tell him as much as you can recollect of our 
conversation to-day, and remind him that God requires 
these duties of him, and that he must soon answer for it, 
if he neglects them, at the bar of judgment?" 

We assured him that we would endeavor to do so in 
the best way we could. 

"And tell him from me," said he, *'to read the 16th 
chapter of Luke, beginning at the 19th verse." 

This good man then left us, and the conversation of 
that day was the first thing that awakened my brother and 
myself to a serious concern about our souls. The promises 
we then made have not been forgotten, and God in great 



8 CHILDREN OF THE FOREST. 

mercy, as we trust, has given to us the consolations of his 
grace, and sealed on our hearts a sense of forgiving love. 

The child having proceeded thus far with his affecting 
narrative, I inquired how they all fulfilled the engagement 
they had made respecting their father ; whether they spoke 
to him as directed, upon his return home ; what effect it 
seemed to produce, and what had been the exercises of 
their own minds before they found comfort. 

Upon this, the same lad that had spoken before, con- 
tinued in substance as follows : 

When my father came in at night, my mother and we 
sat before the fire, and he, as usual, took his seat in the 
corner. He looked at our mother and us and said, " What 
is the matter with you all — you seem to be in such a 
serious mood ?" Now, thought I, is the time to fulfil the 
promise made to the minister to speak to father on the 
concerns of his soul, and to ask him to pray for us. But I 
was afraid — I did not know but he would be angry. I 
inwardly prayed the Lord to help me, and then arose from 
my seat and went directly to him and took his hand in 
mine ; but as I was going to speak, I burst into tears, and 
could not for some time say any thing; this very much 
affected my mother and brother, and seemed to alarm my 
father. 

''My dear wife and children," said he, ''what is the 
matter ; what has happened that you seem to be all in 
such trouble ?" 

I then said, Father, you and we must all die, and per- 
haps before the light of to-morrow morning the soul of 
some one of us may be in eternity. There has been a min- 
ister here to- day, and he read to us in the Bible that we 
must be born again of the Spirit of God, and have new 
hearts, or we can never enter heaven ; but on the contrary 



CHILDREN OF THE FOREST. Q 

must spend an endless eternity in "the lake which burns 
with fire and brimstone." The minister told us that it was 
your duty to pray with us every morning and evening, for 
that '' God would pour out his fury upon the heathen, and 
the families that call not upon his name." And, father, 
you have never done this. We have never heard your 
voice in prayer ; and how will you meet your family in the 
day of judgment, where you must account for every neg- 
lect of duty, and for every deed done in the body ? God 
will help you to pray, if you make the attempt in earnest. 
If you try and do not pray more than a dozen words, if 
these come from the heart it will be prayer. 

I said no more, and all was silent for a moment. 

My father then, with a deep sigh, said, "What the 
minister has told you is no doubt the truth, and what 
you have mentioned of my neglect of duty my heart tells 
me is but too true. My very soul is troubled when I think 
how I have lived before you, and what an example I have 
set you." 

I then mentioned to him the chapter the minister had 
directed him to read, and brought him the Bible. 

He opened it and began to read of the rich man in hell, 
and of Lazarus in Abraham's bosom. He had not read far 
before I saw a tear fall upon the leaves of the Bible ; he 
stopped reading, partly closed the Bible and said, Yes, 
children, there is a hell, no doubt ; for these are the words 
of Christ, who never uttered a falsehood ; and what a 
mercy of God it is that I have been kept out of it as long 
as I have. How many poor souls have been cut down in 
the midst of their sins, and sent to that place of misery 
where there is not a drop of water to cool their burning 
tongues, while God has spared me in my rebellion even to 
this day. When God made me the head of a family and 
a parent of children, I knew that my situation became a 

VOL. VI!: 27* 



10 CHILDREN OF THE FOREST. 

very responsible one. I ought to have sought help from 
God to pray with you and for you ; I ought to have com- 
mitted you to his care from day to day, and besought him 
to cleanse your souls in the blood of Christ, that you might 
grow up as plants of righteousness ; but I have neglected 
it. My heart condemns me, and how much more God, who 
is greater than my heart. Death is a terror to me. If I 
should die this night, I could look for nothing but the por- 
tion of the rich man of Avhom we have just read. I have 
neglected my own soul and the souls of my family, and at 
the bar of God you will rise up and be witnesses against 
me. It was God, I trust, who sent the minister to our 
house to-day, and may he reward him for his labor of love 
in conversing and praying with you and your dear mother, 
and thus discharging duties which I ought long ago to have 
attempted. And I now call you to witness that, God help- 
ing me, I will live no more as I have done ; I will no longer 
restrain prayer in my house, but will begin this very night 
to seek God Avith my whole heart, and break off from those 
sins which have so long provoked him to anger. From this 
day, however broken and imperfect my prayers may be, 
there shall be a family altar in my house, and we must seek 
the Lord together in the best way we can. As regards the 
things of this world my heart does not accuse me. I have 
labored faithfully to get bread and clothing for you to make 
you comfortable. Many a time have I been out, even to a 
late hour of the night, laboring and toiling for you. My 
conscience does not upbraid me for neglecting your worldly 
interests ; but, alas, I have lived only for this world, and 
have been as neglectful of my own soul and yours also, as 
if there were no hereafter and we were to die like the 
brutes. I have only sought the bread that perisheth, while 
that which cometh down from heaven has been but little 
thought of. 



CHILDREN OF THE FOREST. H 

My father here paused, and after my mother had said 
a few words, regretting their neglect of duties, and urging 
the necessity of an immediate attention to the great con- 
cerns of their souls, he said, "Let us try to pray ;" we all 
kneeled down, and he proceeded in substance as follows : 

Oh Lord, for Christ's sake, have mercy upon me, and 
upon my wife and children. Pour doAvn thy good Spirit 
upon us, and take away our hard and stony hearts, and give 
us hearts of flesh ; send out the arrows of conviction, and 
give me unfeigned penitence for sin ; let the great deep of 
sin be broken up in my soul, and show me all the abomina- 
tions of my heart before it is too late. Help me to work 
out my salvation with fear and trembling ; and let sin be 
slain in me by the power of the Holy Ghost ; give me a 
spirit of prayer and supplication, and help me from this day 
fonvard to erect and maintain an altar for thy service in my 
house. Lord, help my wife and children to call upon thee 
aright, and give them, likewise, of thy grace to spend the 
rest of their days in thy service. Give us all hearts to be- 
lieve on the Lord Jesus Christ to the saving of our souls, 
and let us all be thoroughly cleansed from all pollution in 
the fountain of his blood. 

Here he stopped, and without getting from his knees, or 
any of us rising, he called upon my mother to continue 
prayer for a moment longer, when she began and poured 
out her soul in prayer very much as follows : 

Oh God, have mercy upon me and my children and 
husband. Truly, Lord, my soul is stained with guilt in 
regard to the children thou hast given me, and my number- 
less provocations directly against thee. When I look over 
my past life, and remember my many broken vows, I am 
covered with confusion. When my children were born, I 
solemnly engaged before thee, that if thou wouldst be with 
me I would then serve thee ; but, wretch that I have been, 



1^ CHILDREN OF THE FOREST. 

as soon as thy mercies were experienced I forgot them : 
my heart went out to the creature and forgot the Creator. 
Little did I think that the children thou gavest me were 
still thine, and that I was in duty bound to bring them up 
in thy fear and to thy glory. Little have I thought of the 
value and importance of the Bible, which, in thy holy 
providence, thou didst put into my hands, and which, instead 
of perusing for my own instruction, and reading to my fam- 
ily for their benefit, I have permitted to gather dust for 
weeks and months unnoticed and untouched. When I call 
tliese things to remembrance, God, guilt harrows up my 
soul, and I am afraid of thy judgments. Oh, for Christ's 
sake, cleanse my polluted heart, and blot out all my sins. 
Help me by the eye of faith to look away to Christ, as the 
stung Israelites in the wilderness looked to the brazen ser- 
pent. And 0, remember likewise my husband and these 
dear children which thou hast given us. Take the veil from 
their hearts, and pour the light of the ever-blessed Gospel 
into their souls. give them unfeigned sorrow for sin, and 
direct them by thy Spirit to a bleeding Saviour, even to that 
Lamb of God who ''taketh away the sins of the world." 

After my mother had ended, my father still continued 
in a praying posture, and told me and my brother to pray. 
This we attempted to do in a few words as well as we could. 
All continued silent for some time, and truly it was a solemn 
silence. We had witnessed a scene which filled our minds 
with deep reflections then, and made an impression which 
cannot be effaced. 

Next morning my father appeared exceedingly unhappy,- 
and when he came in to breakfast and sat down, mother 
seeing him so troubled, said to him, ** Don't be discouraged ; 
get the Bible and try to pray with us again this morning ; 
look to the Lord for assistance, and he will not forsake those 
who hope in his mercy." 



CHILDREN OF THE FOREST. 13 

He accordingly took the Bible, and as he kid his hand 
upon it said, " This book, I am fearful, will one day rise up 
in judgment against us, for it has been indeed a neglected 
book." He then read a chapter and prayed with us ; he 
seemed deeply affected throughout the whole exercise, and 
his mind seemed to be drawn out in very humble confession 
of sin and neglected duties. 

When he arose, the first words he said were, " My sins 
have found me out ; they rise like clouds over my wretched, 
darkened soul, and call aloud for vengeance. The Bible 
condemns me in every page, and expressly declares that 
* the soul that sinneth shall die.' I am indeed fearful I have 
gone too far, and that God's mercies are gone for ever," 

My mother tried to comfort him in the best way she 
could, and told him that it is written, '' The blood of Christ 
cleanseth from all sin." But she was so troubled for her 
own sins that she was poorly qualified to administer comfort 
to others. 

After breakfast, when my father went out to his labor in 
the Avoods as usual, he took the Bible with him, and as he 
left the house he said, " I do not know but it is a gone case 
with me, and that I have sinned away my day of grace. 
But if I must die, I will die praying, will die at the gate of 
mercy. If I must perish, it shall be at a Saviour's feet." 

As he went on to his place of labor it was with a heavy 
heart ; a sense of sin seemed to press him to the earth, and 
the tear of sorrow for his numberless transgressions fre- 
quently rolled down his cheeks and dropped along his path. 
When he remembered how kind God had been to him all 
his life, how he had fed and clothed him, and continued him 
in being when many others had fallen around him on every 
side, and remembered that he had, notwithstanding all this, ■ 
lived as unmindful of his obligations to God as the brutes 
that perish, the view was almost insupportable. 



14 CHILDREN OF THE FOREST. 

When he came to the place where his work was, he sat 
doAvn upon a log and opened his Bible, and read in the 
twentieth chapter of Exodus the law of God. This brought 
to his remembrance his misspent Sabbaths and his former 
profane use of the sacred name of God, and awakened in 
his heart a still deeper sense of his guilt and wretchedness. 
Instead of engaging in his labor, most of the day was spent 
in reading and prayer. 

At night he returned home pensive and cast down. He 
said but little ; prayed in the family apparently with deep 
penitence, and went early to bed. 

Next morning he went out as usual to his labor, but 
still found much more of a disposition to read his Bible, 
meditate, and pray, than to attend to his worldly business. 
And while perusing the Scriptures, and reading an account 
of our Saviour's crucifixion, and of his kindness to his ene- 
mies, insomuch that even while suspended on the cross he 
interceded for them and prayed for their forgiveness, his 
heart melted into tenderness, and his soul seemed to over- 
flow with love to Christ. He kneeled by the log on which he 
sat, and gave vent to his feelings in devout thanksgiving and 
ardent supplication ; and while thus engaged comfort seemed 
to flow into his soul, the light of God's reconciled counte- 
nance to shine upon him, and a sense of pardoning mercy 
to rejoice his heart. But while he rejoiced it was with 
trembling, lest he should be deceived and speak a false 
peace to his soul ; the burden of his prayer then seemed to 
be, that God would search him and try him, and let him 
not deceive his own heart ; and that if he was indeed re- 
newed by his grace he might have brighter evidence of it 
from day to day, and that the light in his soul, like the path 
of the just, might be brighter and brighter to the perfect 
day. His comforts seem to be those which the Holy Spirit 
communicates, for they have continued ; his soul seems 



CHILDREN OF THE FOREST. 15 

greatly to rejoice in hope, and his walk to be such as be- 
comes the Gospel. 

With respect to our mother, she found no peace of mind 
from the time of the minister's visit until she found it, as 
she tinists, in the peace-speaking blood of the Redeemer. 
She is now walking in the hope of the Gospel ; and since 
the revival here, she has been much entered in holdino- 
little female prayer-meetings, and visiting those who were 
under concern of mind, and directing them to the Lamb of 
God who takes away sin. 

Here the boy, who gave me the account which I have 
thus attempted to relate, closed his narrative, when I said 
to him, *' My son, you have truly given me much satisfaction 
in telling of the religious exercises of your father and 
mother ; but the main thing is yet behind, and that is, to 
hear something of your own experience from the time your 
father first prayed with you." He then proceeded, and 
gave me the following statement as nearly as can be recol- 
lected : 

As I said before, continued he, my first conviction of sin 
took place under the prayer and through the conversation 
of that man of God who providentially visited our house, 
and was much increased from the circumstances which im- 
mediately followed in our family. Agreeably to the direc- 
tion of the minister, I was much engaged in prayer to God 
for several days, that he would give me true repentance for 
all my sins ; that he would take away the heart of stone, 
and give me a heart of flesh ; that he would lift up the 
light of his countenance upon my soul, and enable me to 
lay hold of Christ by a living faith. I felt as if I never 
could give over this matter ; for I saw plainly that, if I did 
not succeed, and should die without an interest in Christ, I 
was lost for ever. 



16 CHILDREN OF THE FOREST. 

My brother, at the same time, was exercised very much 
like myself, and every night when we went to bed, and 
every morning when we arose, we would kneel at our bed- 
side and unite in prayer to God — first one would lead in 
prayer, and then the other. 

For a long time before this I used to say over a short 
form of prayer every night when I went to rest, but my 
heart was not in it. As soon as I had done repeating the 
words I thought no more of God or my soul's concerns. 
My mind would run after worldly vanity, and sometimes I 
would fall asleep almost before the prayer was ended» I 
knew nothing of myself or my need of Christ. My soul 
was dark, and Satan was leading me directly down to hell 
by making me content with a form, and permitting me to 
pray just enough to ease my conscience, and no more. But 
now it seemed to me prayer came indeed from the heart. 
My form was laid aside, and I found no difficulty in calling 
on God for mercy and such blessings as I felt I stood in 
need of. 

Formerly, when I awoke in the morning, the first thing 
that came to mind was either my play or my business ; God 
was not in all my thoughts. But now it was very different ; 
my first meditations were on God. I usually reflected in 
the morning what a mercy it was that I had lived through 
another night and was yet out of hell ; I looked back upon 
my past life and saw that I had lived worse than the brutes, 
for they would own their master and bow their necks to 
man, but I had never acknowledged God as I ought, or 
bowed my heart to his laws. I never awoke without think- 
ing upon the character given me by the minister, when, in 
answer to his question " what I usually first thought of in the 
morning," I told him either my play or my work, he said to 
me that I was a child of the devil, an heir of hell, and under 
the curse of a riofhteous God. 



CHILDREN OF THE FOREST. 17 

But now my brother and I not only endeavored to re- 
member God every day in prayer before we left oui' room, 
but through the day we would retire together two or three 
times into the barn or woods and cry to God for mercy and 
the salvation of our never-dying souls. I continued in this 
way for some time, but could make no progress. I felt 
alarmed about myself, and though I could not restrain 
prayer, yet it seemed as if all my praying amounted to 
nothing. Sometimes I would think that I was indeed such 
a wretch that God would not hear or regard me ; and Satan, 
taking advantage of my perplexity, would suggest to me that 
I did not pray aright ; that my heart was not in my pray- 
ers ; that to ofter up such petitions as I did, and with so 
hard a heart, was only a solemn mockery of God, and that 
I had better give up prayer altogether. Sometimes I was 
almost ready to yield to his suggestions ; but then again I 
would reflect that praying could not make my case worse : 
" If I stay where I am, hell will be my portion, and if I cry 
to God and am rejected, I can but go there at last ; and 
who knows but the Lord may yet have mercy upon me, that 
I perish not?" 

One day, as I went out alone to pray, I felt very dark 
and gloomy, and the temptation pressed me very hard to 
give up the subject of religion, but an observation the min- 
ister made to me came to my recollection, and in some 
degree comforted me. " The darkest hour," said he, " is 
just before day ; and God's mercies are often nearest when 
the sinner is led to think they are gone for ever ;" and if so, 
thought I, who knows but the day of my deliverance may be 
nigh. I bowed before the Lord again in prayer, and made 
lamentation over my hard and wicked heart, and entreated of 
him that Christ might be revealed to my soul the hope of 
glory, and that he would not leave me to perish in my sins, 

when there was ''balm in Gilead and a Physician there." 
VOL. VII. 28 



18 CHILDREN OF THE FOREST. 

While thus engaged, the dark cloud that so long rested 
upon me was removed, and my soul was filled with light, 
and joy, and love. I saw my sins were great, but I remem- 
bered that " the blood of Christ cleanseth us from all sin," 
and that he is " exalted to be a Prince and a Saviour, to 
give repentance unto Israel and the forgiveness of sins." 
My darkness was turned into day, and my mourning into 
rejoicing. The relief I found was obtained soon after my 
brother and I had been prayed for in meeting, and I trust 
was in answer to the prayers which had there been offered. 

Here the lad ended his account of himself ; and as the 
brother had in the meantime attended with great serious- 
ness, and said little, I called him to me and inquired what 
had been the dealings of the Lord with him. 

In his statement he corroborated the facts narrated by 
his brother, and gave me very satisfactory evidence, that he 
also had tasted of the grace of God, and was an heir of 
everlasting life. When, among other things, he stated to 
me how differently the concerns of the family were carried 
on from what they were a little while ago, it was with tears 
and emotions which almost choked his utterance. 

Formerly, said he, there was a great deal of noise and 
confusion in our house, and we were all at times very un- 
happy. My father was somewhat inclined to intemperance, 
and used very ill language ; and although when sober he 
was an industrious and tender parent, yet when a little in- 
toxicated he treated my mother and us very unkindly. But 
now we have peace and comfort at home. Whenever he 
comes in from work and has a moment's leisure, he reads the 
Bible and endeavors to explain to us what he reads. No 
matter how late he comes in at night, he always reads a 
chapter and attends prayer before he retires to bed ; and 
however hurrying his business may be in the morning, family 



CHILDREN OF THE FOREST. 19 

worship must first be attended, before we sit down to break- 
fast. No more spirituous liquor is brought home or admit- 
ted into the house, and no more profane language is heard. 
He is now providing good clothes for us to go to church in, 
as fast as he can ; and he is very careful to see that we do 
not associate, as we used to do, with bad children in the 
neighborhood, and often asks us whether we pray every day 
in secret, and whether we enjoy the presence of God. He 
frequently advises us to guard against formality in prayer. 
If the heart feels hard and dull, he tells us not to give over 
prayer until we feel some moving of the Spirit on the soul, 
and have some evidence that we enjoy commimion with God ; 
for by neglecting this it is that we lose the comfort of re- 
ligion, and b}^ and by rest satisfied with the form without 
the power of godliness. 

Every thing seems to go on well with us at present, and 
we have the prospect not only of enjoying much more com- 
fort on earth than we ever had before as a family, but like- 
wise of dwelling for ever together in that world where friends 
part no more ; and all this we must ascribe, as a means, to 
the faithful visit of that dear man, whom God, in his provi- 
dence, directed to our house to talk with us on the concerns 
of eternity. 

The writer of this would state, in conclusion, that in 
visiting through the neighborhood he came at length to the 
family where these dear children lived, and found that their 
representation had been strictly correct. It was a family 
truly blest of God, and every member of it was walking, to 
appearance, in the light of his countenance. 

From the foregoing account Ave may remark, 
1. What a heavenly charity that is which furnishes the 
means of sending our faithful missionaries into the destitute 



20 CHILDREN OF THE FOREST. 

regions of the earth, to proclaim the glad tidings of salva- 
tion to millions sitting in darkness and the shadow of death. 

2. How important is it that ministers of the Gospel, 
whether laboring as missionaries or settled pastors, should 
■perioTm family visitation, and thus preach the Gospel from 
house to house. Their hearers cannot, under such circum- 
stances, as in large assemblies, refer the word to their 
neighbors, but their consciences are made to address them 
with the emphatic language, " Thou art the man." 

3. Lastly, we see the awful guilt of those parents who 
neglect the religious instruction of their families, and the 
sad foundation hereby laid of future remorse and sorrow. 
If their minds should be enlightened this side the grave 
to see their guilt, how will they lament, that they have so 
shamefully neglected their duties, and jeoparded the ever- 
lasting welfare of their children ! And if they should not 
awake to a sense of their neglect until they meet their fam- 
ilies in the world of woe, how dreadful will it be there to 
see the smoke of their torment ascending for ever and ever, 
and to feel the gnawing of that worm which never dies, and 
which is ever reminding them, that all this is because they 
obeyed not God — because they did not bring up their chil- 
dren in his admonition and fear ! 



JOSEPH ARCHER, 

THE 

CONVERTED SAILOR. 



The subject of the following brief narrative was an illus- 
trious example of the grace of God abounding to the chief 
of sinners. He was born in Salem, Massachusetts, in 1*797 ; 
but before he had reached his 17th year, he had fallen into 
the company of licentious young men, and imbibed their 
habits. He thus forfeited the confidence of the mechanic 
to whom he was indentured, and, before he was of age, ran 
away. 

His master could not be persuaded to receive him again, 
and in compliance with his own earnest solicitations, he was 
sent to sea. 

His conduct on his first return voyage was such, that 
nothing but a regard for the feelings of his friends prevent- 
ed the captain from turning him ashore at Cape Cod. Of 
his history during several subsequent voyages, some of 
which were long and highly perilous, little is known, except 
that his course was from bad to worse ; and, according to 
his own testimony and that of his shipmates, he was a very 
ringleader in wickedness. Every energy of his naturally 
strong and vigorous mind was perverted to the service of sin. 

When in port, he gave himself up to midnight revels and 
intemperate drinking. He has been known to lie in the 
street the whole night, unable to reach his lodgings, while 
his filthy and blasphemous language chilled the blood of 
every one passing by. Every thing that duty or affection 
could dictate was done by his relations to reclaim him, but 
without effect. He would seldom go to see them ; and 
seemed voluntarily to have relinquished all claim to the 
affection of any one, that he might give himself up to the 
unrestrained influence of his own vile passions. 

VOL, VII. 28* N 



2 JOSEPH ARCHER, THE CONVERTED SAILOR. 

Such was his situation, when, passing down a wharf one 
Sabbath morning with some of his companions, he was met 
by Mr. B., the preacher to the sailors, who kindly invited 
him and his company to attend the Bethel, which was just 
at hand. The minister asked them a few questions, and 
learned that they were soon to sail in the ship Zephyr, for 
India. They went into the chapel, and were committed in 
prayer to Him " who holds the winds in his fists, and the 
waters in the hollow of his hand." At the close of worship 
Mr. B. spoke to them again, and as they were soon to be 
absent, where his voice could no longer reach them, he gave 
them a number of Tracts, which they might read when at sea. 

Archer threw those which were given him into his trunk, 
and thought no more of them until two months after leav- 
ing port, when, being upon watch one night, he recollected 
them, went to them, and took one of them in his hands, as 
he said, " to while away the time." 

It proved to be the messenger of God to his soul. " I 
was struck," said he, "to the heart; tears burst from my 
eyes, and I felt that I was a miserable wretch, and knew not 
what to do with myself." 

Under a deep conviction that his misery was the result 
of sin, he immediately began to renounce open vices. " I 
knocked off swearing," said he, ''and then I knocked off 
grog; for I was a great drinker, and used much profane 
language. But I found this did not give me relief. Then I 
thought I must pray to God for pardon. I tried to pray, 
but I did not know how. My shipmates asked me if I was 
sick ; I told them, No ; but I was sick at heart. I often 
walked the deck, and cried and prayed within myself ; but 
I found no comfort. The more I read the Bible, the more 
I felt that I was miserable and undone for ever." 

He seems to have hoped for consolation by avoiding gross 
sins, and performing religious duties. But he says, " I found 
I had not got clear of all my sins, for I was a Sabbath- 
breaker ; and I found I had inward sins, and my thoughts 
were evil continually." 



JOSEPH ARCHER, THE CONVERTED SAILOR. 3 

Thus did the Holy Spirit teach him the extent and spir- 
ituality of the divine law. Thus Avas he prepared to lie as 
a helpless suppliant at the foot of the cross. 

When the ship arrived on the coast of Sumatra, the 
cargo came in so fast that he had little time for religious 
duties, and his anxiet}'^, in a measure, subsided ; though it 
appears that he manifested no inclination to his old vices. 
One day while going ashore for pepper, in a heavy surf, the 
boat upset, and the crew with great difficulty escaped a 
watery grave. This circumstance he records as making a 
deep impression on his mind. After lying upon the coast 
forty days, they weighed anchor, and sailed for home. 
During a part of the voyage they had watch and watch, and 
then he had many opportunities for reading and prayer. At 
other times, when at work all day, he would snatch time to 
read a few verses in the Bible, that he might " have some- 
thing to keep wicked thoughts out of his mind." Some- 
times he would try to close his ears against the idle conver- 
sation and indecent songs of the crew, by silently repeating 
two or three hymns which he had learned when a boy. So 
intently was he occupied with the concerns of his soul, that 
though surrounded by every temptation to return to his 
former wicked course, nothing could draw him aside. When 
he could not otherwise secure time and retirement for prayer, 
he would, as he afterwards said, " eat quick, that he might 
have opportunity to pray." 

The ship arrived in port December 19, 1825. It is the 
concurrent testimony of the officers and crew of the Zephyr, 
that he was an example of obedience, sobriety, and faithful 
performance of ship duty. 

During Archer's absence, Salem had been visited with 
a revival of religion, in which several individuals with whom 
he used to be intimate were hopefully converted to God. 
An anecdote of the manner of his meeting one of these 
former associates is so illustrative of his character, and the 
power of Divine grace, that the writer cannot refrain from 
insertinfr it. 



4 JOSEPH ARCHER, THE CONVERTED SAILOR. 

A shop which he used to frequent for the purpose of 
obtaining the poisonous draught, was kept by a woman, 
whose first intimation of Joseph's amval would often be the 
bursting open of her door, when he Avould perhaps fall 
prostrate on the floor, crying, " Mother, give me some rum." 
On his return in the Zephyr, he visited the same shop ; but 
his cry was, " Mother, have you got any Bible here ?" The 
woman herself had been awakened and apparently changed 
by the Holy Spirit during his absence. Their meeting was 
solemn. Both felt the need of pardon and salvation through 
atoning blood. 

With his friends who had hopefully found Christ, he 
attended public worship on the Sabbath, and also evening 
j)rayer-meetings in the course of the week. His distress of 
mind increased, until one evening, returning from meeting, 
he went into his chamber, sunk with the apprehension that 
lie was undone for ever. He fell upon his knees, and gave 
himself up, a helpless, agonized sinner, to the Lord Jesus. 
His description of this act of faith is, " I found I was ruined 
by sin ; I had tried every way to help myself ; I could not 
get rid of my wicked heart. All I could do was, to come 
and ask Jesus to do what he thought proper with me." 

Quietness succeeded the storm. He says, " I thought I 
could put my whole trust in Jesus." He arose the next 
morning, filled with '' the peace of God which passeth all 
understanding ;" and it may with truth be said, that from 
that period till the day of his death his path was like that 
of the just. The unbelieving and the profane were often 
heard to acknowledge the power of religion, in transforming 
the character of Joseph Archer. Before, he had been known 
only as a daring sinner. Now, no corrupt communication 
was heard from his lips. Gentleness, humility, self-abhor- 
rence, faith, hope, and tender solicitude for the welfare of 
others, marked his habitual conduct and conversation. In- 
stead of going out in the morning to obtain a dram, he went 
almost daily to the place which he used most frequently to 
visit for this purpose, to read the Bible with the shop-keeper, 



JOSEPH ARCHER, THE CONVERTED SAILOR. 5 

who had also hopefully become, as before intimated, a true 
disciple of Christ. 

It is sometimes the case with those who become appar- 
ently pious, after having been for years openly immoral, 
that in some unguarded moment they are overcome by 
temptation; and thus their evidences are obscured. The 
confidence of others in their piety is impaired, and the cause 
of Christ is wounded. But, by the grace of God, it was 
not so with Archer. His path was onward and upward. 

One of the effects of his piety was a deep solicitude for 
the spiritual welfare of those relations from whom he had 
before separated himself. An extract from one of his let- 
ters to his brother will show what tenderness and wisdom 
characterized his admonitions. He seems to fear that relig- 
ious counsel from one who had been so abandoned would 
be offensive, and therefore mingles his exhortations with 
humble confession of his own wickedness, and grateful 
acknowledgment for his brother's kindness and good ad- 
vice. 

" I can hardly write as I wish to you, W , I have 

been so bad ; but I hope now, by the blessing of God, I 
am in another road. I know I have sinned against God 
and man ; and if I had followed your advice, I should never 
have been so bad. . But I hope and trust the Lord has for- 
given me, and I hope you will. Oh, W , my wishes and 

prayers are for your welfare in another world, as well as 
this." "The hour can't be far distant when we shall be 
called to give an account of the deeds done in the body ; 
and if we are not prepared, Avhat will be our doom ? For 
Christ says, 'Verily I say unto you, except a man be born 
again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.' Meditate a few- 
moments on this solemn thing, that there are but two places 

to go to. Think of these things, W , and fly to Jesus 

for protection ; for he says, any that come to him, let tliem. 
be who or what they may, he will in no wise cast out. And 
do you doubt his word ? Don't think hard of my advice, 
for I think it my duty to speak in time, before it be too 



6 JOSEPH ARCHER, THE CONVERTED SAILOR. 

late ; for to-morrow we may both be in our graves, where 
there is no repentance." 

His last letter to this relative, written at Matanzas but 
two months before his death, contains the following pas- 
sage : 

" Time has swift wings. Seek the Lord while he may- 
be found ; for death may come as a thief in the night, at 
the hour we know not ; and in the twinkling of an eye we 
may find ourselves in eternity. Oh, W , there is a Sav- 
iour provided for all that will but come. His name is 
JESUS." 

There is reason to believe that these affectionate and 
earnest appeals, accompanied as they doubtless were with 
many prayers, were blessed to the conversion of the indi- 
vidual to whom they were addressed, and also of his wife ; 
and both have since made a profession of religion. 

In no way was the change in Archer's character more 
strikingly exhibited, than in his unceasing efforts to do good 
to sailors. In port, he often persuaded them to go with 
him to meeting. He was strongly inchned to relinquish 
going to sea, and resume the trade which he had learned in 
his youth ; but so solicitous was he to repair the injury he 
had done among seamen, that he resolved to tear himself 
away from the religious privileges which he enjoyed at 
home. 

When preparing for a voyage, he would take unwearied 
pains to collect Testaments, Tracts, and other good books, 
to distribute on board, and in ports to which he might sail. 
He looked forward with great interest to the opportunities 
which a voyage would give him to benefit his seafaring 
brethren ; yet seemed to go trembling, lest he should be 
left to dishonor religion, and thus hinder their salvation. 
His zeal was accompanied with discretion and kindness. 
He seemed carefully to consider how he could best ap- 
proach the consciences of his associates ; and so successful 
was he in winning their confidence and affection, that his 
admonitions were almost uniformly received with kindness : 



JOSEPH ARCHER, THE CONVERTED SAILOR. ^ 

while numbers, convinced by his arguments, abandoned the 
use of profane language, others carefully avoided wounding 
his feelings by the use of it in his presence. 

He sailed on the 8th February, 1826, in the brig Ne- 
reus, bound to Baltimore, South America, and Madagascar. 
Upon this voyage he read prayers and the Bible with the 
crew in the evening, whenever he could do so without 
interfering with ship duty. The following passages from 
one of his letters, dated at Baltimore, show how intent he 
was upon doing good : 

" I have sent Baxter's Call to , and hope he will 

be benefited by it. Many of the crew are wicked. I con- 
verse Avith them and pray for them, and I trust the Lord 
will open their eyes and show them their sins, before the 
voyage is ended. It does my heart good to come below 
and see them reading the Tracts, or other good books. I 
keep them in their Avay as much as possible. When I hear 

them swear, I talk to them about it. Our was a 

great swearer ; I have promised to give him a silver dollar 
if he will leave off, and he has promised to try." 

His example and exertions were not without effect. 
Swearing and drinking Avere in a great measure laid aside ; 
and one of his shipmates writes that, " in consequence of 
Archer's influence, the crew lived more agreeably among 
themselves, and paid a stricter deference to the commands 
of their officers." 

He kept a private journal, in which he appears to have 
written every Sabbath. It evinces habitual watchfulness, 
acquaintance with his own heart, ardent desires for holiness, 
dehght in religion, and deep solicitude for the eternal well- 
being of others. The limits of this sketch forbid the inser- 
tion of more than a few passages ; from which it will appear 
that the efforts and prayers of this devoted man, on ship- 
board, were blessed in the outpouring of the Holy Spirit,, 
and in brincfinor some with whom he sailed to Christ. 

o o 

"Feb. 15, 1826. This day, on account of ship's duty 
being so urgent, I have neglected the closet. But I hope 



8 JOSEPH ARCHER, THE CONVERTED SAILOR. 

the Lord heard my prayers while at work. I find it a 
great comfort to me to keep a verse of the Bible in my 
mind while at work." 

"April 9. When I am reading some Christians' expe- 
rience, and see their zeal towards God, and then look at 
myself, and see how cold I am, it makes me cry out, that I 
am yet in the gall of bitterness, and under the bond of 
iniquity. It fills me with doubts and fears. 
' Lord, decide this doubtful case.' " 

"15. I find much comfort in reading, and in communion 
with God ; but it seems sometimes as if I were in a back- 
sliding state, which makes me tremble. my soul, how 
must thou appear in the eyes of God, after he has done so 
much for thee ? These words seem precious to me ; I have 
read them over and over again : * Ask, and ye shall receive ; 
seek, and ye shall find ; knock, and it shall be opened to 
you.' " 

"May 21. We have had precious seasons below every 
evening this week, in reading and other religious duties. I 
have had sweet meditations on divine things. that I 
could spend the remainder of my days- with Christians. 
This day on board an American vessel, at meeting. How 
beautiful it is to see sailors assembled together on board 
ship, to worship Him who protects them through the dan- 
gers of the sea." 

"24. I find sweet meditations, sailing along the Brazil 
shore, seeing the wonderful works of God upon both land 
'and sea. I saw a mountain, at the distance of about four 
miles, with a flagstaff upon the top of it, which put me in 
mind of Calvary, where Christ was crucified, and led me to 
serious thoughts." 

"July 3. I think I have enjoyed the presence of God 
much this week, for prayer seems to be my delight. When 
I am in prayer, I am melted in love. I have felt so that I 
could not say enough. I could not express myself as I 
wished. But we are taught that we are not heard for our 
much speaking. now for a few moments' conversation 



JOSEPH ARrilER, THE CONVERTED SAILOR. 9 

•^^th a Christian friend. I have conversed with and 

, and I think there is reason to beHeve that the Lord 

has begun a great work on board. O that I could see the 
whole world praising God." 

"27. Am I one week nearer the kingdom of heaven? 
I know it is my duty to serve God, and at times it is my 
delio-lit. But that indwellino^ sin, that draws me from 
my God. Lord, without thine assistance I shall never be 
happy in this world, nor in the world to come ; for to go 
back into my old ways of sin, and crucify our Saviour 
afresh, is more than I can dare to think of. Thanks be to 
thy name, I have some glimmer of light from thee at times, 
and then I can say, with the Psalmist, ' How sweet are thy 
words unto my taste ; yea, sweeter than honey to my 
mouth.' " 

'* October 12. We have been lying in the sickly port of 
Majungo, Island of Madagascar, seventy days, with no sick- 
ness on board, while there have been many of our country- 
men seized by the cold hand of death. The Lord has had 
mercy on us, and kept us from sickness, and we have left 
port all in good health. ' that men would praise the Lord 
for his goodness !' " 

" December 27. I find that I have an evil temper, that 
is raised upon trifling occasions against my shipmates. It 
is probable that they do not see it as I do ; but I think it is 
far from being the temper of our Saviour, which was meek 
and lowly. I feel at times that I loathe myself on account 
of the sin that dwelleth in me. Oh God, deliver me from 
mine enemy — sin." 

" Jan. 7, 1827. Lord, thou art to be glorified ! What 
a contrast is to be seen in some of our crew ! eight months 
ao-o, blaspheming the name of God ; now, daily on their 
knees in prayer to him ; willing to give up all for Christ. 
Lord, I trust thou hast heard and answered my feeble 
prayers. All glory is thy due." 

''February 4. This past week I have seen much of the 
corruption of mv heart, God. open my eyes, and show 

VOL. VIT. '-^y 



10 JOSEPH ARCHER, THE CONVERTED SAILOR. 

me exactly what I am, and bring me down in deep repent- 
ance for my sins ; and deliver me from seeking comfort in 
any other way than the blood of Jesus. Draw me from 
Satan's service with that precious magnet, thine only Son, 
that I may spend the remainder of my days serving thee. 
Thou Avho ' turnest the rock into standing waters, and the 
flint into fountains of waters,' subdue this stubborn, haughty, 
corrupt heart of mine, and make me, not a half, but a whole 
Christian, that I may serve thee without intermission, now 
and hereafter. Amen." 

"12. This afternoon, below, hearing the life and death 
of Harriet Newell read. that I was, like her, qualified 
to spread the Gospel among the heathen ! My heart seems 
to burn with love to God. that I was a true Christian, 
as I trust she was. I felt as though I wanted to give my- 
self up wholly to God, to be received through Jesus Christ. 
Afterwards I was called to the helm, and there, while med- 
itating on the case of Mrs. Newell, I felt as it were wrapped 
up in Christ. I lifted up my heart in a way that my tongue^ 
cannot express. O, thought I, if I was at home now to con- 
sult with some pious minister of the Gospel concerning giv- 
ing myself up unto God and all I possess 1 I feel as if I 
wanted to give myself away to him, solemnly and irrevoca- 
bly, hoping for acceptance through Christ alone. But yet 
' I feel afraid, my heart is so deceitful ; I am afraid of bring- 
ing reproach upon the cause of Christ, by falling back from 
my vows to God. for divine assistance to aid me in this 
solemn work. What I do, may I seriously reflect upon it. 
I feel in my heart, like David, to do it ; but shall I hold out 
to the end?" 

" Marcli 11. Once more, by the blessing of God, I am 
in sit'-ht of the land of my nativity. Surely, I ought to be 
grateful to the great Preserver of mankind, whose hand has 
kept me through the storms upon the boisterous ocean, 
when each wave seemed to threaten death. for a heart 
to praise God for his mercies towards me I" 

A few days after Joseph's arrival, he \Yeut tu Andover 



JOSEPH ARCIIKK, THE CoNVERTKI) SAH.tm. H 

to see the Rev. Mr. Cornelius, liis former minister. His 
deportment and conversation evinced much maturity of 
Christian character. He was sober, humble, and unobtru- 
sive, and appeared like one who maintains an habitual 
sense of the importance of eternal things. He was much 
interested in seeing the Theological seminary, and delighted 
with the sight of so many young men who expected to 
preach the Gospel. In reference to his own ardent wish to 
do good he exclaimed, " I should like to list aboard that 
ship," pointing to the seminary. 

After attending evening worship in the chapel, he re- 
marked, that " the man made a good prayer, but he did not 
pray for sailors." How often has this omission called forth 
expressions of sorrow from sailors ! Do not the temptations, 
hardships, and dangers encountered by this interesting class 
of our fellow-men, entitle them always to be remembered 
in the great congregation, from which they are necessarily 
excluded a great part of their lives ? 

When he was about to return to Salem, Mr. Cornelius 
p-ave him Baxter's Saints' Rest. " O," said he, " this is the 

o 

very book I have been wanting." He could scarcely speak 
when taking leave, and went away wiping the tears with the 
back of his hand from his weather-beaten cheeks. This was 
his last interview with his minister. Several months after- 
w^'irds, in a letter to one of his friends, he says, *' If you see 
Mr. Cornelius, do not forget to thank him for me, for the 
Saint's Everlasting Rest ; for I find it to be meat and drink 
to my soul — a heavenly book indeed." 

In accordance with the ardent wish expressed in his 
journal, to enter publicly into covenant with God and his 
people, he offered himself as a candidate for admission to 
the church. His simplicity, humility, and self-distrust, 
rendered his examination very interesting. He begged the 
church to " be very thorough with him." He was cordially- 
received, and made a public profession, and expected to 
have joined in the celebration of the Lord's Supper before 
going to sea. But the Nereus, in which he was again to 



& 



12 JOSEPH ARCHER, THE CONVERTED SAILOE. 

sail, left port in less than two weeks from the time of her 
arrival ; and before her return, Joseph was, we trust, ad- 
mitted to the communion of the ''spirits of the just made 
perfect " — to the presence of that Saviour, in Avhose blood 
he so often prayed to be washed. 

It has been mentioned that, during the preceding voyage, 
he maintained evening worship in his watch. On this voyage 
he was second officer, and with the approbation of the mas- 
ter, conducted worship daily in the cabin. He thus men- 
tions the circumstance : '' I have enjoyed myself very well 
since I left home, for we have worship every Sabbath at 
sea, and prayers every evening, fore and aft, which makes 
every thing go on beautifully, you may depend." He also 
held a weekly prayer-meeting on board. 

In another letter, supposed to be the last Avhich he wrote, 
dated May 20, 1827, he says, " God has blessed me with 
meeting two or three out of the multitude of souls here, who 
I trust are sitting at the feet of Jesus, which is a great com- 
fort to me. We have met several times for reading and 
prayer, and I have found them to be precious seasons. No 
one knows how to prize those privileges which you enjoy 
daily at home, but those that are deprived of them." 

When the brig was nearly ready for sea, Joseph was sud- 
denly seized with the yellow fever. The captain would have 
persuaded him to remain behind, for the sake of medical 
attention ; but he was convinced that he could not recover, 
and insisted upon being put on board, that he might not die 
among strangers. Every thing was done for his restoration 
which kindness could dictate, but without success. He bore 
his sufferings, which were severe, with the utmost patience, 
and employed the intervals between the paroxysms of fever 
in solemnly exhorting those about him to repent and come 
to the Saviour. He rejoiced in the prospect of death, said 
he longed to be with his Redeemer, and to be free from sin. 
He died June 11, 1827, four days from Havana, in the 
arms of a ijoung man ivho had hcen hrought to a knowledge 
and love of the truth through his instrumentality. 



]¥o. 247. 

¥H0 SLEW ALL THESE? 

AN AUTHENTIC NARRATIVE. 

About twenty years ago, Mr. and Mrs. , decent 

and respectable people, removed with a family of children 
from the country to a neighboring toAvn, where they pur- 
chased a small house and lot, and lived very comfortably. 
Their family, however, increasing to five boys, they removed 
to the shore — the town being situated on a river — and in 
addition to their former means of obtaining a living, erected 
a sign, and provided "entertainment" for such as chose to 
call on them. They were temperate people, accounted 
honest, and sent their children to the most respectable 
school in the place. In a short time it was perceived that 
they too frequently partook of the ''entertainment," as it 
is called, which they provided for their customers. The 
habit of daily measuring the poison to others, induced them 
to taste for themselves ; their house was not as respectable 
as formerly ; restraints were removed ; and although they 
were not drunkards, they gave evidence that they used too 
freely the deadly drug which they fearlessly handled. If 
the temperance reformation had been at that time com- 
menced, they might have been warned of their danger, and 
saved from ruin ; but nothing arrested their progress in the 
path of the destroyer. 

Their children, who used to be clad with garments which 
denoted a mother's industry, soon began to bear marks of 
neglect, and were by degrees withdra\^n from the school — 
their parents, because of hard times, not being able to sup- 
port them there. They consequently lounged about, be- 
came acquainted with the customers at the bar, and learned 
their evil habits, especially that of drinking. 

The parents had commenced the sale of intoxicating 
drinks to become rich ; but at the end of a few }'^ars it had 
reduced them to poverty. They had lost their respecta- 

voL. VII. 29^ 



2 WHO SLEW ALL THESE 1 

bility, their honesty, and then- propert}", which was mort- 
gaged for rum ; their children had become vag-abonds, and 
their house a receptacle of vice. Of all their five sons, not 
one escaped the infection ; they and their miserable parents 
wallowed in the mire together. 

In consequence of the dreadful excess to which she had 

abandoned herself, the imagination of Mrs. became 

disordered, and conjured up horrible visions. In her fits 
of the delirium treme^is, she fancied herself bound with a 
belt of brass, to which was attached a chain held by the 
great enemy of souls, who had indeed enchained her with 
this most dire and effectual of all his spells. She would 
cross the room with the rapidity of lightning, screaming 
that he w^as winding up the chain, and she must go — she 
could not stop. She was afraid to pass her own threshold, 
and fancied she heard unearthly voices, and saw spirits 
black and hideous all around her. "There they sit," she 

would say, "J , M ," mentioning the names of 

all her children; "there they sit, grinning at me, and tell- 
ing me I sent them to hell : they are on the beams and in 
the corners, and wherever I go." 

The writer of this has often witnessed her desperate 
struggles ; has seen her, when a gleam of reason came over 
her mind, weep in bitterness over her ruin and misery ; has 
heard her confessions of deeds of villany committed under 
her roof; and has heard also her solemn vows to refrain 
from that which wrought all this misery and sin ; but after 
all this, has seen her "seek it yet again." 

All the arguments which religion can offer were set be- 
fore her, and she often felt, or appeared to feel, their force, 
and resolved ; but the deadly wave seemed to have retired 
to gather new force, and again swept os^er her and pros- 
trated her lower than " the beasts that perish." There can 
be no more effectual barrier against the voice of conscience, 
the powerful influence of natural affection, and the strivings 
of the blessed Spirit of God, than the use of intoxicating 
drinks. 



WHO SLEW ALL THESE ? 3 

He husband had made himself hterally a beast : his 
appearance was scarcely human ; bloated, discolored, tot- 
tering, uttering curses, and sometimes threatening her life. 
Her constitution after a while gave way, and she sank in 
death, snoring out the few last days of her existence in a 
state of stupor, covered ^vith rags and filth. Her husband 
ha'd so benumbed every feeling of humanity by his excess, 
that he seemed very little affected by her death ; and to one 
who reminded him of their former respectability, and spoke 
of the wretched state to which they were reduced, urging 
him powerfully, over the dead body of the self-murdered 
wife, noio to desist, he replied stupidly, that there is an 
eleventh hour. 

Four or five years have elapsed, and he is still in the 
same state of beastly degradation — his property entirely 
gone, and he occasionally earning a few cents, with which 
to purchase the poison which is consummg his vitals, and 
rendering him stupid and dead to every motive that can be 
urged for reformation. 

Two of the sons of this unhappy man have gone down 
to death in an awful manner. Another, in an affray occa- 
sioned by intoxication, received such an injury in the head, 
that his intellect has suffered, and he is subject to fits of 
partial derangement. The other two are very intemperate ; 
one of them apparently lost to all sense of shame. 

The circumstances attending the death of one of these 
young men were extraordinary. He had become subject to 
fits in consequence of his intemperate life ; and his wife fol- 
lowing the same course, they were obliged to give up keep- 
ing a public-house, and he maintained himself by fishing. 
He frequently stopped colored people and others who were 
advertised as runaways, and obtained a reward for return- 
ing them to their masters. He was brutally cruel in his 
treatment of those who thus fell into his hands, and on one 
occasion, having apprehended a young colored man on sus- 
picion of his being a runaway, he confined him ; and taking 
him in a boat to his master — who had sent him from home 



4 WHO SLEW ALL THESE ? 

on business — as he was returning, he fell from the boat, 
probably in a fit, and sank like lead into the mighty waters. 
On the following day search was made for his body, which 
was found swollen and disfigured, and laid in the grave. 

His brother, the youngest of the five, had not reached 
his twentieth year, but had given himself up to the influence 
of the vice which has proved the destruction of his family, 
until he also was subject to fits. Not many months ago he 
was seized with one, being then intoxicated ; he was recov- 
ered by the by-standers, and craAvled to a small sloop lying 
partly on the shore for repairs : he laid himself down there, 
and was found, ten minutes afterwards, dead, Avith his head 
partly under water. It was supposed that another fit had 
seized him, and that in his struggle be had fallen and suffo- 
cated. 

This is a melancholy history, but a true one. Many cir- 
cumstances rendering it more striking are suppressed, as 
some of the parties are living. The old man, but a short 
time ago, was warned again, and the question put to him, 
"What are the benefits of this practice?" "li fattens 
graveyards,'" he replied, Avith a distorted countenance and 
a horrid laugh. 

Yes, such are the dire results of intemperance ; and of 
intemperance not born with one, but brought on by a tem- 
perate use of ardent spirit. These facts are well known. 
They are published Avith the hope of their proving a 
restraint to some one Avho, trusting in the strength of prin- 
ciple, may occasionally taste this destructive poison. 

*' Look not upon the Avine Avhen it is red, Avhen it giveth 
his color in the cup, Avhen it moveth itself aright : at the 
last it biteth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder." 
Go to God for strength to resist temptation ; practice en- 
tire abstinence from all that can intoxicate ; repent of sin, 
and trust in the mercy of Christ ; and you shall be safe for 
the present life and that Avhich is to come. 

PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



I¥o. 348. 

ZUIIGLE, 

THE SWISS REFORMER. 



The apostles were commanded to go forth, not in the 
strength of human powers, not relying upon genius, elo- 
quence, or authority, but in the strength of the Gospel ; and 
they conquered, where the noblest powers of man would 
have been but as the dust of the balance. 

The command was given for all times, as well as for the 
apostolic age. While it declared that the great work of 
God was not to owe its triumph to any vanity of man, it 
declared that simplicity, sincerity, and moral courage, qual- 
ities that may be found in every rank of man, however 
divested of the more showy gifts of nature or fortune, are 
enough to achieve the hallowed and immortal successes of 
the Gospel. No Christian can be suffered to shelter his 
indolence under the pretext that he has not the brilhant fac- 
ulties which influence the world. The mightiest changes 
that the earth has ever seen were made by men whose chief 
talents were love of truth, love of man, and love of God. 
The life of the first reformer of Switzerland is an illustrious 
example. 

Ulric Zuingle was the son of a peasant of the Swiss 
valley of Tockenburgh, and was born January 1st, 1483. 
He was destined for the church, and was sent successively 
to Basle, Bern, and Vienna, where he acquired the meagre 
literature usual in the fifteenth century. After four years' 
residence at Basle, he was ordained by the Bishop of Con- 
stance, on being chosen by the burghers of Glaris as their 
pastor. From this epoch commenced his religious know- 
ledge. It occurred to him, still in the darkness of popery, 



2 ZUINGLE, THE SWISS REFORMER. 

that to be master of the true doctrines of Christianity, he 
should look for them, in the first instance, not in the writ- 
ings of the doctors, nor in the decrees of councils, but in the 
Scriptures themselves. He began to study the New Tes- 
tament, and found, what all men will find who study it in 
a sincere desire of the truth, and in an earnest and humble 
supplication to the God of all light and knowledge for wis- 
dom, that in it was wisdom not to be taught by man. 

In this study he pursued a system essential to the right 
perception of the Scriptures. He was not content with 
readina; over the text : he labored to investio^ate its difficul- 
ties. He studied it in the original, and with so much dili- 
gence, that to render its language familiar to his memory, 
he wrote out the entire Greek of St. Paul's Epistles, and 
crowded the margin of his manuscript with notes of his 
own, and observations from the fathers. As his knowledge 
grew, he was astonished to find that some of those doctrines 
of the Romish church, which he conceived fixed immutably, 
were not discoverable in the New Testament. To clear up 
his perplexing doubts, he carefully examined the texts on 
which the canon of the mass was declared to be founded ; 
but by adopting the natural rule, of making Scripture its 
own interpreter, he convinced himself of the feebleness of 
the foundation. He now passed from discovery to discov- 
ery : he examined the writings of the primitive fathers, the 
immediate followers of the apostolic age, and ascertained 
that they differed in a singular degree from the prevalent 
doctrines of Rome. From the fathers he passed down to 
a general study of the later theologians, and found in some, 
denounced by Rome as heretics, the very opinions which he 
had been taught by his solitary study of the Scriptures. 
In the works of Bertram on the Eucharist, he found opin- 
ions in the ninth century opposed to those of the papacy. 
In Wickliffe's writings he found fatal arguments against the 
invocation of saints, and conventual vows ; and in those of 
Huss, the martyr, open and resistless reprobation of the 



ZUINGLE, THE SWISS REFORMER. 3 

tyranny of the papal power, and the temporal ambition of 
tlie Romish priesthood. To eyes once opened by the book 
of all holiness and wisdom, the delusion rapidly gave way 
on all sides. From seeing that the doctrines of the Romisli 
church were grounded on perverted interpretations or im- 
perfect knowledge, he turned to its practices. In unac- 
countable contrast with the inspired denunciations of the 
worship of idols, he saw the people bowing down to images, 
and attributing the power of miracles to pictures, statues, 
and fragments of the dead. 

He saw the Scriptures, on the one hand, proclaiming 
ONE MEDIATOR, and ouc alone. He saw the papacy, on the 
other, proclaiming hundreds and thousands, in saints, statues, 
and bones. One sacrifice, once offered for all, " without 
money and without price," was the language of inspiration. 
A thousand, a million sacrifices every day, and for the indi- 
vidual who purchased them, was the act of popery. " Be 
not lords over God's heritage,'-' were the dying words of tlie 
apostle. " Be kings, conquerors, rulers of all nations," was 
the maxim of those who declared that they held their right 
in virtue of St. Peter's supremacy. " The servant of the 
Lord must not strive," said the Scriptures. "The servant 
of the Lord must strive," says the other, " and hunt down, 
and chain, and massacre those who will not believe that he 
is the supreme depository of the wisdom of God, the vicar 
of God on earth, the spiritual lord of mankind, the opener 
of the gates of heaven, the sentencer of eternal misery to 
whom he will." 

It is one of the most admirable features in the character 
of Zuingle, that nothing could urge him into precipitancy. 

Those truths were irresistible, yet he knew the hazard, 
even to truth, from rashness. He had a double distrust, 
first of his own mind, next of that of the multitude. He 
felt that the eagerness to throw off prejudices has sometimes 
been itself a prejudice ; and he determined to abstain from 
all public declarations of his sentiments until they were 



4 ZUINGLE, THE SWISS REFORMER. 

unchangeable. To try them by every test, he kept up a 
private theological correspondence with a large circle of 
learned men ; but in his sermons he avoided all dispute, 
and by a course Avhich is perhaps, after all, the true way 
to shake error from its strongholds, the simple preaching 
of the uncontradicted and essential doctrines of Christianity, 
he gradually softened the repugnance and purified the cor- 
ruption of the public mind. In this course he continued 
for ten years. 

But his career was at length to receive a more vigorous 
and defined direction. That inscrutable Providence, who 
orders the most minute events for the furtherance of the 
cause and kingdom of his Son, whether in the affections or 
prosperity of his devoted servants, ordered the chief circum- 
stances of Zuingle's life in a manner apparently the most 
favorable that a preacher of the Gospel could have chosen. 

The direction of the opulent and highly -privileged abbey 
of Einsiedlen, in the canton of Schweitz, had been latel}'' 
given to Theobald, Baron of Geroldseck, a man of noble 
birth, who, after receiving an education more fitted to the 
noble and the soldier than to the churchman, had become a 
monk. He brought with him from the world ideas superior 
to the cloister, and one of his first purposes was to make 
his community entitled to literary distinction. Zuingle's 
character for intelligence and study reached him, and he 
offered the pastor of Glaris the preachership of the con- 
vent. Its opportunities of knoAvledge and literary associa- 
tion Avere so obvious, that Zuingle accepted the ofler, though 
the people of Glaris were so much attached to him that 
they kept their pulpit open for two years, in the hope that 
he might change liis mind and return. 

x\.t Einsiedlen, Zuingle found all that was still necessar}^ 
to invigorate and accomplish liis mind for the great work 
that lay before him. The library contained the chief theo- 
loo-ical labors of the church, a larp-e collection of the fathers, 
and the volumes of the leading restorers of learning in Ger- 



ZUINGLE, THE SWISS REFORMER. 5 

many. Among the monks were some active and zealous 
minds, whose names are still distinguished among the re- 
formers. And at their head was a candid and high-spirited 
noble, who, in an age of papal violence, had the manliness 
to encourage their inquiries, the sincerity to follow the 
truth, and the singular intrepidity to reduce it to practice. 
Zuingle had no sooner proved that it was unscriptural to 
believe in the pardon of sins for money, than Geroldseck 
ordered the effacing of the inscription over the abbey gate, 
*' Here i:)lenary remission of all sins is to he obtained." It 
was no sooner proved to him that the worship of relics was 
unholy, than he ordered the relics to be taken from the altars 
and buried. The nuns had hitherto read only the Romish 
liturgy ; he ordered that they should be supplied with the 
New Testament. 

Their vows had hitherto been irrevocable ; he ordered that 
all conventual license should be strictly restrained, but that 
every nun should be at liberty to leave the walls and marry 
if she so willed. Under such a governor, prudence alone 
was necessary to solid success, and prudence was one of 
the finest attributes of Zuingle. In his twofold office of 
preacher and confessor, a rash or ambitious spirit might 
have had great means of disturbing the general peace by 
irritating public opinion. He wisely abstained from this 
hazardous and fruitless course ; left the prominent supersti- 
tions to be detected by the increasing intelligence of the 
people, and holily labored to convince them only of right- 
eousness, temperance, and judgment to come. Thus, with- 
out offending their prejudices, he enlightened their under- 
standings ; and having disclosed the pure and visible beauty 
of the truths of God, safely left his hearers to sentence for 
themselves the humiliating observances, groundless doc- 
trines, and tyrannical assumptions of Rome. 

With the force of his clear and sincere mind turned to 
the great subjects of Christianity, he must have been in a 
constant advance to a more vigorous conviction of the errors 

VOL. VII. 30 



Q ZUINGLE, THE SWISS REFORMER. 

of the popish system ; and the time must arrive when that 
conviction would declare itself. But the piety of Zuingle 
was the direct reverse of the desire of exciting popular 
passion. 

The first appeal of the Swiss reformer was to his eccle- 
siastical superiors. His addresses to the Bishop of Con- 
stance, and the Cardinal of Sion, pointed out for their 
correction the errors which it was in their power safely to 
extinguish, but which could not, without public danger, be 
left to be extinguished by the people. 

" The revival of letters," said some of those manly doc- 
uments, " has lessened the popular creduhty. The people 
begin to blame the idleness of the monks, the ignorance of 
the priesthood, and the misconduct of the prelates." 

" If care be not taken, the multitude will soon lose the 
only curb capable of restraining its passions, and will go on 
from disorder to disorder." 

" A reformation ought to be begun immediately, but it 
ought to begin with sviperiors, and spread from them to 
their inferiors." 

" If bishops were no longer seen to handle the sword 
instead of the crosier, and ecclesiastics of all kinds to dissi- 
pate in scandalous debauchery the revenues of their bene- 
fices, then we might raise our voices against the vices of the 
laity, without dreading their recriminations. Yet a reform 
in manners is impossible, unless you first get rid of those 
swarms of pious idlers who feed at the expense of the in- 
dustrious citizen, and unless you abolish those superstitious 
ceremonies and absurd dogmas, equally calculated to shock 
the understanding of reasonable men, and to alarm tlie 
piety of religious ones." 

The Cardinal of Sion was a man of talents, who had 
raised himself from obscurity into high political influence 
with the court of Rome. The strength of his understand- 
inof made him feel that his remonstrant was in the ri^ht. 
and he promised to lay the statement before the pope. 



ZUrXGLE, THE SWISS REFORMER. 7 

But the cardinal was more a politician than a priest, and 
he shrunk from offering so obnoxious a topic to the stately 
and luxurious selfishness of Leo X. The son of the Medici 
had more engrossing objects than the purification of the 
church — to aggrandize his family, strengthen himself as a 
monarch by foreign alliances, distinguish his name as that 
of the great Mcecenas of the age, adorn his city by noble 
monuments of the arts, and in St. Peter's build a temple 
worthy of the pride of a religion Avhich claimed the suprem- 
acy of mankind. 

But the period had arrived when profound study, con- 
tinued interchange of opinion with the leading philosophers 
and divines of his country, and holy convictions, matured 
during many years, had fitted Zuingle for the solemn and 
public commencement of his work of immortality. 

For this perilous effort, which required the heroism of 
the age of the martyrs, the great reformer chose a promi- 
nent occasion. The history of the convent of Einsiedlen 
was a striking compound of the wild legend and fantastic 
miracle of the dark ages. In the ninth centur)^ a monk of 
noble family, probably disturbed by some memory of the 
furious excesses of the time, determined to hide himself 
from human eyes, in the most lonely depths of Switzerland. 

The spot which he chose was even then called " the 
gloomy forest." Here he built a chapel and a hermitage, 
and after a solitude of twenty-six years, closed his career 
under the daggers of a banditti. A miracle, it is said, 
sanctified his death. Two crows, his only associates in the 
wilderness, flew on the track of the murderers, screaming- 
round them, until, in the market-place of Zurich, the pop- 
ular suspicion was fixed on the robbers, and the crime was 
finally confessed and avenged. 

Pious curiosity was now attracted to the forest ; wealth 
followed curiosity, and a monastery rose on the foundation 
of the hermitage. A further miracle, says the legend, at- 
tested the good-will of the " Virgin," to whom, and to the 



g ZUINGLE, THE SWISS REFORMER. 

"Martyrs of the Thebian legion," the establishment was 
dedicated. The Bishop of Constance, with some of the 
neighboring prelates, had arrived to consecrate the convent, 
when, in the night, before the ceremony, the bishop heard 
superhuman voices chanting hymns in the church. His 
pious scruples started at the guilt of adding superfluous 
consecration to that shrine which had been already declared 
holy by celestial homage ; and the next day refused to per- 
form his function. He was, however, entreated so perse- 
veringly, that he was on the point of mingling the human 
office with the divine, and he approached the altar. But a 
mysterious oracle, according to the legend, pronounced in 
the ears of the terrified prelate, and the wondering people, 
" Cessa, cessa, f rater; divinitus capella consecrata est'' — 
''Forbear, brother; the chapel is divinely consecrated." 
The rebuked bishop shrunk before the supreme sanctifica- 
tion, and the multitude returned home, only to bring the 
fruits of sanctity that monkism loves, to the altar thus con- 
spicuously hallowed. The robber nobility and princes of 
the tenth century, who had many an act of blood to atone, 
washed away their crimes by giving a portion of their pil- 
lage to the convent of Einsiedlen. In the spirit of a time 
which always combined temporal ambition with spiritual 
influence, the abbot of this opulent establishment soon dis- 
dained the humble rank of a pastor, and demanded to be a 
sovereign. Through what intrigues the dignity was obtained, 
we cannot now inquire ; but under Rodolph of Hapsburgh, 
the founder of the Austrian monarchy, the abbot of Ein- 
siedlen took his place among the princes of the "Holy 
Roman Empire." Where opulence and rank were fully ob- 
tained, sanctity could not be far. An image of the Virgin 
was discovered accordingly, more genuine than all the past, 
more wonder-working, and more productive to the sacred 
treasury. 

The glory of this wooden Empress of the heavens, healer 
of diseases, and extractor of money, beamed with undimin- 



ZUINCLE, THE SWISS REFORMER. 9 

ished radiance for nearly half the duration of Rome, and 
even in the sixteenth century (from her rising in the eyes of 
the faithful) her splendors had scarcely approached their 
setting. 

Once €very seven years the consecration of the chapel 
was solemnized with great pomp. The event itself had been 
fixed in the papal history by a bull of Leo the Eighth, and 
the details had been preserved for posterity in a volume 
entitled, '' De Secretis Secretorumy It was there stated 
to have been performed " according to the Romish ritual in 
such cases made and provided ; the Saviour himself officiat- 
ing, attended in this ceremony by the necessary number of 
angels, evangelists, martyrs, and fathers." To give farther 
evidence of which fact, "it was stated that our Saviour 
concluded the ceremony by striking the fingers of his right 
hand into a stone at the chapel door." The marks were 
worshipped, kissed, and prayed to by thousands of pilgrims, 
down even to the year 1802, when the stone fell, and the 
holy marks never recovered the disaster. 

On the festival of this " Consecration of the Angels," 
Zuingle ascended the pulpit. The concourse was immense 
from the whole range of Switzerland, and every ear was 
turned to catch the panegyric of the ** Mighty Mother" and 
the " Host of Glory " that had descended to pour the oil of 
holiness on that selected spot of the world. But a mightier 
strength, that was to break the power of the idol, was there. 
AVith the sincerity and the zeal of a new apostle to the 
Gentiles, Zuingle thundered on them. 

'' Blind are ye," exclaimed he, " in seeking thus to please 
the God of earth and heaven. Believe not that the Eternal, 
He whom the heaven and the heaven of heavens cannot 
contain, dwells especially here. Whatever region of the 
world you may inhabit, there he is beside you, he surrounds 
you, he grants your prayers, if they deserve to be granted. 
It is not by useless vows, by long pilgrimages, by offerings 
to senseless images, that you can obtain the favor of God — 

VOL. VII. 30* 



10 ZUINGLE, THE SWISS REFORMER. 

that you can resist temptation, repress guilty desires, shun 
injustice, relieve the unfortunate, or console the afflicted. 
These alone are the works that please the Lord. 

"Alas, alas, I know our own crime. It is we, the min- 
isters of the altar — we, who ous^ht to be the salt of the earth, 
who have plunged the ignorant and credulous multitude into 
error. To accumulate treasures for our avarice, we have 
raised vain and worthless practices to the rank of good 
works, until the people neglect the laws of God, and only 
think of offering compensation for their crimes, instead of 
renouncing them. What is their language ? Let us indulge 
our desires ; let us enrich ourselves with the plunder of our 
neighbor ; let us not fear to stain our hands with blood and 
murder. When all is done, we shall find easy expiation in 
the favor of the church. 

" Madmen ! Can they think to obtain remission of their 
lies, their impurities, their adulteries, their murders, their 
treacheries, by a litany to the queen of heaven ? Is she 
to be the protectress of all evil-doers ? Be deceived no 
longer, people of error. The God of justice disdains to be 
moved by words which, in the very utterance, the heart 
disowns. The Eternal Sovereign of truth and mercy for- 
gives no man his trespasses, Avho does not forgive the tres- 
passer against himself. You worship the saints. Did those 
sons of God, at whose feet you fling yourselves, enter into 
heaven by relying on the merits of others ? No ; it was by 
walking in the path of the law of God, by fulfilling the will 
of the Most High, by facing death rather than deny their 
Lord and Saviour ! 

" What is the honor that you ought to pay those saints ? 
Imitate the holiness of their lives ; walk in their footsteps ; 
suffer yourselves to be turned aside by neither seduction 
nor terrors. 

" But in the day of trouble put your trust in none but 
God, who created the heaven and earth Avith a word. 

"At the coming of death, invoke no name but that of 



ZUINGLE, THE SWISS REFORMER. H 

Christ Jesus, who bought you with his blood, and who is 
the ONE and only Mediator between God and man !" 

This discourse struck at all the pillars of popery at once. 
Absolution for money, pilgrimages, the worship of the Vir- 
gin, and the intercession of the saints. It was listened to 
in mingled astonishment, wrath, and admiration. Its effect 
upon the multitude was to inflame, in some instances, the 
jealousy which no prudence of the pastor could have stifled : 
of the monks, some were indignant, yet many heard in it 
only the doctrines that had been the subject of long medi- 
tation among themselves. In some instances, the convic- 
tion was immediate and complete, and pilgrims who had 
brought ofterings to the shrine, now refused to join in what 
they had learned to be an act of impiety, and took their 
oflferings home. The great majority were awakened to a 
sense of their condition, and, from that hour, were prepared 
to abjure the crimes and superstitions of Rome. 

But, like the light that fell on St. Paul in his jour- 
ney, the fullest illumination descended on the preacher 
himself. 

Others heard and acknowledged the voice of Heaven, 
but it was to the preacher that the words of God came 
with living power. From that day forth, he was no longer 
the same man. His energy, intrepidity, and defiance of the 
common obstacles of Christianity, in the popular prejudices 
and the tyranny of the popedom, raised him to the highest 
rank of the champions of the Gospel. 

The mind of this great man, deeply imbued with Scrip- 
tural knowledge by his ten years' residence in his pastorship 
of Glaris, and farther matured by his three years' enjoy- 
ment of the literature and association of the intelligent 
members of Einsiedlen, was now prepared for the sterner 
duties of a leader of the Reformation. Through the ad- 
vice of Myconius, a Greek professor in the school of Zu- 
rich, whom he had known in the convent, Zuingle was 
chosen preacher in the cathedral of Zurich, Dec. 4, 1518 ; 



]2 ZULXGLE, THE SWISS REFORMER. 

a memorable period, one year from the commencement of 
Luther's preaching at Witteraberg. 

In his new office the preacher lost no time in giving evi- 
dence of his vigor. It had been the custom to restrict 
the Scriptural teaching to the Dominical lessons, portions 
of the text marked out for the Sundays and saints' days. 
Zuingle declared that he would take the whole of the sa- 
cred volume and explain it in succession, that the entire 
Scriptures might be made familiar to the people. He over-' 
ruled the objections that were made to this formidable in- 
novation on the practices of the Romanists ; and on the 
1st of Januar}^ 1519, the first day of his 35 th year, he 
commenced his course of Scripture lectures. From various 
motives, he was attended by a multitude of all ranks, and 
exercised the functions of a teacher of the truth with the 
boldness of a sacred servant, accountable to but one Master. 

In his course of exhortations he struck at the prevalent 
crimes of all classes ; the partiality of the magistrates, the 
violence, licentiousness, and intemperance of the lower 
ranks, and the national guilt of ambitiously espousing the 
cause of sovereigns for aggrandizement, and the old and 
peculiar crime of selling the services of their armies to 
strangers. 

He was fiercely threatened for this exposure ; but his 
fortitude never relaxed, and he persisted in the plain and 
direct reprobation of every practice obnoxious to Scripture. 
He was described alternately as a furious partisan and as a 
furious fanatic, as the prey of a mad enthusiasm, and the 
accomplice of dangerous designs against the state. But 
his sincerity, guided by his prudence, gained the day, and 
all men distinguished for honor and intelligence, were soon 
ranged on the side of the hallowed and intrepid teacher of 
the truth. 

A striking instance now occurred to give him a still 
stronger hold on the affections of his country, 

Leo the Tenth, in his eagerness to build St. Peter's, as 



ZUIiNGLE, THE SWISS REFORMER. 13 

a monument of his reign, had exhausted the papal treasury, 
and demanded that it should be filled up from the purses 
of the faithful. He sent friars on missions to sell the for- 
giveness of sins. Those demands had been frequently 
made before, on occasions of the failure of the Roman ex- 
chequer, and they had, in general, excited great opposition 
among the bishops and local clergy. The Franciscan Ber- 
nardine Samson, sent to Switzerland, had thus come on an 
unpopular message, and his own conduct, though person- 
ally adroit, was too strongly marked with the character of 
the popish modes of raising money, not to increase the 
unpopularity. He published a scale of absolutions for the 
poor and the rich, six sous being the cheap purchase of a 
soul of the former, while a crown was the price of the 
higher worth, or deeper depravity, of the latter. A noble- 
man of Bern is recorded to have made a single sweeping 
bargain of the di^^ne grace, for himself, his ancestors, and 
his vassals. 

The friar, by the authority of Leo — an authority claimed 
to this hour, and to the same extent, which no conviction 
of its blasphemy can reclaim, and no improvement of the 
general mind can induce to withdraw an iota of its usurpa- 
tions and follies — publicly declared, that the power of the 
pope had no limit in either heaven or earth ; that at his 
disposal was the blood of Christ and the martyrs ; that he 
had a heavenly right to remit both sin and the penance for 
sin; and that the sinner would be the heir of divine grace 
the ''moment his money rattled in the Franciscan's box." 
He proceeded, granting absolution alike to individuals and 
states, pardoning alike sins past, present, and to come, and 
selling bulls authorizing their fortunate purchasers, if har- 
assed by a too strict confessor, to choose an easier one, Avho 
should release them from vows, absolve them from the obli- 
gation of oaths, and extinguish the guilt of perjury. The 
habitual effrontery of those tax-gatherers of the pope rose 
into a ludicrous contempt for appearances. On a crowd of 



14 ZUINGLE, THE SWISS REFORMER. 

the common people pressing round the seller of the peace 
of heaven, he was heard to cry out in the open streets, 
*' Let the rich come first, who are able to buy the pardon 
of their sins. When they have been settled Avith, then the 
poor may come." 

Zuingle declared, in the face of the papal vengeance, 
that this traffic was a crime ; and he succeeded in prevail- 
ing on his fellow-citizens to repel the Franciscan. He did 
more ; he successfully appealed against him to the depu- 
ties of the Thirteen Cantons, which happened to be then 
assembled at Zurich. The final result was, that the Fran- 
ciscan was driven out of Switzerland. 

The history of the Reformation derives its value to us, 
not more from its noble display of principle and character, 
than from its instruction in the mode by which religion is 
to be best recovered in a degenerate age. The study of 
the Scriptures was the hght that led the reformers to 
knowledge ; and the knowledge of the Scriptures was the 
great instrument by which they labored to break the. popish 
fetters from the public mind. We find all the preachers 
devoting their whole strength to making known the inspired 
word, and that alone. The reformer of Zurich, a man 
acquainted with a vast range of the literature of his day, 
yet brought into the pulpit only the elucidations of the 
Bible. " On my arrival at Zurich," says he, *' I began to 
explain the Gospel according to St. Matthew. My next 
labor was the Acts of the Apostles, in order to show how 
the Gospel had been diffused. I then proceeded to St. 
Paul's first Epistle to Timothy, which may be said to con- 
tain the rule of life to a Christian, to clear up the errors 
introduced into the doctrine of faith. I then interpreted 
the Epistle to the Galatians, which was followed by the 
tAvo Epistles of St. Peter, to prove to the detractors of St. 
Paul that the same spirit had animated both apostles. I 
then commenced the Epistle to the Hebrews, as making 
known, in its full extent, the benefits of the mission of 



ZUINGLE, THE SWISS REFORMER. 15 

Christ. In all my discourses I avoided indirect modes of 
speech, artful turns, and captious arguments. It was only 
by the most simple reasonings that, in thus following the 
teaching of our Lord Christ, I attempted to open every 
man's eyes to his own disease." 

Zuingle had been, hitherto, merely a private preacher 
of the truth ; he was now to come in direct collision with 
ecclesiastical power. His preaching had begun to produce 
its natural effects, more permanent because less clamorous, 
and more formidable to popery because wrought in the 
hearts rather than borne on the lips of the people. About 
the year 1522 it was observed, with sudden suspicion by 
the priests, that some of their flocks had given up the prac- 
tice of fasting in Lent, and — which was the unpardonable 
crime — without the usual dispensation. A heresy which 
struck at the power of the church, in this most tender of 
all its feelings, must be extinguished root and branch ; the 
whip of persecution w^as instantly brandished ; the culprits 
were summoned before the magistrates, and were cast into 
prison. The Swiss reformer now came forward to defend 
his principles. In a writing on the " observation of Lent," 
he laid down the unquestionable doctrines, that, with God, 
mercy is better than sacrifice ; that Christianity has abol- 
ished all distinction of holy and unholy food ; and that the 
true fast is that from sin. He showed that Scripture and 
common sense alike left every one at liberty to fast or not, 
as he found it desirable to his pursuits, his health, or his 
Christian edification. After throwing into merited con- 
tempt the idea that one kind of food is more acceptable to 
God than another, or that the soul is the holier for the 
stomach's receiving a fish rather than an egg, he founds the 
rule on the necessities and circumstances of society. "Let 
the opulent fast, if they will ; it may form a suitable inter- 
ruption to their life of habitual indulgence. But the work- 
men in your manufactories, the laborers in your fields, find 
in the hardships and privations of their cases enough to 



16 ZUINGLE, THE SWISS REFORMER. 

mortify the flesh. The Romish reguhitions for those fasts 
were unknown to the majority of those very fathers by 
whom they are said to be founded. They are still unknown 
to large bodies of Christianity throughout the world. The 
true purpose for which they were adopted, and for which 
they are sustained, is, by the payment for dispensations, to 
raise a larsfe revenue for the see of Rome." 

The controversial war was now declared. Hugh of Lan- 
denberg, the Bishop of Constance, published a rescript to 
his clergy, exhorting them to adhere, with increased fidelity, 
to the mother church. His letter, addressed to the Coun- 
cil of Zurich at the same period, peculiarly desired that 
they would not suffer the ancient rights to be infringed. 
The Council, already awakened to the truth, answered this 
letter by a request that the chief pastors of the diocese 
should have a conference to examine into the causes of the 
dissension ; but Landenburg knew too well the peril of dis- 
turbing absolute absurdities, and declined the examination. 
He next wrote to the chapter of the cathedral, on whom 
the preacher was of course dependent, complaining of " cer- 
tain innovators, who, stimulated by the madness of pride, 
pretended to reform the church." The Bishop's language 
was in the form which the wrath of Rome uses to this hour : 
" Receive not as a remedy this detestable poison, perdition 
for salvation. Reject opinions which are condemned by the 
heads of Christendom, AIIoav them not to be preached 
among you, nor discussed, publicl}^ nor privately." 

Zuinofle had not been yet named, but he was conscious 
that the blow was meant for him ; and he demanded leave 
of his chapter to state the grounds of his opinion. The 
principle of the paper with which he refuted the charge of 
heresy, was, that " the Scriptures alone are the great au- 
thority to Christians." 

" The word of God," says this holy and high-minded 
man, in one of those passages whose truth is superior to all 
eloquence, " has no need of human sanction. The fathers 



ZUINGLE, THE SWISS REFORMER. 17 

of the church did no more than reject the spurious gospels, 
the work of feigned or unknown writers. Neither do we 
desire more than to purify rehgion of whatever is foreign to 
it — to dehver it from the captivity in Avhich it is held by its 
enemies — to dis: ao-ain those fountains of hving; water which 
those enemies have filled up. 

" In defence of human tradition, you say that the w^rit- 
ings of the first disciples of our Lord do not contain all that 
is necessary to salvation. You quote the text, * I have yet 
many things to say unto you, but ye cannot bear them now.' 
John 16 : 12. But here our Lord speaks to the apostles, 
and not to Aquinas, Scotus, Bartholus, or Baldus, whom 
you elevate to the rank of supreme legislators. When Jesus 
says, immediately after, ' Howbeit, when the Spirit of truth 
is come, he will guide you into all truth,' it is still the apos- 
tles whom he is addressing, and not men who should be 
called rather disciples of Aristotle than of Christ. If those 
famous doctors have added to Scripture doctrine that was 
deficient, it must then be acknowledged that our ancestors 
possessed it imperfect — that the apostles transmitted it to 
us imperfect, and that Jesus Christ, the Son of God, taught 
it to us imperfect. 

'' What blasphemy ! Yet do not they who make human 
traditions equal or superior to the law of God, or pretend 
that they are necessary to salvation, really say this ? If men 
cannot be saved without certain decrees of councils, neithei* 
the apostles nor the early Christians, who were ignorant of 
those decrees, can be saved ! 

" Observe to what those doctrines drive you. You de- 
fend your ceremonies as if they were essential to religion. 
Yet religion exercised a much more extensive empire over 
the heart, when the reading of pious books, prayer, and 
mutual exhortation, formed the only worship of the faithful. 
You accuse me of overturning the state, because I openl}' 
censure the vices of the clergy. No one respects more than 
I do the ministers of religion, when they teach it in its pu- 
VOL. vii. 31 



18 ZITINGLE, THE SWISS REFORMER. 

rity, and practise it with simplicity ; but I cannot suppress 
my indignation when I see shepherds, who by their conduct 
say to their flocks, ' We are the elect, you the profane. We 
are the enlightened, you the ignorant. It is permitted to 
us to live in idleness, you must eat your bread in the sweat 
of your brow. We may give ourselves up to all excesses 
with impunity, while you must abstain from all sin !' 

" I will now tell you what is the Christianity that I pro- 
fess. It commands men to obey the laws and respect the 
magistrate — to pay tribute where tribute is due — to be 
rivals only in beneficence — to relieve the poor — to share the 
sorrows of our neighbor — and to regard all mankind as 
brethren. It farther requires the Christian to expect sal- 
vation from God alone — Jesus Christ, his only Son, our 
Master and Saviour, who giveth eternal life to those who 
believe on him. Such are the principles from which, in the 
exercise of my ministry, I have never departed." 

Those expositions of doctrine have a value measureless 
beyond even their historical interest. They give us the 
sincere impression of the Scriptures, as they stamp their 
immortal truths on the minds of men neAvl}^ awakened to a 
sense of religion. We see how deeply and purely the wis- 
dom of the Scriptures speaks, from the beginning, to every 
man who will fully bring his heart to their study. In human 
science the progress is gradual ; every succeeding genera- 
tion discerns error in the midst of the brightest discoveries 
of the past. But here truth is developed at once ; the first 
generation acquires a knowledge not to be surpassed by the 
remotest that is to be born. If intellectual science rises like 
the sun from the verge of the earth, light upon light, to- 
wards the meridian — spiritual science, like the light that 
heralded the birth of the Messiah, bursts upon us at once 
from the zenith, and fills the midnight with celestial glory. 

The papacy had, until this period, been content to watch 
the proceedings of the reformers with a jealous eye. Leo 
the Tenth, busied with state intriafues, fond of the lazv 



ZUINGLE, THE SVVlSt? REFORMER. 19 

indulgence of the throne, and, like all voluptuaries, disbe- 
lieving the power of an}^ thing but pleasure or ambition to 
stir the energies of man, listened with reluctance or disdain 
to the rumors of religious change in the North. The ac- 
complished Italian, nurtured in the elegance of southern 
life, and surrounded with the arts in their day of splendor, 
looked with native and habitual disdain on the barbarian 
Swiss and German. But the day of indolence must at 
length be at an end ; and Leo, startled by the stern remon- 
strances of the German popish sovereigns, and by the jus- 
tified alarm of the popish priesthood, w^as roused to final 
action by the more perplexing intelligence, that his sacred 
treasury was on the point of losing its northern revenue. 

The repulse of the papal sellers of indulgences was not 
to be forgiven. Without the money for which Rome had, 
during a thousand years, laid her claim on the human mind, 
the whole papal fabric must come to the ground. In 1528 
Luther's forty-one propositions were declared heretical, and 
his writings ordered to be burned ; while to himself was 
offered only the alternative of falsifying his doctrines, or 
being excommunicated. This act of tyranny was followed, 
in the next year, by the citation to the Diet of Worms, 
where refusing to appear, he was put under ban, and de- 
clared an enemy to the empire, as " a schismatic, a notori- 
ous and obstinate heretic, and a gangrened foe to the holy 
church." 

The war which broke out between Charles the Fifth and 
Francis the First, at the moment when the sword seemed 
about to fall on the necks of the reformers, providentially 
put off the visitation from the day of weakness till the day 
of strength. But the minor persecutions, by the hands of 
the prelates and local authorities, vexed the church of God ; 
and in 1532 Zuingle appeared before the council of his 
canton, and demanded to be heard in public conference, in 
behalf of his doctrine, in presence of the deputies of the 
Bishop of Constance. 



20 ZUINGLE, THE SWISS REFORMER. 

The decree of the council was issued, ordering the ec- 
clesiastics of their canton to appear and argue against the 
neAv doctrines, as far as they could, from the Bible. 

Zuingle now published his " Seventy- six Articles." They 
and the controversy are memorable — the former as being a 
masterly elucidation at once of the reformed and the popish 
principles of the time ; the latter as giving rise to a signal 
change in church government. 

The "Seventy-six Articles" declared, that "It is an 
error to assert that the Gospel is nothing witliout the ap- 
probation of the church of Rome. It is an error to esteem 
other instructions equally with those of the Gospel. The 
cause of the divisions of the church lies in the traditions by 
which the priests justify their riches, pomps, and dignities : 
the observances enjoined by men do not avail us to salva- 
tion. The mass is not the sacrifice of Christ ; the poAver 
arrogated to themselves by the pope and his bishops, is not 
founded on Scripture. The jurisdiction claimed by the 
priesthood rightfully belongs to the secular magistrates, to 
whom all believers ought to submit themselves. The law 
of God has not forbidden marriage to the clergy : celibacy 
of the clergy is one great source of licentiousness. Con- 
fession to a priest may be considered as an examination of 
the conscience, but is not an act which can deserve absolu- 
tion. To give absolution for money, is to be guilty of si- 
mony. Holy writ says nothing of purgatory. God alone 
knows the judgment that he reserves for the dead. Since 
he has not been pleased to reveal it, we ought to refrain 
from presumptuous conjectures. No man should be mo- 
lested for his opinions. The magistrate should prohibit 
those alone who threaten the public peace." 

The conference was attended by two hundred ecclesias- 
tics, and a great multitude of other persons. The grand- 
vicar and the intendant of the Bishop of Constance were 
present as his representatives, and addressed the meeting. 

But the most pressing efforts of Zuingle could not urge 



ZUINGLE, THE SWISS llEFOILMER. 21 

them into the examination of his tenets ; they spoke in 
general terms, and repeated the importance of avoiding all 
schism. The controversy was on the point of closing in this 
inefficient manner; but a complaint was tendered to the 
council of the arrest of a priest for denying the invocation 
of the saints and the Virgin. This act of oppression excited 
loud remark, and the vicar-general, in vindicating the act 
of his superior, accidentally said, that he himself had con- 
ferred with the priest, and brought him to acknowledge his 
heresy. Zuingle, with equal boldness and sagacity, started 
forward at this unwary acknowledgment, and demanded that 
the vicar should state the reasons that had so suddenly 
converted the priest. The grand-vicar attempted to re- 
cover the false step of suffering himself to be thus drawn 
into a detail of his doctrine, and he attempted to escape 
under cover of a harangue on the danger of disturbing the 
decisions of the church. Particular synods he declared to 
be unfit for settling doctrines. General councils Avere the 
only instruments. " The gift of interpreting the Scrip- 
tures," said he, " is a precious one, which God does not 
grant to all. I do not boast of possessing it. I know no 
Hebrew, little Greek, and though I know enough of Latin, 
yet I do not give myself out as an orator in the language. 
Far be it from me to erect myself into a judge in questions 
where salvation is concerned ; these only a general council 
can decide, to whose decisions I shall yield without mur- 
muring." 

His vigorous adversary insisted on his original point. 
He was answered by the vicar and the bishop's doctors, 
by quotations from the fathers, the canon of tlie mass, the 
litanies, and appeals to the miracles still wrought by the 
Romish saints, Such answers he threw into the contempt 
that they deserved. 

''What kind of unerring guides," exclaimed lie, "are 
those fathers of the church ? How often do they disagree ? 
What are not the differences of Jerome and Augustine, for 

VOL. VII. ol'- 



22 ZUINGLE, THE SWISS REFORMER. 

example, on the most important principles of Christianity? 
Look to the canon of the mass, is it not the composition of 
men, of popes and bishops, who were any thing but infalli- 
ble ? The litanies of Gregory may prove that saints were 
invoked in his day. But do they prove that the invocation 
was grounded on Scripture ? If we are to believe that the 
miracles attributed to the Virgin and the saints took place, 
who is to prove that they occurred by their intercessions ?" 

He concluded with this forcible and intrepid peroration : 
" You demand my submission to the decisions of your 
church, on the plea that it cannot err. Now, if by the 
church you mean popes and their cardinals, how dare you 
assert it cannot err? Can you deny that among the popes 
there have been several who lived in licentiousness, and 
surrendered their minds to all the furies of ambition, hatred, 
and revenge ? Men who, to aggrandize their temporal power, 
have not liesitated to stir the subject into rebellion against 
his prince. But how is it possible for me to believe that 
the Holy Spirit could have guided men whose conduct thus 
seems to brave the direct commands of Christ? 

" Or do you mean by the church, the councils ? Can 
you forget how often those councils have accused each other 
of perfidy and heresy ? There is, indeed, one church that 
cannot err, and that is guided by the Holy Spirit. The 
members of this church are all true believers, imited in the 
bonds of faith and charity. But this church is visible only 
to the eyes of its divine Founder, who alone knoweth his 
own. It has no pompous assemblages ; it dictates no de- 
cree like the monarchs of this world ; it possesses no tem- 
poral sovereignty ; it solicits neither honors nor power ; it 
has one care, and but one, to fulfil the commands of its 
Lord!" 

The popish advocates had no answer to this manly and 
scriptural appeal. And the council recorded its decision, 
" That Zuingle, having neither been convicted of heresy nor 
refuted, should continue to preach the Gospel as before ; 



ZULXGLE, THE SWISS REFORiMER. 23 

that the pastors of Zurich should rest their discourse on 
the words of Scripture alone, and that both parties should 
abstain from all personal reflections." 

The conference Avas now closed, and the great question 
settled which was to place the faith of Switzerland on its 
hallowed foundation. But in the necessary ceremonial of 
publishing the decree, the clergy were again convoked on 
the same evening, and the grand-vicar, anxious to recover 
the ground that he liad lost, protested against the haste of 
the proceeding, and offered to refer the question to the 
doctors of some university, answering the demand of making- 
Scripture the sole standard, by saying, that its meaning was 
often so dubious, that a judge of Scripture itself was neces- 
sary. Zuingle started forward and repelled this thousand 
times overthrown subterfuge of Rome with noble sincerity. 

"Scripture," exclaimed this champion of the truth, 
" explains itself, and has no need of a Romish interpreter. 
If men understand it ill, it is because they read it ill. It is 
always consistent with itself; and the Spirit of God acts 
by it so strongly, that all readers may find the truth there, 
provided they will seek it with an humble and sincere heart. 
Thanks to the invention of printing, the sacred books are 
now within the reach of all Christians ; and I expect the 
ecclesiastics here assembled to study them unremittingly. 
They will there learn to preach Christianity as it was trans- 
mitted to us by the evangelists and apostles. 

" As to the fathers, I do not blame their being read and 
quoted in the pulpit, provided it be where they are conform- 
able to Scripture, and provided they are not considered as 
infallible authority." 

It is a striking circumstance, that in some papal coun- 
tries, in our own day, the Reformation should have been 
sustained by the same species of public conferences. Their 
adoption by the early reformers stamps their value as among 
the most efficient, natural, and extensive means of extin- 
guishing popular errors in religion. Even the ablest writ 



24 ZUINGLE, THE SWISS REFORMER. 

ings are feeble, tardy, and circumscribed, when contrasted 
with the pubHc energy of a reasoner on the side of truth. 
He shows, by his open defiance of the adversary, that he 
has nothing to fear, and nothing to disguise ; by the direct- 
ness of his answer, how easily objections may be answered, 
which, to the solitary reader, might seem strong as demon- 
stration ; and he shows the vigor of the truth, and the hol- 
lowness of error, to thousands at a time. If the popish 
multitude can understand nothing else, they can understand 
that the doctrines which they had never dreamed of contro- 
verting, are actually doubted, nay, denied, nay, sternly rep- 
robated, by others whom they knoAv to be men of character, 
qualified by rank and leisure for the inquiry, of acknow- 
ledged learning, and of obvious ability. They can hear 
general principles stated, which are like instincts in the 
heart of man, enslaved as he may be : the right of every 
human being to think for himself ; the utter improbability 
that the God of justice and mercy would give a revelation 
of his will to all men, which yet none but the priest was 
intended to understand ; the palpable absurdity of supposing 
that, while every man is a creature of weakness, a body of 
a hundred, or a thousand, could be incapable of error. The 
idleness and inconsistency of supposing that the Gospel, 
one of whose glories and characteristics was that of being- 
preached to the poor, should, in contradiction to the express 
words of its Giver, have been preached only to the priest ; 
or that the Jewish poor were of higher intelligence than 
the Christian ; or that, when God has given us faculties, 
and commanded us to live by their exercise here, he should 
have shut up these faculties the moment they should venture 
to contemplate the mighty truths by Avhich we are to live 
in the world to come ; or that he should put this eternal 
knowledge, which is the eternal welfare of the soul, into the 
hands of the priest, to be by him given out in what portions 
he pleased ; or that, having commanded the Gospel to be 
declared, and the Scriptures to be searched by all men, he 



ZUINGLE, THE SWISS REFORMER. 25 

should yet contradict himself, and ordain that the Gospel 
should be at the mercy of a chosen class, often not purer, 
nor wiser, nor more Christian, than others ; and that the 
Scriptures should not be searched, and in the hands of 
every man. 

The value of books is not denied. They may be of 
high importance. Theh' calm arguments may bring convic- 
tion to men in the calmness of the closet. They may abound 
with more extensive and various illustration than is com- 
patible with the rapid glance of the pubhc speaker. Tliey 
may review arguments which escaped the listener's hurried 
ear. They may adduce arguments too profound for the hur- 
ried ear. They, too, must furnish the materials out of which 
the public speaker is armed. They are the mine out of which 
the ore is to be drawn, that the speaker stamps with the 
energy of the moment, and sends out, at once shining and 
solid, to enrich the circulation of hallowed knowledge. 

But the grand instrument of effect must be the living ap- 
peal. It has its inconveniences, as has every thing touched 
by man ; but it has none that are beyond the power of pru- 
dence, and a sincere desire to serve the cause of God, pure 
from personal irritation, the low vanity of human triumph, 
and the guilty commixture of human ambition. 

Zuingle had now triumphed nobly, and the fruits of his 
success were rich and rapid. He had, by this conference, 
obtained the opportunity which he so long wished for, that 
of declaring himself in the presence of the great body of 
the clergy, and showing with what ease truth could put 
down falsehood. His learned and holy habits had been well- 
known ; but the manliness, dignity, and Christian mild- 
ness, exhibited by him on this trying occasion, excited high 
public homage. The reformed Avere proud of a leader who 
showed that neither in learning nor in intrepidity he would 
fail them. The wavering between both opinions w-ere de- 
cided by his palpable superiority ; and even among the preju- 
dice*d partisans of Rome, there were men who acknowledged 



26 ZULNGLE, THE SWISS REFORMER. 

the force of unexpected truth, and turned to the neglected 
Scriptures that alone can break the chams of the mind. 

But it had an additional advantage of peculiar importance 
to the considerate wisdom of the reformer. It relieved his 
cause of the imputation of being the work of private influence 
or personal enthusiasm. He was no more to hurt his own 
feelings or those of others by the appearance of standing 
forth, a clergyman to resist clergymen. He was now under 
the sanction of the state. His reform was now the work 
of regular authority. His church was placed, as he had 
always desired to see it, under the protection of the secular 
power ; and the tyranny of Rome was superseded by the 
mild majesty of the law. 

It is characteristic of the reformer's sleepless prudence, 
that he had hitherto abstained from practical innovations in 
the worship of his church, obviously for the reason that, 
while on the one hand they might give unnecessary offence 
to those who still adhered to Rome, on the other they might 
give a cloak to the hypocrisy or violence of the populace. 
In his colloquies he had, without hesitation, confuted the 
leading doctrine of Rome, that the mass was an actual sac- 
rifice of Christ; yet he had suffered the usual celebration 
of the ceremony. He had expressly denied the doctrine of 
saint and image worship ; yet he had not removed the 
images from their shrines. He left this result of an improved 
public understanding to the course of time, and to the truths 
inculcated in his powerful and indefatigable preaching. 

The wisdom of his conduct was soon displayed by the 
unhappy effects of its opposite in others. Some of the re- 
formed at Zurich, imputing this forbearance to want of zeal, 
commenced an attack upon image-Avorship. They began by 
publishing a vehement pamphlet, which they called " The 
Judgment of God against Images." The measure soon 
resulted in a mob-riot, in which the crucifix standing over 
the city-gate was torn down. The offenders were brought 
before the council, and the matter was long debated. The 



ZUINGLE, THE SWISS REFORMER. 27 

question was delicate, for an acquittal would have involved 
Zurich with the Catholic cantons, already sufficiently jealous 
of its reformed spirit. Zuingle gave his opinion with his 
habitual manliness. He declared that images were not to 
be made objects of worship, they having been expressly 
prohibited by the Jewish revelation, and the prohibition not 
having been revoked by the second. The accused, then, 
could not be found guilty of sacrilege. But they deserved 
sentence as culprits against the laws, for *' having committed 
the act without magisterial authority." 

The council, to relieve themselves from the difficulty, 
summoned the neighboring theologians to another confer- 
ence. But no results followed, except to the prisoners, 
who, in consideration of their confinement, were dismissed ; 
the ringleader, Hottinger, being banished from the Canton 
for two years. But this was the sentence of death to the 
unfortunate exile. He fixed himself in one of the bigoted 
cantons, where his openness of speech caused his arrest. 
On being asked his doctrine on the adoration of saints and 
images, he boldly pronounced such worship contrary to the 
divine law. The senate of Zurich interposed in vain ; Hot- 
tinger was condemned to the axe. From the scaffold he 
addressed the deputies of the cantons, entreating them to 
join with Zurich, and to refrain from opposition to the 
reform, for which he declared that he died with joy. He 
then addressed his judges, for whom he prayed the mercy 
of God, and the openmg of their eyes to Gospel truth. 
His last appeal was to the people, in words which only 
Christianity could have taught, and which at once expressed 
his charity, his courage, and his doctrine : " If I have 
offended any one among you, let him forgive me, as I have 
forgiven my enemies. Pray to God to support my faith to 
the last moment. When I shall have undergone my pun- 
ishment, your prayers will be useless to me." Thus died 
the first Swiss martyr. 

The image controversy was revived by an epistle of the 



S8 2UrNGLE, THE SWISS REFORMER. 

Bishop of Constance vindicating images, by a distinction 
between idols which represented false gods, and images of 
saints who had been, since their death, received into heaven. 
"The homage to whom," he pronounced, "was so far from 
criminal, that it nurtured piety." 

Zuingle, now no longer on his own account, but by com- 
mand of the council, published a reply, of which the follow- 
ing sentences are a portion. 

** The law of Moses is express on the subject of images. 
Its declarations on that point have not been abolished by 
the Gospel. 

" That law forbids not only the adoration of any God 
but the Eternal, it forbids the making of the likeness of 
any thing in heaven, earth, or the waters under the earth ; 
and this prohibition extends to images of all kinds used for 
worship. The extravagant impieties of idolaters, and the 
abuses produced by image- worship among Christians, suffi- 
ciently prove the wisdom of the law. He who first placed 
the statue of a holy man in a temple, had certainly no other 
intention than to offer him as an object of adoration to the 
faithful. But men did not stop there. The images were 
soon surrounded with a pomp which impressed the imagi- 
nation of the people ; they were transformed into divinities, 
and honored as the pagans honored their gods. Their 
names were given to temples and altars, and chapels were 
consecrated to them in woods, fields, and mountains. How 
many men, in the hour of trouble, instead of invoking the 
Omnipotent, call upon men who have been dead for ages, 
whose virtues have placed them in the mansions of the 
blessed, but who can neither hear nor succor us. How 
many Christians, instead of having recourse to the mercy 
of the Redeemer, expect salvation from some saint, the 
object of their superstitious devotion. 

"There are even some who attribute supernatural vir- 
tues to these images. To increase the veneration for them, 
they are sometimes kept concealed, and sometimes brought 



ZUIXGLE, THE SWISS REFORMER. 29 

forth in pompous processions. Men consult them to learn 
the future ; and to such a degree is the credulity of the 
vulgar abused, that they are made to believe that these 
inanimate images have uttered words, shed tears, and given 
commands. Look at the votive tablets that cover the Avails 
of our churches ; is there one that testifies the gratitude of 
a Christian towards God, the dispenser of all good, or Jesus 
Christ, the Saviour of the world ? 

" No ; it is to men whose condition on earth was like 
our own, that they attribute the miraculous cure of a disease, 
or unexpected succor in the hour of danger, or a wise reso- 
lution taken in some important circumstances of life. Is 
this true piety ? No ; believe me, such superstitious wor- 
ship only serves to enrich those who patronize it. 

** If you would honor the saints, honor them, not by 
addressing prayers to them which belong to God alone — 
not by lavishing upon them oflferings of which they have no 
need — but by following their example." 

This nervous and just appeal produced its solid effect in 
the determination of the council of the canton to reform 
the public worship. By a decree, dated 1524, it enjoined 
the removal, by individuals, of those pictures and statues 
which had been consecrated by themselves or their fore- 
fathers. Two magistrates visited the churches of Zurich to 
see that the order was put in force. The superstition of 
the monks was still active, and it was declared that the im- 
ages would resist this desecration and spontaneously return 
to their shrines. But the magistrates proceeded in their 
work, and the credit of these inactive images sunk prodig- 
iously. The dethroned saints were laid up in a public hall 
in order to be preserved. 

But the prudence of the reformer and the council was 
defeated by popular violence. It was loudly pronounced 
that things so capable of being again made instruments of 
superstition, should be destroyed. The relics were there- 
fore taken from the churches and inten-ed, to avoid disturb- 
voL. VII. 32 



30 ZUINGLE, THE SWISS REFORMER. 

ing the remaining prejudices of the people. The tolling of 
bells for the dead, and in storms, with other superstitious 
ceremonies, was discontinued. The prohibition of images 
was not made a law throughout the canton ; it was more 
mildly declared, that the matter should depend on the vote 
of the people : where the majority desired the removal, the 
magistrates were authorized to carry it into effect. The _ 
natural consequence followed ; the images disappeared. 

But a grand difficulty remained, the mass. While this 
pillar of the Roman worship stood, all true reform was 
incomplete. Zuingle had, from the commencement of his 
career at Zurich, openly declared himself against the con- 
tinuance of a rite which he had ceaselessly proved to be in 
direct contradiction to the letter and the spirit of the Gospel. 

Scripture pronounces that Christ died once, and that his 
one sacrifice is sufficient for the sins of those who will, in 
repentance and faith, seek for pardon. 

The doctrine of the mass pronounces that the mass is an 
actual sacrifice ; that this sacrifice may be offered every 
day, in every corner of the earth at once, ten times, or a 
milUon times a day ; that it may be offered for money ; that 
it may be offered for the dead ; that it may redeem from 
future agonies men who never had a thought of repentance ; 
that the actual body and blood of Christ are offered up ; 
that they exist in what to the human senses is but a wafer, 
that the hundred or ten thousand wafers are each the whole 
and complete body and blood of Christ ; that the priest can 
make his Maker; and that the people should worship, as 
the eternal God, what the priest himself will ack'howledge 
to have been but flour and water the moment before conse- 
cration ; and what to the eye, the touch, and the taste, is 
but flour and water still ! 

Zuino-le denounced the whole error of this inconceivable 
delusion ; but with his characteristic reluctance to urge the 
public understanding, he desired to limit his first changes 
to some alterations in the canon of the mass, allowing the 



ZUINGLE, THE SWISS REI'ORMER. 31 

priests to retain their vestments, and tolerating whatever 
ceremonies were not decidedly opposed to the spirit of rehg- 
ion. Circumstances induced the council to delay even 
those changes for a year. At the close of that period, the 
rapid intelligence of the public mind had prepared it for the 
more complete reform, and Zuingle declared the necessity 
of the entire abolition of the mass. Yet even then no hasty 
zeal was suffered to interfere. The mass was still suffered 
to be performed. The law was limited to taking off the 
command, by which priests were to solemnize the rite, or 
the laity to be present at it. It was thus gradually aban- 
doned, until, in the year 1525, Zuingle was empowered, by 
the public will, to complete the abolition of the mass, and 
solemnize in its place the Lord's supper. His reform now 
required but some civil additions, and they were effectually 
made. The chapter of his cathedral, by his influence, ac- 
knowledged the paramount authority of the state, and the 
mendicant orders were suppressed. But in these altera- 
tions, so tempting to human cupidity, the manliness, fore- 
sight, and justice of the great reformer, were worthy of his 
religion. The property of the convents was not plundered, 
nor even alienated to the secular purposes of the state. It 
was kept together and duly directed, more wisely and use- 
fully, to the objects of public instruction in the Gospel and 
literature. The infirm members, male and female, of those 
estabhshments, were retained in the possession of their cus- 
tomary emoluments ; but at their deaths their benefices and 
estates were appointed to the support of professorships for 
general and gratuitous teaching. 

The cells of a great adjoining abbey were turned into a 
seminary for the education of young ecclesiastics ; the nuns 
having been previously pensioned. The Dominican convent 
was made an hospital. The Augustan convent was given 
up to the reception of the poor, and of destitute strangers 
travelling through the canton. The other convents were 
similarly employed. The revenues were in no instance em- 



32 ZUINGLE, THE SWISS REFORMER. 

bezzled by the claims or cupidity of the state or private 
persons. The great reformer had, in this preservation, to 
contend with avarice and every bad passion of our nature, 
but he was at once sincere and prudent ; and he accom- 
phshed his work by putting the conventual property under 
the care of a responsible administrator, thus saving it from 
future plunder, and directing its employment to objects of 
the highest public utility. 

His next work was a system of public instruction. He 
had driven out the ancient superstition ; his business now 
was to prevent its return ; and this he knew was to be most 
effectually done by teaching the people to think for them- 
selves. He revived the almost dead school of Zurich; 
brought to it some able professors of classical and oriental 
literature, and established public lectures, chiefly in the 
knowledge of the Scriptures, which he justly placed at the 
head of all learning. He banished the old system of study- 
ing only the schoolmen, and made it the principal duty of 
the theological teachers to study the Bible in the original 
languages, comparing them with the chief versions, illus- 
trating them by the commentaries of the rabbins and fathers ; 
ascertaining the customs and traditions of Judea, connected 
with the Scriptures, and finally directing this knowledge to 
the general Christian improvement of the country. The 
theological lectures were given in the cathedral that had so 
long echoed the gloomy doctrines and wild reveries of 
monkery. The clergy of the city, and the students in divin- 
ity, were enjoined to attend them, but the spontaneous will 
of the people brought crowds of all classes ; a taste for lit- 
erature was deeply rooted, and long after the great reformer 
had passed away, men of professions the least connected 
with literature were to be found in Zurich, distinguished for 
classical and theological knowledge. 

The career of Zuingle was now about to close. But it 
was still to be signalized by a triumph of the faith. In 
152Y, some districts of Bern, the most powerful of the can- 



ZUINGLE, THE SWISS REFORMER. 33 

tons, petitioned its senate for the introduction of the system 
established at Zurich, and for the suppression of the mass. 
The senate was divided, but the proposal was finally refer- 
red to a council of the clergy of Bern and the other states 
of the league. Some of the cantons objected to the meet- 
ing, but it was at length held, and attended by names still 
memorable in the history of Protestantism : ^colampadius, 
Pellican, Collinus, Bullinger, Capito, and Bucer. On Zuin- 
gle's arrival, the sittings commenced. The Protestant doc- 
trines were proposed in the shape of ten theses, and they 
were so powerfully sustained by the learning and talent of 
the reformers, that, after eiorhteen debates, the o-reat ma- 
jority of the Bernese clergy signed their adherence to them, 
as the true doctrines of the Gospel. 

The ** Grand Council " of Bern then proceeded to act 
upon the decision. It declared the Bishops of Lausanne, 
Basle, Sion, and Constance, to be divested of all rights in its 
territory ; ordered the priests to teach nothing contradictory 
to the theses, permitted priests to marry, and monks and 
nuns to leave their convents, and appropriated the religious 
revenues to lawful purposes. Within four months. Protes- 
tantism was the religion of the whole canton ; but this tri- 
umph was finally purchased by the death of the great leader 
and light of Switzerland. The accession of so powerful a 
state as Bern, threw the Catholic cantons into general 
alarm. A league, prohibiting the preaching of the Refor- 
mation, was made between the five cantons of Lucerne, Uri, 
Schweitz, Unterwalden, and Zug. Protestant ministers 
were persecuted, and in some instances, put to death, and 
alliances were formed with the German princes hostile to 
Protestantism. Civil discord inflames all the bad passions ; 
and the remaining enemies of the Reformation in Zurich and 
Bern labored to represent the public disturbances as the 
work of Zuingle. He suddenly appeared before the senate, 
and tendered the resignation of his office. ** I have," said 
he, ** for eleven years, preached the Gospel to you in its 
VOL. VII ' 32* 



34 ZUINGLE, THE SWISS REFORMER. 

purity ; as became a faithful minister, I have spared neither 
exhortations nor reprimands, nor warnings ; I have declared 
to you, on many occasions, how great a misfortune it would 
be to you, that you should suffer yourselves to be again 
guided by those whose ambition is their god. 

*' You have made no account of my remonstrances ; I 
see introduced into the Council, men destitute of morality 
and religion, having nothing in view but their own interest, 
enemies of the doctrine of the Gospel, and zealous parti- 
sans of our adversaries. These men are they who are now 
listened to. As long as you act in this manner, what good 
can be hoped for ? But since it is to me that the public 
misfortunes are attributed, though none of my counsels are 
followed, I demand my dismission, and will go and seek an 
asylum elsewhere." 

This act of noble self-denial was received by the Coun- 
cil as it deserved. A deputation was sent to entreat him to 
rescind his resolution. But they objected political and per- 
sonal grounds in vain. At length, they laid before him 
the unquestionable injury that must be sustained by the 
Reformation, if it were thus to lose its principal champion 
in its chief seat, Zurich. To this argument Zuingle gave 
way, and three days afterwards appeared before the Coun- 
cil, and pledged himself to adhere till death to the cause 
of his country. 

The persecutions of the Protestants had awakened the 
fears and resentment of the reformed cantons, and to en- 
force the treaty by which the reformed were to be pro- 
tected, the cantons of Zurich and Bern determined to 
blockade the five cantons. The blockade was contrary to 
the advice of Zuingle, who deprecated it as involving the 
innocent with the guilty. At length the five cantons col- 
lected their troops, and advanced towards Cappel, a point 
where they might prevent the junction of the Zurichers 
and Bernese. Zurich was thrown into consternation ; and 
when four thousand men were ordered to march, but seven 



ZUL\GLE, TFIE SWISS REFORMER. 35 

hundred were equipped in a state to meet the enem)'-. 
News came that the division ah^eady posted at Cappel Avas 
attacked by a superior force. The officer in command of 
the. Zurichers instantly marched to sustain the post. It 
was the custom of the Swiss, that their clergy should fol- 
low their troops to the field, to administer the last consola- 
tions to the dying. Zuingle attended this detachment, but 
with a full consciousness of the hazard. " Our cause is 
good," said he to the friends who crowded anxiously round 
him, as the troops marched out ; " but it is ill defended. 
It will cost my life, and that of a number of excellent men 
who would wish to restore religion to its primitive sim- 
plicity. No matter ; God will not abandon his servants ; 
he will come to their assistance when you think all lost. 
My confidence rests upon him alone, and not upon men. I 
submit myself to his will." 

Cappel is three leagues from Zurich. On the road the 
roaring of the cannon, attacking the position of the Zurich- 
ers, was heard. The march of the troops was slow, from 
the heio'ht of Mount Albis and the Aveight of their armor. 
Zuingle, agitated for the fate of the post, urged the officers 
to push forward at speed. " Hasten," he cried, " or we 
shall be too late. As for me, I will go and join my breth- 
ren. I will help to save them, or we will die together." 
The little army, animated by his exhortation, rushed for- 
ward, and at three in the afternoon came in sio-ht of the 
battle. The troops of the five cantons were eight thou- 
sand ; an overwhelming superiority. After some discharges 
of cannon, they advanced to surround the Zurichers, who 
amounted to but fifteen hundred. The enemy were boldly 
repulsed for a while, but their numbers enabled them to out- 
flank the Protestants, and all was flight or slaughter. 

Zuingle fell by almost the first fire. He had advanced 
in front of his countrymen, and was exhorting them to fight 
for the cause of freedom and holiness, when a ball struck 
him. He sunk on the ground mortally wounded, and in the 



36 ZUINGLE, THE SWISS REFORMER. 

charge of the enemy wfis trampled over without being dis- 
tinguished. When the tumult of the battle was past, his 
senses returned, and raising himself from the ground, he 
crossed his arms upon his breast, and remained with his eyes 
fixed on heaven. Some of the enemy, Avho had lingered 
behind, came up and asked whether he would have a con- 
fessor. His speech was gone, but he shook his head in re- 
fusal. They then exhorted him to commend his soul to 
the Virgin. He refused again. They were enraged by his 
repeated determination. " Die, then, obstinate heretic !" 
exclaimed one of them, and drove his sword through his 
bosom. 

The body was not recognized until the next da)% and 
then it was exposed to the sight of the Catholic army, as 
the most consummate trophy of their victory. To some it 
was a sight of admiration and sorrow, but to the multitude 
a subject of savage revenge. In the midst of shouts over 
the remains of this champion of holiness and truth, the 
clamor rose to ''burn the heresiarch." Some of the lead- 
ers Avould have resisted, but the fury of the crowd was not 
to be restrained. They drew the body to a pile, held a 
mock trial over it, burned it, and scattered the ashes to the 
winds. 

Thus perished a saint and a hero, at a time of hfe when 
he seemed to be only maturing for a more extensive and 
vigorous career. He fell at the age of forty-seven ; but he 
had gone through his coarse well, he had sowed the seeds 
of virtue in a land barren before ; he had let in light on a 
land of darkness, and his immortal legacy to his country 
was strength, wisdom, freedom, and religion. 



THE 



EFFECTS OF INTEMPEEANCE 



INTELLECTUAL, MORAL, AND PHYSICAL POWERS. 



BY THOMAS SEWALL, M. D., 

PROFESSOR OF ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY IN THE COLUMBIAN COLLEGE, 
AVASHINGTON CITY. 



I ADDRESS you, fellow-citizeiis, to enlist 3-^0111' sympathies 
and efforts in behalf of an institution which, in accordance 
■with the spirit of the times, has been established through 
our land by the almost united voice of the nation, and this 
for the suppression of one of the most alarming evils that 
ever infested human society ; a vice, too, so odious in its 
nature, so injurious in its consequences, and attended with 
so many circumstances of suffering, mortification, and dis- 
grace, that it seems difficult to understand how it should 
ever have become a prevalent evil among mankind; and 
more especially how it should have come down to us from 
the early periods of society, gaining strength, and power, 
and influence, in its descent. That such is the fact, requires 
no proof. Its devastating eflfects are but too obvious. In 
these latter times, more especially, it has swept over our 
land with the rapidity and power of a tempest, bearing down 
every thing in its course. Not content with rioting in the 
haunts of ignorance and vice, it has passed through our con- 
secrated groves, has entered our most sacred enclosures : 
and 0, how many men of genius and of letters have fallen 



2 THE EFFECTS OF INTEMPERANCE, 

before it; how many lofty intellects have been shattered 
and laid in ruins by its power ; how many a warm and phil- 
anthropic heart has been chilled by its icy touch ! It has 
left no retreat unvisited ; it has alike invaded our public and 
private assemblies, our political and social circles, our courts 
of justice and halls of legislation. It has stalked within the 
very walls of our capitol, and there left the stain of its pol- 
luting touch on our national glory. It has leaped over the 
pale of the church, and even reached up its sacrilegious arm 
to the pulpit and dragged down some of its richest orna- 
ments. It has revelled equally on the spoils of the palace 
and the cottage, and has seized its victims, with an unspar- 
ing grasp, from every class of society ; the private citizen 
and public functionary, the high and the low, the rich and 
the poor, the enlightened and the ignorant : and where is 
there a family among us so happy as not to have wept over 
some of its members, who have fallen by the hand of this 
ruthless destroyer ? 

As a nation, intemperance has corrupted our morals, 
impaired our intellect, and enfeebled our physical strength. 
Indeed, in whatever light we view it, whether as an indi- 
vidual, a social, or national evil, as affecting our personal 
independence and happiness, our national wealth and indus- 
try ; as reducing our power of naval and military defence, 
as enfeebling the intellectual energies of the nation, and 
undermining the health of our fellow-citizens ; as sinking the 
patriotism and valor of the nation, as increasing paupers, 
poverty, and taxation, as sapping the foundation of our moral 
and religious institutions, or as introducing disorder, distress, 
and ruin into families and society ; it calls to us, in a voice 
of thunder, to awake from our slumbers, to seize every 
weapon, and wield every power which God and nature have 
placed within our reach, to protect ourselves and our fellow- 
citizens from its ravages. 

But the occasion will not permit me to dwell on the gen- 



THE EFFECTS OF INTEMPERANCE. 3 

eral effects of intemperance, nor to trace the histor}^ of its 
causes. I shall, therefore, confine myself more particularly 
to a consideration of its influence on the individual ; its effects 
on the moral, intellectual, and physical constitution of man — 
not the primary effect of ardent spirit as displaj-ed in a fit of 
intoxication ; it is the more insidious, permanent, and fatal 
effects of intemperance, as exempHfied in the case of the 
habitual dram-drinker, to which I wish to call your atten- 
tion. 

I. The eflfects of ardent spirit on the moral powers. 
It is perhaps difficult to determine in what way intemper- 
ance first manifests its influence on the moral powers, so 
variously does it affect different individuals. Were I to 
speak from my own observation, I should say that it first 
appears in an alienation of those kind and tender sympathies 
which bind a man to his family and friends ; those lively 
sensibilities which enable him to participate in the joys and 
sorrows of those around him. *' The social affections lose 
their fulness and tenderness, the conscience its power, the 
heart its sensibility, till all that was once lovely, and ren- 
dered him the joy and the idol of his friends, retires," and 
leaves him to the dominion of the appetites and passions of 
the brute. " Religious enjoyment, if he ever possessed any, 
declines as the emotions excited by ardent spirit arise." 
He loses, by degrees, his regard to truth and to the fulfil- 
ment of his engagements — he forgets the Sabbath and the 
house of worship, and lounges upon his bed, or lingers at 
the tavern. He lays aside his Bible — his family devotion is 
not heard, and his closet no longer listens to the silent whis- 
pers of prayer. He at length becomes irritable, peevish, 
and profane ; and is finally lost to every thing that respects 
decorum in appearance, or virtue in principle ; and it is 
lamentable to mark the steps of that process by which the 
virtuous and elevated man sinks to ruin. 



4 THE EFFECTS OF INTEMPERANCE. 

II. Its effects on the intellectual powers. Here the 
influence of intemperance is marked and decisive. The ine- 
briate first loses his vivacity and natural acuteness of per- 
ception. His judgment becomes clouded and impaired in 
its strength, the memory also enfeebled and sometimes quite 
obliterated. The mind is wandering and vacant, and inca- 
pable of intense or steady application to any one subject. 
This state is usually accompanied by an unmeaning stare or 
fixedness of countenance quite peculiar to the drunkard. 
The imagination and the will, if not enfeebled, acquire a 
morbid sensibility, from which they are thrown into a state 
of violent excitement from the slightest causes : hence, the 
inebriate sheds floods of tears over the pictures of his own 
fancy. I have often seen him, and especially on his recov- 
ery from a fit of intoxication, weep and laugh alternately 
over the same scene. The will, too, acquires an omnipotent 
ascendency over him, and is the only monitor to which he 
yields obedience. The appeals of conscience, the claims of 
domestic happiness, of wives and children, of patriotism and 
of virtue, are not heard. 

The diff"erent powers of the mind having thus lost their 
natural relation to each other, the healthy balance being de- 
stroyed, the intellect is no longer fit for intense application, 
or successful eff"ort ; and although the inebriate may, and 
sometimes does, astonish, by the wildness of his fancy and 
the poignancy of his wit, yet in nine cases out of ten he 
fails, and there is never any confidence to be reposed in 
him. There have been a few who, from peculiarity of con- 
stitution, or some other cause, have continued to perform 
intellectual labor for many years, while slaves to ardent 
spirits ; but in no instance has the vigor of the intellect or 
its ability to labor been increased by indulgence ; and where 
there is one who has been able to struggle on under the 
habits of intemperance, there are thousands who have per- 
ished in the experiment, and some among the most power- 



THE EFFECTS OF INTEMPERANCE. 5 

ful minds that the Avorld ever produced. On the other 
hand, we shall find, by looking over the biography of the 
great men of every age, that those who have possessed the 
clearest and most powerful minds, neither drank spirits nor 
indulged in the pleasures of the table. Sir Isaac Newton, 
John Locke, Dr. Franklin, John Wesley, Sir William Jones, 
John Fletcher, and President Edwards, furnish a striking 
illustration of this truth. One of the secrets by which these 
men produced such astonishing results, were enabled to per- 
form so much intellectual labor, and of so high a grade, 
and to arrive at old age in the enjoyment of health, was a 
rigid course of abstinence. But I hasten to consider more 
particularly, 

III. Its effects on the physical powers. In view of 
this part of the subject, the attention of the critical observer 
is arrested by a series of circumstances, alike disgusting and 
melancholy. 

1. The odor of the breath of the drunkard furnishes the 
earliest indication by which the habitual use of ardent spirit 
becomes known. This is occasioned by the exhalation of 
the alcoholic piinciple from the bronchial vessels and air- 
cells of the lungs — not of pure spirit, as taken into the 
stomach, but of spirit w^hich has been absorbed, has mingled 
with the blood, and has been subjected to the action of the 
different organs of the body ; and not containing any prin- 
ciple which contributes to the nourishment or renovation of 
the system, is cast out with the other excretions, as poison- 
ous and hurtful. This peculiar odor does not arise from 
the accidental or occasional use of spirit ; it marks only the 
habitual dram-drinker — the one who indulges daily in his 
potation ; and although its density varies in some degree 
with the kind of spirit consumed, the habits and constitution 
of the individual, yet it bears generally a close relation to 
the degree of intemperance. 
VOL. VII. 33 



6 THE EFFECTS OF INTEMPERANCE. 

These observations are confirmed by some experiments 
made on living animals by the celebrated French physiolo- 
gist, Magendie. He ascertained that diluted alcohol, a so- 
lution of camphor, and some other odorous substances, when 
subjected to the absorbing power of the veins, are taken up 
by them, and after mingling with the blood, pass off by the 
pulmonary exhalants. Even phosphorus injected into the 
crural vein of a dog, he found to pass off in a few moments 
from the nostrils of the animal in a dense white vapor, which 
he ascertained to be phosphoric acid. Cases have occurred, 
in which the breath of the drunkard has become so highly 
charged with alcohol as to render it actually inflammable by 
the touch of a taper. One individual in particular is men- 
tioned, who often amused his comrades by passing his breath 
throuo'h a small tube, and settinof it on fire as it issued from 
it. It appears, also, that this has been the source of that 
combustion of the body of the drunkard which has been 
denominated spontaneous, many well-authenticated cases of 
which are on record. 

2. The perspirable matter which passes off from the 
skin becomes charged with the odor of alcohol in the drunk- 
ard, and is so far changed, in some cases, as to furnish evi- 
dence of the kind of spirit drank. *' I have met with two 
instances," says Dr. McNish, **the one in a claret, and 
the other in a port drinker; in which the moisture that 
exhaled from their bodies had a ruddy complexion, similar 
to the wine on which they had committed their debauch." 

3. The whole si/stem soon bears marks of debility and 
decay. The voluntary muscles lose their power, and cease 
to act under the control of the will ; and hence, all the 
movements become awkward, exhibiting the appearance of 
stiffness in the joints. The positions of the body, also, are 
tottering and infirm, and the step loses its elasticity and 
vigor. The muscles, and especially those of tlie face and 
lips, are often affected with a convulsive twitching, which 



THE EFFECTS OF INTEMPERANCE. 7 

produces the^ involuntary winking of the eye, and quivering 
of the hp, so characteristic of the intemperate. Indeed, 
all the motions seem unnatural and forced, as if restrained 
by some power within. The extremities are at length seized 
with a tremor, which is more strongly marked after recovery 
from a fit of intoxication. The hps lose their significant 
expression, and become sensual ; the complexion assumes a 
sickly, leaden hue, or is changed to an unhealthy, fiery red- 
ness, and is covered with red streaks and blotches. The 
eye becomes watery, tender, and inflamed, and loses its 
intelligence and its fire. These symptoms, together with a 
certain cedematous appearance about the eye, bloating of 
the whole body, with a dry, feverish skin, seldom fail to 
mark the habitual dram-drinker ; and they go on increasing 
and increasing, till the intelligence and dignity of the man 
is lost in the tameness and sensuality of the brute. 

But these effects, which are external and obvious, are 
only the " signals which nature holds out, and waves in to- 
ken of internal distress ;" for all the time the inebriate has 
been pouring down his daily draught and making merry over 
the cup, morbid changes have been going on within ; and 
though these are unseen, and, it may be, unsuspected, they 
are fatal, irretrievable. A few of the most important of 
these changes I shall now describe. 

4. The stomach and its functions. This is the great 
organ of digestion. It is the chief instrument by which 
food is prepared to nourish, sustain, and renovate the dif- 
ferent tissues of the body, to carry on the various functions, 
and to supply the waste which continually takes place in the 
system. It is not strange, therefore, that the habitual ap- 
plication to the organ of any agent, calculated to derange 
its functions, or change its organization, should be followed . 
by symptoms so various and extensive, and by conse- 
quences so fatal. The use of ardent spirit produces both 
these effects; it deranges the functions of the stomach, 



Q THE EFFECTS OF INTEMPERANCE. 

and if persisted in, seldom fails to change its organic struc- 
ture. 

The inebriate first loses his appetite, and becomes thirsty 
and feverish ; he vomits in the morning, and is affected with 
spasmodic pains in the region of the stomach. He is often 
seized with permanent dyspepsia, and either wastes away by 
degrees, or dies suddenly of a fit of cramp in the stomach. 

On examining the stomach after death, it is generally 
found irritated, and approaching a state of inflammation, 
with its vessels enlarged, and filled with black blood ; and 
particularly those of the mucous coat, which gives to the 
internal surface of the stomach the appearance of purple 
or reddish streaks, resembling the livid patches seen on the* 
face of the drunkard. 

The coats of the stomach become greatly thickened and 
corrugated, and so firmly united as to form one inseparable 
mass. In this state, the walls of the organ are sometimes 
increased in thickness to the extent of ten or twelve lines, 
and are sometimes found also in a scirrhous or cancerous 
condition. 

The following case occurred in my practice several years 
since. A middle-aged gentleman, of wealth and standing, 
had long been accustomed to mingle in the convivial circle, 
and though by no means a drunkard, had indulged at times 
in the use of his old cogniac, with an unsparing hand. He 
was at length seized with pain in the region of the stomach, 
and a vomiting of his food an hour or two after eating. In 
about eighteen months he died in a state of extreme ema- 
ciation. 

On opening the body after death, the walls of the whole 
of the right extremity of the stomach were found in a scir- 
rhous and cancerous condition, and thickened to the extent 
of about two inches. The cavity of the organ was so far 
obliterated as scarcely to admit the passage of a probe from 
the left to the right extremity, and the opening which re- 



THE EFFECTS OF INTEMPERANCE. Q 

mained was so unequal and irregular as to render it evident 
that but little of the nourishment he had received could have 
passed the lower orifice of the stomach for many months. 

I have never dissected the stomach of a drunkard, in 
which the organ did not manifest some remarkable devia- 
tion from its healthy condition. But the derangement of 
the stomach is not limited to the function of nutrition merely. 
This organ is closely united to every other organ, and to 
each individual tissue of the body, by its sympathetic rela- 
tions. When the stomach, therefore, becomes diseased, 
other parts suffer with it. The functions of the brain, the 
heart, the lungs, and the liver, become disordered ; the 
secretions are altered, and all the operations of the animal 
economy are more or less affected. 

5. The liver and its functions. Alcohol, in every form 
and proportion, has long been known to exert a strong and 
speedy influence on this organ, when used internally. Aware 
of this fact, the poultry-dealers of England are in the habit 
of mixing a quantity of spirit with the food of their fowls, 
in order to increase the size of the liver ; so that they may 
be enabled to supply to the epicure a greater abundance of 
that part of the animal, which he regards as the most deli- 
cious. 

The influence of spirit on the liver is exerted in two 
ways : first, the impression made upon the mucous coat 
of the stomach is extended to the liver by sympathy ; the 
second mode of action is through the medium of the circu- 
lation, and by the immediate action of the alcoholic principle 
on the liver itself, as it passes through the organ, mingling 
with the blood. In whichsoever of these ways it operates, 
its first effect is to increase the action of the liver, and 
sometimes to such a degree as to produce inflammation. Its 
secretion becomes changed from a bright yellow to a green 
or black, and from a thin fluid to a substance resembling tar 
in its consistence. There soon follows also an enlargement 

VOL. VII. 83* 



IQ THE EFFECTS OF INTEMPERANCE. 

of the liver, and a change in its organic structure. I have 
met with several cases in which the liver has become en- 
larged from intemperance, so as to occupy a greater part 
of the cavity of the abdomen, and weighing from eight to 
twelve pounds, when it should have weighed not more 
than four or five. 

The liver sometimes, however, even when it manifests 
great morbid change in its organic structure, is rather di- 
minished than increased in its volume. This was the case 
in the person of the celebrated stage-actor, George Fred- 
erick Cook, who died a few years since in the city of New 
York. This extraordinary man was long distinguished for 
the profligacy of his life, as well as for the native vigor of 
his mind and body. At the time of his death, the body 
was opened by Dr. Hosack, who found that the liver did 
not exceed its usual dimensions, but was astonishingly hard, 
of a lighter color than natural, and that its texture was so 
dense as to make considerable resistance to the knife. The 
blood-vessels, which, in a healthy condition, are extremely 
numerous and large, were in this case nearly obliterated, 
evincing that the regular circulation through the liver had 
long since ceased ; and tubercles were found throughout 
the whole substance of the organ. 

I have met with several cases in the course of my dissec- 
tions, in which the liver Avas found smaller than natural, 
shrivelled, indurated, its blood-vessels diminished in size 
and number, with the whole of its internal structure more 
or less changed. In consequence of these morbid changes 
in the liver, other organs become affected, as the spleen, 
the pancreas, etc., either by sympathy or in consequence of 
their dependence on the healthy functions of the liver for 
the due performance of their own. 

6. Of the brain and its functions. Inflammation and 
engorgement of this organ are frequent consequences of in- 
temperance, and may take place during a debauch — or may 



THE EFFECTS OF INTEMPRRAN'CE. |1 

arise some time after, during the stage of debilitv, from a 
loss of the healthy balance of action between the different 
parts of the system. This inflammation is sometimes acute, 
is marked by furious delirium, and terminates fatally in the 
course of a few days, and sometimes a few hours. At other 
times it assumes a chronic form, continues much longer, 
and then frequently results in an eftusion of serum, or an 
extravasation of blood, and the patient dies in a state of 
insensibihty, with all the symptoms of compressed brain. 
Sometimes the system becomes so saturated with ardent 
spirit, that there is good reason to believe the eftusions, 
which take place in the cavities of the brain, and elsewhere, 
are composed, in part at least, of the alcoholic principle. 
The following case occurred, not long since, in England, 
and is attested by unquestionable authority. 

A man was taken up dead in the streets of London, soon 
after having drank a quart of gin, on a wager. He was 
carried to the Westminster Hospital, and there dissected. 
" In the ventricles of the brain Avas found a considerable 
quantity of limpid fluid, distinctly impregnated with gin, 
both to the sense of smell and taste, and even to the test of 
inflammability. The liquid appeared to the senses of the 
examining students, as strong as one-third gin, and two- 
thirds water." 

Dr. Armstrong, who has enjoyed very ample oppor- 
tunity of investigating this subject, speaks of the chronic 
inflammation of the brain and its membranes, as frequently 
proceeding from the free use of sti-ong liquors. 

It is a fact familiar to every anatomist, that alcohol, even 
Avhen greatly diluted, has, by its action on the brain after 
death, the eff'ect of hardening it, as well as most of the tis- 
sues of the body wOiich contain albumen ; and it is common 
to immerse the brain in ardent spirit for a few days, in 
order to render it the firmer for dissection. 

On examininjr the brain after death of such as have lonor 



12 THE EFFECTS OF INTEMPERANCE. 

been accustomed to the free use of ardent spirit, it is said 
the organ is generally found harder than in temperate per- 
sons. It has no longer that delicate and elastic texture. 
Its arteries become diminished in size, and lose their trans- 
parency, while the veins and sinuses are greatly distended 
and irregularly enlarged. 

This statement is confirmed by my own dissections, and 
they seem also to be in full accordance with all the intellect- 
ual and physical phenomena displayed in the drunkard, 
while living. 

'7. The heart and its functions. It has generally been 
supposed, that the heart is less frequently affected by in- 
temperance, than most of the other great vital organs ; but, 
from the history of the cases which have come under my 
own observation, I am convinced that it seldom escapes 
disease under the habitual use of ardent spirit. And why 
should it, since it is thrown almost perpetually into a state 
of unnatural exertion, the very effect produced by the vio- 
lent agitation of the passions, the influence of which upon 
this organ is found so injurious ? 

The following case came under my notice, a few winters 
since. A large athletic man, long accustomed to the use of 
ardent spirit, on drinking a glass of raw whiskey, dropped 
instantly dead. On carefully dissecting the body, no ade- 
quate cause of the sudden cessation of life could be found 
in any part, except the heart. This organ was free from 
blood, was hard and firmly contracted, as if aftected by 
spasms. I am convinced that many of those cases of sudden 
death which take place with intemperate persons, are the 
result of a spasmodic action of the heart, from symj^athy 
with the stomach, or some other part of the system. The 
use of ardent spirit, no doubt, promotes also the ossification 
of the valves of the heart, as well as the development of 
other organic affections. 

8. The lungs and their functions. Respiration in the 



THE EFFECTS OF INTEMPERANCE. 13 

inebriate is generally oppressed and laborious, and especially 
after eating or violent exercise ; and he is teased with a 
cough, attended with copious expectoration, and especially 
after his recovery from a fit of intoxication ; and these 
symptoms go on increasing, and unless arrested in their 
progress, terminate in consumption. 

This affection of the lungs is produced in two ways : 
first, by the immediate action of the alcoholic principle upon 
the highly sensible membrane which lines the trachea, bron- 
chial vessels, and air-cells of the lungs, as poured out by 
the exhalants ; and second, by the sympathy which is called 
into action between the lungs and other organs already in a 
state of disease, and more especially that of the stomach 
and liver. 

I have met with many cases in the course of my practice, 
of cousjh and difficult breathing^, Avhich could be relieved 
only by regulating the functions of the stomach, and which 
soon yielded, on the patient ceasing to irritate this organ 
with ardent spirit. I have found the liver still more fre- 
quently the source of this affection ; and on restoring the 
organ to its healthy condition, by laying aside the use of 
ardent spirit, all the pulmonary symptoms have subsided. 

On examining the lungs of the drunkard after death, 
they are frequently found adhering to the walls of the chest ; 
hepatized, or affected with tubercles. 

But time would fail me, were I to attempt an aecount of 
half the pathology of drunkenness. Dys^yejma, Jaundice, 
Emaciation, Corpulence, Dropsy, Ulcers, Rheumatism, Gout, 
Tremors, Paljntation, Hysteria, Epilepsy, Palsy, Lethargy, 
Ap)023lexy, Melancholy, Madness, Delirium-tremens, and pre- 
mature old age, compose but a small part of the catalogue 
of diseases produced by ardent spirit. Indeed, there is 
scarcely a morbid affection to which the human body is 
liable, that has not, in one way or another, been produced 
by it; there is not a disease but it has aggravated, nor a 



14 THE EFFECTS OF LNTEiMPERANCE. 

predisposition to disease, whicli it has not called into action ; 
and although its effects are in some degree modified by age 
and temperament, by habit and occupation, by climate and 
season of the year, and even by the intoxicating agent itself ; 
yet, the general and ultimate consequences are the same. 

But I pass on to notice one state of the system, pro- 
duced by ardent spirit, too important and interesting to 
leave miexamined. It is that predisposition to disease and 
death which so strongly characterizes the drunkard in every 
situation of life. 

It is unquestionably true, that many of the surrounding 
objects in nature are constantly tending to man's destruc- 
tion. The excess of heat and cold, humidity and dryness, 
noxious exhalations from the earth, the floating atoms in the 
atmosphere, the poisonous vapors from decomposed animal 
and vegetable matter, Avith many other invisible agents, are 
exerting their deadly influence ; and were it not that every 
part of his system is endowed with a self-preserving power, 
a principle of excitability, or, in other words, a vital principle, 
the operations of the economy would cease„ and a dissolu- 
tion of his organic structure take place. But this principle 
being implanted in the system, reaction takes place, and 
thereby a vigorous contest is maintained with the warring- 
elements without, as well as with the principle of decay 
within. 

It is thus that man is enabled to endure, from year to 
year, the toils and fatigues of life, the variations of heat and 
cold, and the vicissitudes of the seasons — that he is enabled 
to traverse every region of the globe, and to live with al- 
most equal ease under the equator and in the frozen regions 
of the north. It is by this power that all his functions are 
performed, from the commencement to the close of life. 

The principle of excitability exists in the highest degree 
in the infant, and diminishes at every succeeding period of 
life ; and if man is not cut down by disease or violence, he 



THE EFFECTS OF INTEMPERANCE. 15 

struggles on, and finally dies a natural death — a death oc- 
casioned by the exhaustion of the principle of excitability. 
In order to prevent the too rapid exhaustion of this principle, 
nature has especially provided for its restoration by estab- 
lishing a period of sleep. . After being awake for sixteen or 
eighteen hours, a sensation of fatigue ensues, and all the 
functions are performed with diminished precision and 
energy. Locomotion becomes feeble and tottering, the 
voice harsh, the intellect obtuse and powerless, and all the 
sjenses blunted. In this state the individual anxiously re- 
tires from the light, and from the noise and bustle of busi- 
ness, seeks that position which requires the least effort to 
sustain it, and abandons himself to rest. The will ceases to 
act, and he loses in succession all the senses ; the muscles 
unbend themselves, and permit the limbs to fall into the 
most easy and natural position ; digestion, respiration, cir- 
culation, secretion, and the other functions, go on with 
diminished power and activity ; and consequently the wasted 
excitability is gradually restored. After a repose of six or 
eight hours, this principle becomes accumulated to its full 
measure, and the individual awakes and finds his system 
invigorated and refreshed. His muscular power is aug- 
mented, his senses are acute and discriminating, his intellect 
active and eager for labor, and all his functions move on 
with renewed energy. But if the stomach be oppressed 
by food, or the system excited by stimulating drinks, the 
sleep, though it may be profound, is never tranquil and re- 
freshing. 

The system being raised to a state of feverish excite- 
ment, and its healthy balance disturbed, its exhausted ex- 
citability is not restored. The individual awakes, but finds 
himself fatigued rather than invigorated. His muscles are 
relaxed, his senses obtuse, his intellect impaired, and his 
whole system disordered ; and it is not till he is again under 
the influence of food and stimulus that he is fit for the oc- 



16 THE EFFECTS OF INTEMPERANCE. 

cupations of life. And tlius he loses the benefits of this 
wise provision of repose, designed for his own preserva- 
tion. 

ISTothing, probably, tends more powerfully to produce 
premature old age, than disturbed and unrefreshing sleep. 

It is also true, that artificial stimulus, in whatever way 
applied, tends constantly to exhaust the principle of excita- 
bility of the system, and this in proportion to its intensity, 
and the freedom with which it is applied. 

But there is still another principle on which the use of 
ardent spirit predisposes the drunkard to disease and death. 
It acts on the blood, impairs its vitality, deprives it of its 
red color, and thereby renders it unfit to stimulate the heart 
and other organs through which it circulates ; unfit, also, 
to supply the materials for the different secretions, and to 
renovate the different tissues of the body, as well as to sus- 
tain the energy of the brain — offices which it can perform 
only while it retains the vermilion color, and other arterial 
properties. The blood of the drunkard is several shades 
darker in its color than that of temperate persons, and also 
coagulates less readily and firmly, and is loaded with serum ; 
appearances which indicate that it has exchanged its arterial 
properties for those of the venous blood. This is the cause 
of the livid complexion of the inebriate, which so strongly 
marks him in the advanced stage of intemperance. Hence, 
too, all the functions of his body are sluggish, irregular, 
and the whole system loses its tone and its energy. If 
ardent spirit, when taken into the system, exhausts the vital 
principle of the solids, it destroys the vital principle of the 
blood also ; and if taken in large quantities, produces sud- 
den death ; in which case the blood, as in death produced 
by lightning, by opium, or by violent and long- continued 
exertion, does not coagulate. 

The principles laid down are plain, and of easy applica- 
tion to the case before us. 



THE EFFECTS OF IIS'TEMPERANCE. 17 

The inebriate having, by the habitual use of ardent spirit, 
exhausted to a greater or lesser extent the principle of ex- 
citability in the solids — the power of reaction — and the 
blood having become incapable of performing its offices also, 
he is alike predisposed to every disease, and rendered liable 
to the inroads of every invading foe. So far, therefore, 
from protecting the system against disease, intemperance 
ever constitutes one of its strongest predisposing causes. 

Superadded to this, whenever disease does lay its grasp* 
upon the drunkard, the powers of life being already enfee- 
bled by the stimulus of ardent spirit, he unexpectedly sinks 
in the contest, and but too frequently to the mortification 
of Jiis physician, and the surprise and grief of his friends. 
Indeed, inebriation so enfeebles the powers of life, so modi- 
fies the character of disease, and so changes the operation 
of medical agents, that unless the young physician has 
studied thoroughly the constitution of the drunkard, he has 
but partially learned his profession, and is not fit for a prac- 
titioner of the present age. 

These are the true reasons why the drunkard dies so 
easily, and from such slight causes. 

A sudden cold, a pleurisy, a fever, a fractured limb, or 
a slight wound of the skin, is often more than his shattered 
powers can endure. Even a little excess of exertion, an 
exposure to heat or cold, a hearty repast, or a glass of cold 
water, not unfrequently extinguishes the small remains of 
the vital principle. 

In the season that has just closed upon us, we have had 
a melancholy exhibition of the effects of intemperance in 
the tragical death of some dozens of our fellow-citizens ; 
and had the extreme heat which prevailed for several days 
continued for as many weeks, we should hardly have had a 
confirmed drunkard left among us. 

Many of those deaths which came under my notice 
seemed almost spontaneous, and some of them took place 
VOL. VII. 34 



18 THE EFFECTS OF INTEMPERANCE. 

in less than one hour from the first symptoms of indisposi- 
tion. Some died apparently from a slight excess of fatigue, 
some from a few hours' exposure to the sun, and some from 
a small draught of cold water ; causes quite inadequate to 
the production of such effects in temperate persons. 

Thus, fellow- citizens, I have endeavored to delineate 
the effects of ardent spirit upon man, and more especially 
to portray its influence on his moral, intellectual, and phys- 
ical powers. And now let me mention a few things which 
MUST BE DONE in Order that the evil may be eradicated. 

1. Let us keep in view the objects of the Temperance 
Society, and the obligation imposed on us, to use all proper 
measures to discourage the use of ardent spirit in the social 
circle, ot public 7ne€tings, on the farm, in the jnechanic shop, 
and in all other places. It is not a mere matter of formahty 
that we have put our names to this society's constitution ; 
we have pledged ourselves to be bold, active, and perse- 
vering in the cause ; to proclaim the dangers of intemper- 
ance to our fellow- citizens, and to do what we can to arrest 
its progress. 

In view of these objects and of this pledge, then, let us, 
if indeed we have not already done it, banish ardent spirit 
from our houses at once, and for ever ; and then we can act 
with decision and energy, and speak in a tone of authority, 
and our voice will be heard, if precept be sanctioned by 
example. 

2. Let us use our utmost endeavors to lessen the num- 
ber, and, if possible, utterly exterminate from among us 
those establishments which are the chief agents in propa- 
gating the evils of intemperance. I refer to those shops 
which are licensed for retailing ardent spirit. Here is the 
source of the evil. These are the agents that are sowing 
among us the seeds of vice, and poverty, and wretchedness. 

How preposterous, that an enliglitened community, pro- 



rHE EFFECTS OF INTEMPEUAXCE. 



19 



fessing the highest regard for morahty and rehgion, making 
laws for the suppression and punishment of vice, and the 
promotion of virtue and good order, instituting societies to 
encourage industry, enhghten the ignorant, rechiim the 
vicious, bring back the wanderer, protect the orphan, feed 
the hungry, clothe the naked, bind up the broken-hearted, 
and restore domestic peace, should, at the same time, create 
and foster those very means that carry idleness, and igno- 
rance, and vice, and nakedness, and starvation, and discord 
into all ranks of society ; that make widows and orphans, 
that sow the seeds of disease and death among us ; that 
strike, indeed, at the foundation of all that is orood and 
great. 

You create paupers, and lodge them in your alms- 
house — orphans, and give them a residence in your asy- 
lum — convicts, and send them to the penitentiary. You 
seduce men to crime, and then arraign them at the bar of 
justice — immure them in prison. With one hand you 
thrust the dagger to the heart — with the other attempt to 
assuage the pain it causes. 

We all remember to have heard, from the lips of our 
parents, the narration of the fact, that in the early history 
of our country, the tomahawk and scalping-knife were put 
into the hands of our savage neighbors, by our enemies at 
war, and that a bounty was awarded for the depredations 
they committed on the lives of our defenceless fellow-citi- 
zens. Our feelings were shocked at the i:ecital, and a preju- 
dice was created, as well to these poor wandering savages, 
as to the nation that prompted them to the work, which 
neither time nor education has eradicated. Yet, as merci- 
less and savage as this practice may appear to us, it was 
Christian, it was humane, compared with ours: theirs 
sought only the life-blood, and that of their enemies ; ours 
seeks the blood of souls, and that of our own citizens, and 
friends, and neighbors. Their avarice was satiated with a 



20 THE EFFECTS OF INTEMPERANCE. 

few inches of the scalp, and the death inflicted was often a 
sudden and easy one ; ours produces a death that hngers : 
and not content with the Uves of our fellow-citizens, it rifles 
their pockets. It revels in rapine and robbery; it sacks 
whole towns and villages ; it lays waste fields and vineyards ; 
it riots on domestic peace, and virtue, and happiness ; it 
sets at variance the husband and the wife ; it causes the 
parent to forsake the child, and the child to curse the 
parent ; it tears asunder the strongest bonds of society ; it 
severs the tenderest ties of nature. 

And who is the author of all this ; and where lies the 
responsibility ? I appeal to my fellow-citizens. 

Are not we the authors ? Does not the responsibility 
rest upon us ? Is it not so ? 

The power emanates from us ; we delegate it to the 
constituted authorities, and we say to them, "Go on ; cast 
firebrands, arrows, and death ; and let the blood of those 
that perish be on us and on our children." We put the 
tomahawk and scalping-knife into the hands of our neigh- 
bors, and award to them a bounty. We do more ; we 
share the plunder. Let us arouse, my fellow-citizens, from 
our insensibility, and redeem our character for consistency, 
humanity, and benevolence. 

3. Let us not confine our views or limit our operations 
to the naiTOw boundaries of our own city or district. In- 
temperance is a common enemy. It exists everywhere, 
and everywhere is pursuing its victims to destruction: 
while, therefore, we are actively engaged upon the subject 
in our own city, let us endeavor to do something elsewhere ; 
and much may be done by spreading through our country 
correct information on the subject of intemperance. To 
this end, every newspaper and every press should be put 
in requisition. Circulate through the various avenues suit- 
able tracts, essays, and other documents, setting forth the 
causes of intemperance, its evils, and its remedy, together 



THE EFFECTS OF L\'rEMFERA.\rE. 21 

with an account of the cheejing progress now making to 
eradicate it. 

Do this, and you will find thousands starting up in dif- 
ferent parts of the country, to lend their influence, and give 
their money in support of your cause ; individuals who have 
hitherto been unconscious of the extent and magnitude of 

o 

the evil of intemperance. You will find some who have 
been slumbering upon the very precipice of ruin, rallying 
round your standard. Indeed, we have all been insensible, 
till the voice of alarm was sounded, and the facts were set 
in array before us. 

4. Appeal to the medical profession of the country, and 
ask them to correct the false idea which so extensively, I 
may say, almost universally prevails, viz., that ardent spirit 
is sometimes necessary in the treatment of disease. This 
opinion has slain its thousands and its tens of thousands, 
and multitudes of dram-drinkers daily shelter themselves 
under its delusive mask. One takes a little to raise his 
desponding spirits, or to drown his son'ow ; another, to 
sharpen his appetite, or relieve his dyspepsia : one, to ease 
his gouty pains ; another, to supple his stiffened limbs, or 
calm his quivering muscles. One drinks to overcome the 
heat ; another, to ward off the cold ; and all this as a medi- 
cine. Appeal, then, to the medical profession, and they 
will tell you — every independent, honest, sober, intelligent 
member of it will tell you — that there is no case in which 
ardent spirit is indispensable, and for which there is not an 
adequate substitute. And it is time the profession should 
have an opportunity to exonerate itself from the charge 
under which it has long rested, of making drunkards. But 
I entreat my professional brethren not to be content with 
giving a mere assent to this truth. You hold a station in 
society which gives you a commanding influence on this 
subject ; and if you will but raise your voice and speak 
out boldly, you may exert an agency in this matter which 
VOL. VII. 34* 



22 THE EFFECTS OF INTEMPERANCE. 

will bring down the blessings of unborn millions upon your 
memory. 

5. Much may be done by guarding the rising generation 
from the contagion of intemperance. It is especially with 
the children and youth of our land, that we may expect 
our efforts to be permanently useful. Let us, then, guard 
with peculiar vigilance the youthful mind, and with all suit- 
able measures, impress it with such sentiments of disgust 
and horror of the vice of intemperance, as to cause it to 
shrink from its very approach. Carry the subject into our 
infant and Sunday schools, and call on the managers and 
teachers of those institutions to aid you, by the circulation 
of suitable tracts, and by such other instructions as may be 
deemed proper. Let the rising generation be protected 
but for a few years, and the present race of drunkards will 
have disappeared from among us, and there will be no new 
recruits to take their place. 

6. Let intelligent and efficient agents be sent out into 
every portion of our country, to spread abroad information 
upon the subject of intemperance, to rouse up the people 
to a sense of their danger, and to form temperance societies ; 
and let there be such a system of correspondence and 
cooperation established among these associations as will 
convey information to each, and impart energy and efficiency 
to the whole. ** No great melioration of the human con- 
dition was ever achieved without the concurrent effort of 
numbers ; and no extended and well-directed association of 
moral influence w^as ever made in vain." 

V. Let all who regard the virtue, the honor, and the 
patriotism of their country, withhold their suffrages from 
those candidates for office who offer ardent spirit as a bribe 
to secure their elevation to power. It is derogatory to the 
liberties of our country, that office can be obtained by such 
corruption — be held by such a tenure. 

8. Let the ministers of the Gospel, wherever called to 



THE EFFECTS OF INTEMPERANCE. 23 

labor, exert their influence, by precept and example, in 
promoting the cause of temperance. Many of them have 
already stepped forth, and with a noble boldness have pro- 
claimed the alarm, and have led on the work of reforma- 
tion ; but many timid spirits still linger, and others seem 
not deeply impressed with the importance of the subject, 
and with the responsibility of their station. Ye venerated 
men, you are not only called to stand forth as our moral 
beacons, and be unto us burning and shining lights, but you 
are placed as watchmen upon our walls, to announce to us 
the approach of danger. It is mainly through your example 
and your labors that religion and virtue are so extensively 
disseminated through our country — that this land is not 
now a moral waste. You have ev^er exerted an important 
influence in society, and have held a high place in the con- 
fidence and aft'ections of the people. You are widely spread 
over the country, and the scene of your personal labors will 
furnish you with frequent opportunities to diff'use informa- 
tion upon the subject of temperance, and to advance its 
progress. Let me then ask you, one and all, to grant us 
your active and hearty cooperation. 

9. Appeal to the female sex of our countr}^ and ask 
them to come to your assistance ; and if they will consent 
to steel their hearts against the inebriate, to shut out from 
their society the man who visits the tippling-shop, their 
influence will be omnipotent. And by what power, ye 
mothers, and wives, and daughters, shall I invoke your aid ? 
Shall I carry you to the house of the drunkard, and point 
you to his Aveeping and broken-hearted wife, his suffering 
and degraded children, robed in rags, and poverty, and vice ? 
Shall I go with you to the almshouse, the orphan asylum, 
and to the retreat for the insane, that your sensibility may 
be roused ? Shall I ask you to accompany me to the peni- 
tentiary and the prison, that you may there behold the end 
of intemperance ? Nay, shall I draw back the curtain and 



24 THE EFFECTS OF INTEMPERANCE. 

disclose to you the scene of the drunkard's death-bed ? 
No — I will not demand of you a task so painful : rather let 
me remind you that you are to become the mothers of our 
future heroes and statesmen, philosophers and divines, law- 
yers and physicians ; and shall they be enfeebled in body, 
debauched in morals, disordered in intellect, or healthy, 
pure, and full of mental energy ? It is for you to decide 
this question. You have the future destiny of our beloved 
country in your hands. Let me entreat you, then, for your 
children's sake, and for your country's sake, not to ally your- 
selves to the drunkard, nor to put the cup to the mouth 
of your offspring, and thereby implant in them a craving for 
ardent spirit, which, once produced, is seldom eradicated. 

10. Call upon all public and private associations, relig- 
ious, literary, and scientific, to banish ardent spirit from their 
circle ; call upon the agricultural, manufacturing, and com- 
mercial establishments, to withhold it from those engaged 
in their employment ; call upon the legislatures of the dif- 
ferent states to cooperate by the enactment of such laws as 
will discourage the vending of ardent spirit, and render 
licenses to sell it "unattainable; call upon the proper officers 
to banish from the army and navy that article which, of all 
others, is most calculated to enfeeble the physical energies, 
corrupt the morals, destroy the patriotism, and damp the 
courage of our soldiers and sailors ; call upon our national 
legislature to impose such duties on the distillation and 
importation of ardent spirit as will ultimately exclude it 
from the hst of articles of commerce, and eradicate it from 
our land. 

Finally, call upon every sober man, woman, and child, 
to raise their voices, their hearts, and their hands in this 
sacred cause, and never hold their peace, never cease their 
prayers, never stay their exertions, till intemperance shall 
be banished from our land and from the world. 



No. 250, 



THE 



SCAPE-GOAT. 




Among other religious observances which were appoint- 
ed by God, the Jews had one of which we read, Lev. 16:21, 
22 : "Aaron shall lay both his hands upon the head of the 
live goat, and confess over him all the iniquities of the chil- 
dren of Israel, and all their transgressions in all their sins, 
putting them upon the head of the goat, and shall send him 
away by the hand of a fit man into the wilderness ; and the 
goat shall bear upon him all their iniquities unto a land not 
inhabited ; and he shall let go the goat in the wilderness." 

God had chosen the people of Israel, and raised them up 
to make them a great nation, that he might preserve among 
them the knowledge of his name, and through them com- 
municate to mankind the revelation of himself, and of his 
purpose in due time to introduce his Son into the world to 
redeem sinners, and recover them, both Jew and Gentile, 
from their lost and ruined state. In accordance with this 
design, in the religion of the Jews, all their obsen'-ances and 



2 THE SCAPE-GOAT. 

sacrifices were intended to show forth the coming of the 
Lord Jesus Christ, and to point out the nature of the work 
he had to perform, and the end to be accompHshed by his 
hfe, and death, and resurrection. 

The washings and purifications, which were maiiy, showed 
forth the necessity of that renewing and cleansing influence 
of the Holy Spirit, which Jesus Christ was to impart, and 
which alone could make man fit to dwell in the presence of 
a holy God. The appointment of a high-priest to interpose 
between God and man — to go into the holy of holies with 
the blood of the sacrifices offered for the sins of the people, 
was intended to point to that one Mediator between God 
and man, who is entered into heaven — into the presence of 
God, with his own blood, there to make intercession for the 
guilty. The slaying of animals in sacrifice to God as an 
atonement for sin, was to set forth the one great offering by 
Jesus Christ, of himself to death, even the accursed death 
of the cross, that a way of salvation might be opened for 
the guilty children of men, of all ages, and of all nations ; 
and the scape-goat, on the head of which the high-priest 
was to lay the sins of the people, that they might be borne 
away into a land where no man dwelt, had also a reference 
to the Lord Jesus Christ, and was intended to point the 
Jews to Him who was hereafter to come into the world, not 
only to bear away their sins, but the sins of all who should 
believe in him. 

It is the representation of the Scriptures, that God would 
himself take away the sin of man : " Behold I, even I, am he 
that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own sake, and 
will not remember thy sins," Lsaiah 43 : 25 ; and for this 
purpose it was that Jesus Christ came into the world, that 
he might be a just God, and yet a Saviour. Immediately 
after the fall God had declared that " the seed of the woman 
should bruise the serpent's head ;" by which men were to 
understand that one of the descendants of Eve should, at 
some future time, crush the power of the devil, and destroy 
his works. It was also promised to Abraham, that in his 
seed all the families of the earth should be blessed ; and 



THE SCAPE-COAT. 3 

throughout the Bible we find dehverance from the power of 
sm, and salvation from the consequences of it, ascribed to 
him who is one with the Father, and one with man " Im- 
manuel, God with us." 

That must have been a day of solemn delight and re- 
joicing when the joeople were assembled at Jerusalem — 
when the high-priest dressed in all his robes as the ap- 
pointed of God, with his hands resting upon the head of the 
goat, and his eyes directed to heaven, as to the hills from 
whence their help could alone come, raised his voice, and 
addressing the Most High God, made humble confession of 
the sins of the people ; w^hile the thousands around him, 
bowing themselves to the earth in deep humiliation and self- 
abasement, as in the presence of a heart-searching and all- 
seeing God, not only joined in the general acknowledgment, 
but each, on his own behalf, mourned apart at the recollec- 
tion of his many transgressions. Surely, when the goat, 
bearing all this accumulated load of sins, was led away into 
the wilderness where no man dwelt, a shout of triumph, and 
a song of praise must have burst from the camp, and as- 
cended to the throne of Him whose eye had seen the sorrow 
of every real mourner — of Him who delights to own and 
to bless, and to pour into the w^ounded spirit his richest 
consolations — of Him Avho has promised to give " beauty for 
ashes, and the oil of joy for mourning, and the garments of 
praise for the spirit of heaviness." 

We, however, have far greater cause for joy than they 
had. This ceremony the Jews had to repeat year by year ; 
but we have a greater High-Priest, even Jesus Christ the 
Son of God — not one who lays our sins upon the head of a 
devoted animal, but one who has taken them upon himself ; 
not one who must interfere from time to time to take from 
us the accimiulation of our guilt, but who hath once for all 
appeared to bear the sin of all who believe in him. " He 
hath borne our sins and carried our sorrows — he was num- 
bered with the transgressors, and bare the sins of many — all 
we like sheep have gone astray, we have turned every one 
to his own wav, but the Lord hath laid on liim the ini(]uity 



4 THE SCAPE-GOAT. 

of US all." The Lord Jesus Christ, at the commencement 
of his public ministry, was pointed out by John the Baptist, 
as the great Redeemer. He "bare witness of him, saying. 
This is he of whom I spak^, He that cometh after me, is 
preferred before me, for he was before me ; and of his 
fulness have all we received, and grace for grace ; for the 
law was given by Moses, but grace and truth came by Jesus 
Christ." John 1 : 15-17. "And again the next day, John 
seeth Jesus coming to him, and saith. Behold the Lamb of 
God, which taketh away the sin of the world." We read 
that "he was manifested to take away our sin," 1 John, 
3:5; that " himself took our infirmities, and bare our sick- 
nesses," Matt. 8:17; that he was made "to be sin for us, 
who knew no sin, that we might be made the righteousness 
of God in him," 2 Cor. 5:21; that he "hath redeemed us 
from the curse of the law, being made a curse for us. Gal. 
3: 13. 

We find that the sins of the Jews were confessed over 
the head of the goat. " Aaron shall confess over him all the 
iniquities of the children of Israel, and all their transgres- 
sions in all their sins, and the goat shall bear upon him all 
their iniquities, unto a land not inhabited." And the Apos- 
tle John says, " If we confess our sins, God is faithful and 
just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all un- 
righteousness." 1 John 1 : 9. The goat was taken into a 
wilderness not inhabited ; and there he bare all the sins of 
the people into a land of forgetfulness. 

What a cheering and glorious view does this give of the 
mercy of our God. He not only took away their sins, but 
he sent them, as it were, into a land of oblivion, where they 
could never again be known. He did not place them in the 
light of his own countenance, as a standing reproach against 
his people ; or before his throne, so that whenever they 
should approach they would see them as a witness of their 
folly and their guilt : he sent them away, and he turned his 
face from them. 

God having " spared not his own Son, but freely given 
him for us all," delights to remove our woes ; and knowing 



THE SCAPE-GOAT. 5 

that all our sorrows arise from our departure from, and sin 
against himself, if we return to him as our God, our " sins 
and iniquities " he will " remember no more." Heb. 10 : 17. 
"Who is a God like unto thee, who passeth by the trans- 
gression of the remnant of thine heritage, because thou 
delightest in mercy ? He will turn again, he w^ill have com- 
passion upon us, he will subdue our iniquities, and thou wilt 
cast all their sins into the depth of the sea." Micah 7:18, 
19. ''I have blotted out thy transgressions as a thick cloud, 
and as a cloud thy sins ; return unto me, for I have redeem- 
ed thee." Isaiah 44 : 22. Here we have the declarations 
of God himself, that he passeth by our sins, and will remem- 
ber them no more ; that he blotteth out our transgressions 
though they may be as a thick cloud, and casteth them into 
the depths of the sea. 

God does not merely save us from future misery, and 
place us in a state of happiness ; he treats us as though we 
had never sinned. But it must be remembered, that he will 
not do this while we continue in sin — in opposition and re- 
bellion against him. The Jews went up to the house where 
God dwelt between the cherubim, to humble themselves 
before him, and confess their sins, and have them laid upon 
the goat that they might be borne away ; so we must go to 
God — we must return to him, and he will return to us. 
The Lord Jesus hath borne the sins of the world — " the 
Lord hath laid upon him the iniquity of us all ;" but it is he 
that cometh to him that shall not be cast out, and he that 
looketh to him that shall be saved. God declares that he is 
angry with the wicked every day — that he will not look 
upon sin — that nothing unholy or impure shall ever enter 
into his presence ; therefore it is the man who confessetli 
andi forsaketh his sins who shall obtain mercy. 

God not only saves men from the punishment due to 
their sins, but he takes them unto his bosom, writes their 
names upon his heart, and gives them the fullest participa- 
tion in his love. But this is not our happy lot, unless his 
love has awakened ours, and led us to give ourselves to him. 
Our sins have separated between us and our God — they 
VOL. VII. 35 



6 THE SCAPE-GOAT. 

caused us to withdraw ourselves from him, and caused him 
to hide his face from us and leave us to the guidance of our 
own ignorance, of our own corruptions, and the delusions of 
the devil. 

The Jews, if they understood the value of the blessing, 
must have been filled with love and adoration as the goat 
was led away, bearing all their sins ; and must have resolved 
to devote themselves more entirely to so good and so gra- 
cious a Saviour. So shall we, if we understand, and believe, 
and trust in the great work of the Lord Jesus Christ. If 
we receive him, and are partakers of his salvation, love and 
thankfulness must fill our hearts with adoring gratitude, and 
we shall solemnly, and most sincerely, devote our lives to 
his service and to his glory. 

The goat was a mere instrument used to show forth 
God's future purpose — perfectly unconscious of what was 
going forward. But the Lord Jesus Christ received the full 
weight of our iniquities, and the fearful consequences of our 
guilt, in the out-pouring of God's wrath, and the withdraw- 
nient of his presence. When Cain was visited with the dis- 
pleasure of God, for his sin in the murder of his brother, he 
exclaimed, " My punishment is greater than I can bear ;" 
O then, what a weight must have rested on the Son of God, 
when bearing the sins of the world ; and we find the over- 
whelming agony caused him to sweat, as it were, great 
drops of blood falling down to the ground ; and the bitter- 
ness of his spirit led him to say, "Father, if it he 2^ossible, 
let this cup pass from me ;" and on the cross, when the 
heavens had gathered blackness, and nature appeared as 
though it were preparing for dissolution, in the anguish of 
his soul he uttered a cry that must have pierced the skies, 
and reached to the throne of eternal justice : " My God ! 
my God ! why hast thou forsaken me ?" Oh, this was an 
hour when the powers of darkness seemed to triumph. 
The Star which had risen on a benighted world with so fair 
a promise of being the harbinger of a glorious, day, appear- 
ed now to be setting. He who was the Light of men, 
seemed himself to be enshrouded in darkness, and about to 



THE SCAPE-GOAT. 7 

disappear for ever. The powers of hell exulted in the full 
enjoyment of their malignity ; but this, their imagined tri- 
umph, was to be their destruction. Miserable man also had 
lent himself to the work of sin and shame, little suspecting 
what he was doing. But when the Saviour cried with a 
loud voice, " It is f/nished /" when the vail of the temple 
was rent in twain, and the earth did quake, and the rocks 
rent, and the graves gave up their dead, they who stood by 
exclaimed, Truly this was the Son of God ! 

And as the body of the Saviour descended to the grave, 
his deity shone forth to the \iew of the powers of darkness 
who had been at Avork in this awful scene ; and with dismay 
they must have sunk down to despair at the sight. Our 
Immanuel stood forth in all his glory and his strength, 
having purchased the dominion of the world : in due time 
he ascended far above all principalities and powers, to the 
right hand of the throne of God ; where, clothed in our 
nature, he now sits to reign until he shall have subdued all 
things under his feet. When he shall have accomplished 
this, at the last, the appointed day, he will come again in 
the clouds of heaven, " with a shout, with the voice of the 
archangel, and with the trump of God;" and "every eye 
shall see him." If we do not now cast upon him the bur- 
den of our sins, to be removed by his own blood, give him 
our souls to be renewed and sanctified by his Spirit, and our 
hearts to be filled with his love — if we do not now seek our 
happiness in his service, and our glory in conformity to his 
image, that will be a day of terror and dismay to us ; the 
sceptre of mercy will be laid aside, and his hands will take 
hold on vengeance. then, noio, while it is to-day, seek 
those things that make for your peace, before they are for 
ever hidden from your eyes ; for the Lord is not slack, as 
some men count slackness, but in such an hour as ye think 
not the Son of man will surely come. 

He who bare our sins in his own body on the tree — who, 
laying aside the glory which he had with the Father before 
the world was, took upon himself the form of a servant, and 
humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the 



8 THE SCAPE-GOAT. 

death of the cross, is now exalted at the right hand of God, 
to be a Prince and a Saviour, to give rejDentance and remis- 
sion of sins. When Jesus Christ was upon the earth, his 
was the language of entreaty and the voice of love. He 
mourned over the wickedness of man, and groaned in spirit 
and was troubled to see the misery sin had wrought. Ever 
ready to speak peace to those in trouble, and to pour the 
balm of consolation into the hearts of the disconsolate, he 
went about doing good. While he denounced the sins of 
men, and pronounced woe upon the wicked, he was ever 
ready to deliver and to save. Though now reigning in 
heaven, his compassion is yet the same ; he is still, Jesus 
the Saviour. The blessings of his grace are held out to us ; 
in his word he addresses us, as he did the Jews, " Why Avill 
ye die ?" ''Look unto me and be ye saved." " Him that 
cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out." Glory, and honor, 
and immortality, and eternal life — pardon, and peace, and 
joy on earth, and unfading glories and overflowing fulness 
of bliss in heaven, are the gifts his hand bestows. 

It is declared, that at the name of Jesus every knee shall 
bow, and every tongue shall confess that Jesus Christ is 
Lord, to the glory of God the Father. then, let our 
knees bow in humble adoration before his throne, and our 
tongues supplicate the blessings of his grace, that our hearts 
may here be filled with joy and praise, and our voices here- 
after mingle with the multitude which no man can number, 
out of every nation, and kindred, and people, and tongue, 
who shall stand " before the throne, and before the Lamb, 
clothed in white robes, with palms in their hands, crying. 
Salvation to our God which sitteth upon the throne, and 
unto the Lamb ;" and who shall join with the angels in 
saying, ''Amen: Blessing, and glory, and wisdom, and 
thanksgiving, and honor, and power, and might, be unto our 
God for ever and ever." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



CONVERSION 



PETER BAYSSIERE, 



ROMISH CHURCH TO THE PROTESTANT FAITH. 

IN A LETTER TO HIS CHILDREN* 



TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH. 



My dear Children" — I purpose to give you, in this 
letter, an account of my conversion to the true Christian 
rehgion — that rehgion which was estabhshed by our Lord 

* This narrative was originally entitled, "x\ Letter to my Chil- 
dren on the subject of my Conversion from the Romish Church, in 
which I was born, to the Protestant, in which I hope to die. By 
Peter Bayssiere, Montaigut, Department Tarn and Garonne," 
France. " As much of the interest of this narrative," says the 
preface to the London edition, " depends upon its authenticity, the 
reader is referred to the subjoined extract of a letter from the 
Rev. Francis Cunningham, Rector of Pakefield, dated May 20, 
1829, which will probably remove any doubts on the subject. 

" ' The autograph of Bayssiere's letter I saw Avhen I was 

in the south of France, in the year 1826. It had just then been 
received by M. Audebez, the minister of Nerac, who, as appears 
by the Tract, was well acquainted both with Bayssiere and his 
circumstances. Confident of the genuineness of the account, I 
am very glad it has been published in French, and translated into 
English. It cannot but be interesting and profitable to all lovers 
of the truth. <• • fraxcis cunxixgham.' " 

VOL. VII. 35* 



2 CONVERSION OF PETER BAYSSIERE. 

and liis apostles, professed by their followers during the 
first two centuries of the church, and which is now followed 
by the Protestant or reformed Christians. I am conscious 
that neither my abilities nor my education qualify me for 
this task. A mere mechanic, and possessing but few ad- 
vantages of education, I find it very difficult to express, as 
I could wish, the thoughts and feelings which crowd upon 
my mind. But how great and numerous soever may be the 
difficulties which I must encounter in such an undertaking, 
I am impelled to it by the tender affection I bear you, and 
by the earnest desire and hope of being useful to you. 
May God be my helper ; may he not suffer me to be deter- 
red by any obstacle ; and may he grant me the blessing of 
accomplishing that which I consider as a sacred duty. 

It is my imperative duty to make you acquainted with 
the real motives Avhich have produced the most important, 
solemn, and decisive step in my life. 

It is my duty to give glory to God for the unspeakable 
mercy which he has deigned to show me, in calling me from 
darkness into his marvellous light; in opening to me the 
treasures of his infinite compassion, and in giving me the 
hope of salvation by faith in his Son, who only " has the 
words of eternal life," being alone " the way, the truth, and 
the life." 

It is my duty to endeavor to render my experience 
profitable to you, to show you the path by which it has 
pleased God to lead me to truth, and to the fountain of living 
waters ; and above all, to labor in prayer for you, that you 
may be partakers of the peace and joy with which my spirit 
is filled, under the influence of his blessed word. 

May this paper, my dear children, by the blessing of 
God, contribute to the triumph of the Gospel, and to the 
glory of our great God and Saviour Jesus Christ, by filling 
your hearts with the love of truth, and by leading you in 
the way of true religion. 

It was in the thirty- third year of my age, in the present 
year, 1826, that I openly embraced and professed the Prot- 



CONVERSION OF PETER BAYSSIERE. 3 

estant religion, after having given it the most serious and 
attentive examination, and being convinced that it was in- 
deed the true religion of Christ, agreeable in every respect 
to the revelations of his Gospel. 

Like you, my dear children, I was born in the Romish 
Church ; but birth has, in fact, very little to do with relig- 
ion : the utmost that it can effect is, to predispose the mind, 
or to serve as a pretext to timid, interested, or indifferent 
persons, to justify their external adherence to a form of 
worship in which their hearts do not unite. 

As our Saviour declares to his disciple Peter, it is not 
flesh or blood that can make known to us the true God, the 
Creator, Preserver, and Saviour of men. Faith, through 
which alone we can become children of God and true mem- 
bers of the church of Christ, is a gift of the Holy Spirit, 
and by no means transmitted to us with our existence by 
our parents. St. John teaches us this, when he says, " As 
many as received him, to them gave he power to become 
the sons of God, even to them that beheve on his name ; 
which were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, 
nor of the will of man, but of God." John 1:13. 

Thus you see that we are neither Catholics nor Protes- 
tants by birth ; and it is a great error for any one to feel 
himself bound to either church because he has been born 
within its pale. Religion, like every thing else, must be 
studied and examined ; and no one is truly a member of a 
church, further than as he understands and acknowledges 
its doctrines. His adherence on any other ground only 
proves him credulous, ignorant, and superstitious ; the slave 
of prejudice and habit. 

As for me, my children, although born in the Romish 
Church, I can assure you that I never participated in its 
belief. It would be foreign to the end I have in view, to 
relate here the various circumstances of my childhood and 
youth, Avhich preserved me from being brought into the 
bosom of the Catholic Church by the usual rites and cere- 
monies. God so ordered it, that I made no vow by which 



4 CONVERSION OF PETER BAYSSIERE. 

/ might ^ have afterwards felt myself bound to the Church 
of Rome. 

Unknown to me, that is, at an age when I could have no 
idea of what was done to me, I was doubtless received into 
the church by the usual ceremony ; but as this act was per- 
formed without any consent or cooperation on my part, I 
have never regarded it in the light of an engagement to 
the Catholic Church. 

With regard to what is called " the first communion," 
w^iich is considered as the public ratification and confirma- 
tion of the vow of my parents, this I never received in the 
Romish Church, nor did I receive what is called the Sacra- 
ment of Confirmation. 

Before I could be united by the sacred bond of mar- 
riage to your virtuous and beloved mother, it Avas necessary 
that I should confess. This I did with extreme reluctance, 
feeling that nothing could be at once more absurd, more 
tyrannical, or more degrading, than to oblige a man to pros- 
trate himself at the feet of a priest, a mortal, a sinner, a 
child of corruption like himself, and there to make confes- 
sions to him, which the offended Deity alone could have a 
right to require, and to receive absolution from him for 
faults with which he had no concern. I could not, however, 

* " / migJd have,''^ etc. But I am far from supposing that I 
ouglit to have felt myself indissolubly tied to the Roman Catholic 
Church by any sacrament that I might have received, or by any 
engagement that I might have entered into ; on the contrary, I 
lay it down as an incontestible principle, that every vow and every 
oath is null, and neither can nor ought to bind any one to a church 
in which he has discovered errors, or doctrines and habits opposed 
to the word of God, and contrary to his own conscience. Truth 
alone, and the full conviction of truth, constitute a tie which can 
inviolably connect us with any church whatever. From the moment 
that this conviction no longer exists, and that error is discovered, 
it is an imperative duty to abandon a mode of Avorship which does 
not accord with our true sentiments ; and he who perseveres 
against this conviction becomes a hypocrite, contemptible in the 
eyes of men, and condemned before God. 



CONVERSION OF PETER BAYSSIERE. 5 

marry without confession, and therefore I was obhged to 
submit ; but no power on earth could have constrained me 
to go further. The Sacrament, as the Roman Cathohcs 
receive it, had, from infancy, excited in me feehngs of dis- 
gust. My mind had always revolted at the idea, that the 
great God of heaven could allow himself to be eaten by his 
creatures in the form of a little flour. Under various pre- 
tences, therefore, I contrived to avoid the ceremony, and 
obtained the nuptial benediction without it. 

The Lord, who never leaves himself without the witness 
of his numerous mercies to us, even when we are offending 
him in so many ways, was pleased to bless our marriage. 
Your birth, my dear children, crowned our joy, and left us 
nothing to wish but to see you grow and prosper, and to 
devote ourselves to your happiness. Alas, little did we 
suspect, whilst thus delightfully engaged, that this joy was 
to be so soon disturbed, and that death would deprive us 
of her who had given you birth. But our great God, whose 
ways and whose designs, though often inscrutable, are al- 
ways full of wisdom, saw good to separate us — you from a 
tender and excellent mother, and me from a beloved com- 
panion and inestimable friend. She died Febmary 11, 1821, 
after a few days' illness, lea\n[ng me in a state of affliction 
which it would be in vain to attempt to describe. 

Nevertheless, terrible as was the stroke, and heart-rend- 
ing as was the separation, I can now acknowledge, my chil- 
dren, that it was a salutary chastisement, sent by sovereign 
love ; and one of the links of that chain of providence by 
which the Lord saw good to deliver me from the miserable 
state in which I was then living, and to lead me to the foun- 
tain of grace and true peace. 

In fact, the death of your poor mother gave rise to a 
train of circumstances which, by drawing my attention to 
subjects that I had hitherto totally disregarded, and by ex- 
citing in my mind a degree of energy of which I could not 
have supposed myself capable, ended by engaging me most 
unexpectedly in the serious study of religion. The partic- 



6 CONVERSION OF PETER BAYSSIERE. 

ulars I am about to give you respecting these things, will 
convince you that God can overrule the wickedness of men 
for good, and will show you that a Romish priest was the 
means of directing me to the ivay — I mean the perusal and 
free examination of the word of God — which led me, event- 
ually to the Protestant chvu'ch. 

Your mother's funeral was conducted with Cathohc 
ceremonies, and, according to my means, I spared nothing 
to honor her remains. I likewise consented, either from 
conformity to custom, or from a wish to please my relatives, 
who were influenced by the fear of purgatory, or perhaps 
from participating myself in the false notion that bought 
prayers can mitigate the sufferings of the dead — from one 
or all of these causes, aggravated by the sorrow which filled 
my heart and inflamed my imagination, I consented to the 
performance of the nine customary masses for the rest of 
the soul. 

The priest to whom I first went told me that he was too • 
busy to undertake the whole, but that I might depend upon 
him for three. From him I went to another, who engaged 
to say the remaining six, and did so without delay. Sun- 
day after Sunday, for a considerable time, I went to the 
first to inquire whether my three masses would be said in 
the following week. He always found some excuse, saying 
that " there were others more urgent than myself ; that he 
was previously engaged ; that he had undertaken more than 
was in his power to perform, etc. From February to June 
I was thus put off under various pretexts. Worn out, at 
length, by so many fruitless eflbrts, I resolved to put an end 
to them, and mentioned the subject to your aunt, your 
mother's sister, expressing to her my extreme annoyance. 
She asked me if I had offered the priest the amount of the 
masses Avhicli he had promised to say? "No," I said, 
"the idea never occurred to me; but even if it had, I 
should not have dared to do it, for fear of offending him. 
It is not usual," I added scornfully, "to pay before one is 
served. No one ever pays me for a saddle before I make 



CONVERSION OF PETER BAYSSIERE. 7 

it." ''No matter," replied your aunt, "my advice to you 
is to return to the priest, and offer to pay for the masses 
which you have ordered." 

I did as she advised me, and this time my request was 
favorably received. The priest seized the six-franc piece 
which I laid on the table, looked at me and said, " Do you 
wish me to say six?" "No," I replied with a feeling of 
indignation which I could hardly repress — " no, sir, I only 
want three. Return to me the rest of the money ; poor 
folks cannot afford to spend so much at once." 

I left the priest, thoroughly ashamed of having contrib- 
uted to gratify his cupidity, and very much disposed to 
think the religion we were taught was nothing but a tissue 
of fables and impostures, to which the thirst of gold and 
silver had given birth. I cannot tell you all the sad and 
painful reflections that occupied my mind during the re- 
mainder of that day ; I was overcome by them, and rejoiced 
to see the night, hoping to find relief in sleep. I went to 
bed, but could not close my eyes. Still haunted by the 
remembrance of what had so disgusted me, a multitude of 
thoughts crowded on my imagination. I knew that the 
priests claimed the word of God as their authority for all 
their doctrines and ceremonies, which word I also knew was 
contained in the Old and New Testaments, although, to my 
misfortune, I did not then regard them as a divine revela- 
tion. In fact, I believed no more in the Holy Bible as the 
ivord of God, than I did in the doctrine of purgatory : still 
I felt a desire to search and to ascertain whether this lucra- 
tive doctrine was contained in the Gospel, and in what man- 
ner it was there established. 

At this moment I recollected that there was, on the 
chimney-piece of my room, a New Testament, in which I 
had learned to read, but which I had never opened since I 
was nine or ten years old. I jumped out of bed, and hastily 
dressing myself, resolved to begin, without delay, my re- 
searches on the subject of Purgatory. 



8 CONVERSION OF PETER BAYSSIERE. 

With this sole object in view, I read through the Gos- 
pels, the Acts of the Apostles, the Epistles, and the Reve- 
lation of St. John; confining my attention exclusively to 
those points that tended either to establish or controvert 
this doctrine. This perusal of the New Testament, which, 
from my eagerness to satisfy my curiosity and resolve my 
doubts, I accomplished without once stopping, except for 
refreshment, proved to me that the doctrine of purgatory 
was not to be found in the Gospel, but must have been 
derived from some other source. 

Indeed, my dear children, I did not find a single passage 
which established it, either directly or indirectly : on the 
contrary, I was struck with many declarations completely 
opposed to it. Thus I read in St. Matthew, " The wicked 
shall go away into everlasting punishment, but the right- 
eous into life eternal." Matt. 25 : 46. This absolutely de- 
stroys the idea of any intermediate abode between heaven 
and hell. 

I read the song of Simeon, by which it clearly appears 
that the good old man had no idea that he was to stop in 
the road to heaven, or that he would have to undergo any 
purging fire before he could get there ; for he exclaims, 
holding the infant Jesus in his arms, " Lord, now lettest 
thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen 
thy salvation," etc. Luke 2 : 29, 30. 

I read the promises which Jesus made to the thief on the 
cross, when he said to him, " Lord, remember me when thou 
comest into thy kingdom." Luke 23 : 42, 43. If there 
were such a place as purgatory, and if any one were likely 
to be subjected to its fires, surely it would have been this 
malefactor, condemned by human laws, and probably guilty 
of many crimes; yet our Saviour replies, "Verily, I say 
unto thee, to-day thou shalt be with me in paradise." 

I read in the Epistle of St. Paul to the Romans, that 
*' there is now no condemnation to them which are in Christ 
Jesus." Rom. 8:1. A doctrine altogether opposed to 
that of purgatory? which teaches that Christians are, after 



CONVERSIOxN OF PETER BAYSSIERE. 9 

this life, subjected to a process of torments, before tliey are 
free from condemnation. 

I read in the Epistle to the Hebrews, that "it is ap- 
pointed unto men once to die, but after this the judgment," 
Heb. 9 : 27, which clearly proves that the destiny, both of 
the bad and good, is irrevocably fixed from the moment of 
their death; and that there is no purgatory, from which 
masses, prayers, or rather, gold and silver, can deliver any 
one. 

I read also, in the first Epistle of St. John, that *' the 
blood of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, cleanseth us from 
all sin," 1 John, 1 : 7, which excludes all other kinds of 
purification, and formally contradicts the doctrine of purga- 
tory. Finally, I read in the book of Revelation, " Blessed 
are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth : yea, 
saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labors, and 
their works do follow them," 

Here is another declaration which confirms what the 
preceding and many other passages establish in so convinc- 
ing a manner, Not having discovered a single text of the 
New Testament which told in favor of purgatory ; but, on 
the contrary, having observed and meditated on those which 
I have quoted, and many others equally opposed to this 
doctrine, I was fully persuaded that it never had been 
thought of by the writers of the Gospel. You may easily 
believe, my dear children, that this discovery in no way 
tended to strengthen the bonds which held me to the 
Romish Church, nor to confirm me in their faith. 

Still, however, I was dissatisfied, and still longed to 
know positively from whence the priests had derived their 
vain system. This desire filled my mind for some days, 
and at last it struck me that the Pope must have been the 
inventor of it. I then naturally began to wish to discover 
who the Pope was, and what right he had to impose such a 
doctrine. I had often read and heard, both in conversation 
and from the pulpit, that St. Peter was the chief and head 

VOL. VII. 30 



]0 CONVERSION OF PETER BAYSSIERE. 

of the apostles ; that he had been the first pope at Rome ; 
and that all succeeding popes had inherited his rights and 
prerogatives. 

I conceived a wish to know what the New Testament 
said upon this subject, and I immediately undertook a sec- 
ond perusal of it, in the same state of mind as before ; that 
is to say, absorbed by one sole object, and having nothing 
in view but to find out whether St. Peter had really been 
set over all the other apostles, and placed at Rome as head 
of all the churches. 

This examination, which was pursued with a degree of 
attention of which I should now be scarcely capable, ended 
in convincing me that the supremacy of St. Peter was no 
better estabhshed by the New Testament than the first 
doctrine which I had sought for, and that undoubtedly the 
papacy was without scriptural authority. 

I found in St. Matthew the calling of Simon, who was 
afterwards called Peter, Matt. 4 : 18, 19, 20 ; but it did 
not appear to me to differ from that addressed to Andrew 
his brother, and all the other apostles. 

In the tenth chapter of the same Gospel, I also observed 
that the first mission which Jesus Christ gave to his apos- 
tles, was given to all, without any particular prerogative to 
Peter. It is true that Peter is the first named, but this is 
merely an accidental priority, which implies neither dis- 
tinction nor superiority ; one must have been mentioned 
first. I made the same observation on the last mission 
which they received on the day of their Master's ascension, 
and which is related by St. Matthew, 28 : 19, 20 ; by St. 
Mark, 16 : 15, and in the Acts of the Apostles, 1 : 8. This 
mission, though variously expressed in the three places, is 
the same in substance. It is given indiscriminately to all, 
the promises by which it is accompanied are for all, and on 
all the same powers are equally conferred. 

The 18th and 19th verses of chap. 16 of St. Matthew, 
where it is said, " Thou art Peter, and on this rock 1 will 
build my church," startle^ me for a moment, and I was on 



CONVERSION OF PETLR BAYSSIEllE. 1 1 

the point of mistaking the true meaning of this declaration. 
But having reflected that Jesus Christ asked the question in 
the 15th verse, of all his disciples, and that Peter expressed 
the sentiment of all, in his animated reply in the 16th verse, 
I considered that the words which Christ addressed to Peter, 
were applicable to all disciples ; and that no supremacy- 
could be attributed to him from this passage, more than from 
any of the preceding. 

I was confirmed in this opinion, w^hen I read in the Gos- 
pel of St. John, that Jesus, speaking to all, had made them 
nearly the same promise : " Whose soever sins ye remit, they 
are remitted unto them ; and whose soever sins ye retain, 
they are retained," John 20 : 23 ; and also by what St. Paul 
says to the Ephesians : "Ye are built upon the foundation of 
the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the 
chief corner-stone ; in whom all the building, fitly framed 
together, grow^eth unto an holy temple in the Lord." Eplies. 
2: 20, 21. 

I was still more strengthened, when I found in the 
Revelation, that St. John says, *' the wall of the city had 
twelve foundations, and in them the names of the twelve 
apostles of the Lamb." Rev. 21 : 14. 

By these passages, and many others which I think it 
unnecessary to quote, I discerned that Jesus Christ is the 
true foundation, the corner-stone on which the Christian 
church rests ; that all the apostles and prophets are indeed 
mentioned as its foundation, but only because all their doc- 
trines refer to him ; and I was convinced that St. Peter was 
in no deo-ree more distino-uished or more elevated than his 
fellow-laborers. Although I did not then understand, at 
least not so fully as I do now, the evangelical meaning of 
the 18th and 19th verses of chap. 16 of St. Matthew, yet I 
was persuaded that the papacy or sovereignty of St. Peter 
could not reasonably be deduced from them. 

Finally, my conviction that St. Peter was not above the 
other apostles, was completed by observing what he says 
himself in his first epistle : " The elders which are among 



12 CONVERSION OF PETER BAYSSIERE. 

you I exhort, who am also an elder '^ 1 Pet. 5:1; by what 
St. Paul says to the Corinthians : " I was not a whit behind 
the very chiefest apostles," 2 Cor. 11:5; by noticing that 
St. Paul, according to his own account, " withstood him to 
the face, because he was to be blamed," Gal. 2: 11 ; and 
that he severely and publicly reprehended him, because 
" he constrained the Gentiles to be circumcised ;" by seeing 
how the common disciples of the church of Jerusalem made 
no scruple of reproving Peter, because "he went in unto 
men uncircumcised, and did eat with them," Acts 11:3; 
how they required from him an explanation of his conduct, 
and how the apostle hastened to justify himself, by relating 
to them exactly how the thing had happened. Finally, by 
observing that '' when the apostles which were at Jerusalem 
heard that Samaria had received the word of God, they sent 
unto them Peter and John." Acts 8:14. 

''There can be no doubt," thought I, as I perused and 
re-perused all these testimonies, " that Peter was in every 
respect equal to the other apostles ; that he had no supe- 
riority nor jurisdiction over them. Had he been, had he 
thought himself, or had others thought him, the prince of 
the apostles and sovereign pastor of the church, would he 
have called himself an elder like unto the other elders ? Is 
it possible that St. Paul would have declared himself to be 
'not a whit behind him;' that he would have 'withstood 
him to his face,' and blamed him publicly ? Is it probable 
that mere believers, common members of the church, should 
have ventured to dispute with him, to require an explana- 
tion of his. conduct, or that he should have thought it ne- 
cessary to satisfy them by giving one ?* Is it likely that 
he would have been sent by the other apostles, or have re- 
ceived their orders, when it would have been his part, had 
he been their chief, to command and to send them ?" 

I needed no more evidence to be thoroughly convinced 

* The popes, his pretended successors, have not been so 
obliging ; they have been always solicitous to make their authority 
felt. 



COWERSION OF PET]:R BAYrfSIERE. 13 

that all which is taught by the Romisli church of the su- 
premacy of St, Peter, and of the sovereignty of the popes, 
his pretended successors, was a fable destitute of the 
slightest foundation ; at all events, a doctrine no more to 
be found in the Gospel than that of purgatory. 

If I were surprised at this, I was no less so when I ob- 
served that m the whole New Testament there was not one 
word which gave reason to imagine that St. Peter had ever 
preached, or had even ever been at Rome, where the Ro- 
man Catholics assert, and believe as an article of faith, that 
he was the first pope. The Acts of the Apostles maintains 
the most profound silence on this subject, and affords no 
ground whatever for the supposition. All the Epistles 
leave it equally in darkness. Those of St. Paul to the 
Galatians, to the Ephesians, to the Philippians, to the Co- 
lossians, the second to Timothy, and the Epistle to Phile- 
mon, all written from Ptome at different periods, and that 
to the Hebrews, written from Italy, make no mention of 
Peter's being there. In the last four, the apostle speaks 
of his companions in suffering, in labor, and in the work 
of the Lord, but says not a word of Peter as being with 
him. Undoubtedly he would have mentioned him, as he 
mentions Tychicus, Onesimus, Aristarchus, D^mas, Prudens, 
Livius, Claudia, etc., had he been at Rome ; but neither his 
name, nor any allusion to his abode in the capital of the 
world, is to be discovered in any part of St. Paul's Epistles. 
In my opinion, there is no proof of his ever having been 
there, much less of his having held the bishopric. Finally, 
his own two Epistles furnish no evidence for such a suppo- 
sition : the first, and, in all probability, the second also, is 
written from Babylon, 1 Pet. 5:13, and addressed, not to 
the Romans, but " to the strangers," that is to say, the 
converted Jews, "scattered throughout Pontus, Galatia, 
Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia," 1 Pet. 1:1; countries 
where it would appear that he exercised his ministry, after 
having for some years preached to the church at Antioch. 

Thus, my children, I discovered that these two primary 
VOL. vii. '^P* 



14 CONVERSIOxNT OF PETER BAYSSIERE. 

doctrines of the Romish church, Viz., purgatory and the su- 
premacy of St. Peter, had not, at any rate, been inculcated 
by the writers of the Gospel. I cannot tell you what in- 
terest I felt in the new ideas I had acquired. The New 
Testament, which I was still far from rearardin^ as a divine 
revelation, appeared to me a collection of precious docu- 
ments, in whose authority I then began to feel some degree 
of confidence. Though I found this study novel and diffi- 
cult to a poor uneducated artisan like myself, it was at the 
same time so attractive to me, that I was induced to con- 
tinue my researches. 

I have already mentioned to you, my dear children, the 
invincible repugnance which I had always felt to receiving 
the sacrament as administered in the Romish church. I 
have said that nothing in the world could have forced me 
to this act, by which it is profanely pretended that the 
creature eats his Creator ! I could never even think of 
it without shuddering. This doctrine, which asserts that 
Jesus Christ is present m body and in spirit in the con- 
secrated wafer, and that every communicant is actually 
nourished by his flesh and blood, is, of all the tenets of 
popery, that which contributed the most to alienate me 
from the Christian religion, to which I attached it, and to 
drive me into infidelity. 

This, therefore, now attracted all my attention ; and 
again I began to read the New Testament, entirely occu- 
pied, as previously, by the one object which I had in view. 

I found nothing in the three Gospels of St. Matthew, 
St. Mark, or St. Luke, which gave me the least reason to 
suppose that their author had recognized the real and cor- 
poreal presence of Jesus Christ in the sacrament of the 
holy Supper. The words of the institution, as related by 
the first. Matt. 26:26; by the second, Mark 14 : 22 ; and 
by the third, Luke 22:19; these words, reported with 
slight variations by the three evangelists, and which I took 
great pains to collate and compare, conveyed no other idea 



CONVERSION OF PETER BAYSSIERE. 15 

than that of a commemorative ceremony, designed to pre- 
serve and call to remembrance the sufferings, the passion, 
and the death of Christ. In my then wretched condition 
of unbelief, the magnitude, the sanctity, and the power of 
the sacrament did not strike my mind ; but, with this ex- 
ception, I imbibed from the consideration of these passages 
the views which I still hold. 

So far, then, I had not discovered the doctrine of the 
real presence ; but I thought I had indeed found it specifi- 
cally established when I read these words : " I am the living 
bread which came dow^n from heaven : if any man eat of 
this bread, he shall live for ever ; and the bread that I will 
give is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world. 
The Jews, therefore, strove among themselves, saying. How 
can this man give us his flesh to eat ? Then Jesus said unto 
them. Verily, verily, I say unto you, except ye eat the flesh 
of the Son of man, and drink his blood, ye have no life in 
you. Whoso eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, hath 
eternal life ; and I Avill raise him up at the last day. For 
my flesh is meat indeed, and my blood is drink indeed. He 
that eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, dwelleth in 
me, and I in him." John 6 : 51-56. These words appeared 
to me to be undoubtedly the foimdation of the Romish faith 
on this head. I even thought that the Avriter of them had 
the establishment of this doctrine especially in view. At 
that moment I Avas tempted to stop, and to carry no further 
my researches on a doctrine which I thought I had found 
clearly set forth, but the absurdity of which had never ap- 
peared to me so palpable. I then felt an utter disgust 
towards the Gospel ; nevertheless, internally spurred on by 
an invisible power, which was then imknown to me, but 
which I now recognize to have been the Holy Spirit, the 
Author of all divine revelation ; and attracted, as it were, in 
spite of myself, by the Spirit of God, who graciously pur- 
posed to teach me to appreciate, and in time to receive the 
truth of his word, I resumed my New Testament, which 
I had for a moment thrown aside, and recommencing the 



16 CONVERSION OF PETER BAYSSIERE. 

perusal of the sixth chapter of St. John, I read it to the 
end, which I had not done before. 

When I reached the sixty-third verse, I was struck as 
by a flash of light, which instantaneously discovered to me 
the mistake that I had at first made in the meaning of the 
six verses transcribed above, and imparted a new value to 
the Gospel. When I read, " It is the Spirit that quick- 
eneth ; the flesh profiteth nothing : the words that I speak 
imto you, they are spirit, and they are life," John 6 : 63, 
I had, as it were, the key of the chapter, and no longer 
discerned iti it the doctrine of the real presence. I per- 
ceived that it in no way referred to swallowing and digest- 
ing, with our corporeal organs, the body and blood of 
Christ : I saw that the expressions of eating and drinking 
were used figuratively, and that they really signified noth- 
ing but knowing Christ, coming to him, and believing in 
him, as it is explained in the thirty-fifth verse of the same 
chapter, where Jesus Christ says, " I am the bread of life ; 
he that cometh to me shall never hunger, and he that be- 
lieveth on me shall never thirst." 

It Avas then as clear to me as day, that Jesus Christ 
used the terms eating and drinking only in a spiritual man- 
ner ; and, as I now understand them, as referring to that 
faith, which, while it is living and active in our hearts, 
unites us to him in an inexplicable manner, and clothes us 
in his merits, at the same time that it purifies and sanctifies 
our views, our sentiments, and our desires. After having 
thus discovered my error, I found myself more than ever 
inclined to persevere in my reading, and to search and see 
whether the doctrine of the real presence would not be 
better established in the subsequent parts of the book. 
The further I advanced, my dear children, the more reason 
I had to be convinced, that neither Jesus nor his apostles 
ever intended to convey such an idea. I should be too 
tedious, were I to point out to you all the passages which 
I found expressly contradictory to this revolting tenet ; it 
will be sufficient to quote a few. 



CONVERSION OF PETER BAYBSIERE. 17 

I found in the Acts, that the apostles saAv Jesus Christ 
ascend on high, carried upwards by a cloud which concealed 
him from their sight, and that two angels appeared and said 
unto them, *' Men of Galilee, why stand ye gazing up into 
heaven ? This same Jesus which is taken up from you into 
heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him 
go into heaven." Acts 1:9, 11. ''There never was a 
priest," said I, "there never was a Roman Catholic, ad- 
ministering or receiving the sacrament, that ever saw Christ 
descending from heaven, in this manner, to enter into the 
bread. Nevertheless, the angels declared, that he should 
descend from heaven in the same manner as he Avent up into 
heaven." 

I found in the same book, " that the heavens must 
receive Jesus Christ till the time of the restitution of all 
things." Acts 3:21. " He is then," said I, "no longer 
corporeally on the earth." I found in the Epistle to the 
Colossians, that " Christ sitteth on the right hand of God," 
chapter 3:1; from whence I drew the inference, that he 
certainly cannot be actually present on so many altars, or 
in so great a number of wafers, as the doctrine of the real 
presence necessarily supposes. 

I found in the Epistle to the Hebrews, chapters 9 and 
10, the strongest declarations, not only against the real 
presence, but against the Avhole system of the mass, by 
which it is pretended dail^/ to renew the passion and sacri- 
fice of our Saviour. When the apostle says that " Christ 
is entered into heaven itself," Heb. 9 : 24 ; when he says 
that "unto them that look for him shall he appear the 
second time without sin unto salvation," verse 28 ; lastly, 
when he says it is the will of God to sanctify us " through 
the oflFering of the body of Jesus Christ once made," chap- 
ter 10: 10, and that "this man, after he had offered one 
sacrifice for sins, for ever sat down at the right hand of 
God," verse 12, having "by one offering perfected forever 
them that are sanctified," verse 14, it appeared to me to 
prove, with the most unanswerable evidence, that the doc- 



18 CONVERSION OF PETER BAYSSIERE. 

trine of the real presence, and all connected with it, was as 
far removed from the creed of the apostle as the east is 
from the west, or as heaven from hell. 

Finally, my dear children, the very words of the insti- 
tution of the Lord's Supper, related by St. Paul, 1 Cor. 11, 
and to which I paid particular and repeated attention, did 
not leave a shadow of doubt on my mind, that the doctrine 
of the Romish church, on the subject of the Eucharist, is 
utterly devoid of any foundation in the Gospel, and must 
consequently have been derived from some other source. 
In fact, ail that our Saviour says on the occasion of insti- 
tuting the Lord's Supper, clearly shows that it was a me- 
morial of himself ^\\\iq\\ he established, and which he wished 
to leave behind him. After having taken, blessed, and 
broken the bread, he commands that it should be eaten in 
rememhrance of him.. Having given them the cup to drink, 
he adds, " This do ye, as oft as ye drink it, in rememhrance 
of me." The words, "This is my body — this cup is the 
New Testament in my blood," appeared to me only what 
they really are, figurative expressions, signifying that the 
bread represented his body, and the wine his blood. These 
words do in no degree change or modify the principal idea, 
that of commemoroAion, which runs throughout this action 
of our Lord. 

Had it even been possible that these words had deceived 
me, had I taken them in their literal meaning, I should soon 
have been undeceived by those which immediately follow, 
which in themselves utterly overthrow the doctrine of the 
real presence, and the whole system of the mass. These 
are the words: "As often as ye eat this bread, and 
drink this cup, ye do show the Lord's death till he come.'' 
1 Cor. 11 : 26. After this declaration, connected with so 
many others, what further proof was v/anting that St. Paul 
never believed that the bread and wine contained the actual 
body of Christ ? I clearly saw that in this passage he 
meant that it is really bread we eat, and wine we drink, in 
the sacrament, and not the actual body and blood of the 



CONVERSION OF PETER BAYPSIERE. 19 

Son of God. I perceived that he taught that the Lord is 
not actually present in that ceremony, accordino- to the 
sense of the Romish church, because he distinctly says, 
that by participating in it we "do show tlie Lord's death 
till he coined 

In short, I was convinced that, according to St. Paul, it 
is not the body and blood of Jesus Christ that the priests 
hold in their hands, and which they ofter as a sacrifice in 
the mass. 

Here, my children, I suspended my researches. Con- 
vinced, as much as it is possible to be convinced of any 
thing, that the doctrine of transubstantiation is not to be 
found in the New Testament, I concluded that it must have 
the same origin as those of the papacy and of purgatory. 

Diverted as I had been from my usual occupation, during 
the time that I had thus devoted to study and meditation ; 
obliged to maintain myself and you by the sweat of my 
brow, and having no other immediate subject of perplexity, 
I returned to my daily labor, and discontinued the perusal 
of the Gospel. My New Testament had certainly gained 
much in my esteem ; but without stopping to consider 
exactly in what way I valued it, I think I may say that it 
was not as containing the word of God, and the knowledge 
which is unto salvation. 

Thus, not being really or heartily interested in it, I 
replaced it a second time on the spot it had so long occu- 
pied, on the chimney-piece of my room ; and eighteen 
months or two years passed without my thinking of con- 
sulting it anew. 

During this period I married again : your tender age, 
and the care you required, which my business and absence 
prevented my giving you, were the motives which induced 
me to take this step. God in his fatherly kindness merci- 
fully directed my choice, though I had never Ijiought of 
asking him to do so ; and you have found a second mother 
in her who has ever been to me the most estimable and best 



20 CONVERSION OF PETER BAYSSIERE. 

of friends. During this period, also, I thought more of 
religion than ever before. Though I had read the Gospel 
only to satisfy my curiosity on the three points of doctrine 
that 1 have mentioned, and although my attention had been 
exclusively directed to these points, it is probable, notwith- 
standing, that I had almost unconsciously imbibed some of 
the impressions which the word of God is calculated to 
produce, and that even then I was in some measure under 
its secret influence. One thing I am sure of, that from that 
time some idea of religion, although then comparatively 
vague and confused, never left me ; I frequently caught 
myself musing on the origin of the universe, on the vicissi- 
tudes of nature, and on the future condition of those numer- 
ous beings, who are seen for a short time on the earth, and 
then disappear. My own destiny, also, frequently engaged 
my thoughts ; but I was far from referring it to Him on 
whom I now see that it entirely depends. In all these 
thoughts, God was excluded from the place he ought to have 
held. With nothing but false and uncertain notions of him, 
I was far indeed from regarding him as the vivifying prin- 
ciple, which, to the eye of the Christian, animates and em- 
bellishes every thing, and as that pure light " which light- 
eth every man that cometh into the world." 

I am bound to tell you, my children, what was the real 
state of my soul at that time. I was in so deplorable a con- 
dition of blindness and ignorance, that sometimes I thought 
there was no God, but that he was an imaginary being ; 
and sometimes confounding him w^ith the works of his 
almighty hands, I attributed divinity to the material world. 
"The fool hath said in his heart. There is no God," and I 
dare not deny that these words of David were for a long- 
time, and even perhaps at the period of which I am speak- 
ing, applicable to me. But while I acknowledge that the 
natural corruption of my heart, and the bad books I had 
read, w^ere in part the causes of the sad state I have de- 
scribed, I cannot help also attributing the greatest part of 
them to the abuses, the siiperstiilon, and the errors which 



CONVERSION OF PETER BAYSSIERE. 21 

disfigure Christianity in the Romish churcli, and which had 
so disgusted me that they had driven me into total infidehty. 

Such, then, being in fact my rehgious state, you may 
well believe, my children, that I was not happy ; for it is 
impossible to be so without trusting in God, who is the 
source of supreme good and true peace. I was assiduous 
in my occupation ; I frequented the society of my friends ; 
biMfc my heart, empty and incessantly craving after some- 
thing which I could not obtain, was never content. My 
mind, restless and agitated, could nowhere find an object 
to fix and satisfy it. Listlessness followed me everywhere, 
and seemed to increase upon me. how unhappy, and 
how pitiable are those, who are, as I was then, without 
God, without Christ, without hope in the world. 

I was in this Avretched state Avhen it pleased God to 
have pity upon me, and to cause a ray of light to penetrate 
my mind. One evening, after the labors of the day, instead 
of going as usual to the club which I frequented, I went 
alone upon the public walk, where I remained till the night 
was far advanced : the moon shone clearly and brightly ; 
I had never before been so struck by the magnificence of 
the heavens, and I felt unusually disposed to reflection. 
" No," I said, after contemplating for a long time the im- 
pressiv^e scene before me, "no, nature is not God" — for till 
then I had entertained this opinion — " God is certainly dis- 
tinct from nature : in all this I can only recognize a work 
replete with harmony, order, and beauty. Although I can- 
not perceive the Author, whose power, intelligence, and wis- 
dom are everywhere so strongly imprinted on it ; still, both 
my reason and my feeling combine to convince me of his 
existence." 

This conclusion, which I sincerely adopted, was the 
result of the reflections in which I had been that evening 
absorbed. 

Some days after this, the examination of a watch, its 
springs, its various wheels, and its motions, brought me 
afresh to the same conclusion, and for ever confirmed me 

VOL. VH. I'T 



22 CONVERSION OF PETER BAYSSIERE. 

in the belief of a God, the Creator of all things. If this 
watch, I argued, could not make itself, and necessarily leads 
us to suppose an artist who made each part, and so arranged 
the whole as to produce these movements, how much 
stronger reasons have we for concluding that the universe 
has a Contriver and Maker ? 

I Avas no sooner fully satisfied of the existence of a God, 
than I trembled at the thought of his attributes, and my 
relationship to him. The sense of my unworthiness and 
sinfulness deeply affected me. When I called to mind the 
many years I had passed in forgetfulness of this great God ; 
in indifference to, or in a culpable unbelief of his existence ; 
I felt that I must indeed be, in his sight, the most ungrate- 
ful, and the most sinful of his creatures. My next feeling 
was an anxious desire to amend my conduct, and I deter- 
mined to lay down such a plan for my future life, as I hoped 
might not be unworthy of that Being whose eye I then felt 
was upon me. 

After having made many efforts to recall the best max- 
ims of wisdom and rules of virtue that I had met with in 
the course of my reading, I at length came to a resolution 
of examining what moral precepts the New Testament 
mio'ht contain, and whether it mio^ht not afford me the rules 
I was seeking for the regulation of my conduct. 

This was the motive which brought me again to the New 
Testament, and induced me to undertake a fourth time the 
perusal of it. I wish it were in my power to recount to 
you, my dear children, all the effects that the eternal word 
of God produced upon my heart ; for from that time I 
recognized it to be, what it is in fact, tlie revelation of sov- 
ereign wisdom ; the genuine expression of the divine will ; 
the message of a tender and compassionate Father, addressed 
to his ungrateful and rebellious children, soliciting them to 
return and find happiness in him. I wish I could retrace 
all the impressions that this divine message produced on my 
mind, the vivid emotions I experienced, and the thoughts 



COxWERSION OF PETER BAYSSIERE. 23 

and feelings, never, I trust, to be forgotten, excited by that 
readino-, 

o 

I was like a man born blind, who should suddenly recover 
his sight in a magnificent apartment, splendidly illuminated. 
My feelings at least corresponded with those of a man under 
such circumstances. How glorious was the light of the 
Gospel to me ! I sought for morality, and I found there 
the most simple, clear, complete, and perfect system of mo- 
rality that could be conceived ; and there I found precepts 
suited to every circumstance that could present itself in 
life, as a son, a brother, a father, a friend, a subject, a ser- 
vant, a laborer, a man, a reasonable creature ; my duty in 
every relation of life I there found inculcated in the most 
admirable manner. I could not imagine one moral duty for 
which I did not there find a precept ; not one precept un- 
accompanied by a motive ; and no motive that did not 
appear to me to be dictated by reason, or enforced by an 
authority against which I felt that I had nothing to object. 
I observed two kinds of precepts, which, though tending to 
the same end, that is, perfection, produced a different effect 
upon me. The positive precepts presented to my mind an 
idea of the high degree of holiness at which that man would 
arrive who could keep them without a single violation. The 
negative precepts, by leading me to a close self-examination, 
impressed me with a deep sense of my corruption, and con- 
vinced me that the authors of them must have possessed a 
profound knowledge of the human heart in general, and of 
my heart individually. 

''Who then," said I, "were the writers of this book?" 
And when I reflected that they were poor uneducated me- 
chanics, like myself, the question immediately presented 
itself. How could fishermen, tax-gatherers, and tent-makers, 
acquire such extraordinary sagacity, penetration, wisdom, 
and knowledge? "Ah," I exclaimed, "this is indeed a 
problem, which can only be solved by admitting their own 
assertion, that the Spirit of God directed their pens, and 
that all they wrote was divinely inspired." Such, my 



24 CONVERSION OF PETER BAYSSIERE. 

children, was my conclusion after this examination of the 
morality laid down in the Gospel. 

Thus I recognized the divine origin of the New Testa- 
ment, and took my first step towai'ds Christianity. 

When I had once acknowledged the divine origin of the 
morality of the Gospel, reason and personal experience 
combined to convince me of the truth and divine source of 
THE DOCTRINES ou whicli it was founded. 

" If God inspired the apostles, and enabled them to give 
to the world the purest and most perfect system of morality 
that can be conceived, is it to be supposed that in the 
remainder of their writings he would leave them to them- 
selves, and permit error or imposture to be mixed and con- 
founded with truth ?" Ko ; from the same source cannot 
proceed sweet waters and bitter. As the moral precepts of 
the Gospel are divinely inspired, so, likewise, must be its 
doctrines. This reasoning appeared to me incontrovertible, 
and I received with full conviction the whole contents of the 
New Testament, as dictated by the Spirit of truth. 

From that time Jesus Christ, his history, his divine 
character, his miracles, the end for which he came into the 
world, his sufferings and death, attracted and absorbed my 
whole attention. At the account of his passion, which, till 
then, I had read with indifference, my heart was melted, 
and my eyes overflowed with tears. In short, I found and 
felt such a suitableness between the wants of my sinful soul, 
destitute as it was of all peace and comfort, and the work 
which the Saviour had accomplished by his death on the 
cross, that I no longer doubted that the promises of the 
Gospel were personally addressed to me. I believed that 
Jesus Christ had offered himself a sacrifice for me, and for 
me individual!}^ — to expiate my sins, and to reconcile me 
unto God ; and from that moment I have enjoyed an inward 
peace, the source of Avhich I believe to be faith in Christ 
alone — a peace which the world can neither give nor take 
away, and which, as I myself have frequently experienced, 



CO.WERSIOX OF PETEK HAYSSIERE. 25 

is alone able to support and strengthen us through all the 
sufferings and afflictions of life. 

In this manner you see how, a sinner and prodigal as I 
was, our heavenly Father met me, and received me to the 
arms of his mercy ; how he made known to me his free 
grace and heavenly gift, of which I was utterly unworthy. 
It is his grace that has accomplished all in me. He it was 
who began, who carried on, and who, I trust, will perfect 
this work of salvation. 

Without his intervention, that is to say, without the aid 
of his Spirit operating upon my heart, it never could have 
experienced a real conversion. To him also do I ascribe, 
with gratitude, my admission into the Protestant church, of 
which I have nov/ the privilege of being a member — as I 
shall proceed to tell you. 

Having found, as I have already said, peace and joy in 
that word of God which I had received with my whole 
heart, I immediately felt the desire and the need of inter- 
course WITH Gospel Christians; I was convinced that 
such there were, because the Saviour has promised '' that 
the powers of hell should never prevail against his church." 
But not finding them in the Roman CathoHc church, which 
presented to me nothing but a religion of tradition, equally 
degenerate in doctrine and worship, I was greatly at a loss 
where to find the real Christians for whom I was in search. 

For the first time in my life the thought occurred. Is it 
possible they may be among the Protestants ? But instantly 
I repelled an idea Avhich early prejudice had rendered re- 
^'oltino• to me. In places inhabited exclusively by Roman 
Catholics, where the doctrines and worship of the Protes- 
tant Christians are little known, the term Protestant is 
regarded by most as synonymous with heretic, blasphemer, 
and reprobate. The people generally are imbued with these 
prejudices, which are diligently kept up and disseminated 
by some among them, and I myself was at that time too 
much under their influence to admit, at once, that the Prot- 

VOI,. VI T. ^> ?■■''' 



26 CONVERSION OF PETER BAYSSIERE. 

estants could be the true Christians for whom I was 
seeking. 

Soon, however, the thought returned ; and as I reflected 
on that declaration of St. Paul, " All that will live godly 
in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution," 2 Tim. 3 : 12, 
possibly, said I, these Protestants may be calumniated on 
the very ground of their religion being more in accordance 
with the Gospel. Many other passages of Scripture pre- 
sented themselves to my mind, which led me to bel'eve that 
this supposition might be correct. I therefore determined 
to lose no opportunity of clearing my doubts upon this point. 

As there were no Protestants, either in our town or 
neighborhood, whom I could consult, I determined to write 
to the only one I knew ; and though but little acquainted 
with her, I ventured to request that I might be apprised of 
her pastor's next visit, signifying that I was anxious to con- 
sult him on a subject of importance. Either she did not 
understand my letter, or from some other motive, her answer, 
though obliging, was not satisfactory on that point which 
most interested me. 

I waited patiently for some time, and applied myself 
diligently to reading and meditating on the word of God, 
which had become like necessary food to my soul. In all 
my prayers I entreated the Lord that he would condescend 
to direct me to those true Christians of whom his church was 
composed, and permit me to become one of their number. 
I felt a confidence, from all that I had experienced, that my 
divine Benefactor would grant my request whenever he saw 
it good for me ; this confidence quieted me, but could not 
remove my desire to ascertain what the Protestant religion 
really was. 

One day, particularly, this anxiety became stronger than 
ever, and degenerated, I acknowledge, into real impatience. 
I was unhappy at my lonely and isolated situation, without 
a friend to whom I could communicate my dearest interests ; 
I believe I could have gone a hundred miles to find any one 
who thought and felt as I did. It was at this moment of 



CONVERSION OF PETER BAYSSIERE. 27 

perplexity and weariness, on my return home, at the close 
of a day's work, that the tliought struck me of consulting 
my wife, your present mother, and I had a presentiment that 
through her I should discover what I so long wished to know. 

She is, as you know, a native of Libos, and I remem- 
bered having heard her say that there Avere Protestants 
residinor in that town and neio^hborhood. 

When the supper was ended, and we were seated by the 
fire, each in our chimney-corner, she took her Avork, and I 
began the conversation, nearly in the following words : 

" Annette," said I, " have I not heard you say that there 
are many Protestants in Libos and the neighborhood ?" 

" Yes, Bayssiere," she replied, *' there are a great many, 
but they are a good deal scattered about the country. They 
belong to the church of Mont Flanquin, Avhere their priest 
or minister resides." 

''And do you know any of them? Have you ever 
spoken to them, or been at their houses?" 

" yes, I was acquainted with many families ; I knew 

Mr. , and Mr. , etc., etc.," I suppress names. 

" I have been employed in their houses, and seen them 
frequently." 

"■ Well, then, can you tell me what sort of people they 
are, and what their characters and habits ?" 

"■ yes, I can assure you that they are the best set of 
people in the world. They are esteemed, loved, and re- 
spected by every one. I never heard any thing but good of 
those I knew, and they always appeared to me to conduct 
themselves irreproachably." 

I continued to question your mother on the manner in 
which the Protestants brought up their children ; how they 
treated their servants, strangers, and the poor. I asked if 
domestic harmony prevailed among them, and how they 
conducted themselves as parents and children, brothers and 
sisters. 

All her answers tended to convince me that pious Prot- 
estants lived under the influence of the word of God ; and 



28 CONVERSION OF PETER BAVSSIERE. 

at each disclosure she made, though unconscious of the 
value I attached to it, I said to myself, " This is the mo- 
rality of the Gospel !" 

Satisfied on this point, I turned to another: 

" How do the Protestants spend their Sabbaths and 
festivals," I asked, ''separated as they are from each other 
and their church ? Do they ever assemble for prayer, or do 
they live without worship?" 

" O no, they don't live without worship ; they have 
their divine services ; they are at too great a distance from 
their minister and each other to meet every Sunday, but 
they have a church in the country, where they assemble 
many times in a year, I believe once a month ; and at other 
times they meet for prayer at their own houses." 

" Oh, then they have a church near Libos ? I should 
very much like to know," said I, "how they conduct their 
worship, and what they do at their church ?" 

''I can tell you perfectly," replied your mother, "for I 
was present at one of their assemblies. There is nothing 
grand or striking in their churches ; they contain neither 
altar, chapel, images, nor any ornament whatever, but con- 
sist simply of four whitewashed walls. At the lower end 
is a pulpit, like that used by our priest, in front of which is 
a table, and around it are seats, occupied by the elders. 
The rest of the church is fitted up with benches, placed in 
order, on which the congregation seat themselves as they 
enter. 

" I observed that most of them, before they sat down, 
leaned upon the back of the seat before them, and seemed 
to be in the act of prayer. Their service was as simple as 
the building, devoid of ceremony. When the congregation 
had assembled, one of the elders ascended the pulpit, and 
prayed aloud in French ; then he gave notice that he Avas 
about to read the word of God ; and having requested their 
attention, he read, for some time, from a great book, which 
they told me was the Holy Bible. He then offered prayers, 
and preached a sermon, which gave me great pleasure at 



CONVERSION OF PETER BAYSSIERE. 29 

the time, but which I now forget. I well remember, that 
throughout the service there was no noise nor disturbance 
of any kind in the church, and one feeling seemed to per- 
vade the whole ; this struck me forcibly." 

In this description of the Protestant worship, imperfect 
as it was, I thought I could recognize those traits of sim- 
plicity that characterized the worship of the primitive 
Christians; and when your mother had finished, I said to 
myself, "This is indeed like the worship recorded in the 
Acts of the Apostles." But I added, without allowing her 
to perceive the extreme satisfaction that this information 
aftbrded me, "Is this all you know of the Protestant wor- 
ship ? Did you never see them receive the Sacrament ?" 

"Yes, I have," she replied, "on that same day, which 
was the only time I ever entered their church." 

" Do tell me, then, how it was conducted ?" 

" I told you, if you remember, that there was a table in 
front of the pulpit : this table was their altar ; it was cover- 
ed with a very white cloth ; in the middle of it were a plate 
of bread and two chalices of wine. When the minister had 
finished preaching, he took a book, and read from it some 
beautiful passages on the communion, sufferings, and death 
of Christ ; he also spoke of the duty of communicants ; then 
every one stood up while he prayed ; after which he de- 
scended from the pulpit, and came in front of the holy 
table ; he here repeated aloud some words which I have 
forgotten, and took a small piece of bread and ate it ; this 
done, he took the two cups in his hands, and again saying 
something that I did not hear, he drank some of the wine. 
The elders then approached the table, and each received a 
piece of bread, which they ate, and drank a little of the 
wine from the cup which was presented to them. The rest 
of the congregation did the same, the women after the men ; 
and when all had communicated, the minister reiiscended 
the pulpit, gave another exhortation, offered a concluding 
prayer, and closed the whole by urging upon them the care 
of the poor." 



gQ CONVERSION OF PETER BAYSSIERE. 

'' This," tliought I, " is indeed the supper of the Lord !" 
The conformity that I had ah^eady observed between 
the practices of the Protestants and those of the primitive 
Christians, created in me a feehng of joy which I had never 
before experienced. I desired, with renewed ardor, to 
search to the bottom of their doctrines, and from that time 
I anticipated that I might myself become a decided Prot- 
estant. This expectation, my children, soon increased into 
a certainty. 

On the tenth of February last, two pamphlete fell into 
my hands : one Avas published by a Roman Catholic priest, 
and contained an attack on the Protestant religion ; the other 
was an answer, in defence of that religion, written by a 
Protestant minister. These were the first words of religious 
controversy I had ever read, and eagerly did I devour these 
two httle works. That of the first, which had been w^ritten 
on the occasion of a respectable family having recently em- 
braced the Protestant faith, contained nothing that was soHd, 
or that I could not have refuted in the very words of Christ 
and his apostles ; therefore I did not dwell upon it. But 
the second, under the title of A Letter to Malanie, was the 
very thing I wanted, and was so anxiously desiring to find, 
an exposition of the Protestant creed, or at least of its most 
essential points. It taught me that the Gospel was their 
only rule of faith, worship, and conduct ; that they admitted 
all that they found established by the holy Scriptures, but 
rejected every thing else, and especially prohibited the in- 
vocation of saints, the worship of images, of relics, and of 
the holy Virgin. It taught me that they worshipped God 
alone, through Jesus Christ his Son ; that their only hope 
of salvation was in his mercy, revealed in the sacrifice of the 
cross of Christ; that they recognized no other mediator, 
no other advocate, and no other intercessor with God, than 
Him who gave himself as such, and who alone has the right 
of saying to sinners, " Come unto me, and I will give you 
rest." It taught me that they believed no more than my- 
self in purgatory, in the supremacy of the pope, or in the 



CONVERSION OF PETER BAYSSIERE. 31 

real presence, etc. In short, it tauglit me that the Prot- 
estants received and professed no other than primitive 
Christianity. 

It would be impossible for me to tell you, how rejoiced 
I was to find my most intimate feelings expressed by a 
minister of a religion founded on the Gospel. From this, 
and from all that your mother had told me, I clearly saw 
that the Protestants were unjustly accused and misrepre- 
sented by the wicked or the ignorant, and that they were 
in truth those Christians, according to the word of God, to 
whom the promises of the Gospel are made. From that 
time I acknowledged them as my true brethren in Christ 
Jesus, and my chief desire was to be admitted into their 
communion. 

I clearly foresav/, my children, that by making an open 
avowal of my religious principles, and by publicly declaring 
myself a Protestant, I should raise many violent passions 
against myself, and expose m5^self to a thousand trials ; but 
the truth was dearer to me than life, and conscience spoke 
louder than the fear of man. I resolved, therefore, without 
hesitation, to confess my Saviour before men, let the result 

be what it might, and I immediately wrote to Mr. , 

the pastor at Nerac, and the author of the letter I had read, 
requesting the assistance of his experience and kind advice. 
In short, after I had been eleven months in correspondence 
with this excellent minister of the Lord ; after I had visited 
him, in order to acquaint him more fully with the state of 
my mind, and to enjoy the privilege of his instruction ; 
after I had frequently attended Protestant worship and all 
their different religious ordinances ; after I had carefully 
compared these, as well as their doctrines, with the only 
standard of truth, the word of God, and was fully con- 
vinced of their perfect accordance, I no longer saw a motive 
for delay, but requested admission, and was received as a 
member of the Protestant church. 

On the twenty-third of the December following, I went 
to Nerac, and on Christmas-day, in the presence of the 



32 CONVERSION OF PETER BAYSSIERE. 

whole congregation, having, as I trust, first given my heart 
unto the Lord, I became pubhcly united to his saints, and 
received the sacred symbols of the body and blood of my 
Saviour at the Lord's Supper, and pledged myself to remain 
faithful to him till death. I trust that he w^ill vouchsafe to 
me his assistance for the fulfilment of this promise, and 
manifest his strength in my weakness. 

Thus it was, my beloved children, that I became a 
member of the Reformed Church of Christ. I have now 
explained to you the circumstances and motives that have 
led me to its sanctuary. Li the presence of God I attest 
the truth of all I have now written. The ranks of the true 
church are not recruited by means of bribery, deceit, fraud, 
false miracles, or compulsion ; all means are rejected but 
instruction, reason, and persuasion. This church has been 
formed, and still exists, notwithstanding the blows that have 
been levelled at it ; and it will for ever continue, in spite 
of all the rage of hell, sustained by the simple exhibition of 
that Gospel which is its only guide and support. 

May it please that God whom I supplicate for the sal- 
vation of all men, and more especially for the conversion and 
prosperity of my enemies, to give his grace to you, my chil- 
dren, that you may be found among the number of those 
who shall be saved. Happy should I be, not only to be 
your natural father, but also your spiritual father ! Happy, 
indeed, shall I be, if at that great day, when we shall appear 
before God to receive the sentence of our eternal destiny, I 
may be able to present myself and you without fear, and 
say, " Here, Lord, am I, and the children thou hast given 

me." 

P. BAYSSIERE. 
MoNTAiGUT, Dec. 31, 1826. 



nro. 952. 



NECESSITY OF REPENTANCE. 



" God now commandeth all men everywhere to repent." 
Acts 17 : 30. Sinner, do you hear this ? Listen ! " God 
commandeth all men everywhere" — he commandeth j/ou, 
"to repenC Do you ask, "What have I to repent of? 
What have I done so much against him?" You have 
broken his commandments, and "the God in whose hand 
thy breath is, and whose are all thy ways, hast thou not 
glorified." Dan. 5 : 23. You have not, perhaps, been a 
swearer, a drunkard, a thief, a whoremonger, a Sabbath- 
breaker, a liar ; but all your life you have been " leaving 
undone the things which you ought to have done, and 
doing the things which you ought not to have done." Your 
own conscience tells you that you have. And do you ask, 
What have I done? Rather, what have you not done, 
and what do you not deserve from a righteous God ? 

But now, " God commandeth all men to repent." 
" Return unto me, and I will return unto you, saith the 
Lord." Mai. 3 : 1. What a mercy, that he hath not 
called you to judgment. Suppose he had — what could 
you have said ? What could you have done ? But " he 
is long-suffering to us-ward, not willing that any should 
perish, but that all should come to repentance." 2 Peter, 
3:9. Behold him stooping from the throne of his glory, 
and in the compassion of his heart addressing you — in his 
word, by his providence, by his ministers and his people, 
by this Tract, he calls upon you, he entreats you, he com- 
mands you to repent. 

" I do repent," said a man who was one day exhorted 
to this duty. " I never commit sin but I am sorry for it 
VOL. vir. ys 



2 NECESSITY OF REPENTANCE. 

afterwards." So was Cain ; but lie grieved because of his 
punishment, not for liis sin. So was Judas sorry ; but he 
was the son of perdition, and having hanged himself, " went 
to his own place." And how can any man be said to 
repent of sin, if he " forsakes it not ?" Repentance is godly 
sorrow for sin — a change of mind and disposition towards 
God — a change that results from a renewal of the heart, 
and becomes manifest in the life. Not a mere reformation ; 
nor an exchange of one sin for another ; nor an outward 
respect for the law of God, without a cordial reception of 
the Gospel of Christ. John Bunyan, from a notorious 
profligate, became as strict a pharisee ; but was not till 
afterwards a penitent. Do not rest, therefore, in a repent- 
ance that " needs to be repented of." Read the Scriptures, 
attend the preaching of the Gospel, and pray God both to 
teach you what repentance is, and to work repentance in 
you. " All this," you say, "is very good." May I hope, 
then, for your immediate attention to a few suggestions. 

Repentance is enjoined hy the God of heaven. He who 
spake, and the whole universe was made, and at whose all- 
awakening voice the dead shall rise, "now commandetli all 
men everywhere to repent." This proclamation he sends 
to you. Remember, he is in earnest, and will not be 
mocked. His eye is upon you, and though he now " keeps 
silence," and "judgment is not speedily executed against 
an evil work," "he observes all your goings," and "will 
set them in order before your eyes." " He hath appointed 
a day, in the which he will judge the world in righteousness, 
by that Man whom he hath ordained ; Avhereof he hath 
given assurance unto all men, in that he hath raised him 
from the dead." Acts 17:31. " Now, consider this, ye 
that forget God, lest he tear you in pieces, and there be 
none to deliver." Psalm 50 : 22. 

The interests of your never-dying soul depend upon it. 
If you repent, you live. God "will abundantly pardon." 
All the fulness of divine mercy shall be conferred upon 
you, if you repent and believe in the Lord Jesus Christ. 



NECESSITY OF REPENTANCE. 3 

He will not only forgive all your sins, but impart to you 
his Holy Spirit, enable you to serve Him all your days, and 
receive you into heaven when you die. His readiness to do 
all this we see in the unspeakable gift of his only-begotten 
Son, and in the numerous promises of the blessed Gospel. 
O listen, sinner, to the moving terms in which he speaks : 
*' Have I any pleasure at all that the wicked should die ? 
saith the Lord God ; and not that he should return from his 
ways, and live ?" Ezekiel 18 : 23. 

If you repent not, you perish. Such is the determina- 
tion of the great God of heaven ; nor will he alter the 
thing that is gone out of his lips. earth, earth, earth, 
hear the word of the Lord ! Heai* it, ye careless ones, who 
are at your ease: "Except ye repent, ye shall perish.'* 
''The wicked shall be turned into hell, and all the nations 
that forget God." Psalm 9:17. What are these threat- 
enings but the distant thunders of the " day that cometh?'* 
What are the diseases that have consumed generation after 
generation of the human race ever since the fall, and the 
terrible judgments that have laid waste at intervals thou- 
sands at a stroke, but the glaring lightnings of that horrible 
tempest? They are "the wrath of God revealed from 
heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men." 
Say not, then, "Where is the promise of his coming?" 
Behold, " he cometh, he cometh to judge the world." And 
"who knoweth the power of his anger?" "Wherefore, 
to-day, if ye will hear his voice, harden not your heart." 
"Repent, and believe the Gospel." 

*' I intend to repent,''' perhaps you say, ''hefore I die.'* 
Before you die! Do diseases depart, then, at your word; 
and will health return at your command ? Have you " the 
keys of death," and of the unseen world? Do you so 
much as know the day, or the hour, when the Son of man 
will come ? Does he not sometimes come suddenly, and 
when least expected ? Surely, if any man trifled thus in 
his temporal affairs, you and all the world would be ready 
to brand him for a fool. You "intend to repent!" But 



4 NECESSITY OF REPENTANCE. 

if you are not willing now, why do you expect you shall 
be at any future period? If your heart is already so 
hardened, through the deceitfulness of sin, that the Gospel 
fails to affect you now, will it succeed, think you, hereafter, 
when your heart will have become more hardened still ? 

Remember, also, that such is the alienation of your 
heart from God, that you will never exercise repentance 
unto life, except by the imparted aid of his Holy Spirit. 
And have you not already been long resisting his influences ? 
Beware, lest by your persevering rebellion you " grieve the 
Holy Spirit of God," Ephes. 4 : 30, till He shall finally de- 
part from you, and give you over to follow the devices of 
your own evil heart, till your iniquity shall prove your ruin. 
Can you expect God patiently to wait your pleasure, whilst, 
in the hardness and impenitence of your heart, you insult 
his glorious majesty, trample under foot his laws, and Sab- 
bath after Sabbath, nay, day after day, despise the riches 
of his goodness, and forbearance, and long-suffering ? Hear 
his own words : " Because I have called, and ye refused ; I 
have stretched out my hand, and no man regarded ; but ye 
have set at naught all my counsel, and would none of my 
reproof : I also will laugh at your calamity ; I will mock 
when your fear cometh." Prov. 1 : 24-26. "Behold, 
now is the accepted time : behold, noiv is the day of sal- 
vation." 2 Cor. 6 : 2. Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, 
"who was delivered for our offences, and was raised again 
for our justification." Rom. 4 : 25. " Him hath God 
exalted with his right hand to be a Prince and a Saviour, 
for to give repentance to Israel, and forgiveness of sins." 
Acts 5:31. "Repent ye, therefore, and be converted, 
that your sins may be blotted out, when the times of 
refreshing shall come from the presence of the Lord." 
Acts 3:19. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



I¥o. 3^3. 



AN 



APPEAL TO THE PATRIOT 



BY WILLIAM C. BROWNLEE, D. D. 



" RIGHTEOUSNESS EXALTETH A NATIOX ; BUT SIN IS A REPROACH 
TO ANY PEOPLE." Prov. 14 : 34. 

Without a government, no nation can maintain its place 
or existence among the other nations of the earth. Against 
violence without, and anarchy within, its struggles for exist- 
ence would be feeble and short. 

A government, in order to promote a nation's happiness 
and prosperity, must be a free government. With the fall 
of its liberty, and its free institutions, public prosperity and 
happiness will quickly vanish from a nation. 

Hence, whatever tends, in any way, to produce anarchy, 
or even to mar a nation's liberties, or to weaken the energy 
of her magistracy, is a curse to a nation ; and, on the con- 
trary, whatever has a tendency to consolidate the govern- 
ment, and to shed a freshness of life and vigor over her 
free institutions, is to be classed among a nation's greatest 
blessings. 

There is another class of principles which must also be 
noticed here. Civil government is the ordinance of God. 
This is manifest from reason and the holy Scriptures : " The 
powers which be, are ordained of God." This implies, that 
it is his will that there should be a government among men. 
This is as certainly true, as that he has willed the existence 
and the happiness of men and of nations. 

No specific form of government has, indeed, been pre- 
voL. VII. 38* 



2 AN APPEAL TO THE PATRIOT. 

scribed on the pages of his holy word. To do that work 
was no part of the office of divine revelation. That has 
been left to man by God, to be discovered and adjusted by 
the powers of reason and judgment which he has bestowed 
upon him. And there is a plain rule and guide in this mat- 
ter, presented to the wisdom of individuals and nations. 
Since God wills the existence and happiness of nations — and 
since he can never cease to do this, as long as his divine 
goodness and benevolence are exercised towards his crea- 
tures, and as long as he chooses to preserve their existence 
in a natural capacity — of consequence, that form of govern- 
ment is the most consonant to his will, which does promote, 
in the highest degree, a nation's prosperity and happiness. 

Hence, we know how to estimate all kinds of govern- 
ment which are administered by force ; such as those of the 
Old World, where the tyrant reigns in darkness, surrounded 
by his armed slaves ; and where the influence of his power 
quenches the light of knowledge, banishes religion and 
sound morals, and covers the land with darkness and the 
shadow of death. There, military bands patrol the streets 
and guard the highways ; there, the property and the lives 
of the subjects are placed at the disposal of the capricious 
and cruel tyrant ; there, is no room for the exercise of moral 
principle between the ruler and his subjects ; there, the 
virtues wither and die ; there, the inhabitants are ** tenants 
of the grave — the animating principle is gone ; they are 
merely moving masses of flesh and bones." 

Such governments have been permitted by God to exist 
upon the earth, in order to be the scourges of guilty nations. 
They exhibit, in an impressive manner, the necessary con- 
sequences of vice and irreligion upon a nation. As certainly 
as these become general and national, so certainly do they 
bring down upon a government and a people utter and 
irremediable ruin. And, in view of this, how anxiously 



AN APPEAL TO THE PATRIOT. 3 

should every patriot, and every Christian, lend all his aid, 
and all his influence, to prevent and correct those evils 
which will bring down on ourselves the same degradation 
and ruin ! 

Our republican form of government is, by the favor of 
Heaven, the perfect contrast of what has been noticed. It 
is a government of persuasion. The constitutional rights 
and duties of the magistracy are distinctly marked out, and 
the extent of their powers clearly defined. They are the 
servants of the public ; and the conditions of their service 
are, that they promote the interests and the happiness of 
the nation. In return, the people honor, love, and sustain 
them. They are mutual blessings to each other. 

Under the former classes of government, it is evident, 
an intelligent and active population cannot exist ; neither is 
there place for pure religion and sound morals. These 
cannot exist, to any considerable extent, where tyranny 
reigns ; and tyranny cannot breathe, nor exist, where intel- 
ligence, morality, and true religion bear sway. And hence, 
we arrive at this important maxim : By an intelligent and 
moral people only, can a pure republic, and free institutions, 
he sustained and 2)er2)etuated. Of consequence, when the 
public opinion is the voice and will of the sovereign — that 
is, the people — nothing can be more important than the 
illumination of the public mind, and the cultivation of the 
morals of the people. This is essential to a government of 
persuasion : it would speedily sink without this. Just in 
proportion as the mass of the people are enlightened, virtu- 
ous, and moral, will that government stand strong, and that 
country flourish and be happy ; and just in proportion as 
the channels of knowledge are blocked up, or its salutary 
streams poisoned by error and atheism, will the public mind 
be corrupted and depraved ; vice and immorality will flow 
over the land, weakening the hands of the magistracy, bid- 



4 Ax\ APPEAL TO THE PATRIOT. 

ding defiance to the laws, and sweeping all into the vortex 
of misrule, anarchy, and destruction. 

There are three considerations growing out of the above 
principles, which claim our notice in this discussion. 

1. A free government, and its institutions, can flourish 
only where intelligence, and the civic and moral virtues, 
flourish in the community. 

2. The civic and moral virtues flourish only where a 
true Christian principle is cherished, in its life and vigor, 
among a people. 

3. A true Christian principle is produced and cherished 
only by the means of Heaven's appointment, namely, the 
Gospel, the ministry, the holy Sabbath, and its institutions. 

And here it is proper to introduce tivo explanatory ob- 
servations, before we advance any farther in our discussion. 

1. We advocate no union of church and state. Such a 
union every honest Christian in these United States most 
earnestly deprecates and opposes ; we honestly believe it to 
be contrary to the interests and happiness of each of them, 
equally. It is a fact established by historical evidence, that 
it has been a heavy curse to the church in the Old World, 
since the delusive prosperity of the days of Constantine. 
What we are here advocating is simply this, the necessity 
of a genuine Christian principle pervading and animating 
the minds of ruler and people, in order to the promotion of 
pure virtue and sound morals in the nation. The existence 
of such a Christian principle in the hearts of our rulers, can 
no more imply a union of church and state, than the existence 
of mathematical science in their minds can create a union of 
mathematics and the state. Nor can the zeal of the mag- 
istrates, employing their influence as Christians to promote 
religion, as the basis of public morals and the safety of the 
state, ever be construed, even by the purest jealousy, into 
any such tendency. - 



AN APPEAL TO THE PATRIOT. 5 

2. We do not maintain that sound morals and a Chris- 
tian principle are essential to the existence of a government. 
The subject of our discussion is, the best means of securing 
the well-being and perpetuity of our republic and free in- 
stitutions, existing, as they do, among a Christian people. 
The Roman republic was a government ** ordained of God," 
Rom. 13:1; but surely, had there been in that pagan 
government those redeeming and sustaining elements of 
w^hich we speak, its institutions had, unquestionably, been 
more free, its form more vigorous, and, humanly speaking, 
it had not fallen, as it did, amidst the universal corruption 
and depravity of its population. 

I. The necessity of the prevalence of intelligence 
AND VIRTUE among the community. 

In regard to the public functionaries, who occupy so 
commanding a position in the republic, and whose influence 
is felt in every circle, it is very obvious that the more virtu- 
ous and enlightened they are, the more likely will our free 
institutions be preserved and perpetuated, and the great 
end of government attained in the happiness and prosperity 
of the people. 

To a faithful public functionary, the virtues are essen- 
tial. Without the civic virtues, can he be a faithful repre- 
sentative, or a pure patriot, devoted to his country's honor 
and interests ? And can we ever find the civic virtues, and 
pure patriotic principles, reigning in a mind dark and cor- 
rupt, and devoid of sound morals ? Never : an effect can- 
not exist without a cause. Could we make the experiment, 
and abstract from the assembly of our legislators all sound 
and liberal views, all patriotic feelings and virtue, and the 
fear of God, we should just have such another assembly as 
that in which Robespierre and his associates revelled in vice 
and atheism, during the Parisian reign of terror. 



6 AN APPEAL TO THE PATRIOI'. 

These virtues are equally necessary in a legislator. It 
is his solemn duty to enact just laws. If the laws, by 
which both magistrate and people are governed, be unjust, 
the administration of them cannot be otherwise than a sys- 
tem of iniquity and oppression ; and the land will speedily 
be covered with the deepest guilt, calling down the ven- 
geance of Heaven. But justice Avill reign in the land when 
the legislative assembly have the fear of the Almighty be- 
fore their eyes, and a virtuous regard to the Most High in 
all their proceedings. 

It is the office of the executive to see the laws of the 
land carried faithfully into execution. He must be fully 
prepared to defend the rights of his fellow- citizens, as it 
regards life, hberty, and property ; to preserve the purity 
and fairness of trials by jury, to hear with patience, to dis- 
cipline his own feelings, to pronounce sentence with impar- 
tial strictness, to keep his hand free of bribes, to have no 
respect of persons in judgment, to mingle justice with 
mercy, to watch over the public good, to redress grievances 
with frankness and promptitude, to prevent wrongs, to dis-- 
courage a litigious spirit, to heal breaches in a neighbor- 
hood ; in a word, to be a father to the people, and to be 
pure in character as the ermine of his own robe. But can 
these virtues, so necessary to qualify the executive, be 
found in the selfish, immoral, and ignorant man ? No, 
never ! Sound morals and religion are the necessary bases 
of all these civic virtues, which qualify and adorn the 
magistrate. Take them away, and our judges and advo- 
cates would be converted into the M'Kenzies, the Lauder- 
dales, and Jeffries, of infamous memory. 

The right of trial by jury is one of the brightest stars 
in our free institutions, and one of the safest guards of our 
liberty, lives, and property. With the juror rests a very 
deep and solemn responsibility : in his safe-keeping, are re- 



AN APPEAL TO THE PATRIOT. 7 

posed the honor and the dearest interests of his country and 
his fellow-citizens. Who could feel himself safe before an 
ignorant, and vicious, and unprincipled jury ? Without 
intelligence, without morality, Avithout a deep and awful 
sense of the presence and justice of the Deity, no juryman 
can do his duty to his country, his fellow-men, and his 
God. Without these virtues, he will be the mere tool of a 
corrupt judge : without these virtues, a jury would be con- 
verted into a terrific curse to the community. They might 
sit in judgment, but, like the satellites of Robespierre, they 
would sit to shield the guilty, to drive the patriot into exile, 
to plunder the unprotected of their property, and doom the 
innocent to death. 

And the defenders of our country, the gallant men of 
the army and navy, what would they be, without virtuous 
principles, and a deportment regulated by sound morals ? 
They would speedily be converted into a band of hcensed 
assassins, the oppressors of their country, and the sanguin- 
ary instruments of a military despotism. Their prototype 
we should behold in the Turkish soldier, and the palace 
guards of eastern tyrants. 

A free press, in the hands of wise, virtuous, and pa- 
triotic men, is a blessing of inestimable value. It is the 
glory and strength of a free government. It throws in- 
creasing light on the public mind ; it keeps steadily before 
the view of the people their national rights ; it fans the 
sacred flame of patriotism ; it scourges vice and immorality, 
and makes them shrink from the view of the community ; 
it holds up to the public eye the conduct of men in office, 
and keeps them under the restraining awe of public senti- 
ment, and in a rigid adherence to the line of their duties ; 
it sounds the alarm at the first encroachment of ambition 
and power ; it concentrates a nation's energies, in sustain- 
ing patriotic men and a virtuous government, and in pulling 



8 AN APPEAL TO THE PATRIOT. 

down oppression and tyranny. Hence, as one of the most 
efficient aids of the ministry and of the magistracy, a vir- 
tuous and enhghtened press pours a stream of health and 
vigor over the patriotism of rulers and the virtues of the 
people ; and hence, it fails not to cherish and perpetuate 
her free institutions. 

The history of the decline and fall of the Roman and 
the Greek republics, affords us an impressive lesson on this 
point. They had no instrument to effect this national illu- 
mination, and create this moral bond of union and strength 
in the pubhc mind. The want of the press must be enu- 
merated among the main causes of the decline and final 
overthrow of those ancient republics, by the encroachments 
of tyranny. 

And the events of the recent revolution in France, 
1830, afford us another valuable illustration on this topic. 
It was a beautiful and happy contrast to the old revolution. 
There was, throughout, no treachery, no ebullition of athe- 
ism, no massacres, no public robbing and plundering, " no 
insult to a royahst, nor even to a woman," to use the 
words of La Fayette. All displayed love of order, re- 
spect for property, an enlightened and irrepressible spirit 
of patriotism, an unconquerable love of liberty in citizen 
and soldier, who hastened to the deliverance of their coun- 
try in the day of her trouble. And what was the cause of 
this astonishing difference in the two revolutions ? It was, 
as we believe, in no small measure, the influence of the 
press, which had, for some fifteen years, been illuminating 
the public mind, and contributing to raise the standard of 
moral feeling throughout the nation. 

On the other hand, if the freedom of the press be 
cramped, or if it be converted into licentiousness, it will 
become a terrible scourge to a nation. Who can calculate 
the extent of the evils which it may originate ? Accord- 



AN APPEAL TO THE PATRIOT. 9 

ing to the extent of its blessings, so may be the extent of 
its mahgnant influence. In the hands of atlieists and 
profligate men, it may overthrow the government, and de- 
stroy the rehgion and morals of a nation. Under the con- 
trol of tyrants, it may rivet the chains of slavery, or hurry 
a nation into the vortex of anarchy. For the melancholy 
proof of this, we have only to lift our eyes to the age of 
Voltaire and Robespierre. By them, the press had been 
long and shamefully prostituted in the dissemination of 
their destructive principles. 

It is obvious, therefore, that there are few men in the 
repubhc who can exert a greater and more salutary influence 
over the public manners, and our free institutions, than 
editors and literary men. And it is equally obvious, that 
there are very few who have it in their power to accom- 
plish a greater extent of mischief to the dearest interests 
of man. And hence, it is a matter of the greatest impor- 
tance, that these men should be actuated by virtuous, patri- 
otic, and truly religious principles. 

Now, let us conceive a regular system of means, fully 
adapted to the end, put into requisition, to diff'use over all 
these classes of men this requisite knowledge, moral, civil, 
and religious, together with the pure and exalted virtues 
arising out of a sincere veneration for the Deity — what a 
moral force would thence be added to the hands of govern- 
ment ; what integrity and honor in our public elections ; 
what salutary laws would emanate from our legislative 
halls ; what fidelity and vigilance in the execution of them ; 
what a moral dignity and worth would shine forth in all the 
political, and civil, and military departments ; what purity 
of patriotism ; what love of truth and justice in our courts ; 
what sacredness in an oath ; what a blending of mercy and 
judgment in the administration ; what studious zeal in ele- 
vating the honest and capable only, to public stations ; 

VOL. VIT. 39 



10 AN APPEAL TO THE PATRIOT. 

what solidity of character in public and in private life ; 
what a righteous love of order and peace ; what good feel- 
ings in every neighborhood, and in all ranks throughout the 
land ; what a holy rivalship between magistrate and people, 
to do the greatest good to their common country! Can 
any thing be deemed more effectual than this, to cherish 
and perpetuate our free institutions ? 

On the contrary, let the system of an opposite spirit be 
carried into effect over the land ; let these means be utterly 
withheld ; let there be no counteracting influence put forth 
against the emissaries of vice, irreligion, and atheism — we 
are not left to conjecture what the result would be. Un- 
der similar circumstances, by the operation of the corrupt 
principles of human nature, which is the same in all nations 
and ages, there would be the dreadful recurrence of the 
scenes of past times : crimes would increase and multiply 
over the land, to an unparalleled degree ; men would bid 
defiance to the laws and the magistracy ; then would follow 
the horrible revolutionary scenes which have disgraced na- 
tions, and plunged them into all the revolting evils of anar- 
chy and atheism ! 

But we extend our remarks beyond the public function- 
aries. It is, if possible, of even greater importance to the 
well-being and perpetuity of our free institutions, that the 
people, as a body, be enlightened and virtuous. 

Were our public functionaries the most enlightened and 
virtuous men in the land, how long would our government 
and our free institutions flourish, were the great body of 
our population sunk in ignorance, vice, and infidelity ? The 
elective power is lodged witli them. As the sovereign, they 
elect their representatives, and intrust to them the power 
of enacting laws : from them proceeds the power of the 
judiciary and the executive. Now, if the fountain be cor- 
rupt, the streams cannot be otherwise than polluted. An 



AN APPEAL TO THE PATRIOT. 11 

ignorant and immoral people become the easy dupes of 
wicked and designing men ; their votes Avill be bartered 
away, through partiality or mere party feelings, without 
reference to the honesty and capability of the candidate. 
Themselves vicious and unprincipled, they would bestow 
places of power and trust on men like themselves ; and 
speedily would the fatal streams of disease and death be 
poured through all the offices of our government, and over 
all the institutions of the land. Liberty would be converted 
into licentiousness ; the sanctity of our courts profaned ; 
justice expelled from her awful throne ; the sacredness of 
an oath treated with scorn; perjury and subornation of 
perjury would be prevalent to a revolting degree ; the laws 
would, by degrees, be openly contemned and trampled 
upon ; the faithful magistrate would be hurled from his 
seat, and sent to the dungeon, or the block. The military 
force might be opposed to the force of the people ; but 
what could they do against the mass of power opposed to 
them by an infuriate mob ? Anarchy and civil war, with 
all their horrid train of evils, would rage over the land ; 
some military adventurer would, in the pubhc convulsions, 
grasp the reins of power ; and a military despotism would, 
in a short period, sway its iron rod over the ruins of our 
free institutions. For, according to the voice of history, 
uttering its sage admonitions, a people sunk into this con- 
dition can be ruled only hy the iron rod of force. 

This dreadful state of things can be prevented only in 
one way, and that is, by sustaining the reign of the law, 
and the just power of the magistracy. And these can be 
sustained only by an enlightened and virtuous community ; 
for such only can duly appreciate the value of free institu- 
tions ; such only will revere the laws, and obey them ; such 
only will revere the magistracy of their own choice, and be 
ready to rally around them, in every extremity, when 



12 AN APPEAL TO THE PATRIOT. 

atheism and crime threaten the peace and good order of 
the state. Now, 

II. What are the best means of attaining this illu- 
mination of the public mind, and the diffusion of virtuous 
principles among the great mass of the people ? 

These means must be in perfect accordance with the 
genius of our free institutions, and our holy religion. No 
force can be resorted to. Physical power can never create 
the principles of religion and virtue. It was the spirit of 
persecution, which was bom in a dark and barbarous age, 
and which never had any fellowship with the spirit of 
Christianity, that gave origin to the cruel practice of em- 
ploying force ; but it dies with the expiring barbarism of 
the dark ages, and the dissolution of the inquisition. 

Neither can these holy principles be called into exist- 
ence by the lectures of schoolmen, or the writings of mor- 
alists, solely. The truth is, these, though valuable in their 
place, can convey no vital principle into the dark and de- 
praved mind of man. The best of advices and instructions 
may be administered, but it requires a certain principle 
within the mind to receive and reduce into practice these 
advices and instructions. The basis of true virtue and 
sound morals is a spiritual principle of life in the soul of 
man. Without this, as we are assured by divine authority, 
" man is dead in trespasses and sins ;" and while this moral 
or spiritual death enchains the mental powers, no spiritual 
life can exist, no pure and holy actings can be put forth by 
the soul. Now, no human means nor human agency can 
awaken this life, and call it forth into active exertions, and 
the fruits of holiness. " God only can quicken us, who 
are dead." Eph. 2: 1. 

In addition to this testimony of the holy Scriptures, we 
have the evidence of facts. What influence had the splen- 



AN APPEAL TO THE PATRIOT. 13 

did lectures of Socrates and Plato, of Tiilly and Seneca, 
on the population of Greece and Rome ? What influence 
have the zeal and eloquence of modern moralists had on the 
body of their followers ? And what is the moral character 
of the great body of the studious youth at home and abroad, 
even after they have enjoyed the benefit of the ablest 
instructions from the moral chair ? The truth is, the doc- 
trine of morals is, in these philosophical systems, usually 
separated from the holy principles of the religion of Christ ; 
and whenever this has been done, no one single conversion, 
no one genuine reformation, has ever been effected. The 
human system of morality, drawn up by the wise and the 
learned, can never communicate the principle of spiritual 
life ; and from the days of Socrates to our times, it never 
has done it. 

It is equally certain that the civil laio of the land cannot 
be made the instrument of this national and moral reforma- 
tion. The language which the civil law holds is this : 
Every man shall be protected in his rights, so long as he 
commits no crime reached by its penalties ; and every crime 
shall be punished, in order to prevent, so far as the influence 
of example and punishment can prevent, the recurrence of 
a similar crime. But these laws offer no moral nor religious 
instruction which can beget the spiritual and moral prin- 
ciple of life in the soul. No human wisdom nor power of 
man can do this : the Deity alone can bestow the gift, and 
he alone can dictate the means whereby it is conveyed 
to us. 

There are other considerations which add strength to 
this. There exist in society certain crimes, against which 
there is no provision by the law of the land, and which, 
therefore, the law and the magistracy cannot cure : such 
as avarice, wasting, prodigality, luxury, disrespect to par- 
ents and guardians, partiality in voting at elections, etc. 

VOL. vii. 39^'' 



14 AN APPEAL TO THE PATRIOT. 

Now, no people become vicious and abandoned at once : 
the descent to moral degradation is gradual, and at first 
slow. There are usually small beginnings ; and these 
crimes now specified may be the beginning and first ele- 
ments of great crimes. They do lead to great and dis- 
tressing evils in the community. Prodigality and luxury 
lead to want, and thence drive men, who are the slaves of 
their passions, to despair and to violent deeds. Disrespect 
to parents invariably leads to disobedience to their com- 
mands ; and thence, by the most natural process, to the 
contempt of public opinion, and contempt of the magis- 
tracy, and a proud defiance to the laws. The transition to 
the most atrocious crimes is thence a matter of course. 
And the partiality of a people's vote, in a day of political 
excitement, has not unfrequently elevated an unprincipled 
and wicked man to power, who has caused, in his time, un- 
speakable damage to the morals of the people, and the lib- 
erties of his country. 

Now, there is not a patriotic magistrate in the land, who 
will not be anxious to cure and prevent these lesser evils, 
which necessarily lead to the commission of crimes and 
great disorders in the community. But it is perfectly ob- 
vious, that the true means to effect this do not really belong 
to his office, as such. The civil law has no penalties, and 
can have no penalties against them : he cannot exert force 
against them. The truth is, these vices which we have enu- 
merated can be displaced and destroyed only by the intro- 
duction of the opposite principles and virtues. 

And this is not all : there are certain duties which the 
law of the land cannot reach, or enjoin on the subject. 
They are such that they cannot be enforced by a penalty, 
which is essential to a law — such as gratitude, benevolence, 
fidelity in friendship, correct education of children, forgive- 
ness of injuries, charity, piety to God. 



AN APPEAL TO THE PATRIOT. 15 

The neglect of these will, as in every case of moral crime, 
always issue in some other delinquency ; and thence, in 
time, they wax worse and worse. Eut the diligent culti- 
vation of them in early life will lead to virtues of a higher 
order, and to fixed principles of morality among a people. 

As certainly, therefore, as the patriot and magistrate 
does betake himself to the proper and moral means of cher- 
ishing these virtues, does he prevent crime ; as certainly 
does he promote a growing vigor of moral principle through- 
out the community ; and thence does he not only promote 
the happiness and prosperity of the public, but he strength- 
ens and consolidates the free institutions of his country. 

Let us rise a step higher. It is a prominent duty of the 
magistrate, and all our public functionaries, to employ every 
means which God puts into their power to inevcnt crimes. 
It is their duty, for instance, to prevent peculation and fraud 
on the public treasuiy ; but this cannot be done, unless men 
in public employment be rendered honorable, just, and pure. 
And such virtues cannot exist, in the solidity of a persever- 
ing principle, without strict virtue and the fear of God in 
the heart. It is their duty, moreover, to prevent smug- 
gling, and similar ilUcit practices, which bring damage to 
the public revenue, and serious injury to the fair and hon- 
est dealer. And what would be the most effectual method 
of compassing this end ? Vigilance and military force would 
do something towards it : exemplary punishment might 
strike a terror into their minds for a season ; but unques- 
tionably the radical cure Avould be the spreading of useful 
knowledge, and of moral and religious principles, over the 
minds of that lawless class of men, and over that part of 
the community in which they are trained up, and also over 
the minds of those citizens who participate in their unlawful 
gain. They are bound, moreover, to prevent perjury and 
the subornation to perjury, even as they are bound to take 



16 AN APPEAL TO THE PATRIOT. 

away every hinderance in the way of impartial justice. And 
by what means can the patriotic magistrate cure or prevent 
this revolting and injurious evil in our courts ? Can per- 
suasion or force operate on a mind in which there is no vir- 
tuous principle, no fear of God, no regard to futurity ? No : 
the only way to accomplish it is, to inspire into the minds 
of men an abhorrence of profane swearing, which tends 
always to lessen the solemnity of an official oath; to fill 
them with a deep and awful veneration of the Deity ; and to 
bring them under the influence of a firm faith of the judg- 
ment to come, and the assurance of *' the perdition of ungodly 
men." 

On the contrary, were we to remove all the existing re- 
straints — were we to take away from the midst of society 
the strict love of truth — were we to abstract, or even im- 
pair, in the public mind, the holy veneration and fear of the 
Almighty — were infidelity to spread its atheism over our 
population, unchecked by Christian influence or example — 
how speedily would perjury, and subornation to perjury 
paralyze the arm of justice, and deprive us of the judiciary, 
or turn it into a curse and a national scourge ! 

The same observations apply to the prevention of other 
crimes, such as bribery and corruption, the spirit of quar- 
relling and litigation, forgery and counterfeiting, intemper- 
ance, lewdness, stealing, robbery, murder, and, in a word, 
tumults, insurrections, and high treason. Out of the de- 
iwaved heart, we are told by the highest authority, do all 
these crimes proceed : that is the fountain whence these bit- 
ter and deadly streams issue ; and every fresh indulgence 
widens the channel, and adds fury to their raging torrents. 
Now, no physical power can dry up this fountain : it may 
cut off some streams, it may throw a temporary barrier in 
the way, and so check them for a season. It is the Holy 
Spirit of God only who can enter in and dry up this deep 



AN APPEAL TO THE PATRIOT. 17 

and deadly fountain ; he alone can make the living waters 
of life spring up there in their stead ; he alone can make 
holy and virtuous principles flow forth. 

Nothing short of this can efifect the object ; and just so 
far as we cherish and extend the influence of these holy 
principles, awakened into life in us by the power of God, do 
we obtain an effectual remedy for all those crimes. By the 
changing of the heart, are its principles of action changed ; 
and thence there is a change of the outward deportment. 
Make the tree good, and the fruit becomes good ; make the 
fountain pure, and the streams will be pure. Awaken the 
conscience to a sense of the divine presence ; call into active 
life the love of God and virtue ; and you thence convey to 
the mind a neAV train of sentiments and feelings ; you give 
a new tone and real elevation to the soul ; you make it feel 
a conscious dignity ; the fear and love of God constrain it 
away from what is vicious and what is mean. You convert 
a man of bribes into an upright man, the forger and coun- 
terfeiter into an industrious citizen, the cheat and peculator 
into a man of integrity, the liar into a man of veracity, the 
drunkard into a lover of temperance, the thief and robber 
into an honest man and a lover of good order. And as this 
holy and renewing influence pervades the great mass of the 
people, you convert the boisterous elements of civil tumult, 
and discord and treason, into benevolence, and patriotism, 
and all the active charities of life. We arrive at this con- 
clusion, that vices are expelled by the introduction of the 
opposite virtues ; and this holds equally true in regard to 
the community, as to individuals. And this will guide us 
to discover, that, 

III. The effectual means, under the Spirit of God, to 
produce and cherish these virtues so necessary to the com- 
munity, are altogether of a moral nature. 



18 AN APPEAL TO THE PATRIOT. 

1. We give a prominent place to the Christian educa- 
tion of children. Genuine religion and morality, as we have 
seen, are connected by the inseparable tie of cause and 
effect : they cannot exist apart ; the presence of the one 
indicates the existence of the other. A veneration for the 
Deity, and a pure and living faith in our Redeemer, are the 
basis of a sound and healthy morality. ISTow, if parents 
throughout the land, acting the part of Christians and lov- 
ers of their country, were, with the aid of Sabbath-school 
teachers, diligently to present the divine truths of Christ 
before the hearts of their children^ and did they, with ear- 
nest and devout instruction, impress on their minds the 
necessity of pure morals and the fear of God — by the grace 
of Christ they would early become pious, and grow up in 
every Christian attainment. And from these family circles 
would there issue forth throughout our country, a noble 
race of intelligent, virtuous, and patriotic men, the glory of 
their country, and her stay and strength in the day of trial. 
But just as certainly as parents neglect this, and, on the 
contrary, by their vicious examples, by Sabbath-breaking, 
by their contempt of the house of God, by their infidelity, 
add fresh fury to the powers of their young depravity, do 
they rear up a host of enemies to their country. They light 
firebrands, and hurl them into the bosom of society ! 

2. There is another class of men in the midst of us, who 
are public men, and the most efficient enemies of tyranny 
and ignorance : we mean our schoolmasters. Standing up 
as the guardians of our youth, and wisely blending civil 
with moral and religious instructions, they enlighten and 
train up our future rulers, statesmen, and fellow-citizens ; 
and give them back to their parents and their country, with 
the pledge of their successful labors conspicuous in their 
virtues and patriotism. National instruction, by our com- 
mon schools and our Sabbath-schools, is natural strength 



AN APPEAL TO THE PATRIOT. 19 

and security, under the blessing of God, the importance of 
which has never yet been duly calculated. Certainly, it 
can never be overrated. It is not physical strength we 
speak of — it is the moral strength of an enlightened and 
virtuous nation of freemen. Let the schoolmaster and the 
Sabbath-school teacher, then, walk over the breadth and 
length of the land, and do their duty : the blessings whicli 
they bring to the public, in the prosperity and growth of 
vigor diffused by them over her free institutions, can neither 
be bought by gold, nor achieved by mihtary prowess. 

3. The pious labors of the minister of religion are of the 
greatest importance. He comes forward into the assemblies 
of his fellow- citizens as God's accredited messenger, charged 
with the office of expounding his will to men, and sent to 
beseech them, and woo them over to piety and good works. 
He brings wdth his office no worldly pomp, no earthly 
weapons ; he asks the aid of no civil power ; he deprecates 
the union of church and state ; he lifts his voice in solemn 
warnings against it ; he comes with unaffected humility and 
earnestness to teach the ways of God to men ; he opposes 
vice and atheism in all its forms, in high places and low 
places ; he carries in his hand the pure and unadulterated 
Gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ. From that he derives all 
the weight, influence, and efficacy of his spiritual office. 
That Gospel breathes peace and good- will to man; its 
object is to chase away darkness from the human soul, and 
thence from the community, by the extensive diffusion of 
knowledge. It breathes the spirit of liberty in all things 
civil and religious ; it calls on all men to consider this as 
their unalienable birthright and privilege ; it awakens man 
to a deep sense of his dignity and worth as an immortal 
beincf ; it brino-s health and salvation to his soul ; it makes 
him the freedman of tlie Lord ; it enjoins on all the subjects 
of God's moral government, to " live soberly, righteously. 



20 AN APPEAL TO THE PATRIOT. 

and godly in the world ;" it breathes death to tyranny and 
oppression : in a word, it constrains men to fear God, to 
honor the magistracy, to love all men. 

The Gospel is more than a mere exhibition : it is the 
instrument, the only instrument, of God's appointment, to 
beget in us the new life, and all the elementary principles 
of the purest virtues. Other systems, human in their ori- 
gin, tell us of the beauty and worth of these ; other sys- 
tems exert a moral influence and persuasion, it is true ; but 
it is the word of the Lord which actually begets in us the 
new life. 1 Peter, 1 : 23, 25. It is the only instrument 
which the Spirit employs for this purpose ; and on this 
principle of life in *'the new creature in us," it exerts a 
progressive influence, cherishing and maturing it, and draw- 
ing forth actively each new power into the service of God. 
Hence all these graces of the souh hence all these vhtu- 
ous actions in the life, hence all that pure morality in the 
Christian's intercourse with his fellow-men, which throw a 
lustre over the human character, and render a man a bless- 
ing to his family, to society, and to his country. 

I^ow, such being its influence on individual character, it 
is obvious that, wherever its pure and subduing spirit exerts 
its power over a land, it must chase away darkness from its 
population, it must banish vice and folly, it must lessen 
crimes, it must beget an enlightened reverence for the laws, 
it must make good citizens, it must thence lend a vigor to 
the arm of justice, and strength to the hands which admin- 
ister the laws ; it must pour the most salutary influence on 
every portion of our population. It throws its light on the 
seat of infidelity and atheism, revealing to all who will see, 
their deformity and pestilential evils. It chases from its 
holy presence the demon of discord, and malignity, and 
civil broils, and litigation. It turns wars into peace to the 
ends of the earth : for wherever it is welcomed and em- 



AN APPEAL TO THE PATRIOT. OJ 

braced in its simplicity and purity, it fills the land with the 
love of peace, and the love of good order, and harmony, 
and justice, and righteousness. It breaks no bonds, it dis- 
solves no ties, but those of tyranny and sin. Widely as its 
influence is felt, does it unite the human family in ties not 
to be dissolved in time, never to be severed in eternity. 
The spirit of the Gospel is love, and love is eternal. 

4. The holy Sabbath, with the institutions thereof, is 
inseparable from the Gospel ; the one being the season of 
its displays, the other the means by which the goodness 
and grace of God put forth their blessed fruits among us. 
Its spiritual and moral influence cannot but be of the great- 
est moment, coming, as it does to the aid of the patriotic 
parent, the minister, the schoolmaster, and magistrate, in 
the great moral work of sustaining and perpetuating our 
free institutions. 

If there were no stated Sabbath, there could be no 
stated season for assembling the people ; the public instruc- 
tions, from the preaching of the Gospel, could not be ad- 
dressed at stated, regular seasons to the great mass of om* 
population. If there had been a day, but no regular day, 
fixed for the Sabbath, the greatest confusion would neces- 
sarily have been caused throughout society. And nothing 
can, for the same reason, be more plain than this, that if 
God our Sovereign had not fixed that regular and stated 
season, neither the churches nor the nations of the earth 
would have been willing, or, indeed, could have been able, 
to enter into this compact. What had so important a con- 
cern in the interest of the whole human famil}^ could come, 
imperatively binding, only from the Father of us all ! And 
it did come from him. For thus saith the Lord, " Remem- 
ber THE Sabbath-day to keep it holy." 

There is no device of man, planned and ripened as it 
mio-ht be bv ingfiiuily and wisdom, Avhidi ran in any way 
vol. VII. K) 



22 AN APPEAL TO THE PATRIOT. 

be compared to this divine institution, in the moral and civil 
influence which it exerts on a nation. 

As an institution of mercy, it lends its aid to our free 
institutions. It protects the laboring part of the commu- 
nity, the strong body of the nation, from the oppressions 
of rich and severe masters. Beyond the reach of their 
employers' command, each Sabbath-day they rest, and are 
refreshed. 

It brings all classes of citizens into a pleasant social in- 
tercourse in its holy convocations ; it spreads a dehghtful 
cordiality of feeling over all their minds ; it unites them, as 
immortal beings, in one common and great interest ; it brings 
them together under the august presence of Almighty God ; 
it sets before each of them, by its sacred institutions, the 
affecting tokens of his presence ; they meet in a place sa- 
cred to his service, before whom the highest angels bow, and 
the hmublest man may worship. The rich and the poor 
bow together : in equal need, they mingle their prayers at 
the same throne, and implore, in the same helplessness, the 
grace of their common Saviour. It has, therefore, a moral 
tendency to abase the pride of the great. It gives an ele- 
vation to the minds of the honest and pious poor ; while 
the rich, the learned, and the great, look around them on 
their poor, and unlettered, and humble fellow- citizens, they 
feel a constraint, under the eye of their Maker, to admit in 
their hearts that these men, whom they despise in the pub- 
lic walks of life, are often more wise and more lovely in the 
presence of God than themselves. The honest poor rise to 
the true elevation of their worth ; the great are depressed 
to their proper level. What a salutary influence is here 
exerted over the community, in favor of our republican 
government and institutions ! 

Nor is this all : this institution is " the only means ever 
devised of communicating instruction to the great mass of 



AN APPEAL TO THE PATllIOT. 23 

the people. Here all may assemble, here all may learn, 
from the highest to the humblest." And the instruction 
delivered on this sacred day, is the most important conceiv- 
able : it is that by Avhich the noblest of God's creatures, in 
this province of his empire, are trained up for the noblest 
and most glorious destinies beyond the grave ! 

And moreover, while other mstitutions come with the 
force of human eloquence and persuasion, still, they are but 
human, and partial in their results, as general experience 
has shown. But here, divine wisdom and influence, are put 
forth in God's institution, by the means and the ministry of 
his OAvn appointment. And his word of promise, holy and 
sure, is pledged for the result : "As the rain cometh down, 
and the snow from heaven, watering the earth, and making 
it bring forth and bud, that it may give seed to the sower, 
and bread to the eater ; so shall my word be, that goeth 
out of my mouth : it shall not return to me void ; but it 
shall accomplish "that which I please, and it shall prosper in 
the thing whereto I sent it." And the souls and the lives 
of thousands over all lands where the holy institution exerts 
its sacred influence, bear witness to the truth, that He has 
remembered his promise m faithfulness. And this influence 
is always visible wherever the Sabbath is. We speak, now, 
mainly of its national blessings. In every place where the 
Sabbath is kept holy unto the Lord, it invariably begets a 
peculiar decency of manners, and regularity of habits ; it 
spreads the love of peace and good order in a neighborhood ; 
by the recurrence of the holy season, the deep and a^vful 
veneration of the Deity is cherished into an abiding habit ; 
and every civic and moral virtue is nurtured into a vigorous 
growth, over the whole mass of that population. 

A thousand prayers are breathed out on that holy day,- 
from sincere hearts, for their country, for their rulers, for 
their fellow-citizens, and for all men — that liberty and re- 



24 AX APPEAL TO THE PATRIOT. 

ligion may be spread abroad over the face of the earth ; 
while, at the same time, in the fervor of their devotions, 
Avith hearts imbued with the ardent benevolence of the 
Gospel, deep sympathy is expressed for all those who are 
suffering under sickness, oppression, wars, and tj'-ranny. 
Every thing combines, on this season, to fan the flame of 
patriotism, and to strengthen the love of liberty and their 
devotion to their republican institutions. Thousands over 
our flourishing republic, as they return, on the sacred day, 
from their public assemblies, exclaim with patriotic emotion, 

" Dear native land ! how do the good and wise 
Thy happy clime, thy countless blessings prize !" 

This moral tendency of the Gospel and its divine insti- 
tions, is strongly illustrated by historical facts and inci- 
dents. 

Let any one open the Holy Bible, and study the moral 
history of the Jewish nation in the books of Moses, the 
Judges, the Kings, and the Prophets, and 'he will perceive, 
on the one hand, the striking connection between the civic 
virtues and morals and religion, and on the other the ne- 
cessary connection between these and the prosperity and 
happiness of the nation. When the Hebrews neglected 
the duties of religion, and forsook the Lord God of their 
fathers, vice and wickedness overflowed the land ; every 
department of the government became corrupt with a cor- 
rupt population ; the wrath of heaven fell on them, and 
''they w^ere sold into the hands of their enemies:" they 
were made bondmen and slaves. But when religion and 
piety flourished throughout all ranks in the land, the pros- 
perous and happy government shed the blessings of its 
wise and mild administration over a free, a virtuous, and 
happy population ; and thus " righteousness exalted the 
nation." 



AX APPEAL TO THE PATRIOT. 25 

The same facts arc exhibited on the pages of the his- 
tory of the Eastern nations. We have only to consult the 
Universal Histonj, and particularly the impressive details 
of Rollins History, and we shall discover the most ample 
evidence of this. But we may descend to particulars, and 
come down to later times. 

Let any one look into the records of the London New- 
gate, and listen also to the affecting narratives of the crim- 
inals condemned in our own courts, and he will discover 
that the first step which led these luihappy men into their 
criminal course, was neglect, of pai-ental authority and in- 
struction, contempt of the house of God and rehgious ad- 
monitions and warninofs, and Sabbath-breakinw. These 
paved the way for every other crime, and led them to their 
fatal end ! 

In what states of our Union are there the fewest crimes ? 
In what districts are found the most intelligent and virtuous 
citizens ? In those, uniformly, where the holy Sabbath, 
and the preaching of the Gospel, and all the institutions. of 
Christianity, have been regularly exerting their benign in- 
fluence on the people from year to year. 

In what districts have crimes abounded the most, such 
as theft, robbery, lewdness, intemperance, and murder? 
Just in those parts and among those classes of the people 
over whom infidelity and atheism have been exerting their 
fatal influences with untiring assiduity ; and where there is 
no pastor to assemble the people ; and where there is no 
veneration, nor even respect, for the holy Sabbath ; and 
where there is not a church-going people, even when they 
might, if they chose, enter the house of God. In fact, it 
is obvious to all who have bestowed the least attention on 
the subject, that in every family, in every street of our 
cities, in every district of our country, where no Sabbath is 
sanctified, there is no religion : where there is no Sabbath, 

VOL. VII. 40* 



26 AN APPEAL TO THE PATRIOT. 

there are no pure morals ; where there is no Sabbath, 
*' there man forgets God, and God gives man up to his own 
corrupt ways !" Where there is no Sabbath sanctified, 
those classes of men who boast of their illumination by 
philosophy, become sceptics, infidels, atheists ! Where 
there is no Sabbath sanctified, those classes of the people 
who are not enlightened by philosophy — and they are the 
great mass of the population — become degraded by all 
manner of vice, and brutalized by idolatry ! Every Pagan 
and Mohammedan land, every infidel district in town and 
country, exhibit the most painful and overwhelming evi- 
dences of these facts. 

The history of Missionary enterprises, and the eccle- 
siastical condition of nations, throw additional light on our 
argument, and strengthen it. 

Lift up your eyes, and track the progress of the Gospel 
and its holy institutions over the different nations of the 
world. Contrast the Christian districts and villages in the 
bosom of the nations of ancient Egypt, and Syria, and 
Greece, and the Roman provinces. What a contrast ! It 
is the contrast of light with darkness, of piety with super- 
stition, of religious homage with shocking idolatry, of puri- 
ty with revolting abominations, of manly and dignified love 
of liberty and respect for all the rights of man, with men- 
tal degradation and tameness under slavery ! Contrast the 
Christian Britons with the Britons of Caesar's day — the 
Christian Americans with the red men of the wilderness. 
What, I pray you, has wrought the difference ? The Gos- 
pel, and its ministry, and its holy Sabbath, and its sacred 
institutions — these have done it. Take these away from 
the British by the deadly' power of infidelity, and the Pa- 
ganism and Druidism of the Britons Avould be soon renew- 
ed. Banish from our happy republic the Sabbath, and the 
Gospel, and the ministry ; place us under the atheism and 



AN APPEAL TO THE PATRIOT. 27 

power of the infidel mob of our day, or under the dominion 
of Jesuitism — our happy land would soon lose her liberty 
and her free institutions, and we should, in a short period, 
be as the bond slaves of Spain, or Italy, or Aushia, or of 
the dark Pagan lands of Asia ! 

Contrast, moreover, the moral and political condition of 
the twenty-three islands of the Pacific ocean now Christian- 
ized, with their condition as described by Cook and other 
travellers. Withdraw from them the Gospel, the Sabbath, 
and the ministry ; place them under the inliuence of athe- 
ism ; the shocking- relapse into their former condition would 
aflPord us some idea of what this fair republic would in a 
few years be, if these holy institutions were removed from 
the midst of us ! 

In the moral character of Scotland, and her attachment 
to liberty and her free institutions, and in her glorious 
struggle in a conflict of twenty-eight years against a fero- 
cious tyranny, civil and spiritual, we perceive in an impres- 
sive manner, the influence of popular knowledge, religion, 
and morals. And the reason is manifest : in no other land, 
perhaps, has the Gospel of Christ gone forth in such 
mighty displays of its power ; in no other land is the Sab- 
bath more religiously observed. And had it not been for 
these principles of knowledge, which preserved a clear and 
mutual understanding among the lovers of freedom, and 
those moral and religious feelings which nerved their minds, 
and sent them forward into the field of action in all the 
ardor of a noble and patriotic enthusiasm, that people had 
sunk beneath their natural enemy, the Cavalier and the 
Tory ; had it not been for these unsubduable principles, 
they had lost their civil and religious liberties forever, un- 
der the persevering tyranny of the Stuart dynasty. 

In the revolutionary struggle of our own country, the 
great body of the people were a reading and thinking class 



28 AN APPEAL TO THE PATRIOT. 

of men ; they possessed enlightened views ; and there was 
a sacred regard to honor, to sound morals, and to our holy- 
religion, throughout the community. And just in propor- 
tion to the moral strength of these feelings and principles, 
was there an unsubduable ardor of patriotism, and devo- 
tion to liberty and republican institutions. 

But had the mass of our population been as ignorant and 
vicious as is the degraded population of Mexico and the 
southern republics in our day, or as the Parisian mob of 
the old French revolution, they would assuredly have been 
disgraced by their revolting massacres and blood-thirstiness ; 
and they would have speedily fallen back again beneath 
their old yoke, or have bowed their necks beneath an infidel 
directory, or a military despot ! 

In England, there have been periods when the people 
displayed a very successful zeal in clinging to their rights 
and liberties, and in resisting the encroachments of tyrants. 
And these struggles were always the firmest, most perse- 
vering, and successful, in the periods when a mighty im- 
pulse had been given to spiritual zeal, piety, and true re- 
ligion. In the days of her emancipation from the yoke of 
Popery, it is difiicult to say whether her abhorrence of 
spiritual tyranny, or her love of pure religion and Christian 
morals, was the most ardent. Contrast this with her 
former days, when holy light had not dawned over her, 
and the spirit of religion had not yet awakened her popu- 
lace, or even her rulers, from their profound slumbers. 
When knowledge awakened her, and holy religion mspired 
her, she rose in her might, and as easily as the lion shakes 
the dew-drops from his mane, did she shake off the chains 
and fetters of the tyrant ! 

In the days of the Commonwealth, when her patriots 
maintained the cause of liberty against the fanatical advo- 
cates of the divine right of imlimitecl monarchy, on which 



AN APPEAL TO THE PATRIOT. 29 

side were found the most enlightened views of the rights 
of the ruler and the subject ? On which side were found 
the inextinguishable love of liberty, and the great weight 
of sohd English character, and morality, and pure religion ? 
In the camp of the republicans, beyond a doubt, among 
the Puritans, Avhere the Sabbath was held most sacred, 
and the ministry of Christ honored, and the pure Gospel 
preached uniformly with divine success. And what a con- 
trast did this present to the camp of Charles I. and the 
court of Charles II ! The Scottish Malignant and the Eng- 
lish Cavalier, the favorites of the Stuarts, united in their 
characters the grossest flattery of absolute monarchy and 
spiritual tyranny, with the most revolting irreligion, blas- 
phemy. Sabbath-breaking, intemperance, revelling, and an 
utter contempt of even common decency ! 

The history of France, also, affords us one of the fullest 
and most instructive illustrations of our argument. The 
tyrannical and sanguinary house of Bourbon had inflicted 
many evils on the Reformed churches and ministry ; Charles 
IX., young in years, but old in crime, struck the iirst dread- 
ful blow, at the massacre of St. Bartholomew, in A. D. 
1572. New tyrants added fresh injuries; and at the dis- 
tance of about one hundred years from that massacre, in 
A. D. 1685, Louis XIY. revoked the edict of Nantz, and 
let loose the fiends of persecution. By a succession of cru- 
elties, massacres, and exile, the great body of the faithful 
ministry of France Avas destroyed. The rest, a melancholy 
remnant, pining in obscurity, fell by degrees a prey to the 
ignorance and the superstition of the age. The churches 
were shut up, the Gospel was not preached, the holy Sab- 
bath was neglected and profaned over the kingdom ; the 
decency of morals gradually perished with religion. The 
way was thus paved for the deadly march of deism. Led 
on, at last, by Voltaire and his atheistic sateUites, the fright- 



30 AN APPEAL TO THE PATRIOT. 

ful demon of infidelity filled France with, its emissaries ; 
these met with feeble opposition : truth had fallen in the 
streets, and her faithful watchmen were gone ! Vice, and 
crime, and atheism, covered France. This conspiracy against 
God and man, burst forth in the old French revolution ; and 
it buried the government, and religion, and morals, and the 
nation, in blood and havoc ! 

And as certainly as "a nation turns aside from the path, 
and causes the Holy One of Israel to cease from before 
them ;" and as certainly as atheism, and licentious morals, 
and the contempt of the Sabbath and of the Gospel, per- 
vade the land ; so certainly will the same sanguinary scenes 
be acted over again, by its populace and its leading men ; 
and the same desolating judgments sweep over the breadth 
and length of a nation ! 

This is according to the fundamental law of the Divine 
government, illustrated by the details of his holy provi- 
dence, and recorded on the pages of history, both sacred 
and civil: national sins call forth national judgments; 

BUT nations can BE PUNISHED FOR THEIR CRIMES, AS NA- 
TIONS, ONLY IN THIS WORLD. Heuce follow those national 
calamities, and their final overthrow, sooner or later, if na- 
tional penitence and reformation before the Most High, do 
not avert them ! 

We now arrive at the following conclusions, which we 
beg leave to submit to every Christian and patriot in our 
republic. 

1. It is essential to the well-being and perpetuity of our 
free institutions, that knoAvledge be disseminated, and sound 
morals cherished assiduously, among those with whom the 
sovereign power is lodged ; namely, the great body of the 
people. 

2. Pure religion is the parent and nurse of all sound 



AN APPEAL TO THE PATRIOT. 31 

morals. The political virtues and the morality of the men 
of the world are often but the mask of hypocrisy, and are, 
at best, of no endurance ; they are easily overborne by 
temptation, for they have no life in them. They are a 
branch lopped off, and stuck in the ground : they may, for 
a season, exhibit some tokens of a feeble vegetation, but 
they want the root. Christian morality, on the contrary, is 
the green and fruitful branch: it grows out of the living 
tree, and bears rich and perennial fruits. 

3. But true religion cannot exist, far less flourish, Avhere 
the Gospel and its sacred institutions are not. No effect 
can exist without the means and the cause which produce it. 

4. Hence, it is the part of genuine patriotism, as well 
as of Christianity, to spread the principles of our holy 
religion and sound morals over the country. An arbi- 
trary princess was once constrained to declare, that she 
feared John Knox's 'prayers more than ten thousand armed 
men o'pi^osed to her! Truly, each Christian, who labors 
piously to spread the holy influence of religion and virtue 
around the circle in which he moves, is rearing the bulwark 
of his country's defence and glory, and has more of the pure 
patriotism of a republican than the most splendid orator, or 
the most gifted statesman, who contaminates, by his princi- 
ples and example, the morals of the people, and offers mock- 
ery to religion. 

5. Hence, it is one of the holiest and most solemn duties 
which a patriot owes his country, to sustain the divine in- 
stitutions of the Gospel, and to spread their moral influence 
over the community, by all proper and honorable means. 

G. And hence, every Christian and patriot within our 
old states is bound, by all the obligations which they owe 
to their God and their country, zealously to employ all the 
means which heaven has put into their power, to procure a 
recocrnition and establislnnenl of the holv Sabbath in every 



32 AN APPEAL TO THE PATRIOT. 

new state, similar to what now exists in the old states ; and 
to exert their personal influence, as Christian men, in prop- 
agating the Gospel of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ 
as extensively as possible among the citizens thereof. 

Y. And hence, also, it is a duty most solemnly binding 
on every republican, as a fearer of God and a lover of his 
country, when called, in his official character, to form the 
constitution and laws of a new state, carefully to give to the 
law protecting the sanctity of the holy Sabbath, its just and 
prominent place ; and also to employ all his personal weight 
and influence, as a Christian, in making and acquiring every 
facility to the spread of the blessed Gospel in the new set- 
tlements. ^^Sf^^y 

Here we rest our earnest appeal. These duties let every 
Christian and patriot perform, in his place, under the fear 
of Almighty God ; and as he values the well-being and per- 
petuity of our free institutions. These duties let every one 
of us zealously perform, in the fear of the Judge of all the 
earth ; and as we value the present happiness, and the ever- 
lasting salvation of millions of millions, yet unborn — the 
future citizens of these United States ! 

Note. — A premium, offered by a friend, was awarded to the 
author of this Tract. 



rvo. •^•ii. 



THE 



MOUNTAIN MILLER. 

AN AUTHENTIC NARRATIVE. 

BY WILLIAM A. HALLOCK, 

CORRESrONDlNO SECRETARY OF THE ALIERICAN TRACT 80CIKTT 




The spring by the road .'jidc. — See page 10. 

It is the glory of the Gospel, that it is adapted to the 
circumstances and wants of all ; and equally to the glory 
of its great Author, that, while he " inhabiteth eternity," 
lie condescends to " dwell " " with him also that is of a con- 
trite and humble spirit." Such a spirit was perhaps the 
prevailing characteristic of the individual whose history is 
now presented to the reader, in a simple, unexaggerated 
narrative of facts. 

vor.. VII. 41 



2 THE BIOUNTAIN MILLER. 

I first became acquainted with Joseph Beals about the 
year 1800. He lived in one of the then recent settlements 
on the beautiful range of the Green Mountains, which ex- 
tend some hundreds of miles, in a northerly direction, near 
the western boundary of New England. I have learned 
that he was born, June, 1752, in Bridgewater, a few miles 
from Boston, in Massachusetts ; and that he early imbibed 
and cherished the sentiment, that external morality, without 
a change of heart, may secure the salvation of the soul. 

Pecuniary embarrassments, occasioned by the struggle 
for our nation's independence, induced him in 1779 to seek 
a residence for himself and a rising family among the forests 
of the mountains, where his axe soon laid open a spot suffi- 
ciently large for the erection of a cottage, the sides of which 
were composed of the logs he had felled, and the roof was 
covered with bark or flat slips of wood. 

He continued to make new inroads upon the forest ; and 
at length, by the fruits of his industry, succeeded in pro- 
viding for his wife and little ones a more convenient though 
humble habitation, and storing it with a sufficiency of the 
necessaries of life. Here, when nothing occurred to per- 
suade him to omit the duty, he frequently called his house- 
hold around him to offer morning and evening devotions ; 
for having undertaken to procure heaven by his own right- 
eousness, he thought family worship must constitute a part 
of it. And so watchful was he over himself, that, except- 
ing his moroseness, his unyielding temper, the severity of 
his family government, his murmurings at the allotments of 
Providence, and his bitter opposition to the distinguishing 
doctrines of evangehcal religion, his life was, in the view of 
those around him, blameless. 

Such was Joseph Beals, when, in 1789, a year of great 
scarcity of provisions, God saw fit to teach him the true 



THE MOUNTAIN MILLER. 3 

character of his heart by a very afflictive dispensation. 
Being absent from home one evening with his wife, at about 
8 o'clock the alarm was given that his house was in flames. 
They had proceeded too far to be arrested. The house was 
consumed, and with it nearly all the provisions he had laid 
in store. Thus perished in an hour the fruits of nearly ten 
years, and he saw little in the prospect but the wretched- 
ness of absolute famine. 

Here he found, probably for the first time, that he had 
no true submission to the will of God. He could not say, 
"Thy will be done." His heart repined against Him who 
orders all things well, and whose kind preservation of his 
children called loudly for gratitude. This led him seriously 
to question ^vhether his religion was such as would stand 
the test of the last day. He found he could not endure the 
trials of this life, and he trembled in view of the retributions 
of eternity. For a time he struggled to banish the unwel- 
come thought, in his exertions to provide for his family ; but 
when the abundant crops of the succeeding summer removed 
the occasion of this anxiety, his relish for earthly pur- 
suits died away, and he had now become equally weary 
of his fruitless endeavors to work out a righteousness of 
his own. 

Thus was he prepared, in the mysterious providence of 
God, for the visit of the Holy Spirit to " convince him of 
sin, of righteousness, and of a judgment to come." He was 
brought to see that the law of God is "exceeding broad," 
extending not to the external actions merely, but to " the 
thoughts and intents of the heart ;" that his sins were im- 
measurably great ; that " all his righteousnesses were as 
filthy rags;" and that the day of final judgment was but a 
little way before him. He saw the wrath of God revealed 
against him, and neither acquiesced in its justice, nor per- 
ceived any way of escape. He betook himself to the Scrip- 



4 THE MOUNTAIN MILLER. 

tures, and began to search them in earnest for rehef, but 
they seemed to contam no promises or blessings for him. 
He was ready to despair of ever finding mercy. Every day, 
and sometimes every hour of the day, he would retire to 
the forest with his Bible, and tliere attempt to breathe out 
his prayer to the God who reared the stately trees, and 
whom he had so grievously offended. They, in every 
breeze before which they bent, were vocal with the praises 
of their Creator ; but their song Avas mingled only with his 
bitter lamentations, and his rending cries for mercy to a 
God whose praise he could not sing. 

Every thing he met seemed to concur with his own con- 
science in showing him the magnitude of his sins, and deep- 
ening his impressions of the realities of the judgment-day. 
When husking his Indian corn, with his little sons beside 
him, the separation of the good ears from the bad so forci- 
bly reminded him of the awful sejoaration of the last day, 
when he expected to hear the sentence, " Depart, ye cursed," 
that he could not continue his work, but was compelled 
abruptly to retire. Under these impressions, he went to 
his impenitent wife, thinking that he could convince her of 
the danger to which they were both exposed ; but he found 
that the Lord only can affect the heart. 

Thus he continued borne down with a sense of his sinful- 
ness, and of " the wrath of God abiding on him ;" recurring 
to his Bible, and his consecrated place of prayer ; silently 
jjresenting himself wherever any were assembled for the 
worship of God, and using all the external means of grace, 
till one morning, as he was about to close his prayer with 
his family, he suddenly hrohe forth in new strains of devo- 
tion, penitence, and praise for redeeming love ; and continued 
praying, as his family believed, for more than an hour, 
apparently unconscious of the progress of time. 

To his children, this fervor, as well as the previous 



THE MOUxNTAIN MILLER. 5 

anguish of his spirit, appeared quite unaccountable ; for 
they seem scarcely to have heard that, " except a man be 
horn again, he cannot see the kingdom of God," John 3 : 3, 
or to have known any thing of the renewing and sanctifying 
influences of the Holy Ghost. But his wife, who had 
recently witnessed some other instances of sorrow for sin, 
followed by joy and peace in believing, /m;'eo? that the same 
result was about to be realized in her husband, and to her 
impatient and unhurabled spirit the season of prayer was 
tedious almost beyond endurance. 

In the husband and father God saw the temper of one 
now subdued by divine grace, broken for sin, and filled with 
arguments by the manifestations of redeeming love, plead- 
ing for mercy with the humility of a little child. In the 
wife and mother he saw the proud spirit, which would not 
accept of mercy, nor consent to its being bestowed upon her 
husband ; but she knew not what blessings were to descend 
on her and her children in answer to his prayers. 

The reality of what she feared became too evident to be 
questioned. Her husband enjoyed a cheering hope of his 
acceptance in Jesus Christ — a hope which the reader will 
not be disposed to think unfounded, when he learns the 
fruits by which it was accompanied, in that best of all evi- 
dences, a holy life. Such fruits of the Spirit, I cannot but 
remark for the benefit especially of young readers, are evi- 
dences of saving conversion, on which we should chiefly 
rely, whether the particular hour of our deliverance from 
condemnation is known to us, as was joyfully the case with 
the subject of this narrative, or not. The grand question 
to be solved is, whether we have surrendered our hearts to 
Christ — whether, whereas once we were blind, now we 
see — whether we have now the graces of the Spirit in exer- 
cise, proving our union with Christ. The manner of the 
Spirit's operations in diff'erent minds is very diverse : the 

VOL. VII. 41* 



C THE MOUNTAIN MILLER. 

radical change from sin to holiness is essentially the same 
in all who are truly converted to God. 

JFrom the time of the conversion of the subject of this 
narrative, his heart became engaged in all those religious 
duties which he had hitherto performed with a cold for- 
mality. His hopes of salvation, which before were grounded 
on his morality, now rested on the atoning sacrifice of Christ, 
through repentance and faith wrought in him by the Holy 
Spirit. His own sinfulness, apart from the merits of Christ, 
appeared greater than ever before ; but he saw there was 
perfect efficacy in the blood of the Lamb of God to take 
away all his sins. He put his trust in that Saviour, and 
found him "worthy of all acceptation." His irritable tem- 
per became mild, and his heart expanded in love to God and 
man. He became an example of meekness and devotion to 
the cause of his Redeemer; and early in 1791 pubhcly 
consecrated himself to him, by uniting with a small evan- 
gelical church which had been formed in the district where 
he resided. 

Immediately after his conversion, he began to pray and 
labor for the salvation of his family, instructing them from 
the Scriptures, and urging upon them the duty of submitting 
themselves to Christ. Especially was he solicitous for the 
salvation of Ids wife, in whom tlie opposition of the heart 
to vital godliness was most conspicuously manifested. His 
enjoyment in religion, and particularly his delight in spirit- 
ual communion with Christian friends, were almost odious 
to her. He could with difficulty persuade her to attend a 
religious meeting ; or even to visit her friends with him, if 
she knew that Christians were to be present, such was his 
apparent delight in conversing with them. On one occasion, 

after visiting with him at the house of captain S , a 

relative and a heavenly-minded man, she determined never 
to go with him again ; for his mind was so engrossed with 



THE MOUNTALN MILLER. 7 

religious topics, that she thought herself quite forgotten. 
He sometimes remonstrated with her mildly ; assuring her 
that, if her heart were right with God, the subject of re- 
ligion would be a source of the highest enjoyment. She 
was not inclined to credit his assertion ; but, in the way- 
wardness of her mind, resolved, as she afterwards told a 
friend, that, if her views of religion should he changed, he 
should never knoiv it. 

It was long before she relinquished all hope that what 
her companion thought was a change in his affections would 
prove a delusion. She considered murmuring and peevish- 
ness to be his besetting sin ; and when any unpleasant event 
occurred, she would wait with eagerness to see an exhibition 
of his former fretful ness — and it is more than can be said of 
most professed Christians, that she is believed always to 
have waited in vain. On one Sabbath morning, she had 
great hope that the adversary would triumph over him. The 
new settlers had united about this time in procuring the 
stated preaching of the Gospel, and he was careful always 
to be present at an early hour. He went out to his pasture 
to take an unruly horse, which formerly had caused him 
many a weary step and filled him Avith wrath ; but though 
his patience was much tried, he came in filled with that 
peace w^hich the sacredness of the day and of the delightful 
services in Avhich he was about to engage were calculated to 
inspire. 

The opposition of his wife to the spiritual religion he 
had embraced, rose to such a height, that on his being- 
taken sick, as she afterwards said, she even hoped he would 
not recover ; but he was enabled to exhibit a life of uniform 
meekness, kindness, and sympathy in all her trials. He 
also prayed to God continually for her conversion. Nor 
did he cry in vain ; for when God had tried his servant as 
long as he saw it to be needful for his discipline and growth 



S THE MOUNTAIN MILLER. 

in grace, lie granted a gracious answer to his supplications, 
and she became a companion with whom he could hold 
sweet intercourse on the subject nearest his heart. In 
September, 1803, she united herself with the church. They 
then went joyfully " to the house of God " and to the table 
of the Lord *' in company," and were mutual helpers in their 
spiritual pilgrimage, till together, as the sequel will show, 
they took their departure for the ''rest" which "remaineth 
to the people of God." After her conversion she felt that 
she could make no sufficient atonement to him for her oppo- 
sition. He wished no atonement but that she should faith- 
fully serve his blessed Master ; but she declared to a pious 
friend, that, if he would have permitted it, it would have 
been a relief to her mind to fall on her knees before him, 
and humbly beg his forgiveness. 

Soon after his conversion he found his first-born son 
earnestly seeking an interest in Christ, and the concern of a 
little daughter, at the age of four years, lest her soul should 
be lost, also awakened his tenderest sympathies. With this 
child, the incidents of whose death will hereafter be men- 
tioned, he spent many sleepless hours, endeavoring to com- 
pose her agitated feelings by instilling into her mind a 
knowledge of that Saviour who, when upon earth, "took 
little children into his arms and blessed them." 

He became also very active and useful in visiting the 
sick and afflicted ; instructing those who were inquiring the 
way of salvation, and animating the desponding Christian. 

About the year 1*798 he purchased a corn-mill, which 
he regularly attended during most of the remaining years of 
his life, as a means of supporting his family. He usually 
appeared in a miller's dress, unless when attending pubhc 
or social worship, and is remembered as the pious miller, 
probably by all who knew him. 



THE MOUNTAIN MILLER. 9 

Tlie purchase of this mill was, to many of the friends of 
the Redeemer, an occasion, at first, of sincere reo-ret, on the 
ground that liis confinement to it must greatly interfere with 
his usefulness. But they soon saw how divine Providence, 
who is infinite in wisdom, rendered this circumstance the 
means of good. His mill became a frequent resort of those 
inquiring the way to Zion, and was doubtless the gate of 
heaven to many Avandering sinners. For many years he 
was almost alwa^'s to be found there, and was ever ready to 
converse on the great concerns of eternity. Few of the 
children of God entered his mill without receiving some new 
impulse to fidelity in the Christian life — few impenitent 
sinners, without being affectionately warned — rarely a child, 
without being instructed in religion — and none, without see- 
ing in him a living example of its power. 

Many instances might be specified in which individuals 
were greatly helped in their spiritual course by a visit to 
this mill. One was the case of Mr. George Vinino:,* a man 
who, like the Miller, had cherished from his early years an 
undoubting confidence in his own external morality for sal- 
vation ; but w^ho had been led to see that his heart must be 
renewed, or he must be lost. He found no one who seemed 
so thoroughly to understand his case as the Miller, and 
often resorted to him for instruction and counsel. By the 
grace of God he was enabled, at length, to cast himself on 
Christ for salvation, and became a steadfast pillar iii the 
church. 

An eminent and faithful clergyman has also informed 
the writer, that when he was brought to see his danger as 
a sinner, he frequently went several miles, from a nciglibor- 
ing town, descending and climbing the long hills, tliat he 
might aA'ail himself of the Miller's counsel and prayers ; and 

* See Tract No. 354. 



10 THE MOUNTAIN MILLER. 

an exemplary physician states, that the Miller was the first 
person that ever asked him if he had been born again. 

The spot where so many thus met the pious Miller and 
his devout aspirations so often ascended to God, and even 
the pure perennial spring of water by tlie road side, where 
he used to drink, bursting from the rocks in a basin three 
or four feet from the ground, as if hewn by God for the 
purpose, and shaded by two beautiful sugar-maples, have 
still a sacredness around them, which will remain till all 
who knew him and feel the value of religion shall have fol- 
lowed him to eternity. 

Confined as he was during six days of the week, he 
most scrupulously reserved the whole of the LordVday for 
religious purposes. And though he himself considered the 
Sabbath as commencing at midnight, he usually shut his 
gate at the close of day on Saturday ; for he would not 
allow customers to be waiting for their meal on Saturday 
evening during hours which they thought holy time, and 
scrupulously regarded the feelings of his brethren of the 
church, who considered the Sabbath as commencing with 
the setting sun. 

At the close of the year 1804 God saw fit to try him, 
and to honor the religion he had professed, by calling him 
suddenly to part with his eldest daughter, for whose spir- 
itual welfare, at the tender age of four years, he had, as 
above related, felt so much anxiety. He was not confident 
of her preparedness for heaven ; but he was enabled to 
betake himself to a still higher source of consolation, while 
he cast her upon the mercy of his heavenly Father, and felt 
that he would do all things well. She was a lovely daugh- 
ter, in all the bloom of youth. The stroke was most severe. 
He plead with God for her, and was all that a father could 
be to her, till she was gone ; cheered by a faith " the sorrow 



THE MOU-NTALN MILLER. H 

of the world " could not reach, and laborinor at the same time 
to turn the tears of all around higi to praise. He knew not, 
he said, but he as cheerfully gave her back to God as he 
received her from his hand. His tongue was loosed in 
heavenly conversation, and he repeated, with much emotion, 
the whole of his favorite Psalm : 

" Sweet is the work, my God, my Kin^, 
To praise thy name, give thanks, and sing." 

Such a state of mind continued, though with an increase 
of his spiritual joys, until the hour appointed for her burial, 
when his Christian friends, who came in great numbers to 
sympathize with him, saw in his sweet and placid counte- 
nance a glow, indicating unearthly peace and joy, and giving 
emphasis to the words of salvation which flowed irrepres- 
sibly from his lips. It was the custom of the plain and 
affectionate people among whom he resided, after the fune- 
ral exercises, to place the coffin on a table a little distance 
from the house, where all who were present might take a 
last look at the deceased ; after which they would fall back 
in a circle, while the bereaved relatives approached for the 
same purpose. Such was the proceeding on this occasion. 

The devout Miller presented himself, his broken-hearted 
wife and children beside him, and with his head uncovered, 
and a countenance so serene and joyful that its expression 
Avill never be obliterated from the minds of many who were 
present, placed his hand upon the coffin's edge, and in a 
voice mellowed by the bursting emotions of his heart, began 
to speak to the sympathizing friends around him of the 
sweet consolations of religion in such an hour. He appealed 
to them, that they knew how he loved her whose remains 
then lay before him — how suddenly she had been called 
into eternity ; but assured them, such had been tlie kindness 
and mercy of God to him in this affliction — such the spirit- 
ual consolations he had received — such the smiles of the 



12 THE MOUNTAIN JIILLER. 

Saviour's countenance and the joys of his presence, tliat 
that day had been the hajypiest day of his life ; and the 
sweet peace he had experienced outweighed all the joys of 
earth. Here, said he, is a mirror into which we all may 
look. We shall soon be as this beloved child is. Are we 
prepared for judgment and eternity ? Nothing but an in- 
terest in Christ will then avail us. He urged all who knew 
not the consolations of religion, which he now found so pre- 
cious, to embrace it without delay, and all Avho had embraced 
it to be more holy, and come up more fully to the enjoyment 
of the privileges to which their Redeemer invited them. 

Thus he proceeded for some minutes, in a strain of affec- 
tion and solemnity, that brought eternity in full view, and 
melted the hearts of the whole concourse. On repairing to 
the grave, as soon as the body was lowered to its long home, 
he began again to speak of the necessity of preparation for 
eternity, filling up the moments till the grave was closed ; 
and when his wife afterwards asked if he did not say more 
than was proper, he told her such was his sense of the value 
of the soul, he could not refrain. Veterans in sin, who had 
seldom wept before, united their sympathies with the throb- 
bing bosoms of youth, in witnessing these scenes ; and 
hardened unbelievers, as they retired, were heard to say, 
" I thought the religion of those called devout Christians 
was a delusion. I once called Joseph Beals a hypocrite ; 
but when I saw and heard him to-day, at his daughter's 
funeral, I knew he had something to support him that I had 
never experienced." 

The manner in which the Miller was sustained in this 
affliction is to be ascribed to no sudden burst of excited 
feeling, but to special aids of the Holy Spirit, imparted to 
one who habitually lived near to God, and maintained an 
abidinsT sense that, though " clouds and darkness are round 
about liim," " I'ighteousness and judgment are the habita- 



THE MOUNTAIN MILLER. 13 

tion of his throne." From the time of his conversion, the 
hxnguage of his heart in every trying dispensation seemed 
to be, " It is the Lord, let him do what seemeth him good." 
From that period no murmuring word against the deahngs 
of his Maker is known to have escaped his hps. At one 
time, when a dear babe was apparently brought near to 
death, and his wife expressed her fears respecting the result, 
he told her that, much as it had entwined itself in their 
affections and engaged their prayers, he felt that he could 
resign it without any reserve to God, to do with it accord- 
ing to his holy pleasure. 

The same confidence in God supported him when, 
nearly six years after the death of his eldest daughter, 
he was called to bury his second daughter, at the age of 
twenty-one, who departed in the assured hope of heaven. 
Though his soul was not ravished with the manifestations 
of the Divine presence, as in the former trial, he was com- 
posed, and sweetly submissive to the will of God. 

In all the circumstances of his life his Christian course 
was remarkably uniform. No calamity on the one hand, 
however severe, was suffered greatly to depress his spirits ; 
nor, on the other, did any scene through which he passed 
greatly elate them. A mild and calm expression usually 
sat on his countenance, indicative of the heavenly peace 
that reiirned within. The character which he exhibited in 
the occasional company of Christians, or in the meeting for 
social worship, he exemplified also in his family and in his 
common intercourse with men. None felt so deeply as his 
most intimate acquaintance, that his holy life proceeded 
from an abiding sense of the presence of God, and of his 
obligations to live entirely for his glory. His wife and chil- 
dren often conversed with deep interest on the lyrohahiliUj 
that Ood would soon call him away from them. Heaven 
VOL. VII. 42 



14 THE MOUNTAIN MILLER. 

seemed to be already begun in his heart, and he appeared 
rather to " desire to depart " and be with his Saviour, where 
sin would be done away, and he should " see him as he is." 
As he was walking one day with a daughter in the grave- 
yard, she said to him, " 5'ather, are you always ready to 
go?" He meekly replied, "The prospect of living here 
always would be melancholy to me." 

In the summer of 1813 the period came when his pant- 
ings for heaven were to be realized, and when the prayer 
of the great Intercessor must be answered concerning him : 
" Father, I will that they whom thou hast given me be with 
me where I am, that they may behold my glory." He was 
violently attacked with a prevailing fever, which in a few 
days, on the 20th July, released him from this body of sin, 
at the age of sixty-one. In this sickness he was calm, 
patient, and resigned to the will of God ; but in the rapid 
progress of the disease he found occasion to say, that, though 
he had a thousand times reminded others that a sick bed is 
a poor place in which to prepare for death, he then saw it 
more clearly than ever before. But through abounding 
grace, he had long been ripening for his departure. It was 
only for the spirit to burst its earthly tabernacle, and its 
abode was in glory. He died suddenly, in a fit of faintness, 
having had no premonition that death was immediately near, 
and with no opportunity to add any thing to that best of all 
evidence of his good estate — a life of devoted piety. 

His body Avas interred in the graveyard, near his accus- 
tomed place of worship, where a plain and neat marble slab, 
bearing his name, age, and the date of his death, is erected 
as the only memorial of "The Mountain Miller." A no- 
tice of his death was inserted in the county newspaper, witli 
this expressive and appropriate motto : " His presence ani- 
mated the Christian and awed the sinner ;'' which would 
have been his whole recorded story, had not some special 



THE MOUiNTAIN MILLER. 15 

indications of Providence convinced the writer of this nar- 
rative of his duty to communicate it for the benefit, he 
trusts, of thousands. 

His wife, for whose conversion he labored and prayed, 
and who was afterwards so long the partner of his spiritual 
joys, was seized with a fever of a kindred character, almost 
simultaneously Avith himself, and died on the second day 
after his decease ; not being informed of his departure, 
though under the same roof, till their happy spirits greeted 
each other in the presence of their Redeemer above. 

Several traits in the character of the ^^iller are worthy 
of a distinct consideration. 

His uniform and consistent inety. It proceeded from 
a heart regenerated by the Holy Spirit and guided by his 
influences. It was founded on the soul-subduing doctrines 
of the cross. His conversation abounded in practical views 
of the holiness and other perfections of God — the love and 
mercy of Christ — our sinfulness — the excellence of vital 
religion, and other kindred topics. No man was more easy 
of access on religious subjects. He was never addressed, 
when they were not uppermost in his mind, or when he had 
not words to speak for Christ and his cause. If conversa- 
tion was introduced on Avorldly subjects, he would soon turn 
it to the concerns of eternity, and in a manner so natural 
and familiar, that it rarely struck the mind of any as abrupt. 
*' Out of the abundance of the heart" his mouth spake, and 
"the law of kindness" was upon his lips. When a man 
came to his mill angry, because the poor beast that brought 
him, and which he had been beating unmercifully, had oc- 
casioned him delay, "What do you think," said the Miller, 
" of this passage, ' Make to yourselves friends of the mam- 
mon of unrighteousness ?' " At another time, when a num- 
ber of persons were speaking, with some animation, of their 



IG THE MOUNTAIN MILLER. 

prospect of removing to a distant part of the country, 
"Well," said he, "I expect to move but once more — and 
then into eternity !" 

The excellency of religion appeared in his character at 
all times, so far as his most intimate friends can remember. 
A very devoted and useful missionary to India, (the Rev. 
James Richards,) who went from the neighborhood of the 
Miller, and who is now doubtless with him in glor}^ when 
informed of his death, wrote back, that "he should ever 
esteem it an honor to have belonged to the same church 
Avith Joseph Reals." 

To the vener^le father of that missionary, who knew 
the Miller most intimately, and who was eminently qualified 
to appreciate his real character, the writer is indebted for 
a letter, some passages of which will be interwoven in what 
remains of this brief sketch. " Refore he experienced, that 
change which was so visible to all conversant with him," 
says this letter, " his life was usually regarded as strictly 
moral ; but his religion was formal — partaking neither of 
that love to God, nor good will to man, which the Gospel 
inspires. After the change in him, it became spiritual and 
evangelical. It never rose to enthusiastic zeal. It was 
uniform and durable ; and manifested itself in active life. 
He brought forth much fruit to the glory of God, and 
thereby gave indubitable evidence that he was, in reality, a 
disciple of Christ. A never-failing spring — affording nearly 
the same quantity of pure water at a time of the severest 
drought, as in a season of abundance of rain — is a happy 
emblem of the piet}'^ of this eminently good man." 

His meekness. This was perhaps the predominant trait 
in his character. The expression of his countenance clearly 
bespoke his communion with God. Perhaps the presence 
of no other man would silence so soon a company of the 
rude and dissolute — not because he attacked them openly, 



THE MOUNTAIN MILLER. 17 

but from the impressions of tlic reality of religion and of 
eternal things which his presence awakened. Probably he 
did not hear an oath in all the latter years of his life ; for 
the most profane revered him. It has been remarked by 
a very intimate friend, that, though from the time of his 
conversion always cheerful, he almost never laughed ; or 
if he did, he would for a time be silent, and seem to re- 
flect on it as unbecoming one who must soon appear before 
God. 

His abiding sense of the uncertainty of life and the retri- 
butions of eternity. The prevailing theme of his familiar 
conversation with. his friends, in his family, and in the social 
circle, was the uncertainty of life, the importance of a prep- 
aration for death, and "the glory that shall be revealed" 
in them that love God. These truths filled and animated 
his soul. In the lono- winter evenino-s, when he would 
sometimes fall asleep in his chair, the introduction by his 
family of some topic of vital religion, would rouse him at 
once, and he would kindle into animation. When he came 
in and sat, his Bible was generally before him, and in it he 
said he always found something new. At the last religious 
meeting he attended, a few hours before the attack of fever 
that closed his life, he urged these truths with great seri- 
ousness, and prayed with great fervency "that they might be 
felt and practically improved by all. " He abounded," 
says the friend from whose letter we have quoted, "in 
speaking of the solemnity of dying and appearing before 
God in judgment. His conversation would never tire, and 
it seemed that he was never tired of religious conversation. 
It was once my privilege to spend two days with him on a 
short journey. Our conversation on the way, and wherever 
we called, was almost wholly on things pertaining to the 
kingdom of God ; yet at the end of the second day, the time 

had been so agreeably spent that it seemed as though the 
VOL. vji. 42* 



1 8 THE MOUNTAIN MILLER. 

interview had but just commenced, and we were obliged 
abruptly to close our conversation and part." 

His preciousness to the awakened sinner. The conversa- 
tion of no private individual was perhaps ever more ardently 
sought by those inquiring the way of salvation ; and no man, 
perhaps, ever felt more deeply the responsibility and deli- 
cacy of dealing with persons in that state of mind. CalHng 

Avith a pious friend on Mrs. B , in a neighboring town, 

she related to them the despairing state of her daughter, 
and begged him to pray with them. But she found his 
tender heart was so full, that for some minutes he could not 
speak to lead their devotions. Deeply as he felt for awak- 
ened sinners, he never sought to " heal slightly " the wounds 
which sin had made. He never told them of their blame- 
less life, or intimated that they were making progress to- 
wards heaven, while they continued the enemies of God. 
He considered their views of the enormity of sin, and the 
nearness of eternity, as feeble compared with the reality ; 
and urged them to surrender their hearts without delay to 
Christ, as the only way to obtain enduring and substantial 
peace. He represented Christ as knocking for admission to 
their hearts — as standing with open arms ready to receive 
them ; and urged them no longer to resist such love, but to 
make the surrender of their all to him. When, in the social 
meeting, he rose to say a word for the cause of Zion, or to 
lead in prayer, those who were anxious for their salvation 
listened with eagerness. They knew what he said pro- 
ceeded from a heart deeply solicitous for their welfare, and 
felt that his prayers would avail with God. 

His 2^e^'seve7'ance in doing good. The continual object 
of his life was emphatically to persuade men to embrace 
Christ, and serve him faithfully. The benevolent exertions 
of the present age for the heathen, which he lived to see 
commenced, had his cordial approbation ; but though he 



THE MOUNTAIN MILLER. 19 

longed and praj^ed for the conversion of the world to God, 
the sphere of his efforts was mainly confined to the circle in 
which he moved. Not satisfied with the opportunities of 
usefulness afforded at his mill, he often, in his later years, 
committed it for a few days to the care of one of his sons, 
and some time before his death, having the means of sub- 
sistence, and " owing no man any thing, but to love one 
another," he sold it, that he might devote his declining years 
more exclusively to the welfare of souls. As an illustration 
of his persevering endeavors, the following fact is adduced : 
" Monthly meetings for prayer for the influences of the Holy 
Spirit, of which he was, if not the first mover, the principal 
and constant supporter, had been established not very far 
from his dwelling, and continued for a number of years, 
when nearly all on whom he had depended for their sup- 
port forsook them ; till at length only two or three attended. 
But his zeal — his resolution — his patience, were not yet 
exhausted. He still continued his exertions to sustain the 
meetings — hoping almost against hope — until he saw a little 
cloud arising — a few drops of mercy began to fall, and the 
abundant blessing of the Holy Spirit to descend. The 
neighborhood was thinly settled, but instead of tAvo or three, 
the aged and the young crowded to attend the meetings, 
and the house was filled. He now, with wonder and de- 
light, saw the salvation of God, and was actively engaged 
in doing all in his power to promote the good work of the 
Holy Spirit, and in directing anxious inquirers to the foun- 
tain where they might ' buy wine and milk without money 
and without price.' " 

His life of prayer. None had the privilege of uniting 
with him in this exercise without feelino: that he was ad- 
dressinor a God with whom he had intimate communion. In 

o 

his private devotions he sought to be unobserved, yet his 
family were not ignorant of his regularity in this duty, and 



20 THE MOUNTAIN MILLER. 

often well knew the sacred moments when he was pleading 
for them and others before the throne of his heavenly Fa- 
ther. His regular devotions in the family were fervent. 
And besides his delight in the social prayer-meeting, he 
was ever ready to embrace occasions for special prayer. 
In the interval of public worship, in the warm season of the 
year, he was frequently observed to retire, with a beloved 
Christian friend, towards a neighboring grove. It has since 
been ascertained that they improved that hour for some 
years, when no special call of duty interrupted, in visiting 
a sequestered spot for united prayer — that their own hearts 
might be replenished with divine grace ; that the children 
of both families, and especially his wife during the time that 
she continued impenitent, might be converted ; that the 
Holy Spirit might be shed down in the revival of religion ; 
and the Redeemer's kingdom be advanced throughout the 
world. 

His care for the spiritual ivelfare of his family. This 
was especially manifested in the importance he attached to 
their regular morning and evening devotions. He selected 
the most favorable hours, and nothing was permitted to in- 
terrupt them. He accompanied the reading of the Bible 
with plain practical suggestions, extending his remarks as 
he thought would be most useful to his household ; not 
neglecting them on the one hand, nor wearying them on the 
other. He directed their minds, both in his conversation 
and prayers, to the passing events of Providence, that they 
might notice in them the hand of God, be grateful for his 
mercies, submit to his chastisements, and suitably improve 
his dispensations. All of them who survive have pubhcly 
professed their faith in Christ. 

His deportment in the house of God. He was a constant 
attendant, and always took care to present himself early. 
His venerable pastor has informed the writer, that, for a 



THE MOUNTAIN iMILLER. 21 

long course of years, as he entered tlic sanctuary, a siglifc 
of the countenance of the Miller gladdened his heart, for 
he knew he should have at least one hearer who would be 
attentive, who would love the truth, and whose prayers 
would be ascending for the presence and blessing of God. 
Ministers, who for the first time addressed the conofrecration, 
would distinguish him from the rest of the audience, and 
say they could with pleasure preach to him, if they had no 
other attentive hearer. He did not discourage his minister 
by sleeping. His heavenly deportment seemed to say, 
"How amiable are thy tabernacles, Lord of hosts — 
blessed are the}^ that dwell in thy house ; they will be still 
praising thee." 

His temi^erance. This virtue he practised not merely in 
regard to strong liquors, but in the use of food ; and it 
doubtless contributed, in no small degree, to promote the 
rare assemblage of excellencies which were combined in his 
Christian character — his uniform cheerfulness, his consist- 
ency, his readiness to engage in religious exercises, his 
wakefulness in the house of God, and the perpetual eleva- 
tion of his religious affections. 

The combinations of his character are thus summed up 
by the respected friend whom we have quoted : *' He was 
unusually grave and serious. He was neither a flatterer 
nor a slanderer — 'not given to wine,' 'not greedy of filthy 
lucre,' for he appeared almost indifferent to the world. 
He was sound in the faith. He ruled his children and his 
household well. His godly example spoke powerfully in 
favor of the reaUty and the excellence of religion. Indeed, 
I thmk I can say that Joseph Beals, by his life, exhibited 
a more eminent, a more uniform, a more striking example 
of piety, than any other individual with whom it was ever 
my privilege to be acquainted." 

A testimony kindred to the above is given by one who 



22 THE MOUNTAIN MILLER. 

is now a preacher of the Gospel, and in a station of much 
responsibility and usefulness in the Christian church : 
" With my earliest recollections," he says, '' are associated 
the godly example, the affectionate Christian admonitions, 
and the ardent prayers of the pious Miller. Often have 
I stood beside him in his mill, and heard the gracious 
•words which fell from his lips, for my own benefit and that 
of others. Often have I hung upon his lips in the social 
meeting, when he spoke of the blessedness of that salva- 
tion to which I was then a stranger ; and seen him lead in 
the devotions, apparently in the attitude of the most inti- 
mate communion with God, and of even then bringing 
down spiritual blessings from on high. Often did I accom- 
pany him homeward from the social meeting, still breathing 
the language of Canaan. I was, alas, unrenewed, and at 
heart still alienated from God ; but I knew that I must ob- 
tain an interest in Christ or finally perish ; and there was no 
man whose example and counsel I thought could do so 
much for my spiritual good, and whose prayers for me I 
thought would be so efficacious at the throne of grace. 

" I very well remember the morning when I met a mes- 
senger who announced to me that the pious Miller ivas 
gone. I had no more reason to value his Christian charac- 
ter than other youth around me, but a flood of tears in- 
stantly poured down my cheeks, from the reflection that 
another barrier between me and perdition was removed. I 
immediately went and conveyed the tidings to a respected 
father of the church, whose tears flowed with mine ; the 
heart of his aftectionate pastor, who had been accustomed 
to assuage the sorrows of others by administering spiritual 
consolation, seemed severely smitten, and a gloom of sad- 
ness hung over every hill, and forest, and landscape around 
me ; for although the Miller was humble and obscure, and 
imknown beyond the circle of a few miles, yet in that circle 



THE MOUNTAIN MILLER. 23 

he was loved and venerated as a man of God and a spirit- 
ual guide ; and the language of all seemed to be, ' Help, 
Lord, for the godly man ceaseth ; for the faithful fail from 
among the children of men,' 

" Since the departure of the Miller I have had the hap- 
piness to become intimately acquainted with a large circle 
of Christian friends, in both city and country, and I hesi- 
tate not to say, that with the exception of one other depart- 
ed saint, the savor of whose name ' is as ointment poured 
forth,' I have never known any man who, to human view, 
lived so near to God, and bore so much of the image of his 
blessed Master, as did Joseph Beals." 

Is the reader a follower of Christ ? Let the example of 
the Miller incite you to raise higher your standard of holy 
living. Rest not short of the blessed eminence in piety 
which he attained, nor of the high behests to which the 
bleeding Saviour calls you, and to which, consecrating your- 
self wholly to him, his grace shall raise you. 

Is the reader only almost persuaded to be a Christian ? 
Weigh well the history of this humble individual, both be- 
fore and after his conversion, Mark the blessed fruits of a 
spiritual religion : what abiding peace and joy it afforded 
him ; what love to God and to his fellow-men it wrought 
in him ; what a blessing it made him to his friends and ac- 
quaintance, and the church of God ; how it supported him 
in trials, and sustained him in death. Would you have his 
sweet consolations in life and in death, and partake of his 
eternal joys, seek rehgion where he found it. Look at the 
law of God, till you see its extent and purity, and the ter- 
rors of that curse it pronounces against sin. Look at your 
own heart till you see how, in thought, word, and deed, by 
duties omitted and actual transgression, you have violated 
that law in the si^clit of a holv God. Behold the atoninof 



24 THE MOUNTAIN MILLER. 

sacrifice offered for you by our glorious Redeemer on the 
cross. Hear him say, "Come unto me, all ye that labor 
and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest." Go and 
prostrate yourself before him. Confess your sins. Tell 
him you are " a wretch undone." Cast yourself on his 
mercy, and if you perish, perish at his feet. Do this, and 
your soul shall live. The same Saviour who said, " Except 
a man be horn again, he cannot see the kingdom of God," 
said also, '' Him that cometh unto me, I will in no wise 
cast out." Come now, and yield yourself to him. This is 
the language the pious Miller vv^ould utter in your ear, could 
he speak to you from heaven. Come now ; let nothing 
hinder you. Now, w^hile your day of probation yet lasts. 
Now, while the voice of mercy yet speaks to you. Now, 
wliile God is moving on your heart by the silent influences 
of his Spirit. Now, before you lay aside this Tract. Fall 
on your knees. Let your hard heart break. Give your- 
self to him who died for you. " Behold, now is the ac- 
cepted time ; behold, now is the day of salvation !" 

Note. — The Miller lived in Plainfield, Mass., a mile south of 
his accustomed place of worship. In 1829, the dwelling where 
he died, and from which he buried his eldest daughter, was yet 
standing. His mill had been rebuilt. 

A premium, offered by a friend, was awarded to the writer of 
this narrative. 



