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TRACTS 



AMERICAN TEACT SOCIETY. 



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VOL. IX. 



PRINTED BY THE 
AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY 

150 NASSAU-STREET, NEW YORK. 



CONTENTS. 



VOL. IX. 

No. Pages. 

297. The World's Conversion the grand object of the Christian. 

By Rev. Nathan S. S. Beman, D. D., . . . . 20 

298. A Whole Family in Heaven. By Rev. Richard Knill, . 4 

299. Where is he ] 4 

300. Debates of Conscience with a Distiller, a Wholesale Dealer, 

and a Retailer. By Henian Humphrey, D. D., . .16 

301. The aged Penitent, or Filial Piety Rewarded, ... 8 

302. The Harvest Past. By Rev. Timothy Dwight, D. D., . 8 

303. The Great Alternative, Repentance or Perdition. By Rev. 

William Nevins, D.D., 16 

304. What art thou ? 4 

305. Barnes on the Traffic in Ardent Spirits, . . . .24 

306. John De Long ; the Prodigal of Fifty Years, ... 8 

307. The Harvest Perishing for want of Laborers. By Rev. John 

. Scudder, M. D., 20 

308. The Fools' Pence, 8 

309. The Mischiefs of Slander, ...... 12 

310. Striking Fulfilment of Prophecy, 8 

311. Visiting on the Sabbath, 4 

312. My Father's Prayer. An authentic Narrative, ... 8 

313. The Poor Man's House Repaired, .... 12 

314. David Ronge. By Rev. G. De F^Uce, .... 4 

315. Strive to Enter in at the Strait Gate, .... 8 

316. I will give Liberally, 8 

317. Call and Qualifications for the Christian Ministry. By Rev. 

Ralph Emerson, D. D., 24 

318. The Apostate. An authentic Narrative, ... 4 

319. History of Corporal Murray, 16 

320. " I've no Thought of Dying So." An authentic Narrative, 4 



4 CONTENTS. 

No. Paoes. 

3:21. "Where did he get that Law?" 4 

322. Motives to Early Piety. By Harlan Page, ... 4 

323. The Bible aji Inspired Book. Proved by Six Arguments, . 8 

324. Last Days of Rev. Dr. Payson, 8 

325. " My Spirit shall not always Strive," 4 

326. Children to be Educated for Christ. By Rev. E. W. Hook- 

er, D. D., • . . . .16 

327. The World to Come, 4 

328. The Christian Traveller. An authentic Narrative, . . 8 

329. What must I Do ] By Rev William Nevins, D. D., . 8 

330. Infidel Objections, 20 

331. Parental Examples, 8 

332. Conversion of Rama Chundra, a Hindoo Preacher, . . 4 

333. Lovest thou Me ? 4 

334. Don't Break the Sabbath? By Rev. Wm. Nevins, D. D., . 16 

335. The Voice of Time, 4 

336. Do your Children Reverence the Sabbath ? ... 4 

337. The Gain is Loss, or the Unprofitable Exchange, . . 8 

338. " It is the Last Time," 4 

339. Obstacles to Conversion, 4 

340. Secret Prayer, ......... 4 

341. Hints to Visitors and Travellers. By Rev. Dr. Bedell, 4 

342. The Christian's Duty, 4 

343. The Anxious Servant. By Rev. Richard Knill, . . 4 

344. Bob the Cabin-boy. By Rev. G. C. Smith, ... 4 

345. Land Tacks, or Advice to a Sailor on Coming Ashore, . 12 

346. Jamie, or A Voice from Ireland for Temperance, . .16 

347. Prepare to Meet thy God ! 4 

348. The Pequot of a Hundred Years. A true Narrative, . 4 

349. The Sinner's Friend. By a Layman, .... 16 

350. Future Punishment, or the Universalist Refuted, . . 32 



i\o. 297. 

THE 

WORLD'S CONVERSION 

THE 

GRAND OBJECT OF THE CHRISTIAN. 



BY NATHAN S. S. BEMAN, D. D. 



A QUESTION of deeper interest was never propounded 
in our world than that stated by Saul of Tarsus, when he 
discovered that Jesus of Nazareth was the Son of God : 
" Lord, what wilt thou have me to doV This was no doubt 
the incipient breathing of a heart submitting to Christ ; the 
tiist lifting up of the soul to God for instruction in duty^ 
accompanied with a determination to obey the command, 
be it what it might, prescribed in the answer. This is the 
spirit of the Christian. It commences in his unreserved 
submission to Christ, marks his career of self-denying effort 
through life, and attains perfection in heaven. But there 
is, especially, one branch of Christian duty, which, in this 
state of spiritual action and conflict, must ever excite a 
deep and absorbing interest ; it is one for which this same 
converted Saul was greatly distinguished : consecration 
TO Christ, in labors for the salvation of a world. 

And do we ask for heart-stirring motives to enlist us in 
this work ? We have only to open the Bible, and they 
flash in sunbeams upon us. Considerations are there pre- 
sented, which have already moved two worlds, and why 
should they not move the third ? They have deeply inter- 
ested heaven and hell, and why should they not excite at 
least equal interest on earth ? The earth is the very subject 
in debate, the very territory in dispute between the powers 

VOL. IX. i^-' 



2 THE WORLD'S CUNVERSlUN. 

of light and darkness : and if any portion of the universe 
ought to be excited on this subject, it is surely this world's 
population. To say nothing of those around us, whose 
interests are at stake, but whose eyes are wilfully closed 
upon all that is grand and lovely in the Gospel, can the 
Christian, whose heart has been washed in blood, remain 
unmoved, while a world of sinners are yet in gross dark- 
ness, suspended as it were between heaven and hell ? Let 
every professor of religion be entreated to weigh well the 
following considerations. 

I. This world is to he converted. That it needs ren- 
ovation will not be denied. Its vast and dense population 
are by nature children of wrath, because the enemies of 
God. To recover men from this state, and raise them to 
heaven, is the grand object of the Gospel. For this purpose 
the scheme of mercy was devised, and sent down to earth. 
For this the Saviour was born and died ; and to accomplish 
this he now reigns and intercedes in heaven. With this 
object in view, the moral machinery of the Gospel w\as put 
in motion ; and its effective operations will be continued till 
the work is accomplished in the conversion of the world. 
God has promised it, and his movements are corroborating 
his truth. Here then is the firm ground of faith and 
eftort. 

II. Consider the mode in which this work is to he accom- 
plished. We may here contemplate the agency of the 
church, the instrumentality of truth, and the efficiency of 
the Holy Spiiit. The ^9<?rso«s who are engaged in this 
work are redeemed men, who, having been themselves con- 
verted, embark their living energies as " workers together 
with God " for the salvation of others. God has con- 
signed this work, so far as labor or effort is concerned, to 
liiiman agents — to Christians. Tliey " turn many to right- 
eousness ;" and by their efforts establish the two facts, that 



THE WORLD'S CONVERSIUN. 3 

they are the friends of heaven, and the benefactors of man- 
kind. They love God, and do good. 

The instrument of saving the world is the truth of God 
disclosed in the Bible. No other system is adapted to 
accomplish this work. And this system needs no super- 
additions or modifications, for it is marked by no defects. 
But as the truth is an unconscious instrument, it must be 
applied by the hand of some rational agent : it must be 
brought home and urged upon the conscience by the efforts 
of a faithful ministry and a united church, or no decisive 
results can be anticipated. In a deplorable and most crim- 
inal deficiency of such efforts, almost two thousand years 
since Jesus Christ died for sinners have been suffered to 
pass, sweeping the inhabitants of the earth into eternity, 
and the world is yet unconverted. The fault is entirely 
with man. Shall we condemn the unconscious Bible be- 
cause the nations are not subdued by its power? On the 
same principle, the mechanic might condemn his axe and his 
hammer because the edifice is not erected, when he has 
stood still, and folded his hands, and waited for the imple- 
ments of his occupation and the good providence of God to 
carry on his work. No axe or hammer will build the house, 
and no divine blessing will secure this result without the 
intervention of human agents. And so it is with the Gos- 
pel : the truth of God will never convert the world unless 
the Gospel be preached to " every creature." This fact is 
settled by divine testimony. On this point the promises of 
God are nothing more nor less than promises to bless the 
efforts of his people. In the commission which Christ gave 
to his apostles to " teach all nations," he engaged to be 
with them, " even unto the end of the world ;" but he no- 
where intimates that he will travel forth as the audible 
expositor of his own Gospel. He has, for wise purposes, 
made the application of divine truth by human agents 



Tin: WURI-US C'UNVKRSIO.V. 



necessary to tlie conversion and salvation of man. This is 
the sclieme of his own adoption ; and the injunction, " Be 
ye holy," emanated from no higher authority than the man- 
date, " Go ye into all the world, and preach the Gospel to 
every creature." But the full force of this command has 
never been felt by any generation of Christians since the 
days of the apostles. No one can review the apostolic age 
without discovering that the grand and paramount object 
was the conversion of the world. This object w^as then 
valued infinitely above wealth or earthly honors ; it was 
dearer than family or friends, or life itself: and the success 
of those primitive Christians was equal to their consecra- 
tion to this work. 

As Christians are the appointed agents for the conver- 
sion of the world, they should study the science of doing 
good, and seize every opportunity for carrying the com- 
mand of their Saviour into effect. For this purpose they 
were redeemed. They are to live and die in the service of 
God and a world of sinners. Each in his respective sphere 
must engage in this work, or the world will never be re- 
claimed from sin and converted to God. This work, on an 
elevated scale, has hardly commenced. Very few indeed 
can be found who live for the one great purpose of training 
deathless souls for heaven. When this is the case, then, 
and not till then, will the Pagan give up his idols, the Mus- 
sulman forsake his sensuality, the Jew renounce his bi"-- 
otry, the Romanist relinquish that scheme which is a subtle 
compound of all these abominations, and the smooth, var- 
nished, modern Pharisee, in Christian congregations, be 
brought to incjuire, " What must I do to be saved ?" O 
how vast the labor. And never let it be forgotten, that it 
is for the conversion of an entire ivorld that this generation 
of Christians are acting. It is a world of darkness to be 
eiilighlened ; a world of crime to be washed in the blood of 



THE WORLD'S CONVERSION. 5 

Jesus ; a world of death to be made the subject of a spirit- 
ual resurrection. Here, upon this globe, are eight hundred 
millions of immortal beings to be supplied with Bibles, and 
Tracts, and Sunday-schools, and ministers, and gospel in- 
stitutions ; and if this work is left undone, the hands of 
the ministers and followers of Christ will be stained with 
blood. 

But, in connection with the agency of the Christian 
church and the instrumentality of the truth, it should be 
remembered, that the efficiency is lodged in the hands of God. 
Men employ the means prescribed in the Bible, and diffuse 
and enforce the truth, and the grace of God secures the 
result. This fact or principle in the divine government is 
beautifully illustrated by Paul in his first epistle to the 
Corinthians : *' I have planted, Apollos watered, but God 
gave the increase." All this is easy of exposition, and at 
the same time directly in point. The apostle here presents 
the analogy of the divine and human agencies in the world 
of nature and the world of grace. In the physical or 
natural system, one man plants the seed and another 
waters the soil in which it is deposited ; but neither the 
seed nor cultivation can insure the harvest : the power of 
God alone, as it operates in the world of nature, can bring 
about this event. Just so in the spiritual world. One may 
plant the seed, which is the word of God ; another may 
water the sacred deposit ; but " the increase," or saving 
effect, is to be ascribed, not to these subordinate agents, 
but to God, the independent and efficient agent. There is 
no intrinsic efficacy in the seed, or in the planting, or in the 
watering. This is what the apostle intends to assert in the 
words which follow : " So, then, neither is he that planteth 
any thing, neither is he that watereth, but God that giveth 
the increase." It is not his object to teach us that the seed 
deposited and the acts of planting and watering were not 



6 THE WORLDS CONVERSION. 

necessary, but that the efficiency was not inherent in the 
instrument, or the human agents, but exerted by God him- 
self. Indeed, it would seem that the apostle designed to 
exhibit, by natural symbols, the whole process by which 
men are converted and sanctified, and to define the respec- 
tive provinces of truth, of human agency, and of divine 
power. 

III. Motives are not wcinting to induce Christians to 
embark in this ivork. It is a simple development of the life 
of Christ within them. It promotes their own personal holi- 
ness, elevates them to the rank of benefactors, augments 
their own happiness, and advances the glory of God. 

1. It promotes their own personal holiness. No one can 
become a joint laborer with Jesus Christ, in giving impulse 
and success to the Gospel, without experiencing, in his own 
heart, the most cheering results. Active members of the 
church grow in grace ; while the inactive not unfrequently 
relapse into sin, or sink into gloom and die in despair. 
Hence the promise, " If any man will do his will, he shall 
know of the doctrine." Hence, too, the remarkable fact, 
that the apostles and primitive Christians say very little 
respecting doubts and fears in relation to their eternal 
state. They sympathized with Christ in the great interest 
of a world's salvation, and enlisted all their mortal and 
immortal powers in the same cause which drew him from 
heaven and led him to the cross. This course secured two 
great objects in relation to themselves : one was, they made 
progress in the Christian life ; and the other, they found in 
tliis fact of active obedience to Christ and entire consecra- 
tion to the work of saving souls, the best evidence that their 
own hopes were established upon the Eternal Rock. What 
better evidence can we desire of a personal interest in the 
blood of Jesus, than to love the same cause which moved 
his lieart, and to perform with cheerfulness what he com- 



Tlin WORLD'S CONVERSION. 7 

mands ? This is Gabriel's highest testimony of the love of 
God, and his best qualification for standing in his presence. 
And what can so infallibly insure sanctification of heart as 
a practical imitation of Christ ? The child of God, who 
pursues the same objects with his divine Master, whose 
spiritual sensibilities are made to glow upon the same cen- 
tral point, cannot fail of being assimilated more and more 
to his image. And how was Jesus Christ employed during 
the few years he spent among men ? Who is ignorant of 
the fact that his heart was upon his mission ? He came " to 
seek and to save that which was lost ;" and this heavenly 
embassy filled his soul and employed his hands. No labor 
was too. oppressive, no sacrifices too costly, no self-denial 
too painful, no humiliation too deep, no reproaches too 
bitter, no threatenino^s of dana:er or death too fearful for 
him to encounter, if the Father mio^ht be glorified and 
sinners saved. Here was benevolence personified — " God 
manifest in the flesh." Let the Christian look at this lovely 
image, and be instructed. If he would be holy, he must be 
like his Master. He must^ fix his heart on the salvation of 
the world, and employ every power in the mighty work. 
No one can do this without growing in grace, and becoming 
more and more like his God and Saviour. The soul that 
enters into this subject fully and practically, will make 
steady advances in the divine life. The cause of foreign 
missions, for example, has given a peculiar freshness and 
vigor to the piety of the churches within a few years past. 
The same may be said of recent revivals of religion. These 
two causes have effected and moulded the hearts of God's 
people on the same principle ; they have furnished new 
motives to Christian effort ; they have brought home to the 
conscience the pressure of obligation ; and the sentiment is 
beginning to be felt, that religion consists not in abstract 
opinions, or tender and romantic wishes for the renovation 



8 THE WORLD'S CONVERSION. 

of tlie world, but in hearty and conscientious effort to send 
the Gospel around the globe, and to make it tell, through 
eternal ages, upon the destinies of imperishable souls. No 
one can follow with tears and prayers the lost sinner, either 
liere in this land of neglected privilege, or among the dark 
and distant pagans, without finding the heart elevated in its 
emotions, and fixed on God and duty. When the people 
of Christ do this, they shine as lights in the world; and 
this process is nothing less than a progressive training for 
that splendor of holiness which will become perfect and 
eternal in heaven. 

2. Those who labor for the salvation of others are public 
benefactors. It is an established principle in the divine 
government, that those who do good to others shall be thus 
recognized. The public-spirited and active citizen is ac- 
knowledged as the friend of his country ; and the liberal 
soul, who feeds the hungry and clothes the naked, is fol- 
lowed by their prayers while he lives, and embalmed in 
their tears when he dies ; and those who, by holy and self- 
denying efforts, have secured preeminent blessings to the 
world, shall be held in everlasting remembrance, "They 
that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firmament ; 
and they that turn many to righteousness, as the stars for 
ever and ever." The hand of God has drawn this divine 
I)icture of future and eternal scenes. If these material 
symbols are permitted to speak to us from eternity, with 
what more than earthly lustre does the energetic and suc- 
cessful Paul now shine amid multitudes he introduced to 
that firmament of glory. What stars of the first magnitude 
in that firmament are such faithful servants of the Most 
High as Edwards, and Whitefield, and Brainerd, and Mar- 
tyii. Wliat amazing interest will be given to the scheme of 
redemption ; what new-born rapture will glow in heaven, 
wlicn the great social principle, established by God, on 



THE WORLD'S CONVERSION. 9 

■which this scheme has been carried into effect, and on 
Avhich glory has been attained by rejoicing milHons, shall 
be fully developed. 

It is true that the judgment of the earth, so far as 
religious effort is concerned, is very different from the 
judgment of heaven. In this world it is thought by many 
that talent devoted to the ministry is thrown awa}^ ; that 
money bestowed upon foreign missions, and sacrifices sus- 
tained by the community in carrying on the operations of 
Christian benevolence, are so many palpable evidences of 
mental imbecihty or moral infatuation. But hold up this 
matter in the light of eternifcy, and then decide. Do we 
call that man a public benefactor who adorns a city, or 
opens a canal, or rescues his country in the hour of peril ? 
These achievements, though accounted great on earth, will 
hardly be named in heaven. Is the champion of freedom 
celebrated in the songs of a nation ? And do we venerate 
the man who directs all his resources to alleviate the mis- 
eries which " flesh is heir to ?" This is right : it accords 
with the established order of the divine government. But 
what is the body to the soul, or time to eternity, or earth 
to heaven ? The objects around us, which now excite so 
much interest, and call forth the highest exertions of human 
power and genius, will soon be buried and lost in an infinite 
ocean. Worldly applause, which is awarded to the little 
deeds of earth, will not be heard amidst the songs and 
harps of glory. To give the Gospel to one pagan nation, 
to send the Bible, and to establish schools and Christian 
institutions among the population of one island of the sea, 
is a labor which stands more intimately connected with the 
present and eternal happiness of man, than all those mighty 
subjects which have agitated empires, and kindled wars, 
and made treaties, and called into action the talent and 
learning of successive generations, since the world began. 

VOL. IX. -i 



20 THE WORLD'S CONVERSION. 

It is in every respect in keeping with the other parts of the 
divine o-overnment, that those Avhose successful labors have 
covered and decorated the very canopy of heaven with 
redeemed souls, should themselves, as the best benefactors 
of a lost world, shine as " stars " in that canopy " for ever 
and ever." And this the Bible predicts. When these 
material stars which hang around the earth are gone out, 
then the stars ethereal which have lighted the footsteps of 
many a weary home-bound pilgrim through the wilderness 
and midnight of the present world, will have kindled up 
their eternal fires in the firmament of the heaven of heavens. 
3. The happiness of the Christian depends much upon 
his efforts to do good to others. Man is made for action : 
without an object to fire his heart and employ his hands, 
there can be no enjoyment. Hence the endless schemes 
which awaken curiosity, excite fond anticipation, and call 
forth the powers of earth's ever-moving population. These 
are the eftbrts of nature in the pursuit of happiness ; and 
as such they afford indications which ought not to be over- 
looked by the Christian. The happiness of intelligent beings 
must essentially consist in benevolent action. The exercise 
of the selfish passions contracts the heart and renders it 
incapable of elevated and generous emotions. On the other 
hand, the operation of all the benevolent affections is ac- 
companied by pure enjoyment. " He that watereth," saith 
the wise man, " shall be watered also himself." And it was 
a standing and practical maxim of one wiser than he, that 
"it is more blessed to give than to receive." The individ- 
ual employed in conveying blessings to others, finds, in the 
very execution of his purposes, the tide of personal enjoy- 
ment rising liigher and still higher in his own heart. Even 
worldly men speak with a kind of enthusiasm of '' the lux- 
ury of doing good." But it is the Christian who uniformly 
finds his happiness in his duty ; and a system of untiring 



THE WORLD'S CONVERSION. H 

effort for the salvation of others, opens sources of enjoy- 
ment which will never be fully estimated till the scenes of 
the present world are reviewed in eternity. The Gospel of 
Jesus Christ, in connection with a lost Avorld, presents a 
broad and peculiar field for the exercise of benevolence ; 
and no one can enter this field without his reward. The 
object is the salvation of souls ; and to labor in this cause 
is to exemphfy that mercy which is " twice blessed." *' It 
blesseth him that gives, and him that takes." It contem- 
plates man in his whole character, follows him through the 
various periods of his existence, and embraces in one per- 
fect scheme his mortal and immortal interests. It is not 
restricted to an individual, though the repentance of one 
sinner makes the angels glad and fills heaven with new and 
rapturovis songs ; it is not confined to a single nation, or to 
one hemisphere, but encircles the globe. The execution 
of this scheme of mercy has been undertaken in good faith, 
and its friends here below, and in higher spheres, will never 
rest from their efforts till the work is finished and the an- 
them of jubilee is sung. 

To serve God and do good is the very element of per- 
sonal happiness. The Christian who actively employs every 
talent for Christ, cannot but enjoy a portion of the same 
rapture which fills his bosom, when he witnesses the victo- 
ries consequent upon his own death, and the triumphant 
results of his intercessions with God. The disciple is hap- 
py for the same reasons that his Master was ; and with him 
he can say, "My meat is to do the will of him that sent 
me, and to finish his work." And this same moral principle 
will be carried into heaven. Is the benevolence of Jesus 
Christ gratified in the results of his personal labors and 
conflicts when multitudes are brought home to glory — a 
portion of the same blessedness is experienced by every 
humble and successful laborer for the conversion of the 



12 THE WORLD'S CONVERSION. 

world. If the benevolent heart finds its highest happiness 
in the active discharge of duty, it is no less true, that, Avhen 
mercy's work is accomplished, the cup of enjoyment will be 
full. Does the philanthropist find his own happiness in- 
creased when the kindling smile is lighted up on that cheek 
just now pale with despair; and does every chord within 
vibrate to those notes of joy which his own charity may 
liave inspired in the deep and dark abode of poverty and 
disease ; and is it coincident with the law of God and our 
rational nature, that we should rejoice in such circum- 
stances ? What, then, must be the feelings of the Christian 
philanthropist in heaven? What earthly similitude can 
shadow forth his more than earthly joys ? He has fixed 
his sympathies on the soul, which never dies. He has en- 
deavored to weigh in the balances of the sanctuary its eter- 
nal worth. He has thought of its loss in hell, till his heart 
has been ready to die within him. He has thought of mill- 
ions on millions of bewildered pagans, till he has been forced 
to exclaim, " that my head were waters, and mine eyes a 
fountain of tears, that I might weep day and night for the 
slain" that cover the earth. He has turned his eye up- 
ward, and seen the recovered rebel take his eternal station 
in the firmament of glory ; and his heart has so kindled at 
the dawning hope of such a reality, that he has said, ''Here 
am I ; send me." In this cause, immense beyond concep- 
tion — in this cause, that excites the highest pulsation that 
beats in heaven — in this cause, that engenders strife in hell — 
he prays, and labors, and dies. And who can conceive, in 
this world, dark and far removed from heaven, of the sen- 
sations which will swell his bosom when he shall meet mul- 
titudes in glory who have been conducted thither by his 
self-denying efforts? Who can measure the length, and 
bread til, and depth of that tide of joy which shall fill his 
heart for ever and ever ? 



THE WORLDS CONVERSION. 13 

4. Those who do good to others, glorify God. This, 
after all, is the grand object of the Christian. For this, 
worlds were made, and are now governed. For this, sun 
and stars shine, and the heavens and the earth move on in 
their appointed courses. For this, the Son of God visited 
our world, and died for our redemption. And the object 
that has moved the heart of heaven will also move the 
hearts of saints on earth. The children wnll sympathize 
with their Parent — the disciples with their Master. To 
abound in doing good to the souls of men, is to glorify God. 
This principle is interwoven with the whole structure of the 
Gospel ; this is the grand work on which the God of grace 
has fixed his heart; here love has found its object; here 
wisdom has formed its purpose ; here mercy is unfolded ; 
here Satan shall be defeated, sin subdued, and grace made 
triumphant. 

Reader, are you a Christian? Are the vows of God 
upon you ? Pause for a moment, and contemplate yourself 
and your present acts in connection with the. glory of the 
living God. It is in the recovery of lost men from sin and 
hell that his glory shines conspicuous. This is his last, 
great w^ork. It is a visible, practical, experimental revela- 
tion of liimself — a revelation not to the earth only, but to 
the universe. On this work the heart of the Christian can 
fix with an intense and glowing interest ; and every child of 
grace is not only permitted, but required to engage in it. 
The duty is enforced by motives as strong as heaven can 
wield. What Christian, with heaven and hell before him, 
and surrounded by a world of dying sinners, will not pant 
to be useful ? Who will not beg the privilege of reflecting 
the rays of God's mercy upon the world ? Who, that loves 
God and sympathizes with his honor, will not rally his last 
energy, and spend his last breath, that he may by "all 
means save some?'' When the Christian is willing to be 

VOL. IX. 2* 



14 THE WORLD'S CONVERSION. 

sacrificed upon this altar, then it is that he exemphfies the 
spirit of the Gospel. This is to imitate Christ : this is to 
resemble God. Let every Cliristian heart burn with this 
holv fire, and every hand become strong and active in this 
work, and the glory of God will soon irradiate the earth. 

In view of the above considerations Ave arrive at the 

following PRACTICAL CONCLUSIONS. 

1. Discrimination as to the mode in ivhich the world is 
to be converted and saved, is of vital importance. It appears 
that God, and the church, and revealed truth, are all con- 
cerned in the conversion of sinners. There are different 
senses in which the salvation of man is ascribed in the Bible 
to the power of God, to Christian agency, and to gospel 
truth. And it is plain that the fidelity and success of the 
efforts of Christians must depend, in a great degree, on their 
ascribing to each of these sources of influence just so much 
importance and efficacy as is assigned to it in the govern- 
ment of God. If we expect God, and the churches, and 
the Bible, in any sense to change places in this labor, and 
either of them perform the work of the others, we mar the 
plan of heaven, and prepare grievous disappointment for 
ourselves. And here, no doubt, has been the mistake of 
many Christians for centuries past. Multitudes have been 
waiting for God's time for the world's emancipation. They 
have been hanging their hopes on his efficiency/ to save sin- 
ners, when they have not placed themselves or the world, 
so far as human agency is concerned, in a situation for God 
to work without violating the established order of his gov- 
ernment. What is there in the present attitude or move- 
ments of the churches, or in the relations of revealed truth 
to large portions of the world, on which divine efficiency can 
be expected to take effect? It is not the design of this 
remark to limit the power and grace of God. But let the 



THE WORLD'S CONVERSION. 15 

question be fairly met : Can we expect more than that God 
will bless his own truth Avhen it is properly presented to dy- 
ing men ? Has he promised to do more than this ? Has he 
intimated that he will work in any other way than to give 
efficacy to his word and the means of grace, when they are 
employed by human agents for the salvation of others ? 
We may consult the Bible in vain to find any purpose or 
pledge of this nature. And God will do as he has said. 
To expect him to do either more or less is neither faith nor 
humility, but downright presumption. Shall we, in our 
indolence, claim of him to make a new revelation to the 
heathen for their conversion, or multiply copies of the Bible 
by miracle, or cause the Gospel to be preached by angels 
from heaven ? All we can expect him to do, gracious and 
omnipotent as he is, is to bless gospel truth and make it 
effectual to the salvation of men, when the ministry and the 
churches arise and do their duty. Jesus Christ has prom- 
ised to bless the efforts of his people when they obey his 
injunctions ; but he has nowhere intimated that he will per- 
form that labor himself which he has graciously consigned 
to their hands. Let every minister, then, and every Chris- 
tian, engage in the heaven- born enterprise of saving sinners ; 
let them evince that philanthropy which warmed the Sav- 
iour's bosom ; let them manifest their faith by direct efforts 
to save every soul that can be reached and influenced by 
their example, their entreaties, their property, or their 
prayers ; and if the Avorld is not converted, then, and not 
till then, we are at liberty to refer this fact for solution, to 
the uncontrollable sovereignty of God. But when have 
ministers and Christians done their duty without a blessing? 
The records of divine grace, for nearly six thousand years, 
answer. Never ; and the universe, excited by the inquiry, 
and jealous for the honor and truth of its Sovereign, echoes 
back the declaration, Never. 



16 THE WORLD'S COxWERSION. 

2. We see a grand reason why the ivorld is not con- 
verted. Not because divine truth has lost its point or 
power, nor because God is not ready to bless ; but because 
the churches do not perform their duty. Why has not the 
Bible been put into the hands of all nations and families, 
centuries ago ? And if it had been, who will dare to say 
that God would not have followed this act with his bless- 
ing ? Why, instead of a few hundred, are there not many 
thousand Christian laborers, at this moment, in the foreign 
missionary field? And if the heralds of the cross, and 
teachers of schools, and the distributers of Bibles and 
Tracts, had gone forth in armies through the earth, who 
will hazard the opinion that Jesus Christ would not have 
gone with them ? Alas, the fact cannot be concealed, that 
the nations are dying under the sloth and avarice of the 
churches. The hands of Christians are stained with pagan 
blood. The efforts now making ought to have been made 
more than a thousand years ago ; and these same efforts 
must now be increased a hundred and a thousand fold, 
before the world can be brought to the feet of Jesus 
Christ. A new and heavenly spirit of sacrifice and exertion 
must pervade the Christian world ; and then we may ex- 
pect that Christ will build his throne in every land. But 
it is not to the heathen alone that these remarks apply. 
The impenitent are everywhere dying in their sins, in " the 
streets and lanes of the city," and in "the highways and 
hedges " of the country, for want of Christian sympathy, 
self-denial, and exertion. How few and languid are the 
direct efforts to save sinners in the midst of gospel privi- 
leges, and even where revivals of religion have prevailed. 
Look into families. What tender care for the body, and 
what inlidt'l neglect of the soul. Many parents are troubled 
about every thing but the immortal interests of their chil- 
dren. Look into the churches ; their members are so much 



THE WORLD'S CONVERSION. 17 '^ 

like the world, that their spiritual influence is almost extin- 
guished. They lay up wealth for their families, when they 
ought to expend it for Christ and souls. They strive, and 
toil, and agonize for any thing and every thing but to alarm 
the impenitent, and to bring them to Christ and prepare 
them for heaven. No wonder, then, that the heathen are 
not evangelized, and the impenitent awakened and con- 
verted. The church is not clad in her armor and mar- 
shalled on the field of action. Her energies are paralyzed 
by unbelief and the spirit of the world ; the power of 
prayer, and holy living, and vigorous effort, is not fully 
tested ; and hence the earth continues to groan in her 
chains, and the anticipated freedom is postponed. 

3. The person who does not labor and pray for the sal- 
vation of sinners ought not to think himself a Christian. 
Here is a true test of the heart. The person who has seen 
his own condition as a sinner, who has felt the weight of 
divine wrath pressing upon him, and who has experienced 
that deliverance which the Gospel proffers, will sympathize 
with those who are still involved in the same guilt, and who 
are under the same condemnation. This is too plain to 
admit of debate. On this point the Bible is entirely ex- 
plicit. Christians may be imperfect ; but some traits are 
so essential to the Christian character that the person who 
finds himself destitute of them ought not to think he has 
been born of God, or cherish a hope of heaven. And 
among these may be ranked feeling and effort for the sal- 
vation of the unconverted. On this subject all the Bible 
saints hold the same language. David says, " Then will I 
teach transgressors thy ways, and sinners shall be converted 
unto thee." Hear the language of the woman of Samaria : 
*' Come, see a man which told me all things that ever I did; 
is not this the Christ?" Look at the subdued and con- 
verted Saul : '* And straightway he preached Christ in the 



18 THE WORLD'S CONVERSION. 

synagogue, that he is the Son of God." When he thought 
of his "kinsmen according to the flesh," he says, "I have 
great heaviness and continual sorrow in my heart." And 
again, "My heart's desire and prayer to God for Israel is, 
that they might be saved." Indeed, the very nature of the 
case may settle this question. How can a person have seen 
his own guilt and ruin without wishing that others may do 
the same ? How can he have experienced the love of God 
shed abroad in his own soul, without prayer and exertion 
that others may enjoy the same blessed distinction ? How 
can the benevolent heart be willing to pursue a kind of 
solitary course to heaven, while little or no emotion is felt 
for those who are marching to the world of despair ? The 
thing is out of the question. The spirit of Jesus Christ has 
never animated such a bosom. Professors of religion, who 
can habitually slumber while the world is dying in sin and 
sinking to hell, know not what it is to pass from death to 
life. They have no right at the communion table. They 
are a dead weight upon the moral power of the churches. 

4. This subject affords poioerful motives to Christian 
action. Sinners are to be saved. This world, which God 
has made, which sin has ruined, and for which Christ has 
died, is to be converted. The impenitent amidst Christian 
institutions, and hundreds of millions of lost pagans, are to 
be reclaimed and brought home to God by the connected 
influence of Bible truth, of human agency, and of the Holy 
Ghost. Strike out any one of these links, and you break 
the chain which hangs the earth on heaven. You let down 
its inhabitants, in one great congregation, into hell. The 
world's eternal weal or woe is now suspended on the course 
which shall be taken by Christians. And in these circum- 
stances who will not arise and act ? The subject of effort 
is the undying soul ; the prize is heaven. The promise of 
God is clear. Open the Bible and it meets the eye: "He 



THE WORLD'S CONVERSION. 19 

that reapetli receiveth wages, and gathereth fruit unto life 
eternal." Would you groAv in grace, and know that your 
name is Avritten in heaven ? This must be the result of 
active consecration to Christ in labors for the salvation of 
men. Move in the same element in which Jesus Christ 
did, and you- cannot fail of becoming assimilated to his 
image. Like him, " go about doing good ;" let your heart 
and life speak the value of the soul, and it will be manifest 
to what world you are going. This is walking with God. 
It is cooperating with the blessed movements of the Holy 
Ghost. It is harmonizing, in spiritual action, with the 
Godhead. And who can do this, and remain unsanctified ? 
Who can do this, and not be cheered by the hope of 
heaven ? Would you be ranked among the earth's greatest 
benefactors? You must put your hand to this work of 
converting the world. To reclaim one soul is better than 
to found an empire, or to give temporal freedom to the 
population of a continent. A soul in heaven or hell — who 
can measure its value ? what stretch of thought can reach 
its mighty import ? A soul in heaven by your exertions, or 
in hell through your apathy, and that too for eternal ages, 
is enough to move a heart of marble. What child of God 
can resist the appeal ? In this world much is said of the 
achievements of heroism, and the self-denials of philan- 
thropy ; but on the morning of the judgment we shall see 
that no object ever deserved the highest powers of man 
but the undying soul. Would you be eminently happy ? 
Seek enjoyment in the cultivation of those very feelings, 
and in that course of spiritual action, which constituted the 
happiness of Jesus Christ when he dwelt among men. 
Labor and pray for the salvation of sinners. This is the 
way to enjoy an anticipated heaven on earth, and to ripen 
for a higher and brighter heaven in eternity. The present 
scene will soon close. In this field of labor your last blow 



20 THE WORLD'S CONVERSION. 

will soon be struck. What thou doest, do quickly. Your 
sun will soon go down, and that night in which no man 
can work, Avill close in darkness around you. Meanwhile 
souls are at stake, souls that will soon be in heaven or 
hell. Your exertions may be blessed in the salvation of 
some, may even "turn many to righteousness." Think 
then of the promise in relation to this blessed work. Look 
forw^ard and upward, and then ask your heart if you can 
remain inactive. The time is coming when " the multitudes 
of them that sleep in the dust of the earth shall aw^ake, 
some to everlastino; life, and some to shame and everlasting: 
contempt." Yes, w^hen these skies shall be dissolved, and 
this earth shall be burned up, and the resurrection-trumpet 
shall break the silence of the tomb, then " they that be 
wise, shall shine as the brightness of the firmament ; and 
they that turn many to righteousness, as the stars for ever 
and ever." 

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



JVo. 208. 



WHOLE FAMILY IN HEAVEN. 



BY REV. RICHARD KNILL, 

OF ST. PETERSBURGH. 



An eminent Chiistian, remarkable for her confidence in 
God, and for attention to the spiritual welfare of her house- 
hold, in a letter to her husband a little before she died, 
could say, " I rejoice in hope that we shall meet, an unbro- 
ken family, before the throne of God." What a delightful 
thought — a loliole family in heaven. 

From our earliest years we are accustomed to hear of a 
place of unutterable glory — that place is heaven. As our 
minds expand, we are told that heaven is the dwelling-place 
of God. Then, if our friends die, we hope they are gone to 
heaven to be for ever with God, and are taught that it is 
our duty to prepare to follow them. In some cases the 
minds of young people are deeply affected by these repre- 
sentations ; and it is their unspeakable happiness to begin 
to prepare for heaven almost as soon as they can think at all. 
But it is not so generally. Alas, it too often happens that 
men run on for many years in a course of forgetfulness of 
God, and of rebellion against God, before they are brought 
to repentance ; and some never repent at all, but remain in 
their rebellion for ever. They proceed from one step to 
another, from bad to worse, until they perish in their sins. 
O what a fearful sight is a gray-headed sinner ! " Can the 
Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his spots ? Then 
may they also do good who are accustomed to do evil." 

It would "be well if these thouo-hts had an abidinof-place 
in our hearts ; but many thmgs concur to remove them. Ah, 
this busy world, this ensnaring world, this sinful world ! 
Yet, amidst all its snares, and vanities, and sins, we some- 
times find a person whose affections are set on things above ; 
yea, we now and then are privileged to behold a whole 
family setting out in good earnest, and determined, by the 
help of God, to appear ''a Avhole family in heaven." 

VOL. IX. 3 



2 A WHOLE FAMILY IN HEAVEN. 

In musing on this subject, I thought of the following 
particulars, which I send out into the w^orld with many 
prayers, that those who read them may be benefited, and 
that some may thereby be helped on their Avay to glory, 

1. What a glorious sight it will be to behold all Christ's 
redeemed fa?7iil^ in heay en I Now they are separated. Part 
of them are in heaven, and the other part are yet on earth ; 
but there is a day coming, when they will be gathered out 
of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues, and 
make a great multitude which no man can number. bliss- 
ful morning, when my eyes shall gaze on this redeemed 
family ! 

2. How happy will you be to meet every member of your 
own family in heaven — not one wanting. Father and 
mother, sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, servants 
and apprentices — all there : all who surrounded the family 
table ; all who knelt together around the family altar, how- 
ever separated by distance or time, yet meeting in heaven 
at last. Reader, is there any prospect that this will be the 
case with you ? Have you ever any doubts respecting it ? 
O seek to have these doubts removed. Have you any hopes 
respecting it? O see that your hopes are well founded. 
Are you unconcerned about it? Ah, that is dreadful. 
Heaven is not to be trifled with. Hell is not to be trifled 
with. Souls are not to be trifled with. Remember, the 
day is coming, it is nigh at hand, when you will see and 
feel that these things deserved your chief attention. 

3. What a cheering circumstance it is when one in a fam- 
ily, by repenting of sin, and believing in the Lord Jesus 
Christ, has chosen heaven for his portion. Look at that 
man. Mark him well. Set it down as a certainty, that he 
will not go to heaven alone. He cannot be satisfied to walk 
solitarily in the way to Zion. He must have companions, 
and he will use every means, that, through God's blessing, 
lie may bring others to Christ. We anticipate great things 
from such a man ; and well we may, for God says to every 
new convert, "I Avill bless thee, and thou shalt'be a bless- 
ing." From the day of his conversion he begins to pray, 
and " the effectual, fervent prayer of a righteous man avail- 
eth much." He also begins to "shine," and he "giveth 
light unto all that are in the house." To such a friend I 
would say, watch for their souls. Look up to God for 



A WHOLE FAMILY IN HEAVEN. 3 

divine guidance, that you may act wisely in your station. 
Never be discouraged. Let the hope of bringing a whole 
family to heaven animate, quicken you. In the Lord Jeho- 
vah is everlasting strength ; and when you are leaning sim- 
ply on him, he will make you almost forget your own weak- 
ness, by the assurance that his arm is almighty. 

4. When a part of a family is already in heaven, what a 
powerful influence should this fact have on survivors. O, 
it is a solemn and instructive event when one member of 
a family is taken to glory. The thought of those w^ho are 
there ought to loosen our hearts from earth, and to raise our 
souls to heaven. Reader, shall you join this happy com- 
pany ? Soon, soon you will leave this earthly state, and 
whither will you go ? Will you join your family in heaven ? 
Have you made any preparation for it ? '' Except a man be 
born again," he cannot enter that kingdom. You must be 
born again. Are you born again ? What is there in you 
which indicates your heavenly birth ? Recollect, that the 
removal of one member of a family to a better world has 
sometimes been overruled by divine Providence for leading 
all the other members to consider their ways, to repent of 
their sins, to seek mercy through faith in the Lord Jesus 
Christ, and to walk humbly with God, until a voice from 
above said unto them, " Come up hither." 

5. How alarming it is when one in a family gives evi- 
dence that he is not preparing for heaven. how can we 
bear to think of a whole family in heaven but one. Whom 
should we select to be that miserable absentee ? Whose 
child should we pitch upon ? Whose brother should we 
mark as the victim ? Does not our blood run cold — do 
not our hearts shudder at the thought ? Are we not all 
ready to exclaim, " Let not this misery fall on one of mine ?" 
Now, parents, now is the time. Is there one in your family 
not preparing for heaven ? What ought to be done in his 
case ? Shall you let him alone ? no. Let your tears 
flow. Let your prayers ascend. Let your hearts melt. 
Let your language pierce his soul. follow him. Deter- 
mine never to give him up until you have reclaimed the 
prodigal — until you have snatched the firebrand from the 
flame ; then you may go on your way, rejoicing in hope, 
that all your family will meet in heaven. 

6. How ought the members of this heavenly family to 



4 A WHOLE FAMILY IN HEAVEN. 

live together loliile they are here upon earth. Thev arc re- 
deemed by the same blood, justified by the same grace, 
sanctified by the same Spiiit, brethren of the same family, 
heirs of the same inheritance. They tell us that they ex- 
pect to meet in glory, and to join in the same song of praise, 
" Unto him that loved us, and washed us from our sins in 
his own blood ; to him be glory for ever. Amen." This is 
delightful. How, then, ought they to live together here ? 
Like brethren, certainly. Like the children of God. Like 
the heirs of heaven. And do they act thus ? How do you 
act ? On what terms are you living with your brethren ? 
Remember, you are not fit for heaven if you cannot, if you 
do not love your brother. 0, if ever you expect to have 
the divine blessing resting upon your own souls ; if ever you 
expect to see many turning to the Lord from among your 
neighbors, you must first see to it that you love one another. 
-7. How dreadful will it be to see a whole family in hell. 
And is there not reason to fear that many whole families 
are already there ? Awful thought ! See them shut up in 
endless despair. O see them in the everlasting fire prepared 
for the devil and his angels. And are there not whole fam- 
ilies at this moment on their way thither, to whom not one 
word of solemn, friendly, godly counsel has been given, 
who \vAy^ never once been warned to flee from the wrath 
to come ? 

0, brethren, ye that love the Lord indeed, is there 
nothing for you to do among the multitudes which are ready 
to perish ? Surely, if you had compassion like unto the 
Son of God, here is Avork enough for all. And where 
ought you to begin ? 0, begin at home. Search your own 
heart. Then search into the state of your own family. 
Next, call on your neighbors. Press home the invitations 
of the Gospel. Say, " Behold the Lamb of God, which 
taketh away the sin of the Avorld." Beseech them, in 
Christ's stead, to be reconciled unto God; and when you 
come to die, you will not regret that you labored hard to 
bring a whole family to heaven — that you labored hard to 
save a whole family from hell. 



PUBLISHED BY THE- AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



T¥o. 399, 

WHERE IS HE? 



"Man giveth up the ghost," says Job, "and luhere is 
he .^" What has become of him ? A short time since, he 
was here, healthy, vigorous, and intelhgent ; participating 
in the pleasures, and sharing the toils of life ; the support 
of his children ; the hope of his friends ; the joy of his 
family circle. 

But where is he now ? We have committed his body to 
the tomb. But was that the last of him ? Shall we see 
him no more ? Has he perished for ever ? Where shall 
we turn for a reply to our inquiries ? 

Modern pJiilosophy affords but poor consolation : " He 
is no more. You have seen the last of him. He is as 
though he never had been." Is it possible that human 
wisdom has sunk so low ? Have all our boasted discover- 
ies raised our hopes no higher than annihilation ? Then go, 
console yourselves who can, with such a hope, for " miser- 
able comforters are ye all." Ah, annihilation is not to be 
had with a wish ; but to wish it, is the most abject thing in 
the world. 

We turn to the volume of inspiration, which brings "life 
and immortality" to light. This volume divides all man- 
kind into two classes : those who serve God, and those 
who serve him not ; and the reply it gives to our inquiry 
will have distinct reference to the class to which our friend 
belongs. 

Do you ask the question, "Where is he?" Avith refer- 
ence to one loho served God? The Bible informs you that, 
"absent from the body," he is "present with the Lord." 
This truth it teaches in great variety of phrase and example. 
Jesus represented the poor but pious Lazarus as being 
borne by angels to Abraham's bosom, while the rich man 
lifted up his eyes in hell, being in torments. 

In exact accordance with this representation was his 
promise to the penitent thief : " To-day shalt thou be with 
me in paradise." There, in that Kappy place, are the 
spirits of just men made perfect, waiting for the whole blood- 
bought family of the Lamb to be gathered in to celebrate 
his triumph. "I go to prepare a place for you ; and I will 

VOL. IX. 3* 



2 WHERE IS HE ? 

come ao-ain, and receive you to myself, that where I am, 
there ye may be also." " So shall we ever be with the 
Lord." ''Wherefore," adds Paul, "we are confident, and 
willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be pres- 
ent with the Lord." 

Could we inquire of one of those happy beings who are 
sent forth to minister to them who shall be heirs of salva- 
tion, he might consistently say to us, of the departed saint, 
" Your friend is happy. It was my task to watch his foot- 
steps through his short pilgrimage below, and record the 
numerous evidences of his faith and love. I saw him when 
no mortal eye was near, in frequent, holy communion with 
God. I marked his sincerity of purpose, his humble trust, 
his wakeful benevolence, his steadfast faith ; though baffled 
oft, and sore, by ten thousand evils from malignant foes, he 
struggled on. He fought the good fight; he won the 
crown. Whilst you and his weeping friends stood around 
his dying bed, I too, with some of my happy companions, 
was there : we witnessed the last triumph ; then bore his 
blessed soul away to the pi'esence of his God." 

Do we ask respecting a?i ungodly man, " Where is he ?" 
The Scriptures afford a sad, though not less faithful answer. 
They inform us that " the wicked is diiven away in his 
wickedness;" that "their damnation slumbereth not." 
Dives was lifting up his eyes in hell, being in torment, Avhile 
his five biethren were living in sinful pleasure on earth. 
Of the wicked man, an angel might reply to the question, 
"Where is he?" "Alas, unhappy man, he is for ever ban- 
ished from the presence of God and the glory of his power. 
I saw him perseveringly reject every oflfer of mercy. I saw 
him cherish in his heart the most bitter enmity to the holy 
service of God ; and while earnestly engaged in seeking the 
riches and honors of time, laugh at the hopes of eternity, 
and a judgment to come. I beheld the deep horror of his 
soul, when the messenger of death declared, * Thou fool, 
this night thy soul is required of thee.', I saw him trem- 
bling and confounded before the bar of God ; and then he 
was driven away to 'outer darkness, where there is weep- 
ing,' and wailing, 'and gnashing of teeth for ever.' " 

Behold yon pale, emaciated wretch. It is Thomas Paine. 
lie is dying — dying a victim io pvojligacy and brandy. He 
is horror-struck to be left alone for a single minute ; he dares 



WHERE IS HE 1 2 

not allow his curtains to be closed, nor permit those Avho 
wait upon him to be out of his sight. He exclaims inces- 
santly, so as to alarm all the house, '' O Lord, help me ! 
God, help me ! Jesus Christ, help me ! Christ, help me !" 
He confesses to one who had burnt his Age of Reason, that 
he wished all Avho had read it had been as wise, and adds, 
" If ever the devil had an agent on earth, I have been one !" 
And when apprehending immediate dissolution, he e:xclaims, 
" I think I can say, what they make Jesus Christ to say, 
' My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me ?' " In this 
state he dies, a stranger to penitence, and in all the horrors 
of an accusing conscience. Who has the hardihood to say, 
" Let my last end be like his ?" See Pike's Anecdotes, Dr. 
Manly's Letters, Cheetham's Life of Paine, etc. 

Enter now the chamber of the dying Voltaire, and see 
the support which infidelity affords its votaries. Hear him 
alternately supplicating and blaspheming the Saviour he had 
so long denied ; of whom he had so long said, " Crush the 
wretch." The hand which traced on the wall the sentence 
of an impious king, seemed to trace before his eyes, " Crush, 
then, do crush the wretch." In vain he turned his head 
away. It was written on his conscience, and in horror he 
exclaims, " Christ ! O Jesus Christ !" The Mareschal de 
Richelieu and M. Tronchin, his physician, fly from his bed- 
side, and declare that the death of the wretched man is too 
terrible to behold. He curses his former companions in 
infidelity, and bids them be gone. He exclaims, "I am 
abandoned by God and man." On one occasion he offered 
half his fortune to the doctor if he would prolong his life 
six months. The doctor answered, " Sir, you cannot live 
six weeks." "Then," replied the unhappy Voltaire, "I 
shall go to hell, and you will go with me," and soon after 
he expired. See Pike's Anecdotes, and Simpson's Plea. 

Let us now turn to a different scene. 

" The chamber where the good man meets his fate, 
Is privileged beyond the common walks 
Of virtuous life — quite on the verge of heaven." 

It is there impressions are made calculated to exalt the 
character and amend the heart. The language of an apos- 
tle, when contemplating his end, was, " I have fought the 
good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the 



WHERE IS HE 1 



faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of right- 
eousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give 
me ; and not to me only, but unto all them also that love 
liis appearing. death, where is thy sting? grave, 
where is thy victory ? Thanks be to God, who giveth us 
the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ. The wages 
of sin is death ; but the gift of God is eternal life, through 
Jesus Christ our Lord." 

Look for a moment at the dying bed of Br. Doddridge. 
He was a champion for the Gospel, which Paine and Vol- 
taire blasphemed. See its power to support and cheer him 
now. He several times said to Mrs. Doddridge, " 1 cannot 
express to you what a morning I have had : such delightful 
and transporting views of the heavenly world is my Father 
now indulging me with, as no words can express." Such 
sacred gratitude and joy appeared in his countenance, as 
often reminded her of these lines in one of his hymns : 

" When death o'er nature shall prevail, 
And all its powers of language fail, 
Joy tlirough my swimming eyes shall break. 
And mean the thanks I cannot speak." 

The last language recorded of him is, that he said " he 
had a cheerful, well-grounded hope, through the Redeemer, 
of being received to his everlasting mercy." 

IBut it is not only the rich and learned that enjoy peace 
through Jesus Christ. Behold yon poor Caffre woman, 
born in a miserable African kraal. She has heard and 
received the Gospel, and cheered by its promises, as she 
closes her dying eyes, exclaims, "Now I will go to my 
God." 

With whom now shall we choose our dying bed : with 
the Christian, or the infidel? With those who humbly walk 
with God, or with those who call all serious religion vain ? 
But if we would die with the Christian, we must live with 
the Christian. For it is only by a humble, lively faith in 
Christ, and a "patient continuance in well-doing," that we 
can hope to attain to "glory, honor, immortahty," and 
"eternal life." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



]\o. 300. 

DEBATES OF CONSCIENCE 

AVITH 

A DISTILLER, A WHOLESALE DEALER, 

AND 

A RETAILER. 

BY HE MAN HUMPHREY, D.D. 

PRESIDENT OF AMHERST COLLEGE. 

DIALOGUE I. 

AT THE DISTILLERY. FIRST INTERVIEW 

DisTiLLEn. Good morning, Mr. Conscience ; though I 
know you to be one of the earhest risers, especiaHy of late, 
I hardly expected to meet you here at day-dawn. 

Conscience. I am none too early, it seems, to find you 
at your vocation. But how are you going to dispose of this 
great black building ? 

Distiller. Why, I do not understand you. 

Conscience. What are vou doing: with these boilinsr 
craters, and that hideous worm there ? 

Distiller. Pray explain yourself. 

Conscience. Whose grain is that ? and what is bread 
called in the Bible ? 

Distiller. More enigmatical still. 

Conscience. To what market do you mean to send that 
long row of casks ? and how many of them Avill it take, upon 
an average, to dig a drunkard's grave ? 

Distiller. Ah, I understand you now, I was hoping 
that I had quieted you on that score. But I perceive you 
have come upon the old errand. You intend to read me 
another lecture upon the sixth commandment. But whal 
would you have me do ? 



2 DEBATES OF CONSCIENCE. 

Conscience, Put out these fires. 

Distiller. Nay, but hear me. I entered into this bu- 
siness with your approbation. The neighbors all encour- 
aged me. My brethren in the church said it would open a 
fine market for their rye, and corn, and cider ; and even my 
minister, happening to come along when we were raising, 
took a little with us under the shade, and said he loved to 
see his people industrious and enterprising. 

Conscience. " The times of this ignorance God winked 
at — but now commandeth all men everywhere to repent." 
In one part of your defence, at least, you are incorrect. It 
was not my voice, but my silence, if any thing, which gave 
consent ; and I have always suspected there w^as some foul 
play in the matter, and that I was kept quiet for the time 
by certain deleterious opiates. Indeed, I distinctly recol- 
lect the morning bitters and evening toddy, which you was 
accustomed to give me ; and though I thought but little of 
it then, I now see that it deadened all my sensibilities. This, 
I am aware, is no excuse. I ought to have resisted — I 
ought to have refused, and to have paralyzed the hand 
which put the cup to my lips. And when you struck the 
first stroke on this ground, I ought to have warned you off 
with the voice of seven thunders. That I did not then 
speak out, and do my duty, will cause me extreme regret 
and self-reproach to the latest hour of my life. 

Distiller. But what, my dear Conscience, has made 
you all at once so much wiser, not only than your former 
self, but than hundreds of enlightened men in every com- 
munity, whose piety Avas never doubted ? I myself know, 
and have heard of not a few good Christians, including even 
deacons and elders, who still continue to manufacture ardent 
spirit, and think, or seem to think it right. 

Conscience. And think it right ! Ask their consciences. 
I should like to witness some of those interviews which take 
place in the night, and which make Christian distillers — 



DEBATES OF CONSCIENCE. 3 

(what a solecism !) — so much more irritable than they used 
to be. I know one of the brotherhood, at least, whose con- 
science has been goading him these five years, and yet he 
perseveres. 

Distiller. But if I stop, what will the people do ? Half 
the farmers in town depend upon their rye and cider to pay 
their taxes, and even to support the Gospel. 

Conscience. So, then, you are pouring out these streams 
of liquid death over the land, and burning up your own 
neighbors, to enable them to pay their taxes and support 
religion I Why don't you set up a coffin factory, to create a 
brisker demand for lumber, and so help the farmers to pay 
their taxes ; and then spread the smallpox among the peo- 
ple, that they may die the faster, and thus increase your busi- 
aess, and give you a fair profit ? It will not do. I tell you, 
that I can give you no peace till you put out these fires and 
destroy that worm. 

Distiller. How can I ? Here is all my living, espe- 
cially since, as you know, my eldest son fell into bad habits, 
in spite of all the good advice I daily gave him, and squan- 
dered what might have afforded me a comfortable inde- 
pendence. 

Conscience. Suppose you was now in Brazil, and the 
owner of a large establishment to fit out slave-traders with 
handcuffs for the coast of Africa, and could not change 
your business without considerable pecuniary sacrifice ; 
would you make the sacrifice, or would you keep your 
fires and hammers still going ? 

Distiller. Why do you ask such puzzling questions ? 
You know I don't like them at all, especially when my 
mind is occupied with other subjects. Leave me, at least 
till I can compose myself, I beseech you. 

Conscience. Nay, but hear me through. Is it right 
for you to go on manufacturing fevers, dropsy, consump- 
tion, delirium tremens, and a host of other frightful diseases, 



4 DEBATES OF CONSCIENCE. 

because your property happens to be vested in a distillery ? 
Is it consistent with the great law of love by which you 
profess to be governed? Will it bear examination in a 
dying hour ? Shall I bid you look back upon it from the 
brink of eternity, that you may from such recollections 
gather holy courage for your pending conflict with the king 
of terrors ? Will you bequeath this magazine of wrath and 
perdition to your onl}^ son not already ruined, and go out 
of the world rejoicing that you can leave the whole concern 
in the hands of one who is so trustworthy and so dear ? 

[Here the Distiller leaves abruptly, without answering 
a word.] 

SECOND INTERVIEW. 

Distiller. (Seeing Conscience approach, and beginning 
to tremble.) What, so soon and so early at your post 
again ? I did hope for a short respite. 

Conscience. 0, I am distressed — I cannot hold my 
peace. I am pained at my very heart. 

Distiller. Do be composed, I beseech you, and hear 
wha-t I have to say. Since our last interview I have re- 
solved to sell out, and I expect the purchaser on in a very 
few days. 

Conscience. What will he do with the establishment 
when he gets it ? 

Distiller. You must ask him, and not me. But what- 
ever he may do with it, / shall be clear. 

Conscience. I wish I could be sure of that ; but let us 
see. Though you will not make poison by the hundred 
barrels any longer yourself, you will sell this laboratory of 
death to another man, for the same horrid purpose. You 
will not, with your own hands, f]jo on foro-ino- dai^orers for 
maniacs to use upon themselves and their friends, provided 
you can get some one to take your business at a fair price. 
You will no longer drag the car of Juggernaut over the 



DEBATES OF CONSCIENCE. 5 

bodies of prostrate devotees, if you can sell out the privilege 
to good advantage ! 

Distiller. Was ever any man's conscience so captious 
before ? You seem determined not to be satisfied with any 
thing. But beware ; by pushing matters in this way you will 
produce a violent " reaction." Even professors of religion 
will not bear it. For myself, I wish to treat you with all pos- 
sible respect ; but forbearance itself must have its limits. 

Conscience. Possibly you may be able to hold me in 
check a little longer; but I am all the while gathering 
strength for an onset which you cannot withstand ; and if 
you cannot bear these kind remonstrances now, how will 
you grapple with " the worm that never dies?" 

Distiller. Enough, enough. I will obey your voice. 
But why so pale and deathlike ? 

Conscience. 0, I am sick, I am almost suffocated. 
These tartarean fumes, these dreadful forebodings, these 
heart-rending sights, and above all, my horrid dreams, I 
cannot endure them. There comes our nearest neighbor, 
stealing across the lots, with his jug and half bushel of rye. 
What is his errand, and where is his hungry, shivering 
family ? And see there too, that tattered, half-starved boy, 
just entering the yard with a bottle — who sent him here at 
this early hour ? All these barrels — where are the wretch- 
ed beings who are to consume this liquid fire, and to be 
consumed by it ? 

Distiller. Spare me, spare me, I beseech you. By 
going on at this rate a little longer you Avill make me as 
nervous as yourself. 

Conscience. But I cannot close this interview till I. 
have related one of the dreams to which I just alluded. It 
was only last night that I suffered in this way, more than 
tongue can tell. The whole terrific vision is written in let- 

o 

ters of fire upon the tablet of my memory ; and I feel it all 
the while burning deeper and deeper. 

VOL. IX. 4 



DEBATES OF CONSCIENCE. 



I thought I stood by a great river of melted lava, and 
while I was wondering from what mountain or vast abyss 
it came, suddenly the field of my vision was extended to 
the distance of several hundred miles, and I perceived that, 
instead of springing from a single source, this rolling tor- 
rent of fire was fed by numerous tributary streams, and 
these again by smaller rivulets. And what do you think I 
heard and beheld, as I stood petrified with astonishment 
and horror ? There were hundreds of poor wretches strug- 
gling and just sinking in the merciless flood. As I con- 
templated the scene still more attentively, the confused 
noise of boisterous and profane merriment, mingled with 
loud shrieks of despair, saluted my ears. The hair of my 
head stood up — and looking this way and that way, I be- 
held crowds of men, women, and children, thronging down 
to the very margin of the river — some eagerly bowing down 
to slake their thirst with the consuming liquid, and others 
convulsively striving to hold them back. Some I saw act- 
ually pushing their neighbors headlong from the treacher- 
ous bank, and others encouraging them to plunge in, by 
holding up the fiery temptation to their view. To insure a 
sufficient depth of the river, so that destruction might be 
made doubly sure, I saw a great number of men, and some 
whom I knew to be members of the church, laboriously 
turning their respective contributions of the glowing and 
hissing liquid into the main channel. This was more than 
I could bear. I was in perfect torture. But when I ex- 
postulated with those who were nearest to the place where 
I stood, they coolly answered, This is the locnj in ivhich ive 
f/et our living ! 

But what shocked me more than all the rest, and cur- 
dled every drop of blood in my veins, was the sight which 
I had of this very distillery pouring out its tributary stream 
of fire ! And 0, it distracts, it maddens me to think of it. 
There you yourself stood feeding the torrent which liad al- 



DEBATES OF CONSCIENCE. 7 

ready swallowed up some of your own family, and threat- 
ened every moment to sweep you aAvay ! This last circum- 
stance brought me from the bed, by one convulsive bound, 
into the middle of the room ; and I awoke in an agony 
which I verily believe I could not have sustained for another 
moment. 

Distiller. I will feed the torrent no longer. The fires 
of my distillery shall be put out. From this day, from this 
hour, I renounce the manufacture of ardent spirit for ever. 



DIALOGUE II. 

WHOLESALE DEALEr's COUNTING-ROOM. 

Conscience. (Looking over the leger with a serious 
air.) What is that last invoice from the West Indies ? 

Rum-Dealer. Only a few casks of fourth proof, for par- 
ticular customers. 

Conscience. And that domestic poison, via New Or- 
leans ; and on the next page, that large consignment, via 
Erie Canal ? 

Dealer. 0, nothing but two small lots of prime whis- 
key, such as we have been selling these twenty years. But 
why these chiding inquiries ? They disquiet me exceeding- 
ly. And to tell you the plain truth, I am more than half 
offended at this morbid inquisitiveness. 

Conscience. Ah, I am afraid, as I have often told you, 
that this is a bad business ; and the more I think of it, the 
more it troubles me. 

Dealer. Why so ? You are always preaching up in- 
dustry as a Christian virtue, and my word for it, were I to 
neglect my business, and saunter about the hotels and 
steamboat wharves, as some do, you would fall into con- 
vulsions, as if I had committed the unpardonable sin. 

Co^JSCiENCE. Such pettish quibbling is utterly unworthy 



8 DEBATES OF CONSCIENCE. 

of your good sense and ordinary candor. You know, as 
well as I do, the great difference between industry in some 
safe and honest calling, and driving a business which car- 
ries poverty and ruin to thousands of families. 

Dealer. Honest industry ! This is more cruel still. 
You have known me too long to throw out such insinua- 
tions ; and besides, it is notorious, that some of the first 
merchants in our city are engaged, far more extensively, in 
the same traffic. 

Conscience. Be it so. " To their own Master th'ey 
stand or fall." But if fair dealing consists in " doing as we 
would be done by," how can a man of your established 
mercantile and Christian reputation sustain himself, if he 
continues to deal in an article which he knows to be more 
destructive than all the plagues of Egypt ? 

Dealer. Do you intend, then, to make me answerable 
for all the mischief that is done by ardent spirit, in the 
whole state and nation ? What I sell is a mere drop of the 
bucket, compared with the consumption of a single county. 
Where is the proof that the little which my respectable cus- 
tomers carry into the country, with their other groceries, 
ever does any harm ? How do you know that it helps to 
make such a frightful host of drunkards and vagabonds ? 
And if it did, whose fault would it be ? I never gave nor 
sold a glass of whiskey to a tippler in my life. Let those 
who will drink to excess, and make brutes of themselves, 
answer for it. 

Conscience. Yes, certainly they must answer for it; 
but will that excuse those who furnish the poison ? Did 
you never hear of abettors and accessaries, as well as prin- 
cipals in crime ? When Judas, in all the agony of remorse 
and despair, threw down the thirty pieces of silver before 
the chief priests and elders, exclaiming, / have sinned, in 
that I have betrayed the innocent blood — they coolly an- 
swered, What is that to us? See thou to that. And was 



DEBATES OF CONSCIENCE. 



it therefore nothing to them ? Had they no hand in that 
cruel tragedy ? Was it nothing to Pilate — nothing to Her- 
od — nothing to the multitude who were consenting to the 
crucifixion of the Son of God — because they did not drive 
the nails and thrust the spear ? 

0, when I think of what you are doing to destroy the 
bodies and souls of men, I cannot rest. It terrifies me at 
all hours of the night. Often and often, when I am just 
losing myself in sleep, I am startled by the most frightful 
groans and unearthly imprecations, coming out of these 
hogsheads. And then, those long processions of rough- 
made coffins and beggared families, which I dream of, from 
nightfall till daybreak, they keep me all the while in a 
cold sweat, and I can no longer endure them. 

Dealer. Neither can I. Something must be done. You 
have been out of your head more than half the time for this 
six months. I have tried all the ordinary remedies upon 
you without the least effect. Indeed, every new remedy 
seems only to aggravate the disease. 0, what would not I 
give for the discovery of some anodyne which would lay 
these horrible phantasms. The case would be infinitely 
less trying, if I could sometimes persuade you, for a night 
or two, to let me occupy a different apartment from your- 
self; for when your spasms come on, one might as well try 
to sleep with embers in his bosom, as where you are. 

Conscience. Would it mend the matter at all, if, in- 
stead of sometimes dreaming, I were to be always wide 
awake ? 

Dealer. Ah, there's the grand difficulty. For I find 
that when you do wake up, you are more troublesome than 
ever. Then you are always harping upon my being a pro- 
fessor of religion, and bringing up some text of Scripture, 
which might as well be let alone, and which you would not 
ring in my ears, if you had any regard to my peace, or even 
your own. More than fifty times, within a month, have 

VOL. IX. 4* 



10 DEBATES OF CONSCIENCE. 

you quoted, " By their fruits ye shall know them'' In 
fact, so uncharitable have you groAvn of late, that from the 
drift of some of your admonitions, a stranger would think 
me but little, if any, better than a murderer. And all 
because some vagabond or other may possibly happen to 
shorten his days by drinking a little of the identical spirit 
which passes through my hands. 

Conscience. You do me bare justice when you say that 
I have often reproved you, and more earnestly of late than 
I formerly did. But my remonstrances have always been 
between you and me alone. If I have charged you with 
the guilt of hurrying men to the grave and to hell, by this 
vile traffic, it has not been upon the house-top. I cannot, 
it is true, help knowing how it grieves your brethren, grati- 
fies the enemies of religion, and excites the scorn of drunk- 
ards themselves, to see your w^harf covered with the fiery 
element ; but I speak only in your own ear. To yourself I 
have wished to prove a faithful monitor, though I have sad 
misgivings, at times, even with regard to that. You will 
bear me witness, however, that I have sometimes trembled 
exceedingly, for fear that I should be compelled, at last, to 
carry the matter up by indictment to the tribunal of Eter- 
nal Justice. 

To avoid this dreadful necessity, let me once more rea- 
son the case with you in few words. You know perfectly 
well, that ardent spirit kills its tens of thousands in the 
United States every year ; and there is no more room to 
doubt that many of these lives are destroyed by the very 
liquor which you sell, than if you saw them staggering un- 
der it into the drunkard's grave. How then can you pos- 
sibly throw off bloodguiltiness, with the light which you 
now enjoy ? In faithfulness to your soul, and to Him whose 
vicegerent I am, I cannot say less than this, especially if 
you persist any longer in the horrible traffic ? 

Dealer. Pardon me, my dear Conscience, if, under the 



DEBATES OF CONSCIENCE. H 

excitement of the moment, I complained of your honest and 
continued importunity. Be assured, there is no friend in 
the world, with whom I am so desirous of maintaining a 
good understanding as with yourself. And for your relief 
and satisfaction, I now give you my solemn pledge, that I 
will close up this branch of my business as soon as possi- 
ble. Indeed, I have commenced the process already. My 
last consignments are less, by more than one half, than 
were those of the preceding year ; and I intend that, when 
another year comes about, my books shall speak still more 
decidedly in my favor. 

Conscience. These resolutions would be perfectly sat- 
isfactory, if they were in the present tense. But if it was 
wrong to sell five hundred casks last year, how can it be 
right to sell two hundred this year, and one hundred next ? 
If it is criminal to poison forty men at one time, how can it 
be innocent to poison twenty at another ? If you may not 
throw a hundred firebrands into the city, how will you 
prove that you may throw one ? 

Dealer. Very true, very true — but let us wave this 
point for the present. It affects me very strangely. 

Conscience. How long, then, will it take to dry up 
this fountain of death ? 

Dealer. Don't call it so, I beseech you ; but I intend 
to be entirely out of the business in two or three years, at 
farthest. 

Conscience. Two or three years ! Can you, then, 
after all that has passed between us, persist two or three 
years longer in a contraband traffic ? I verily thought, that 
when we had that long conference two or three months ago, 
you resolved to close the concern at once ; and that, when 
we parted, I had as good as your promise, that you would. 
Surely, you cannot so soon have forgotten it. 

Dealer. No, I remember that interview but too well ; 
for I was never so unhappy in my life. I did almost re- 



12 DEBATES OF CONSCIENCE. 

solve, and more than half promise, as you say. But after 
I had time to get a little composed, I thought you had 
pushed matters rather too far ; and that I could convince 
you of it, at a proper time. I see, however, that the at- 
tempt would be fruitless. But as I am anxious for a com- 
promise, let me ask whether, if I give away all the profits 
of this branch of my business to the Bible Society, and other 
religious institutions, till I can close it up, you will not be 
satisfied ? 

Conscience. Let me see. Five hundred dollars, or one 
hundred dollars, earned to promote the cause of religion by 
selhng poison ! By killing husbands, and fathers, and broth- 
ers, and torturing poor women and children ! It smells of 
blood — and can God possibly accept of such an offering ? 

Dealer. So then, it seems, I must stop the sale at once, 
or entirely forfeit what little charity you have left. 

Conscience. You must. Delay is death — death to the 
consumer at least ; and how can you flatter yourself that it 
will not prove your own eternal death ? My convictions 
are decisive, and be assured, I deal thus plainl}^ because I 
love you, and cannot bear to become your everlasting tor- 
mentor. 



DIALOGUE III. 

AT THE retailer's STAND. 

Conscience. Do you know that little half-starved, bare- 
footed child, that you just sent home with two quarts of 
rank poison ? 

(Retailer hums a tune to himself, and affects not to hear 
the question.) 

Conscience. I see by the paper of this morning, that 

the furniture of Mr. M is to be sold under the hammer 

to-morrow. Have I not often seen him in your taproom ? 

Retailer. I am extremely busy just now, in bringing 
up our ledger. 



DEBATES OF CONSCIENCE. 13 

Conscience. Have you heard how N abused his 

family, and turned them all into the street the other night, 
after being supplied by you with whiskey ? 

Retailer. He is a brute, and ought to be confined in a 
dungeon six months at least, upon bread and water. 

Conscience. Was not S , who hung himself lately, 

one of your steady customers ? and where do you think his 
soul is now fixed for eternity? You sold him rum that 
evening, not ten minutes before you went to the prayer- 
meeting, and had his money in your pocket — for you would 
not trust him — when you led in the exercises. I heard you 
ask him once, why he did not attend meeting, and send his 
children to the Sabbath- school ; and I shall never forget his 
answer. " Come, you talk like a minister ; but, after all, 
we are about of one mind — at least in some things. Let 
me have my jug and be going." 

Retailer. I know he was an impudent, hardened 
wretch ; and though his death was extremely shocking, I 
am glad to be rid of him. 

Conscience. Are you ready to meet him at the bar of 
God, and to say to the Judge, " He was my neighbor — I saw 
him going down the broad way, and I did every thing that 
a Christian could do to save him?" 

Retailer. (Aside. that I could stifle the upbraid- 
ings of this cruel monitor.) You keep me in constant tor- 
ment. This everlasting cant about rank poison, and liquid 
jire, and hlood, and murder, is too much for even a Chris- 
tian to put up with. Why, if any body but Conscience 
were to make such insinuations and charges, he would 
be indictable as a foul slanderer, before a court of jus- 
tice. 

Conscience. Is it slander, or is it because I tell you the 
truth, that your temper is so deeply ruffled under my re- 
monstrances ? Suppose I were to hold my peace, while 
your hands are becoming more and more deeply crimsoned 



X4 DEBATES OF CONSCIENCE. 

with this bloody traffic. What would you say to me, when 
you come to meet that poor boy who just went out, and 
his drunken father, and broken-hearted mother, at the bar 
of God ? Would you thank your conscience for having let 
you alone while there was space left for repentance ? 

Retailer. Ah, had honest trader ever such a conscience 
to deal with before? Always just so uncompromising — 
always talking about the "golden rule" — always insisting 
upon a moral standard which nobody can live up to — al- 
ways scenting poverty, murder, and suicide, in every glass 
of whiskey, though it Avere a mile off. The truth is, you 
are not fit to live in this world at all. Acting in conformity 
with your more than puritanical rules, would starve any 
man and his family to death. 

Conscience. Well, here comes another customer — see 
the carbuncles ! Will you fill his bottle with wrath, to be 
poured out without mixture, by and by, upon your own 
head ? Do you not know that his pious w^ife is extremely 
ill, and suffering for want of every comfort, in their misera- 
ble cabin? 

.Retailer. No, Mr. E , go home and take care of 

your family. I am determined to harbor no more drunk- 
ards here. 

Conscience. You mean to make a distinction then, do 
you, between harboring those who are already ruined, and 
helping to destroy such as are now respectable members 
of society. You will not hereafter tolerate a single drunk- 
ard on your premises ; but — 

Retailer. Ah, I see what you are aiming at ; and really, 
it is too much for any honest man, and still more for any 
Christian to bear. You know it is a long time since I have 
pretended to answer half your captious questions. There's 
no use in it. It only leads on to others still more imperti- 
nent and puzzling. If I am the hundredth part of that 
factor of Satan which you would make me, I ought to be 



DEBATES OF CONSCIENCE. 15 

dealt with, and cast out of the church at once ; and why 
don't my good brethren see to it ? 

Conscience. That's a hard question, which they, per- 
haps, better know how to answer than I do. 

Retailer. But have you forgotten, my good Conscience, 
that in retaihng spirit, I am under the immediate eye and 
sanction of the laws. Mine is no contraband traffic, as you 
very well know. I hold a license from the rulers and 
fathers of the state, and have paid my money for it into the 
public treasury. Why do they continue to grant and sell 
licenses, if it is wrong for me to sell rum ? 

Conscience. Another hard question, which I leave 
them to answer as best they can. It is said, however, that 
public bodies have no soul, and if they have no soul, it is 
difficult to see how they can have any conscience ; and if 
not, what should hinder them from selling licenses ? But 
suppose the civil authorities should offer to sell you a license 
to keep a gambling-house, or a brothel, would you pur- 
chase such a license, and present it as a salvo to your con- 
science ? 

Retailer. I tell you once more, there is no use in try- 
ing to answer your questions ; for say what I will, you have 
the' art of turning every thing against me. It was not al- 
ways so, as you must very distinctly remember. Formerly 
I could retail hogshead after hogshead of all kinds of spirits, 
and you slept as quietly as a child. But since you began 
to read these Reports and Tracts about drinking, and to at- 
tend Temperance meetings, I have scarcely had an hour's 
peace of my life. I feared that something like this would 
be the eifect upon your nervous temperament, when you 
began ; and you may recollect that I strongly objected to 
your troubling yourself with these new speculations. It 
now grieves me to think that I ever yielded to your impor- 
tunity ; and beware that you do not push me to extremities 
in this matter, for I have about come to the resolution that 



16 DEBATES OF CONSCIENCE. 

I will have no more of these mischievous pamphlets, either 
about my store or tavern ; and that your temperance agents 
may declaim to the winds and walls, if they please. 

Conscience. I am amazed at your blindness and obsti- 
nacy. It is now from three to five years since I began to 
speak — though in a kind of indistinct undertone at first — 
against this bloody traffic. I have reasoned, I have remon- 
strated, and latterly I have threatened and implored with 
increasing earnestness. At times you have listened, and 
been convinced that the course which you are pursuing, 
in this day of light, is infamous, and utterly inconsistent 
with a Christian profession ; but before your convictions and 
resolutions have time to ripen into action, the love of money 
regains its ascendency : and thus have you gone on resolv- 
ing, and relapsing, and re-resolving — one hour at the pre- 
paratory lecture, and the next unloading whiskey at your 
door ; one moment mourning over the prevalence of intem- 
perance, and the next arranging your decanters to entice 
the simple ; one day partaking of the cup of the Lord at 
his table, and the next offering the cup of devils to your 
neighbors ; one day singing, 

" All that I liave, and all I am, 
I consecrate to Thee," 

and the next, for the sake of a little gain, sacrificing your 
character, and polluting all you can induce to drink ! 0, 
how can I hold my peace ? How can I let you alone ? If 
you will persist, your blood, and the blood of those whom 
you thus entice and destroy, be upon your own head. 
Whether you will hear, or whether you will forbear, I shall 
not cease to remonstrate ; and when I can do no more to 
reclaim you, I will sit down at your gate, in the bitterness 
of despair, and cry. Murder ! Murder ! ! MURDER ! ! ! 

Retailer. (Pale and trembling.) " Go thy way for this 
time ; when I have a convenient season, I will call for thee." 



I\o. 301 



THE 



AGED PENITENT; 

OR, 

FILIAL PIETY REWARDED 

AN AUTHENTIC NARRATIVE. 




See Page 7. 

When I first saw Mr. L , the principal subject of this 

narrative, his tall figure and venerable appearance indelibly 
impressed my mind. He was eighty years of age, and up- 
wards of six feet in height, though his foi-m was somewhat 
bent. His hair was as white as age could make it, and his 
limbs were yet firm and vigorous. In early life he had been 
a soldier of the Revolution ; and afterwards, for many years, 
had followed the occupation of a miller ; but he was now 
cultivating the farm of a widowed daughter, with whom he 
resided. 

VOL. IX. - 5 



2 THE AGED PENITENT. 

He was, however, so deaf that it -was very difficult to 
converse with him beyond a few short sentences. The 
sight of but one eye remained, and that barely sufficient to 
enable him to read. His love of this world continued un- 
abated ; and he seemed almost inaccessible to divine truth. 
His deafness was his excuse for never attending pubUc wor- 
ship, and the defect in his vision afforded a ready apology 
for neglecting the written word. He was also quickly 
aroused to anger, and when thwarted, even in trifles, was 
very profane. 

Often have I exclaimed concerning him, " How cruelly 
has that man used the immortal spirit that dwells within 
him ! How dark its habitation now, how certain its doom 
hereafter ! So old, so near the close of life, and so uncon- 
scious of his danger!" I have turned away, as Ave turn 
from some awful catastrophe which we cannot prevent, but 
the issue of which we shudder to witness. 

But I did not then know how earnestly and persevering- 
ly his pious daughter was w^restling alternately with her 
God and her aged parent for the salvation of his soul. The 
emotions of her heart can only be understood by those who, 
like her, have beheld an aged father upon the verge of 
eternity, without one sohtary ray of hope to brighten his 
prospects. 

That their beloved friends should live at enmity with 
the Redeemer, is, to the people of God, the bitterest draught 
of affliction they have to drink in this vale of tears. How 
painful the reflection, that many an eye that now beams 
upon us with tenderest aff"ection, may be averted from us 
in the world to come, in all the shame of everlasting aban- 
donment, or else turned towards us in all the anguish of 
despair ! Feelings like these often lie concealed from com- 
mon observation, and are only poured forth to Him who 
heareth prayer. 

The tears, the prayers, the alternate hopes and fears of 
this believing daughter are only known to Him who, while 



THE AGED PENITENT. 3 

he sees in secret, rewards openly. Her exertions, however, 
were not limited to the closet. She used all that influence 
which affection best knows how to use with the objects of 
its solicitude. When, in some of Mr. L 's gusts of pas- 
sion, his aged form would tremble with the violence of ex- 
cited temper, and his lips utter language which agonized 
her heart, she would still throw her arms around him, and 
with tears intreat him to consider his age and accountabih- 
ty ; and then, too, she would pour into his ear such a strain 
of affectionate and pious eloquence, that before she left him 
he would become calm and abashed, if not convinced. 

This conduct displayed much Christian heroism. There 
is a mysterious principle in the human heart, which renders 
it difficult to warn with faithfulness, and at the same time 
with tenderness, our near relatives, especially our superiors 

in age. The daughter of Mr. L might have pleaded, 

for neglect of duty, her father's age, his insensibility, his 
deafness ; but she sought no excuse. She opposed to his 
anger the mildness of a Christian ; to his obduracy, the 
melting tenderness of filial love ; to repeated discourage- 
ments, the strong confidence of an overcoming faith. 

It was not until she had long hoped against hope, that 
any evidence was afforded that she had not labored in vain ; 
and when that evidence ivas afforded, it seemed as if God 
would show, that in answering the prayers of his children 
he sometimes designs to take them by surprise. 

On her return home rather late one evening from a re- 
ligious meeting, she was obliged to go into the apartment 
of her aged parent to obtain a light. She found the room 
entirely dark, and supposed he had gone to rest. Having 
groped her way to the fireplace, and lighted a candle, on 
turning to leave the room, the first object that met her eye 
was her father, kneeling in prayer, and drowned in tears. 
The surprise was mutual, and mutual embarrassment en- 
sued. What a sight for such a daughter ! Her first im- 
pulse was to exclaim, " O my father!" The next was, to 



4 THE AGED PENITENT. 

leave him at the throne of grace. She hurried out to un- 
bosom her feehngs, and to intercede at the same throne. 

Whether this aged sinner had long stifled the convic- 
tions and strivings of the Spirit, or whether they reached 
him for the first time that night, I am not informed. Enough 
is known to testify to a mighty working of the power of 
God. In the stillness of night, rendered more silent and 
dark to Mr. L by his bodily infirmities, instead of find- 
ing that rest which age and labor so imperiously demand, 
we see him earnestly seeking a once despised and rejected 
Saviour. 

His daughter soon requested me to call and see him, 
merely mentioning that she beheved he was more disposed 
than formerly to attend to the subject of religion. In com- 
plying with her request, I thought it most probable that I 
should find him endeavoring to patch up some miserable 
refuge of lies against the near approach of death. Indeed, 
so little did I expect satisfaction from my visit to him, that 
on the way to his dwelling I tried to prepare myself for 
disappointment. 

On entering his room I found him so attentively engaged 
in reading his Bible that he did not perceive me until some 
one said to him in a very loud voice, " The minister has 
come to see you." He arose immediately, and his whole 
appearance spoke volumes. I perceived at once that he 
was no longer the careless sinner I once had known him. 
The tears trickled fast down his furrowed cheeks, as he wel- 
comed me, not only to his house, but to his heart. A deep 
sense of his un worthiness, both in the sio-ht of God and man, 
was mingled with overflowing gratitude for my visit. I 
seated myself beside him, but such was his deafness, that 
the only way I could instruct him was to point out passages 
of Scripture suited to his case. In this I was often inter- 
rupted by his voice, tremulous with emotion, exclaiming, 

" sir, I have been such a great sinner — to think how 
long I have lived in neglect of God and eternity : and now 



THE AGED PENITENT 5 

I am SO deaf that no one can talk to me without the greatest 
trouble. And my sight is failing me so fast> that I can only 
read a little at a time. I am afraid I shall never understand 
this book. I am not worthy of all this trouble." 

In this way he usually expressed himself. His views of 
sin at this time were uncommonly clear. He seemed to feel 
deeply its odiousness in the sight of God, and its desolating 
influence upon his own heart. He considered himself the 
chief of sinners, because he knew of none that had spent so 
many years in sin. The retrospect of that life was painful 
beyond expression. His long service of sin and the world 
overwhelmed him with remorse and shame ; and his obdu- 
racy and hardness of heart appeared marked with peculiar 
aggravation. How bitterly did he deplore the folly of his 
early neglect of religion. What would he not give for the 
happiness of looking back upon a life devoted to God. His 
distress was aggravated by his increasing infirmities. The 
fear of total blindness was dreadful to him, who saw that 
his only hope lay in the volume of eternal truth. So anx- 
ious was he at this time to seek there, as for hid treasures, 
that he never closed that book without a sigh, and rarely 
laid it aside without tears. 

As I closed this visit, I could not but fear lest he should 
descend to his grave without any clear evidence of peace 
with God ; for he seemed to obtain no distinct idea of the 
plan of salvation through a crucified Redeemer. He knew 
he had no righteousness of his own, but how he could be 
saved without it he did not apprehend. For many years he 
had excluded himself from the means of grace ; and now, 
how could one who had been so long naturally and spiritu- 
ally deaf to the voice of mercy, ever be taught to realize 
the joy of sins forgiven ? But God's thoughts are not as 
our thoughts. It would seem as if he had selected one 
whose case appeared so hopeless, expressly to manifest the 
riches of his grace. 

I visited Mr. L during the succeeding year as often 

VOL. IX. 5=*^ 



Q THE AGED PENITENT. 

as circumstances would permit, but in all that time his soul 
found no substantial peace. He did not doubt the ability 
of Christ to save all that come unto God b}^ him, but his 
willingness to save such a sinner as he had been, he could 
not realize. 

One reason, probably, why he so long continued without 
the consolations which are in Christ, was his difficulty in 
obtaining evidences of the sincerity of his faith. The con- 
vert in early or in active life finds daily evidences of his 
faith in the frequent trials to which it is exposed. At one 
time he has open dangers to shun ; at another, he is called 
upon to engage in active duties. From his watchfulness in 
the one case, and his zeal in the other, he derives testimo- 
nies to his faith in God. Not so with him whom age or 
bodily infirmities preclude from laboring in his Master's 
vineyard. He must derive his evidences alone from the 
exercises of his heart — a heart which he knows is deceitful 

above all things. Here was Mr. L 's difficulty. He had 

lived long without God ; he had spent the ardor of his 
youth and the energy of his manhood in working for the 
wages of sin ; and now that he had grown old, and could 
no longer engage in active pursuits, how could he discover, 
from any obvious fruits of repentance, whether he had really 
passed from death unto life ? How could he hope that God 
would receive the miserable remnant of a worn-out life ? 

From the time of my first visit to Mr. L after his 

mind became serious, he appeared entirely occupied with 
the great concerns of salvation. It was a common remark 
of those who called on him, " We always find him reading 
his Bible." He would pore over the sacred volume with 
such intense interest, that it required an efl:brt to divert his 
attention to other things as occasion required. I have no 
doubt, from his manner, thut he was often engaged in prayer 
when his eyes appeared fixed on the sacred page. In fact, 
lie received very little instruction from any source except his 
Bible and the teachings of the Holy Spirit. The method 



THE AGED PENITENT. 7 

wliicli I generally pursued with him was, as I have already- 
stated, to point to such portions of Scripture as I thought 
suited his case, but his deafness precluded my commenting 
upon the text. While I watched that he might not fall into 
error, I was gratified to observe how far he might, in that 
manner, be guided into all truth. The result was, in my 
view, a triumphant proof that the Spirit of God is the best 
interpreter. His dangerous state as a sinner, the holiness 
and justice of the divine law, the necessity of a new heart, 
and of faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, and the duty of a 
total and unreserved submission to the will and sovereignty 
of God, were confessed by him, without any other guidance 
than His who has promised to give the Holy Spirit to them 
that ask him. 

He removed to the distance of some miles, but several 
times came to see me ; and was much pleased with the op- 
portunity of religious intercourse afforded him, in conver- 
sation, by an ear-trumpet he had procured. His visits 
were always spiritual, and deeply interesting ; and he grad- 
ually obtained clearer views of the nature of faith, and of 
his own personal interest in Christ. 

I afterwards visited him at his new residence. It was 
my last visit ; and the impression it left upon my mind will 
not be soon erased. On inquiring for him, I was pointed to 
the room he occupied, at the door of which I knocked sev- 
eral times ; and upon receiving no answer, I opened it and 

entered. Mr. L was seated in a chair, which he had 

drawn near the window — he was alone, and his back w^as 
towards the door. I was immediately struck with the mo- 
tionless appearance of his figure, and the singularity of his 
attitude. His head was bowed down in such a manner as 
to appear, at first, as if it reclined upon his knees. I hes- 
itated a moment before I approached him, but could not 
perceive the slightest movement. It seemed, at first, as if 
the vital spark was extinguished. I was soon relieved ; for, 
looking over him, I saw the large Bible open on his aged 



g THE AGED PENITENT. 

arms, supported by his knees, and its pages wet with his 
tears. I paused to contemplate the scene, unwilHng to de- 
stroy its interest. That form bending under the weight of 
fourscore years, those whitened locks, those secret tears, 
that precious Bible, are all still vividly before me. How 
long he would have remained in this position I cannot say. 
He showed no disposition to move, until I attracted his at- 
tention by laying my hand upon his shoulder. Now, for the 
first time, he told me of his "peace and joy in beheving." 
Jesus was now precious to him ; he could now say, " I know 
that my Redeemer liveth." 

Let not the reader suppose that he felt less of his unwor- 
thiness, nor of the indwelling corruptions of his nature. On 
the contrary, he felt that he had cause constantly to exclaim, 
" wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from the 
body of this death?" but he saw, at the same time, more 
clearly than ever, the fulness and freeness of the redemption 
purchased by Christ Jesus. He spoke, also, of the duty 
of a public profession of his faith, and of the Lord's supper. 
Shortly afterwards his health declined so rapidly that he 
returned to his daughter's house, where he died, about two 
years after that daughter first found him engaged in prayer. 

His extreme deafness prevented any connected conver- 
sation in his last hours ; but his end was peace, and his 
dying testimony was, that he " had a trembling hope, hang- 
in ir on the merits of his Redeemer." His remains are now 

mouldering in the retired churchyard at , in New 

Jersey ; but long may his memory live, to tell to youth the 
preciousness of an early acquaintance with God, and to age, 
that there is pardon and peace, through penitence and faith 
in Christ. 

And may this happy result of a pious daughter's faith- 
fulness deeply impress upon Christians the duty of earnestly 
carinsf for those who have no care for tliemselves. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMJ.RICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



No. 30S. 

THE 



HARVEST PAST. 

BY PRESIDENT DWIGHT. 



There ai-e many situations in the life of man, to which 
the lamentation of the Jews, when given over to destruc- 
tion, may be applied with the utmost propriety : "-The 
harvest is fast, t/ie summer is ended ; and we are not saved.'" 
When our case has become seriously alarming ; when we 
have enjoyed many and great privileges, without any pro- 
fit ; when the mercies of God have hitherto been lost upon 
us, and we have taken occasion from them only to harden 
ourselves in sin and security ; a just sense of the import of 
these words may awaken the most suitable emotions. 

Every person who still remains in sin, may, at the close 
of a year, usefully adopt this lamentation. 

Few sinners reflect on their moral condition to any such 
extent, and with any such solemnity as the suspended state 
of an immortal mind, and the evident danger of endlese 
ruin, plainly and vehemently demand. Usually they con- 
clude that their situation \'>-, at the worst, attended with no 
uncommon danger ; that if ten, or twenty, or fifty years 
are gone and lost, years enough remain to secure theii 
salvation and begin their repentance, when other pressing 
concerns of business or of pleasure shall be finished. " It 
is a hard case," they are disposed to say, " since seventy 
years are the destined date of human life, and twenty of 
tliem still remain, if a work, which demands so little time 
for its accomplishment, cannot be performed within that 
period. I may therefore sit down to eat and drink, and 
rise up to play ; and yet have abundant opportunity to re- 
nounce my sin and turn to God." 

But a sinner ought to remember at the close of a year 
that he has lost that period ; and that he is more sinful, 
more guilty, and more odious to God, than at the begin- 
ning; that all the difhculties which lie between him and 



THE HARVEST PAST. 



Balvatioii are increased beyond his imagination ; that his 
mass of guilt, and the reasons of his condemnation are 
mi""htily enhanced, his evil habits strengthened, and his 
hopes of returning lessened far more than he is aware ; 
and that, instead of living many years to come, he may, 
within a few days, be lodged in the grave, summoned to 
the judgment, and sentenced to that endless death which 
ho has hitherto labored uniformly to deserve. 

He ought also to cast his eyes around him, and see that 
all, or almost all others, who have, like himself, trusted to 
a future repentance, have from year to year become more 
ha rdened in sin by these very means ; have thought less 
and less of turning back, and taking hold of the paths of 
life ; and although whitened with the locks of age, and 
tottering over the grave, are, with an assiduity and eager- 
ness not less than his own, indulging " the lust of the 
flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life ;" as if 
assured, that there is no God, no heaven, and no hell. 
Such as they are, will he be. Their thoughts, their con- 
clusions, their conduct have been the same : their end 
therefore will probably be his. How properly then may 
he exclaim, at the end of a year, " The harvest is past, 
the summer is ended ; but I am not saved !" 

Let such a one consider his alarming condition. God 
has' with infinite patience and mercy prolonged your life 
another year ; and, in spite of all your sins, has renewed 
his blessings to you every morning, and returned them 
every moment. You are alive ; have been fed and clothed 
by his bounty; have been preserved from every fatal evil, 
and furnished with an abundance of earthly good. You 
are still a probationer for an endless life. The gate of 
salvation is still open. The voice of the Redeemer is still 
heard : " Come unto me, all ye that labor, and are heavy 
laden, and I will give you rest." The Sabbath still smiles 
with peace and hope. The sanctuary still resounds with 
praise, and invites you to seek and ask, to find and to re- 
ceive. The sceptre of forgiveness is still held out for you 
to touch, and live. 

In wliat manner have you lived in the midst of these 
blessings 1 

Have you solemnly, often, and effectually thought on 
tiie great subject of religion ] Have you felt that youi 



THE HARVEST PAST. 6 

soul is immortal ; that it must be either saved or lost , 
that it is sinful, and of course condemned and ruined, un- 
less you return with repentance toward God and faith 
toward our Lord Jesus Christ 1 

Have you, under these affecting apprehensions, enter- 
ed your closet, bowed your knees before God, and asked 
him to have mercy on you 1 Have you taken heed how 
you heard the words of eternal life 1 Have you remem- 
bered, pondered, and resolved to obey what you heard ] 
Have you thus obeyed 1 

Are you better than when the year began 1 Are you 
more friendly to Christ ; more dutiful to God ] Are you 
nearer to heaven, or nearer to hell ] To what good pur- 
pose have you lived ] Is not the harvest, m one important 
sense, past to you ] 

A season in which religion prevails is also eminently a 
time of harvest ; and such as lose this season may well 
adopt, with regard to themselves, the lamentation, " The 
harvest is past." In one jjlace, and at one time and an- 
other, religion seizes strongly the minds of men, and be- 
comes in some measure, as it ought, the supreme concern. 
In such seasons more persons have within a short pe.-iod 
become the subjects of piety and the heirs of heaven, so 
far as the human eye can judge, than at other time'j in 
many years. The Sj^irit of gi'ace descends then, as the 
showers on the mown grass. Men, at such seasons, lite- 
rally fly as clouds, and as doves to their windows. 

At these periods all things conspire to persuade men to 
turn to God. God is then seen and known to be peculiarly 
gracious. The fields are ripe ; the laborers are busy anti 
successful. The force of example, the strong power of 
sympathy, the daily sight and hearing of religion, and its 
attendant circumstances, conspire with the ordinary means 
of grace to affect the soul. The common temptations of 
the world are in a great measure suspended. Fashion, ridi- 
cule, coldness, and evil example, lose their wretched hold 
on the mind ; and a vacancy is left for candor, truth, 
and God. 

But these seasons have their close ; and some retain 
their former hardness of heart, increased by the resistance 
which they have so lately made to the offers of mercy. At 
these seasons a delavinff sinner resists uncommon and 



4 THE HARVEST PAST. 

most happy means of gi'ace, provokes God in a peculiar 
manner, and hardens his ow^n heart to a degree and v/ith a 
rapidity which ought to fill him v^^ith terror. What reason 
has he to fear that the hai-vest, v\^ith respect to him, is past, 
and the summer ended, w^hile his salvation is not secured ! 

Another situation to w^hich this melancholy reflection is 
peculiarly applicable, is that of a dying sinner. Human 
life is one continued scene of delusion. Present objects 
demand all our attention and all our care. To them alone 
we attach importance, and that far beyond what their 
value will waiTant. In the language of most men, worldly 
success is the only meaning of prosperity. 

Future things, on the contrary, have far less value in 
our eyes than they really possess; especially eternal 
things. We think them distant, but they are near ; we 
think them trifles unconnected with our happiness, where- 
as they are things of infinite moment and infinite concern 
to us. This delusion not uncommonly travels with us 
through life. 

On a dying bed, however, it vanishes .; and if sickness 
and patience leave us in the possession of reason, juster 
views prevail with respect both to things present and 
things future. From such a bed a sinner may therefore 
be viewed as taking a new survey of all the objects of his 
aims and efforts. 

Among the objects which may be supposed most natu- 
rally to arise to his view on a dying bed, Jiis youth would 
undoubtedly occupy a place of primary importance. In 
what colors will his various conduct during this period ap- 
pear ? He is now on the verge of eternity, and just bid- 
ding his last adieu to the present world, and all its cares, 
and hopes, and pleasures. The earth, and whatever it 
contains, are vanishing for ever fi-om his sight ; and the 
places which have long known him, will within a few 
hours know him no more. 

Where are now his high hopes of earthly good \ Where 
his lively, brilliant spirits ; his thirst for sensual enjoy 
nient, for gay amusements, for sportive companions ] 
These once engi^ossed all his thoughts, wishes, and la- 
bors. Where are they now % They have vanished with 
the gayety of the morning cloud : they have fled with the 
gMuer oi' the rar^y de IV. Of what madness will he see him- 



THE HARVEST PAST. 5 

self to have been possessed, that he could be allured 
away from duty and salvation by bubbles, which, though 
adorned with the hues of enchantment, burst in a mo- 
ment, and were gone for ever. 

In this precious, golden season, God called to him from 
heaven, and proclaimed aloud, " I love them that love 
me; and those who seek me early, shall find me." His 
face was then clothed in smiles ; and his voice was only 
tenderness and compassion. Christ also, with the benig- 
nity and sweetness of redeeming love, invited him to 
"come, and take the water of life freely;" proffered to 
him the eternal blessings of his atonement and interces- 
sion ; pointed him to the wounds with which he was 
pierced for his sake, and the love with which, stronger 
than death, he had been broken on the cross, and poured 
out his blood, that he might live. 

The Spirit of grace, with the same boundless affection, 
whispered to him *' to turn from every evil way, and 
every unrighteous thought, to the Lord his God; who 
was ready to have mercy on him, and abundantly to par- 
don him." In the recesses of the soul he awaked the 
friendly monitions of conscience, the salutary fear of sin, 
the cheering hope of pardon and peace, and the glory of 
the promises found in the Gospel. 

With what amazement will he now look back, and see 
that he refused these infinite blessings ; that he turned 
his back on a forgiving God ; closed his ears to the calls 
of a crucified Redeemer ; and hardened his heart against 
the whispers of salvation communicated by the Spirit of 
ti-uth and life ! How will he wonder that the dream of 
life could seem so long ; and that he could, even in one 
instance, much more in a thousand, say to repentance, 
" Go thy way for this time; when 1 have a convenient 
season I will call for thee !" How will he be astonished, 
that he refused to sow the seed of the Gospel in this pre- 
cious season, and thus rendered the field of his life an 
Arabian desert ! 

Riper years will naturally next offer themselves to his 
view. The bustle of this period seemed at the time to bo 
of real importance, and although not devoted to virtue, 
yet to be occupied by business serious and solid. But now, 
how suddenly will this specious garb drop, and leave, in 

VOL. IX. 6 



6 THE HARVEST PAST. 

all their nakedness, his avarice, his ambition, and his 
graver sensuality ! Of what value, on a dying bed, are the 
treasures which he struggled to heap up ; or the offices 
he sighed to fill ; the honors which he sacrificed truth and 
duty to acquire, or the power which he so ardently longed 
to enjoy 1 In how vain a shadow did he walk ! How will 
this boasted reason appear to have been busied ! Instead 
of being employed in discoveiing truth and performing 
duty, he will see it, throughout this most discreet period 
of life, laboring to flatter, to justify, to perpetrate iniquity ; 
to persuade himself that safety might be found in sin, and 
that old age, or the last sickness, was the proper season 
for repentance and reforaiation. Blind to heaven, it had 
eyes only for this world. 

Among the sins which will most affectingly oppress his 
heart, his negligence, abuse, and prostitution of the means 
of grace will especially overwhelm him. God, all along 
through the various parts of his life, put into his hands, 
with unspeakable kindness, his word, his Sabbath, and the 
blessings of his sanctuary. He gave him line upon line, 
and precept upon precept ; warnings of his word and pro- 
vidence without number ; and invitations to embrace the 
Redeemer, new every morning and fi-esh every moment. 

Nothing will now more astonish him, than that he could 
possibly lose, profane, and destroy, in amusement, busi- 
ness, idleness or sleep, a single Sabbath; that he could 
wander after covetousness and pleasure during a single 
prayer, or neglect to hear a single sermon ; that he was 
not engi'ossed by the voice of the divine charaier, charm- 
ing him with infinite wisdom and tenderness to life eter- 
nal ; that he did not tremble at the word of the Lord re- 
sounding in his ears the guilt and final doom of all the 
workers of iniquity, and proclaiming glad tidings of great 
joy to the penitent. 

How naturally, how passionately will he now exclaim, 
** O that my lost and squandered days might once more 
return ; that I might again go up to the house of God ; 
that I might again, in the invaluable season of youth, be- 
fore my sins had become a burden so heavy and so griev- 
ous to be borne, be present at the morning and evening 
sacrifice of prayer and praise, and again hear the divine 
voice calling me to repentance and faith in the Lord Jesus 



THE HARVEST PAST. 7 

Christ, and to the possession of endless glory ! Were a 
thousand worlds mine, how cheerfully would I give them 
all for one day to be spent in the courts of the Lord ! O 
that one year, one month, one Sabbath, might be added to 
my wretched, forfeited life ! But ah ! the day of gi'ace is 
past : my wishes, nay, my prayers, are in vain. In that 
long eternity which opens before me, no Sabbath will ever 
dawn upon my wishful eyes ; no sanctuary will unfold the 
gates of peace and life ; no prayers will ever find a gra- 
cious ear ; no praises will ever ascend to heaven ; no ser- 
mon will ever call wandering and perishing sinners to re- 
pentance ; no proffers of endless life will ever be made ; 
the sound of a Savior's voice will never more be heard, 
and the music of salvation will be dumb for ever." 

Such will be the natural retrospect of a dying sinner. 
What will be his -prospects 1 

Before him, robed in terrors, stands Death, the messen- 
ger of God, now come to summon him away. To what, 
to v/hom is he summoned % To that final judgment, into 
which every work of his hands will be speedily brought, 
with every secret thing ; to that Judge, from whose sen- 
tence there is no appeal, from whose eye there is no con- 
cealment, fi'om whose hand there is no escape. Through 
the last agonies lies his gloomy, dreadful passage into the 
unseen w^orld ; his path to the bar of God. What a pas- 
sage ! What an interview ! He, a hardened, rebellious, 
impious, ungrateful wretch ; who has wasted all the means 
of salvation, prostituted his talents, squandered his time, 
despised his Maker, " crucified afresh the Lord of glcry, 
and done despite unto the Spirit of grace ;" now comes 
before that glorious and offended God, who knows all the 
sins which he has committed. He is there without an ex- 
cuse to plead, without a cloak to cover his guilt. What 
would he now give for an interest in that atonement 
which he slighted ; in that intercession, on which, while 
here, he never employed a thought ; and in that salvation, 
for which perhaps he never uttered a prayer ! The smiles 
of redeeming love are now changed into the frowns of an 
in-econcilable Judge. The voice of mercy sounds no 
more ; the hope of pardon has vanished for ever. 

To the judgment succeeds a boundless eternity. Live, he 



8 THE HARVEST PAST. 

must : die, he cannot. But where, how, with whom, is he 
to live ] The world of darkness, sorrow, and despair, is his 
final habitation. Sin, endless and increasing sin, is his 
dreadful character ; and sinners like himself are his mise- 
rable and eternal companions. Alone in the midst of mil- 
lions, surrounded by enemies only, without a friend, with- 
out a comfort, without a hope ; he lifts up his eyes, and 
takes a melancholy survey of the immense regions around 
him, but finds nothing to alleviate his wo, nothing to lessen 
the pangs of a broken heart. 

In a far distant region he sees a faint glimmering of that 
" Sun of righteousness " which shall never more shine up- 
on him. A feeble, dying sound of the praise, the everlasting 
songs of " the general assembly and church of the first- 
born" trembles on his ear, and in an agonizing manner re- 
minds him of the blessings in which he also might have 
shared. In dim and distant vision those heavens are seen, 
where multitudes of his former friends and companions 
dwell ; friends and companions who, in this world, loved 
God, believed in the Redeemer, and by a patient continu- 
ance in well-doing sought for glory, honor, and immortality. 
Among them, perhaps, his own fond parents ; who, with a 
thousand sighs, and prayers, and tears, commended him, 
while they tabernacled here below, to the mercy of God 
and -to the love of their own divine Redeemer. His children 
also, and the wife of his bosom, gone before him, have per- 
liaps fondly waited at the gates of glory in the ardent ex- 
pectation, the cheering hope, of seeing him, once so belov- 
ed, re-united to their number, and a partaker in their ever- 
lasting joy. But they have waited in vain. 

The curtain is now drawn, and the amazing vast is unbo- 
somed to his view. With a gloomy and dreadfiil account of 
life spent only in sin, without a single act of piety, with no 
faith in Christ, he is cast out, as wholly wdcked and unpro- 
fitable, into the land of darkness and the shadow of death ; 
there to wind his melancholy journey through regions of 
son"ow and despair, ages without end, and to take up, for 
ever, the gloomy lamentation, " The harvest is past, the 
summer is ended ; but I am not saved." 

PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



No. 303. 

THE 

GREAT ALTERIATIYE; 

REPENTANCE, OR PERDITION. 



BY REV. WILLIAM KEVINS, D. D. 



An alternative is the choice given of two things, of 
which, if one be rejected, the other must be taken. In the 
progress of human life many alternatives are presented. 
But there is one which in importance is greatly preeminent. 
It is that alternative of which we read so frequently in the 
word of God, and which may be designated thus — repent- 
ance, or perdition. " Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise 
perish." Other modes of expressing the same alternative 
are sometimes adopted, but they do not difter materially 
from this. 

Sometimes an alternative consists of two things to be 
done. In other cases there is a thing to be done, or an- 
other to be suffered. It is an act or a penalty. Of this 
kind is the case in question. Repentance is something to 
be done. Perdition is something to be suffered. In such 
a case, the thing to be suffered is never actually and directly 
chosen ; but the thing to be done being declined, the thing 
to be suffered follows in course and inevitably. No one 
ever chooses perdition immediately and for its own sake ; 
but repentance being refused, perdition follows. As, how- 
ever, he who refuses repentance does it with the knowledge 
that perdition will ensue, he is considered as actually choos- 

70L. IX. 6* 



2 THE GREAT ALTERNATIVE. 

ing perdition. Hence it is said, " Why will ye die ? All 
they that hate me love death." Ezek. 18:31; Pro v. 8 : 36. 
In regard to this akernative, I observe, 

1. It is real ; it is actually before you. I mean by this, 
that you have a choice to make ; that there are but two 
things out of which the choice is to be made ; and that 
these two things are repentance and perdition ; so that one 
must be done, or the other suffered. For proof of this, 
come to the word of God. Hear the Saviour, '' Except ye 
repent, ye shall all likewise perish." Now suppose that 
one does not repent, does it not follow that he will perish ? 
Or will the word of Christ fail ? Hear Jehovah speaking 
in Isaiah 55 : V : " 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 will abundantly pardon." But will even our 
God have mercy on him and pardon him on any other con- 
dition ? If you doubt w4i ether this expresses the only 
condition on which God will or can consistently pardon the 
sinner, hear him in Jeremiah 36 : 3 : *' It may be that the 
house of Judah will hear all the e\i\ which I purpose to do 
unto them, that they may return every man from his evil 
way ; that I may forgive their iniquity and their sin." Do 
you not see that he cannot forgive on any other condition ? 
and will not that person perish whom God does not forgive ? 
In Jeremiah 3:12, the prophet is commanded to go and 
proclaim these words : " Return, thou backsliding Israel, 
saith the Lord, and I will not cause my anger to fall upon 
you." But suppose they do not return ; will he not cause 
his anger to fall on them ; or is it an idle, insincere threat ? 
Read next a passage from Ezekiel, in which the alternative 
is stated three several times : ** Repent and turn from all 
your transgressions, so iniquity shall not be your ruin" — it 
will be your ruin, if you do not repent. ''Cast away from 



THE GREAT ALTERNATIVE. 3 

you all your transgressions whereby ye have transgressed, 
and make you a new heart and a new spirit ; for why will 
ye die, house of Israel ?" — you will certainly die, if you do 
not cast them away. " For I have no pleasure in the death 
of him that dieth, saith the Lord God ; wherefore turn your- 
selves ^nd live ye :" your turning is necessary to your 
living. And now, if you will not take the word of God for 
this, you have his oath, Ezek. 33 : 11 : ''As I live, saith 
the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the death of the 
wicked ; but that the wicked turn from his way and live : 
turn ye, turn ye, from your evil ways ; for why will ye die, 
house of Israel ?" You see it is turn or die. So says 
the apostle Peter : " The Lord is long suffering to us-ward, 
not willing that any should perish, but that all should come 
to repentance." Here you see the same alternative pre- 
sented. Again he says, "Repent and be baptized, every 
one of you, in the name of Jesus Christ, for the remission 
of sins." And in Acts 3 : 19, "Repent ye, therefore, and 
be converted, that your sins may be blotted out." Will 
they be blotted out on any other condition ? 

2. This alternative is universal. It is equally before all. 
"All have sinned and come short of the glory of God." 
And does not repentance behove all that have sinned ? Is 
not perdition threatened as the penalty of iniquity, without 
regard either to the hind or degree of the iniquity ? How 
can any one read the Bible without perceiving that all have 
so sinned that repentance is necessary ; and perdition cer- 
tain, except they repent ? God " now commandeth all men 
everywhere to repent." Acts 17 : 30. And Peter says. Acts 
2 : 38, "Repent and be baptized, every one of you.'' 

3. It is ?L perfect alternative. The first being done, the 
second shall never follow. Repentance is an effectual secu- 
rity against perdition in every case. On the other hand, 
the first not being done, the second will certainly and uni- 



4 THE GREAT ALTERNATIVE. 

formly follow. In other words, there is no security against 
perdition but repentance. 

4. The alternative is unavoidable. Do what you will, 
you cannot get away from it. You may evade either 
branch of the alternative, but you cannot evade both. You 
may avoid repentance, or you may avoid perdition ; but 
avoid both repentance and perdition you cannot. There is 
not in the nature of things a necessity of your turning, nei- 
ther is there any necessity of your dying, but there is a 
necessity of your doing the one or the other. You may 
choose either, but choose one you must. You are at lib- 
erty to choose either this or that ; but not at liberty to 
choose or not to choose. Some persons resolve that they 
will have nothing to do with religion. It is a vain resolu- 
tion. They cannot help having something to do with it. 
They may have nothing to do with its doctrines and pre- 
cepts, but in that case they must have something to do with 
its jjenalties. No man can altogether evade Christianity. 
The rock of salvation lies across your path to eternity, and 
you must either build on it, or be broken by it. 

5. This alternative is present. It is not to be set before 
you hereafter. It is directly and distinctly before you now, 
and you are called now to make your choice, and you can 
do it now as well as ever. But remember, though present 
now, it will not always he so. Soon it will be past, never 
more to return. Then there will be no alternative. Perdi- 
tion alone will remain, and that you must realize. Mark 
this, the great alternative you cannot keep before you as 
long as you please ; nor can you recall it, when once it is 
removed. Its continuance does not depend on you, but on 
the sovereign pleasure of God. He withdraws it just when 
he pleases ; always at death, and sometimes, undoubtedly, a 
long time in advance of death. But you say, "If at any 
time I repent, however late it be, will not that secure me 



THE GREAT ALTERNATIVE. 5 

against perdition?" Most assuredly it will; but you for- 
get that such is the obstinate wickedness of your heart, 
you will have no disposition to repent, unless God inclines 
you by his Holy Spirit. You will not live another day, 
unless he please ; and however long you may live, you will 
never be inclined to repent, unless he incline you. That 
which is your act, and your obligation, is equally his gift. 
God will not always allow you to dechne repentance, with- 
out realizing perdition. How long he will suffer you, I do 
not know. How long you will live, I know not; and 
whether, after the last call to repentance has died away, 
and the final offer of mercy has been rejected by you, you 
may not live some years, just to fill up the measure of your 
iniquities, and to treasure up wrath against the day of wrath, 
I cannot decide. 

This being the state of the case, may I not say to you, 
" Choose whether you will repent or perish ; decide 7iow to 
do the one, or to suffer the other." It would seem as if 
you could not help choosing repentance, and choosing it 
now ; since perdition is admitted to be an evil, and is inev- 
itable if you do not repent ; and since, if you do not repent 
now, you may never have another opportunity ; and since 
you have every thing to encourage you to repent, and to 
aid you in repenting now, that you can ever expect to have ; 
for as God says now, you have only to agree to his time, 
and it is done. He who says that " now is the day of sal- 
vation," cannot prefer a future period for your repentance. 

Shall I then stop here ? If I knew that every reader 
would at this point form the purpose of immediate repent- 
ance, I would stop here, only adding, " Do now what you 
have determined on ; keep Jehovah no longer waiting for 
you ; you know his terms ; consent to them, that is all." 
And if any reader shall at this point adopt the resolution to 
repent, he may stop here, while I go on, for the benefit of 



6 THE GREAT ALTERNATIVE. 

such as are unresolved, to show them that they had better 
repent than perish, and that they had better decide in favor 
of repentance at once. 

Let us look alternately at repentance and perdition, and 
see which is preferable ; whether there be so much of pain, 
and sacrifice, and labor, and loss in repentance, that upon 
the whole, perdition is rather to be chosen ; or, if perdition 
be such an evil, that ten thousand penitential tears were 
better. 

Now, if you saw one of these two things to be a good, 
and the other only evil, would you not be decided at once ? 
And truly, repentance is a good — a thing that ought to be 
desired by a sinner for its own sake — a thing that ought to 
be done, though nothing were to be suffered in case of its 
not being done. It is duty, and it is profit. It brings 
pleasure in its exercise. Its tears are not all of sorrow, 
but many of them are tears of joy. It is a reasonable 
exercise, a right act ; and no real penitent ever repented of 
having sorrowed for sin. It should therefore be pursued 
as a good — done without any reference to the consequences 
of not doing it. How fit it is that he who has sinned should 
be sorry for it; and that he who has been doing wrong 
should cease from doing it. 

But, in the estimation of the sinner, though not in fact, 
repentance is an evil as well as perdition ; wherefore we are 
reduced to the necessity of proving to him that it is the 
less of two evils, and to be preferred on that account, if on 
no other. That it is a less evil than perdition, and that we 
had better repent than perish, may be inferred from this, 
that God and all good beings unite in this decision ; nor is 
it a mere cold conclusion to which they come, but they are 
extremely solicitous that we should choose repentance. " 
that there were such a heart in them," that they would 



THE GREAT ALTERNATIVE. 7 

repent ! is the language of God ; and the benevolent in- 
habitants of heaven are represented as rejoicing together 
when one sinner repenteth. Since, then, you must choose 
one part of the alternative, had it not better be this ? Are 
you not convinced now ? May I not stop here ? Reader, 
if you are convinced, you may stop here, and, at once, drop 
the tear and do the work of repentance. 

But some will not be advised of God. For their sakes 
I proceed. Let us take a look at repentance, and then at 
perdition, and see what evils, if any, are in each, and which 
preponderate. Now, as to the evils and disadvantages in- 
volved in repentance and induced by it, let them be called 
to mind, contemplated, and weighed. They are such as 
conviction, contrition, humiliation, self-condemnation, self- 
loathing, confession of sin, self-denial, the public profession 
of Christ's religion, the diligence, watchfulness, prayer, and 
various efforts and sacrifices necessary in bringing forth 
fruits meet for repentance, all which sinners esteem as evils, 
whether they be so in fact or not. Consider also the re- 
straints which religion imposes, the regimen it prescribes, 
the surrenders it requires, its interference with carnal grat- 
ifications, with the projects of worldly ambition, and with 
the heaping up and hoarding of riches ; and consider also, if 
you please, that these come first — that repentance is to be 
accomplished now, perdition not to be endured till hereafter. 

Now, having contemplated the evils which belong to 
repentance, look at perdition and see what are its evils. 
The word perdition expresses the state of having perished, 
or of being destroyed ; the condition of being lost, or of 
being in ruins. It denotes an evil which is both total and 
final. Consider the losses involved in it ; the loss of the 
favor of God, the forfeiture of heaven, the deprivation of 
everlasting life, the departure from the soul of all light and 
all love, of peace and joy — and last of all, of hope. Con- 



8 THE GREAT ALTERNATIVE. 

sider the positive evils involved in perdition : the wrath of 
God, hell, eternal death, darkness, hatred, tumult, sorrow, 
and worst of all, what the departure of hope leaves, 
despair, itself the supreme of evils, and that which pre- 
cludes any alleviation of evil for ever. 

And now, having considered the evils of each, compare 
them together. Repentance is short, even though it should 
reach through the most protracted life. Perdition is long — 
it is everlasting. Repentance, if evil, is not evil only ; but 
perdition is only unmixed, unalleviated evil. Repentance, 
so far from excluding, inspires hope; but from perdition 
despair is inseparable. God smiles on the penitent soul, 
but on the subject of perdition he frowns darkly and for 
ever. And finally, while repentance secures from j^erdition, 
perdition itself involves the worst of all repentance, a repent- 
ance without end, without avail, without relief, and without 
hope ; a repentance unto death. If there is weeping in 
evangelical repentance, there is weeping too in perdition ; 
ay, and there is wailing and gnashing of teeth, a worm, a 
fire, darkness and torment, which are not in evangelical 
repentance. So you see that you cannot possibly avoid 
every kind of repentance. Sorrow for sin, of one sort or 
another, you must experience ; and you have but to choose 
whether it shall be the sorrow of the world, or true godly 
sorrow ; whether it shall be unto death, or unto life ; on 
eai-th, or in hell ; here, or hereafter ; now, or for ever and 
ever. 

Will the reader pause a moment at this point, and con- 
template the alternative in this statement of it ? Observe, 
the sinner has the liberty of choosing ivhen he will repent, 
and IV here, and in what manner, and whereunto, and how 
long he Avill be repenting ; but not whether he will repent. 
Repent somewhere, somehow, and at some time, he must. 
If he is saved, he will repent; and if he is lost, he will 



THE GREAT ALTERNATIVE. 9 

also repent, but in despair. The alternative is really to 
repent and be saved, or to perish and repent without hope. 

Now, which will you ? Perhaps you want to avoid re- 
pentance altogether, but that is impossible. You may put 
off repentance, but you cannot put it out of the way. You 
may hide from your sin a long time, but " be sure your sin 
will find you out." You may adjourn the court of con- 
science from day to day, but it will sit and adjudicate at last. 

Seeing, then, you must repent, I solemnly put it to you 
to make your choice of the place, and the time, and the 
manner : Where will you repent ? on earth or in hell ? 
When will you repent ? in this life, or in the life to come ? 
On which side of the grave ? now, or hereafter ? And 
how do you choose to repent ? as did Peter, or as Judas 
did ? with the sorrow of the world, or with the sorrow ot 
God ? And unto what ? unto death, or unto life ? Will 
you repent and live, or repent and still die ? for there is a 
sorrow of the world which " worketh death." And how 
long do you choose to be repenting ? a small part of time, 
or the whole of eternity ? Shall your weeping endure for 
a night, and joy come in the morning ; or shall it endure 
for ever, no joy ever succeeding, no morning following ? 
In fine, fellow-sinner, will you sow in tears, or will you reap 
tears ? Make your choice. 

I have said, for I wish to deal fairly, that perdition has 
the advantage of repentance in being future. This, how- 
ever, is no great advantage, when a thing is inevitahle ; 
and especially when it is not far future, and may be just 
at hand. There is another advantage which perdition is 
supposed to have, and that is, that it is not altogether cer- 
tain ; that there is some doubt about its reality. Doubts 
there may be in many minds in regard to it, and even dis- 
belief. There never was a ruin threatened, in reference to 
which there were not some sceptics until it came. The 

VOL. IX. 7 



10 THE GREAT ALTERNATIVE. 

antediluvians had their doubts about the predicted flood, 
and the inhabitants of Sodom had theirs. Nevertheless, 
the flood came and the fire descended. So perdition Avill 
come on the world of the ungodly none the less for not 
being expected. It is certain as the word of God can make 
it. If Jesus Christ is to be credited, eternal punishment 
is a reality. The gulf is fixed, the fire burns, and the gnaw- 
ing worm lives, immortal as the soul it feeds upon. 

And now, having fully stated the alternative, I ask 
again, What will you do ? Will you repent, or perish ? 
Come to a decision. 

Do you say, ''I will do nothing about it?" Then you 
will perish. You have decided in favor of perdition. Do 
you say, *' I Avill consider what I had better do?" But 
have you not long been doing that to no purpose ? Does 
it take you so long a time to make up your mind whether 
it is preferable to be saved or lost ? What is there in the 
case which requires so much deliberation? Here is de- 
struction overhanging you, and almost encircling you ; there 
is but one avenue of escape from it, and that is every day 
becoming narrower, and will soon be closed up entirely, and 
yet you would pause to consider. If there were many 
methods of avoiding perdition, you might stop to consider 
by which you had better make your escape. But there is 
only one. You must escape by it, or perish. 

Reader, are you really at a loss to know what you had 
better do ? Is this pausing in order to ascertain your duty ? 
Are you not rather hesitating whether you shall do what 
you discern to be your duty ? Ah, I know how it is. You 
are convinced. You are only not persuaded to act agreea- 
bly to your convictions. Now, to hesitate, under any cir- 
cumstances, is dangerous ; but, in circumstances such as 
these, it is peculiarly so. Could you stop the wheels of 
time, arrest the doings of death, and stay the progress of 



THE GREAT ALTERNATIVE. H 

sin, and thus secure yourself against the possible evils of 
pausing to consider, you might be indulged in it. But re- 
member, while you pause, time goes on, and death does not 
wait for you, and sin makes progress. 

Will any one say, in the pride of his heart, *' I need no 
repentance." Then you have not sinned ; for wherever there 
is sin, there needs to be repentance. Then how happens it 
that you are mortal, since death is the wages of sin ? Per- 
haps you mean that you have never been guilty of any great 
sins, nor of many in number. But if you have sinned at 
all, it is sufficient for your ruin. Does God allow any sin ? 
Did not Christ atone for sin of every kind, and did not every 
sin he carried bear hard and heavy upon him in the hour of 
his agony and death ? Will you still say that you need no 
repentance ? 

Does any one say, '' I have repented ?" I rejoice if you 
have ; but be not hasty in coming to that conclusion. You 
have been sorry, I have no doubt, and it is quite likely you 
may have reformed your conduct in some respects. But 
that is not repentance. Repentance includes contrition, 
amendment, and reparation ; and the contrition must be 
deep, the amendment thorough, and the reparation to the 
utmost. Repentance is towards God, and it equally respects 
all sin. Have you realized this ? Have you ever offered, 
in sacrifice to God, the broken heart and contrite spirit ; have 
you reformed throughout ; have you made restitution ; and 
have you repaired, or are you endeavoring to repair all the 
injuries which your sins may have done to the person, prop- 
erty, or reputation of any ? Have you felt the mingling of 
grief and hatred for sin? Have you "looked upon Him 
whom you have pierced, and mourned and been in bitter- 
ness ?" And have you stopped piercing him ? Think you 
that you have ever repented to the joy of angels ? 0, there 
are professed penitents on earth, over whose repentance, if 



J2 THE GREAT ALTERNATIVE. 

angels once rejoiced, they must have sorrowed ever since ; 
for Avhat do they but wound Christ, afflict his people, and 
bring a reproach on his religion ; the grief of good men, and 
the jest of bad? Are you indulging yourself in no sin 
whatever ? With these questions probe yourself. 

Is any one unable to decide whether he has repented or 
not ? Let him take the safer side. Let him assume that he 
has not, and feel and act accordingly. Better repent twice, 
than not at all. But some one says, " I cannot repent," and 
a thousand voices reecho the excuse, " I cannot repent." 
Could you not, if you would ? Answer me that. If you 
had the will, would you lack the power ? 

Do you say you have neither? Then, by your own 
showing, you lie at the mere mercy of an offended God ; 
and will you not so much as humble yourself before him, 
and confess your sin ? Will you not even cast one implor- 
ing, confiding look for mercy to him who is " exalted a 
Prince and a Saviour to give repentance and remission of 
sins?" Does not your unwillingness to repent involve 
awful guilt ? If you cannot repent, why can you not ? Is 
your nature incapable of repentance ? Can you not be 
sorry for any thing ? Can you not turn from one thing to 
another ? Or is the difficulty found in exercising the par- 
ticular kind of repentance required by the Gospel ; in being 
sorry for having offended God ; in turning from sin to his 
service ? You can repent towards a parent, why can you 
not towards God ? Is sin against God so sweet that you 
cannot be sorry that you have tasted it, and cannot resolve 
to taste it no more ? Well, reader, if you cannot repent, yet 
you can perish. And perish you must, except you repent. 

Does anyone say, "I will repent?" But when will 
you ? Take care that you do not die first. You must mean 
that you will repent before you die, for after that it will be 
of no avail to repent. But if this is your meaning, your 



THE GREAT ALTERNATIVE. 13 

only safety is in an immediate execution of your purpose in 
repenting now. You may put off the preparation for death 
as long as you can put off death itself. Longer you would 
not, nor yet quite so long. Now, how long can you put off 
death ? A year, a month, a day, an hour ? Not an hour. 
And will you put off its preparation, repentance, an hour ? 
Dare you do it ? 

If, as you say, you will repent, repent. If you will 
arise and go to your Father, arise and go. The mere reso- 
lution cannot help you : it is only the act that availeth. To 
resolve that you will repent, and yet not do it, is, in effect, 
to choose perdition. What if the prodigal son had done 
no more than resolve ? If you decide in favor of repent- 
ance, show your preference of it by exercising it. Are you 
sorry for having sinned against God ? Then turn from all 
your evil ways, cast away from you all your transgressions, 
whereby you have transgressed. Remember, that repent- 
ance is not merely something /e/^, but also something do7ie — 
a return, a reformation. Its antecedent is conviction of sin. 
Its attendants are faith, a cordial reliance on Christ, sub- 
mission to God, the giving of the heart to him. And its 
consequents are love, joy, peace, long-suffering ; or, in one 
word, obedience, evangelical in its principle, in its rule, and 
in its aim. Be not deceived ; God cannot be. Your resolv- 
ing to repent, but not noiu, is a refusal to repent. If God 
tells you to do a thing now, and you dechne doing it now, 
it is disobedience, and a denial of God, whatever your inten- 
tions may be. If he were to say to you, " Repent within the 
space of ten years," your deferring repentance for a year, or 
for nine years, would not be disobedience. But he says in 
a single command, "Repent now." Therefore, by not re- 
penting now, you disobey God, and you set him at naught. 
He will call you to account for it, and you will find that he 
is one who may not be trifled with. And you will find, too, 

VOL. IX. 7^ 



14 THE GREAT ALTERNATIVE. 

that you cannot put off perdition as easily as you can 
repentance. You may put off doing your duty, but you 
cannot put off suffering the penalty of not doing it. 

Hark ! do I not hear some one, in a subdued tone, and 
from a broken spirit, saying, "I do repent?" Is it not the 
movement of some soul arising and going to its Father, that 
I hear ? Son, daughter, be of good cheer ; thy sins are for- 
given thee. Angels, speed your way with the news to heaven. 

Has any one read thus far and not repented ? Let him 
indulge me, then, a moment longer. One final argument I 
have to employ, one last appeal to make. In the failure of 
every other, this may, and, with God's blessing, will pre- 
vail. If you will not be driven to repentance, yet will you 
as obstinately refuse to be drawn to it ? If you are deter- 
mined not to be persuaded by the terror of the Lord, yet 
will you not be constrained by the love of Christ ? Come, 
suffer me to throw these cords around you, and 0, sinner, 
submit to be bound by love. If you will die sooner than 
surrender to the call of authority, or to the summons of su- 
perior power and the threat of vengeance, yet will you not 
capitulate to kindness ? Shall not the goodness of God 
lead you to repentance? How great that goodness has 
been ; how early it commenced its care of you ; how un- 
wearied have been its attentions ; how diversified its gifts ; 
how large its bounties ! Think of the eye that has ever 
watched over you ; the arm that has ever been kept under 
you ; and the heart which has not only heat, but hied for 
you. " Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that he 
loved us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our 
sins." 1 John, 4 : 10. " God so loved the world." " He 
spared not his own Son," that he might spare you. That 
you might escape perdition, how much has been done, and 
still more has been suffered. And shall it be all in vain ; 
worse than to no purpose ? " Do ye thus requite the Lord, 



THE GREAT ALTERNATIVE. 15 

foolisTi people and unwise ? hath he not made thee and 
estabhshed thee ?" Do you not know that the first and 
most appropriate expression of a sinner's gratitude is repent- 
ance ? Come, then, and exercise it. Let love melt you into 
it. Can you not grieve for having sinned against such love ; 
for having been accessory to such sufferings ? If no other 
object can move you to repentance, if authority cannot awe, 
if hell cannot intimidate, if heaven cannot attract, yet can 
you be unmoved at the spectacle of the cross ? Can you 
look on him whom you have pierced, and not mourn ? 

Reader, art thou alone ? If not, retire ; get by thyself ; 
go from all but Him from whom thou canst not go. * * 
* * And now, art thou retired with God ? Go upon thy 
knees. Spread his word before you. Read where he says 
to you, "Repent — return — come." What say you to his 
call? Turn, now, to something penitential, as the 51st 
Psalm, and taking with you those words, go. Does your 
heart refuse to move ? Then look up ; that is the quarter 
whence cometh help. Are you afraid ? Are you ashamed ? 
Well may you both blush and tremble. Nevertheless, lift 
up thine eye. There is Jesus. Behold him at the right 
hand of God exalted. The prints of the nails are still upon 
him. See where they perforated his hands and his feet. 
There the spear entered, Thence flowed the blood which 
cleanses from all sin. It has an efficacy for you. Only 
believe. Can you not believe ? He is the " author and fin- 
isher of faith." Will not your heart repent? He is " ex- 
alted a Prince and a Saviour to give repentance." What a 
Saviour ! He first procures salvation, then offers it on the 
easiest and most reasonable conditions ; and then sends the 
Holy Spirit to urge your compliance. 0, grieve him not 
away for ever ; " lest thou mourn at the last, when thy flesh 
and thy body are consumed, and say, How have I hated 
instruction, and my heart despised reproof P^ 



IQ THE GREAT ALTERNATIVE. 

THE NEW BIRTH. 

Awaked by Sinai's awful sound, 
My soul in guilt and thrall I found 

Exposed to endless woe ; 
Eternal truth did loud proclaim, 
" The sinner must be born again," 

Or else to ruin go. 

Amazed I stood, but could not tell 
Which way to shun the gates of hell ; 

For death and hell drew near : 
I strove, indeed, but strove in vain : 
" The sinner must be born again," 

Still sounded in my ear. 

When to the law I trembling fled. 
It poured its curses on my head ; 

I no relief could find. 
This dreadful truth renewed my pain, 
" The sinner must be born again," 

And whelmed my tortured rnind. 

Again did Sinai's thunders roll, 
And guilt lay heavy on my soul, 

A vast, oppressive load : 
Alas, I read and saw it plain, 
"The sinner must be born again," 

Or feel the wrath of God. 

The saints I heard with rapture tell 
How Jesus conquered death and hell, 

And broke the fowler's snare ; 
Yet when I found this truth remain, 
"The sinner must be born again," 

I sunk in deep despair. 

But while I thus in anguish lay. 

The gracious Saviour passed this way. 

And felt his pity move ; 
The sinner, by his justice slain, 
Now, by his grace, is born again. 

And sings redeeming love. Ockum. 



No. 304. 



¥HAT ART THOU? 



It is of no importance to the writer who thou art, but 
it is of infinite importance to thyself, ivhat thou art. Are 
you, reader, a sinner on the road to misery ; or are you a 
saint on the road to blessedness ? One of these you must 
be. There are but two masters, Christ and Satan; two 
roads, the narrow and the broad ; two destinations, heaven 
and hell. As your present and everlasting well-being de- 
pend on your character in this world, it is surely of the 
utmost importance that you ascertain what you are. The 
matter is momentous. Let conscience reply. 

Are you among the number who are madly pursuing 
the vanities and pleasures of this fleeting world ? Are you 
alive for time, asleep for eternity ? Then you are cultivat- 
ing Satan's ground, and securing your own destruction. 
Whoever is the friend of the world, cannot be the friend of 
God. think what is imphed in that expression, not to 
be a friend of God ! If not the friend of God, you must 
be the friend of Satan ; but Satan is a hard master. What 
wages do you expect in such a service ? " The wages of 
sin is death." Will you serve him now, who will be the 
companion of, and add to the eternal torment of his fol- 
lowers ? What can be said to you, who prefer such a 
master to him who is '* Immanuel, God with us ;" and who 
prefer such a service to his, which is perfect freedom ? You 
know not what you do. You are heaping up to yourself 
" wrath against the day of wrath," standing on the brink 
of eternal ruin. Psal. 9:17. You cannot escape the eye 
of Omniscience. Do you ever think, Avhen committing sin, 
that though it may be hid from man, "Thou God seest 
me ?" Ah, I fear not. No language can describe this 
infatuation ; but there is a period fast approaching, when 
it will be felt in all its tremendous reality. 



2 WHAT ART THOU ? 

Remember, you cannot remain long an inhabitant of this 
world — you are to die. It may be the moment is at hand. 
" This night thy soul may be required of thee." Yet, after 
death, you are to exist for ever. For ever ! where ? Ah, 
where ? If you are living Avithout God, you cannot mis- 
take the place whither you are bound. And can you, 
without horror and dismay, contemplate that place where 
the worm dieth not, and the fire is never quenched — where 
there are weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth? 
Think of such inevitable destruction, and say if you main- 
tain the determination to let others go to heaven, there to 
enjoy uninterrupted felicity, whilst you, having chosen that 
in which God delights not, shall be thrust down to hell, to 
spend your for ever in the blackness of darkness. Away 
with such a wicked and horrific thought ! What, an in- 
telligent being preparing, deliberately preparing himself, 
for everlasting burnings ? how tremendously affecting to a 
serious mind ! and all for the pleasures of sin, which last 
only for a short season. 

Does the world never frown upon you, that you so love 
it ? And 0, let me ask you what the world will do for 
you at death ? Will it afford you one shadow of comfort ? 
How often do the agonies of a guilty conscience, on a death- 
bed, present a specimen of the misery which will be com- 
pleted in eternit3\ Think not it will be time enough to 
relinquish sin, when sickness and death approach. A death- 
bed may never come to you : you may be hurried to the 
eternal world without a moment's warning. " JSTow is the 
accepted time, now is the day of salvation." We never 
read in the Bible that to-morrow will be time enough. Who 
will presume to say that he will live another day, and do 
this or that? Prov. 27 : 1. Psal. 95 : T. 

Jehovah hath "no pleasure in the death of the wicked." 
Hearken to the melting, beseeching expostulations : " Turn 
ye, turn ye ; why will ye die ?" " 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 
of the water of life freely." Rev. 22: 17. Yes, God is 
willing, through the merits and death of Christ, to save all 
who apply to him in earnest. Of this you ought not to 
doubt ; look to the cross of Calvary for the delightfid at- 
testation, that " God so loved the world as to give his only 



WHAT ART THOU ? 3 

begotten Son, that whosoever beheveth in him should not 
perish, but have everhisting life," Multitudes have already 
experienced the blessedness of believing this truth. Still 
there is room — room iu God's vineyard — room in heaven 
for you. Christ is the way, the truth, and the life, and 
there is salvation in no other. Haste then to Jesus, the 
refuge of the soul, for the avenger of blood pursues. You 
are safe in no place, and at no time, but under the covert of 
redeeming blood. Happy are they who are in such a state ; 
happy, indeed, is the people whose God is Jehovah. Christ 
is precious to them — their treasure is in heaven — their 
hearts are also there. "And when Christ, who is their 
life, shall appear, they shall also appear with him in glory." 
Happy people in time — happy through eternity. Will you 
not join the happy, the blessed number ? let there be 
joy in heaven on your account. Is there no feeling awak- 
ened within you by the recollection that you have a soul 
to be saved, and a crown of glory set before you ? 

Could I tell you the bliss experienced by the children 
of God, even "in this vale of tears," would it not affect 
you, to think you are a stranger to the sweets of the Chris- 
tian religion ? You know not what is meant b}^ " the com- 
munion of saints." How delightful is it for Zion's children 
to converse about the things that concern the King, the 
Lord of glory, or their own precious immortal souls — to 
sympathize together with the benighted heathen, or the 
world lying in wickedness. How animating to bow the 
knee at the footstool of mercy, and supplicate for pardon 
and peace for all mankind. How enrapturing to converse 
of the triumphs of the cross — the prosperity of the church 
— the inroads made on Satan's kingdom, by the daily and 
hourly accessions to the number of the saved — and the 
final and universal conquest of light and truth over dark- 
ness and error. What contemplations arise in connection 
with the land of consummate bliss — the Zion above — the 
new Jerusalem. And O, how sweetly comforting to have 
the prospect of meeting hereafter in that land " of cloudless 
sky," and there rehearsing together the wonders of redeem- 
ing mercy. In that land the redeemed shall not love, ad- 
mire, and praise, as they were wont to do on earth. There, 
love shall for ever glow without the least abatement — ad- 
miration shall for ever increase — and the most exalted and 



4 WHAT ART TH0U1 

harmonious songs of praise shall burst forth from ravished 
hearts, through the endless ages of eternity. There are 
the white robes — the crown of glory — the palms of victory 
— the ever delightful worship — the hallelujahs which make 
heaven's portals ring; and there is to be seen the object of 
incomparable wonder, to whom this praise belongs — the 
man Jesus Christ, on his throne, high and lifted up : and 
all this blessedness has been provided by infinite love ! 

What think you, reader, of such things ? What think 
you of Christ ? Of what he has done to save sinners ? Of 
w^hat he has gone to prepare for those Avho love him ? 
Say, hath not his love a depth and a height, a length and 
a breadth, which passeth all knowledge ? Surely, there is 
nothing but Christ and his cause worth living for. 

There is a reality in religion, whatever scoffers maj'^ say. 
A present reward is experienced in the keeping of God's 
commands. ''AVisdom's ways are ways of pleasantness, 
and all her paths are peace." This peace passeth all un- 
derstanding — it must be enjoyed to be perfectly understood. 
The world can neither give it nor take it away. You are 
capable now of becoming an expectant, and at last a par- 
taker of this infinite blessedness. Be entreated to accept 
of the Saviour, to give yourself up entirely to him, and 
undoubtedly you will say, you never knew happiness, real 
happiness, till you became a possessor of real religion. 
Come to Christ as you are, wretched, miserable, blind, 
naked. In him all fulness dwells. Trust alone in his blood 
and righteousness. He has done all that is necessary for 
your salvation. 

Once more : if you are still disposed to remain careless 
about your soul and eternity, I must cease addressing you, 
or attempting to delineate your fearful state. Time is given 
to prepare for eternity ; miss this, and you are lost for 
ever. kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and ye perish for 
ever. Escape for your life — look not behind. Death is 
approaching — ^judgment is approaching — eternity is ap- 
proaching. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



No. 305. 



BARNES 



TRAFFIC IN ARDENT SPIRITS. 



There are some great principles in regard to our coun- 
try, which are settled, and which are never to be violated, 
so loDS" as our liberties are safe. Amono- them are these : 
that every thing may be subjected to candid and most free 
discussion ; that public opinion, enlightened and correct, 
may be turned against any course of evil conduct ; that 
that public opinion is, under God, the prime source of se- 
curity to our laws and to our morals ; and that men may 
be induced, by an ample and liberal discussion, and by the 
voice of conscience and of reason, to abandon any course 
that is erroneous. We are to presume that we may ap- 
proach any class of American citizens with the conviction 
that if they are convinced that they are wrong, and that 
their course of life leads to sap the foundation of morals 
and the liberties of their country, they will abandon it. 

Our present proposition is, that the manufacturing 

AND VENDING OF ARDENT SPIRITS IS MORALLY WRONG, AND 
OUGHT TO BE FORTHWITH ABANDONED. 

We mean hj the proposition, that it is an employment 
which violates the rules of morals that ought to regulate a 
man's business and conduct. The doctrine proceeds on the 
supposition, that there is somewhere a correct standard of 
morals — a standard by which a man's whole conduct and 
course of life is to be tried ; and that this business cannot 
be vindicated by a reference to that standard. Or, for ex- 



2 TRAFFIC IN ARDENT SPIRITS. 

ample, we mean that it is man's duty to love God, and 
seek to honor him, and that this business cannot be vindi- 
cated by a reference to that standard. That it is man's 
duty to love his fellow-men, and seek to promote their wel- 
fare, and that this business cannot be vindicated by that 
standard. That it is man's duty to render a valuable com- 
pensation to his fellow -men in his transactions with them, 
and that this business cannot be vindicated by that standard. 
That every man is bound to pursue such a course of life as 
shall promote the welfare of the entire community in which 
he lives, as shall not tend to promote crime, and pauperism, 
and misery, and to make widows and orphans, and that this 
business cannot be vindicated by that standard. In one 
word, that by any rules of life that have been set up to 
regulate the conduct of men, whether in the Bible, in the 
necessary relations of the social compact, in the reason and 
conscience of Christians, and of other men, this business is 
incapable of vindication, and is to be regarded as immoral. 

In this proposition, however, it is important to be un- 
derstood. We mean to confine it simply to the business 
where it is sold as an article of drink. For to sell it as a 
medicine, with the same precaution as other poisons are 
sold, would be no more immoral than it is to sell arsenic. 
And to sell it for purposes of manufacture, where it is 
necessary for that purpose, is no more immoral than to sell 
any other article with that design. Between selling it for 
these purposes, and selling it as an article of drink, there 
is, as any one can see, the widest possible difference. 

When we speak of this business as immoral, it is also 
important to guard the use of the word immoral. That 
word, with us, has come to have a definite and well under- 
stood signification. When we speak of an immoral man, 
we are commonly understood to attack the foundations of 
his character ; to designate some gross vice of which he is 
guilty, and to speak of him as profane, or licentious, or 



TRAFFIC IN ARDENT SPIRITS. 3 

profligate, or dishonest, or as unworthy of our confidence 
and respect. 'Now, we by no means intend to use the word 
in such a wide sense, when we say that this business is 
immoral. We do not mean to intimate that in no circum- 
stances a man may be engaged in it and be worthy of our 
confidence, and be an honest man, or even a Christian; 
for our belief is, that many such men have been, and are 
still, unhappily engaged in this traffic. The time has been, 
when it was thought to be as reputable as any other em- 
ployment. Men may not see the injurious tendency of their 
conduct. They may not be apprized of its consequences ; 
or they may be ignorant of the proper rules by which hu- 
man life is to be regulated. Thus, the slave-trade was long 
pursued, and duelling was deemed right, and bigamy was 
practised. But for a man to maintain that all these would 
be right now, and to practise them, would be a very differ- 
ent thing. 

In this view of the subject, we do not of course speak 
of the dead, or offer any reflection on their conduct or char- 
acter. Many men are unwilling to regard this traffic as 
wrong, because, by so doing, they would seem to convey a 
reflection on their parents, or friends, who may have been 
engaged in the same business. But nothing of this kind is 
intended. The great laws of morals are indeed unchanged ; 
but the degrees of light and knowledge which men possess 
may be very different. We should not deem it right to 
apply our laws and knowledge, in judging of the laws of 
Sparta, which authorized theft; nor our laws to judge of 
the conduct of the Hindoo in exposing his father on the 
banks of the Ganges ; nor our present views to determine 
on the morality of our fathers an hundred years ago in the 
slave-trade ; nor our views of the marriage relation to con- 
demn the conduct of Abraham, David, or Jacob. Man's 
conduct is to be estimated by the light which he has. They 
who sin without law, are to be judged without law ; and 



4 TRAFFIC IN ARDENT SPIRITS. 

they who sin in the law, are to be judged by the law. 
Your father might have been engaged in the traffic in 
ardent spirits. Whether he was innocent or not, is not 
now the question, and has been determined by a higher 
tribunal than any on earth. The question now is, whether 
you can pursue it with a good conscience ; or whether, with 
all that you know of the effects of the traffic, it be right or 
wrong for 3^ou to pursue it. 

With these necessary explanations, I proceed to prove 
that, in the sense in which it has been explained, the traffic 

is MORALLY WRONG. 

In proving this proposition, I shall take for granted two 
or three points which are now conceded, and to establish 
which would lead me too far out of my way. The first is, 
that this is not an employment in which the properties of 
the article are unknown. The seller has as good an oppor- 
tunity to be acquainted with the qualities of the article, and 
its effects, as the buyer. There is no concealment of its 
character and tendency ; there can be no pretence that 
you were deceived in regard to those qualities, and that 
you were unintentionally engaged in the sale of an article 
which has turned out to be otherwise than you supposed 
it to be. For, alas, those properties are too well ascer- 
tained ; and all who are engaged in this employment have 
ample opportunity to know what they are doing, and en- 
gage in it with their eyes open. 

The effects of this traffic are well known. The public 
mind has been, with remarkable intensity, directed to this 
subject for ten years in this land, and the details have been 
laid before the American public. It is believed that no vice 
has ever been so faithfully guaged, and the details so well 
ascertained, as the vice of intemperance in this nation. It 
is far better understood than the extent of gambling, or 
piracy, or robbery, or the slave-trade. It is established 



TRAFFIC IN ARDENT SPIRITS. ,5 

noWj beyond the possibility of debate, tbat ardent spirits is 
a poison, as certain, as deadly, and destructive, as any other 
poison. It may be more slow in its effects, but it is not 
the less certain. This is established by the testimony of 
all physicians and chemists who have expressed an opinion 
on the subject. It is not necessary for the welfare of man 
as an ordinary drink. This is proved by the like testimony, 
by the example of many thousands who abstain from it, 
and by the fact, that before its invention, the Roman 
soldier, the Scythian, and the Greek, were as hardy and 
long-lived as men have been since. Its direct tendency is 
to produce disease, poverty, crime, and death. Its use 
tends to corrupt the morals, to enfeeble the intellect, to 
produce indolence, wretchedness, and woe in the family 
circle ; to shorten life, and to hurry to a loathsome grave ; 
to spread a pall of grief over families and nations. It is 
ascertained to be the source of nine- tenths of all the pau- 
perism, and nine-tenths of all the crimes in the land. It 
fills our streets with drunkards, our almshouses with loath- 
some wretches, our jails with poor criminals, and supplies 
our gibbets with victims. It costs the land in which we 
live more than 100,000,000 of dollars annually, and ren- 
ders us no compensation but poverty, want, curses, loath- 
someness, and tears. 

In any single year in this Union, could the effects be 
gathered into one single grasp, they would present to the 
eye the following affecting details. An army of at least 
300,000 drunkards — not made up of old men, of the feeble, 
but of those in early life ; of our youth, of our men of tal- 
ents and influence ; an enlistment from the bar, the bench, 
the pulpit, the homes of the rich, and the firesides of piety ; 
the abodes of the intelligent, as well as the places of ob- 
scurity, and the humble ranks — all reeling together to a 
drunkard's grave. With this army Napoleon would have 
overrun Europe. In the same group would be no less 



6 TRAFFIC IN ARDENT SPIRITS. 

than 75,000 criminals, made such by the use of ardent 
spirits ; criminals of every grade and dye, supported at the 
expense of the sober, and lost to morality, and industry, 
and hope ; the source of lawsuits, and the fountain of no 
small part of the expenses of courts of justice. In the 
same group would be no less than 200,000 paupers, in a 
land abounding in all the wealth that the richest soil can 
give, and under all the facilities which the most favored 
spot under the Avhole heaven can furnish for acquiring a 
decent and an honest subsistence. Paupers, supported at 
the expense of the sober and the industrious, and creating 
no small part of our taxes, to pay for their indolence, and 
Avretchedness, and crimes. And in the same group would 
be no less than 600 insane persons, made such by intem- 
perance, in all the horrid and revolting forms of delirium — 
the conscience destroyed, the mind obliterated, and hope 
and happiness fled for ever. And in the same group there 
would be no less than 30,000 of our countrymen, who die 
annually, as the direct effect of the use of ardent spirit. 
Thirty thousand of our countrymen sinking to the most 
loathsome and dishonored of all graves, the grave of the 
drunkard. This is just a summary of the obvious and sure 
effects of this vice. The innumerable woes that it incident- 
ally causes ; the weeping and groans of the widow and the 
fatherless ; the crimes and vices which it tends to introduce 
into abodes that would, but for this, be the abodes of 
peace, are not, and cannot be taken into the account. 

Now, this state of things, if produced in any other way, 
would spread weeping and sackcloth over nations and con- 
tinents. Any sweeping pestilence that could do this, would 
hold a nation in alarm, and diffuse, from one end of it to the 
other, trembling and horror. The world has never known 
any thing else like it. The father of mischief has never 
been able to invent any thing that should diffuse more wide- 
spread and dreadful evils. 



TRAFFIC IN ARDENT SPIRITS. 7 

It is agreed further, and well understood, that this is the 
regular effect of the traffic, and manufacture, and use of this 
article. It is not casual, incidental, irregular. It is uniform, 
certain, deadly, as the sirocco of the desert, or as the mala- 
ria of the Pontine marshes. It is not a periodical influence, 
returning at distant intervals ; but it is a pestilence, breath- 
ing always — diffusing the poison when men sleep and when 
they wake, by day and by night, in seed-time and harvest — 
attending the manufacture and sale of the article always. 
The destroyer seeks his victim alike in every hogshead, and 
in every glass. He exempts no man from danger that uses 
it ; and is always secure of prostrating the most vigorous 
frame, of clouding the most splendid intellect, of benumb- 
ing the most delicate moral feelings, of palsying the most 
eloquent tongue, of teaching those on whose lips listening 
senates hung, to mutter and babble with the drunkard, and 
of entombing the most brilliant talents and hopes of youth, 
wherever man can be induced to drink. The establishment 
of every distillery, and every dram-shop, and every grocery 
where it is sold, secures the certainty that many a man will 
thereby become a drunkard, and be a curse to himself and 
to the world. The traffic is not only occasionally and inci- 
dentally injurious, but it is like the generation before the 
flood in its eff"ects, evil, and only evil continually. 

Now the question is, whether this is an employment in 
which a moral man and a Christian man ought to be en- 
gaged. Is it such a business as his countrymen ought to 
approve ? Is it such as his conscience and sober judgment 
approve ? Is it such as his God and Judge will approve ? 

In examining this, let it be remembered, that the reason 
why this occupation is engaged in, and the sole reason, is, 
to make money. It is not because it is supposed that it will 
benefit mankind ; nor is it because the man supposes that 
duty to his Creator requires it ; nor is it because it is pre- 



g TRAFFIC IN ARDENT SPIRITS. 

sumed that it will promote public health, or morals, or hap- 
piness ; but it is engaged in and pursued solely as a means 
of livelihood or of wealth. And the question then is re- 
duced to a very narrow compass : Is it right for a man, for 
the sake of gain, to be engaged in the sale of a poison — 
a poison attended Avith destruction to the property, health, 
happiness, peace, and salvation of his neighbors ; producing 
mania, and poverty, and curses, and death, and woes innu- 
merable to the land, and to the church of God ? A ques- 
tion this, one would think, that might be very soon answered. 
In answering it, I invite attention to a few very obvious, but 
undeniable positions. 

1. It is an employment which tends to counteract the 
very design of the organization of society. Society is organ- 
ized on a benevolent principle. The structure of that or- 
ganization is one of the best adapted instances of design, 
and of benevolence, anywhere to be found. It is on this 
principle that a lawful employment — an employment fitted 
to produce subsistence for a man and his family, will not 
interfere with the rights and happiness of others. It may 
be pursued without violating any of their rights, or infring- 
ing on their happiness in any way. Nay, it may not only 
not interfere with their rights and happiness, but it will tend 
to promote directly their welfare, by promoting the happi- 
ness of the whole. Or, for example, the employment of the 
farmer may be pursued, not only without interfering with 
the rights or privileges of the mechanic, the physician, or 
the merchant, but it will directly contribute to their wel- 
fare, and is indispensable to it. The employment of the 
physician not only contributes to the support of himself and 
family, but to the welfare of the whole community. It not 
only does not interfere with the rights and happiness of the 
farmer and the mechanic, but it tends directly to their ad- 
vantage. The employment of the merchant in lawful traffic, 
not only contributes to his support, but is directly beneficial 



TRAFFIC IN ARDENT SPIRITS. 9 

to the whole agricultural part of the community ; for, as has 
been well said, "the merchant is the friend of mankind." 
He injures no man, at the same time that he benefits him- 
self ; and he contributes to the welfare of the community, 
by promoting a healthful and desirable exchange of com- 
modities in different parts of the land, and of various natures. 
The same is true of the mechanic, the mariner, the legisla- 
tor, the bookmaker, the day-laborer, the schoolmaster, the 
iawyer, the clergyman. 

Now, we maintain that the traffic in ardent spirits, as a 
drink, is a violation of this wise arrangement. It tends to 
sap the foundation of the whole economy. It is solely to 
benefit the trafficker, and it tends to evil, evil only, evil con- 
tinually. If every man should act on this principle, society 
could not exist. If every man should choose an employ- 
ment that should necessarily and always interfere with the 
peace, and happiness, and morals of others, it would at once 
break up the organization. If every manufacturer should 
erect a manufactory, as numerous as our distilleries and 
dram-shops, that should necessarily blight every farm, and 
produce sterility in its neighborhood, every farmer would 
regard it as an unlawful employment ; and if pursued, the 
business of agriculture would end. If a physician could 
live only by diffusing disease and death, who would regard 
his as a moral employment ? If a mariner could pursue 
his business from this port to Calcutta or Canton, only by 
importing the plague in every return voyage, who would 
deem it an honorable employment ? If an apothecary could 
pursue his business only by killing nine persons out of ten 
of those with whom he had deahng, who would deem it a 
lawful business ? If a man can get a living in his employ- 
ment only by fitting out a privateer and preying upon the 
peaceful commerce of the world, who will deem it a lawful 
employment ? If a man lives only to make a descent on the 
peaceful abodes of Africa, and to tear away parents from 



10 TRAFFIC IN ARDENT SPIRITS. 

their weeping children, and husbands from their wives and 
homes, where is the man that will deem this a moral busi- 
ness ? And why not ? Does he not act on the same prin- 
ciple as the man who deals in ardent spirits — a desire to 
make money, and that only ? The truth is, that in all these 
cases there would be a violation of the great fundamental 
law on which men must agree to live together in society — 
a violation of that great, noble, and benevolent law of our 
organization, by which an honest employment interferes with 
no other, but may tend to diffuse blessings in the whole 
circle of human engagements. And the traffic in ardent 
spirits is just as much a violation of this law, as in any of the 
cases specified. 

2. Every man is bound to pursue such a business as to 
render a valuable consideration for that which he receives 
from others. A man who receives in trade the avails of the 
industry of others, is under obligation to restore that which 
will be of real value. He receives the fruit of toil ; he re- 
ceives that which is of value to himself ; and common equity 
requires that he return a valuable consideration. Thus, the 
merchant renders to the farmer, in exchange for the growth 
of his farm, the productions of other climes ; the manufac- 
turer, that which is needful for the clothing or comfort of 
the agriculturist; the physician, the result of his profes- 
sional skill. All these are valuable considerations, which 
are fair and honorable subjects of exchange. They are a 
mutual accommodation ; they advance the interest of both 
parties. But it is not so with the dealer in ardent spirits. 
He obtains the property of his fellow- men, and what does 
he return ? That which will tend to promote his real wel- 
fare ? That which will make him a happier man ? That 
which will benefit his family ? That which diffuses learning 
and domestic comfort around his family circle ? None of 
these things. He gives him that which will produce pov- 
erty, and want, and cursing, and tears, and death. He asked 



TRAFFIC IN ARDENT SPIRITS. H 

an egg, and lie receives a scorpion. He gives him that 
which is estabhshed and well known as a source of no good, 
but as tending to produce beggary and wretchedness. Now, 
if this were practised in any other business, it would be 
open fraud. If in any way you could palm upon a farmer 
that which is not only worthless, but mischievous — that 
which would certainly tend to ruin him and his family, could 
there he any doubt about the nature of this employment ? 
It makes no difference here, that the man supposes that it is 
for his good ; or that he applies for it. You know that it 
is not for his benefit, and you know — what is the only ma- 
terial point under this head — that it will tend to his ruin. 
Whatever he may think about it, or whatever he may desire, 
you are well advised that it is an article that will tend to 
sap the foundation of his morals and happiness, and con- 
duce to the ruin of his estate, and his body, and his soul ; 
and you know, therefore, that you are not rendering him 
any really valuable consideration for his property. The 
dealer may look on his gains in this matter — on his houses, 
or mortgages, or lands, obtained as the result of this busi- 
ness — with something like these reflections. 

" This property has been gained from other men. It 
was theirs, honestly acquired, and was necessary to promote 
their own happiness and the happiness of their families. It 
has become mine by a traffic which has not only taken it 
away from them, but which has ruined their peace, cor- 
rupted their morals, sent woe and discord into their fami- 
lies, and consigned them perhaps to an early and most 
loathsome grave. This property has come from the hard 
earnings of other men ; has passed into my hands without 
any valuable compensation rendered ; but has been obtained 
only while I have been diffusing want, and woe, and death, 
through their abodes." 

Let the men engaged in this traffic look on their prop- 
erty thus gained ; let them survey the woe which has 



12 TRAFFIC IN ARDENT SPIRITS. 

attended it ; and then ask, as honest men, whether it is a 
moral employment. 

3. A man is bomid to pursue such a business as shall 
tend to promote the welfare of the whole community. This 
traffic does not. We have seen that an honorable and law- 
ful employment conduces to the welfare of the whole social 
organization. But the welfare of the whole cannot be pro- 
moted by this traffic. Somewhere it must produce poverty, 
and idleness, and crime. Even granting, what cannot be 
established, that it may promote the happiness of a partic- 
ular portion of the community, yet it must be at the expense 
of some other portion. You may export poison to Georgia, 
and the immediate effect may be to introduce money into 
Philadelphia, but the only important inquiry is, what will 
be the effect on the whole body politic ?- Will it do more 
good than evil on the whole ? Will the money which you 
may receive here, be a compensation for all the evil which 
will be done there ? Money a compensation for intemper- 
ance, and idleness, and crime, and the loss of the health, 
the happiness, and the souls of men ? 

Now we may easily determine this matter. The article 
thus exported will do as much evil there as it would if con- 
sumed here. It will spread just as much devastation some- 
where, as it would if consumed m your own family, and 
among your own friends and neighbors. We have only to 
ask, what would be the effect if it were consumed in your 
own habitation, in your neighborhood, in your own city? 
Let all this poison, which is thus exported to spread woes 
and death somewhere, be concentrated and consumed where 
you might see it, and is there any man who will pretend 
that the paltry sum which he receives is a compensation for 
what he knows would be the effect of the consumption ? 
You keep your own atmosphere pure, it may be, but you 
export the pestilence, and curses, and lamentation else- 
where, and receive a compensation for it. You sell disease, 



TRAFFIC IN ARDENT SPIRITS. 13 

and death, and poverty, and nakedness, and tears to other 
famihes, to clothe and feed your own. And as the result 
of this current of moral poison and pollution which you may 
cause to flow into hundreds of other famihes, you may point 
to a splendid palace, or to gay apparel of your sons and 
daughters, and proclaim that the evil is hidden from your 
eyes. Families, and neighborhoods, and states, may groan 
and bleed somewhere, and thousands may die, but your 
gain is to be a compensation for it all. Is this an honora- 
ble traffic ? 

Suppose a man were to advertise consumptions, and 
fevers, and pleurisies, and leprosy, for gold, and could and 
would sell them ; what would the community say to such 
a traffic ? Suppose, for gain, he could transport them to 
distant places, and now strike down by a secret power a 
family in Maine, and now at St. Mary's, and now at Texas, 
and now at St. Louis ; what would the community think of 
wealth gained in such a traffic ? Suppose he could, with 
the same ease, diffuse profaneness, and insanity, and rob- 
beries, and murders, and suicides, and should advertise all 
these to be propagated through the land, and could prevail 
on men to buy the talismanic nostrum for gold — what would 
the community think of such a traffic as this ? True, he 
might plead that it brought a vast influx of money — that it 
enriched the city, or the country — that the effects were not 
seen there ; but what would be the public estimate of a 
man who would be Avilling to engage in such a traffic, and 
who would set up such a plea ? Or suppose it were under- 
stood that a farmer from the interior had arrived in Phila- 
delphia with a load of flour, nine-tenths of whose barrels 
contained a mixture, more or less, of arsenic, and should 
ofter them for sale ; what would be the feelings of this 
community at such a traffic ? True, the man might plead 
that it would produce gain to his country ; that they had 
taken care to remove it to another population ; that hjs own 

VOL. IX. 9 



14 TRAFFIC IN ARDENT SPIRITS. 

family was secure. Can any words express the indignation 
which would be felt ? Can any thing express the horror 
which all men Avould feel at such a transaction as this, and 
at the cold-blooded and inhuman guilt of the money-loving 
farmer ? And yet we Avitness a thing like this every day, 
on our wharves, and in our ships, and our groceries, and 
our inns, and from our men of wealth, and our moral men, 
and our 23ro/essecl Christians — and a horror comes through 
the souls of men, when we dare to intimate that this is an 
immoral business. 

4. A man is bound to pursue such a course of life as 
not necessarily to increase the burdens and the taxes of the 
community. The pauperism and crimes of this land grow 
out of this vice, as an overflowing fountain. Three-fourths 
of the taxes for prisons, and houses of refuge, and alms- 
houses, would be cut off, but for this traffic and the attend- 
ant vices. Nine-tenths of the crimes of the country, and of 
the expenses of litigation for crime, would be prevented by 
arresting it. Of 653 who were in one year committed to 
the house of correction in Boston, 453 were drunkards. Of 
3,000 persons admitted to the workhouse in Salem, Mass., 
2,900 were brought there directly or indirectly by intem- 
perance. Of 592 male adults in the almshouse in New 
York, not 20, says the superintendent, can be called sober; 
and of 601 women, not as many as 50. Only three instances 
of murder in the space of fifteen years, in New York, oc-: 
curred, that could not be traced to ardent spirit as the 
cause. In Philadelphia, ten. This is the legitimate, regu- 
lar effect of the business. It tends to poverty, crime, and 
woe, and greatly to increase the taxes and burdens of the 
community. 

What is done then in this traffic ? You are filling our 
almshouses, and jails, and penitentiaries, with victims loath- 
some and burdensome to the community. You are engaged 
in a business which is compelling your fellow-citizens to pay 



TRAFFIC IN ARDEAT SPIRITS. 15 

taxes to support the victims of your employment. You are 
filling up these abodes of wretchedness and guilt, and then 
asking your fellow-citizens to pay enormous taxes indirectly 
to support this traffic. For, if every place where ardent 
spirits can be obtained, were closed in this city and its sub- 
urbs, how long might your splendid palaces for the poor be 
almost untenanted piles ; how soon would your jails dis- 
gorge their inmates, and be no more filled ; how soon would 
the habitations of guilt and infamy in every city become the 
abodes of contentment and peace ; and how soon would 
reefing loathsomeness and want cease to assail your doors 
with importunate pleadings for charity. 

Now Ave have only to ask our fellow-citizens, what right 
they have to pursue an employment tending thus to burden 
the community with taxes, and to endanger the dwellings 
of their fellow-men, and to send to my door, and to every 
other man's door, hordes of beggars loathsome to the sight ; 
or to compel the virtuous to seek out their wives and chil- 
dren, amidst the squalidness of poverty, and the cold of 
winter, and the pinchings of hunger, to supply their wants ? 
Could impartial justice be done in the world, an end would 
soon be put to the traffic in ardent spirits. Were every 
man bound to alleviate all the wretchedness which his busi- 
ness creates, to support all the poor which his traffic causes, 
an end would soon be made of this employment. But alas, 
you can diffuse this poison for gain, and then call on your 
industrious and virtuous countrymen to alleviate the wretch- 
edness, to tax themselves to build granite prisons for the 
inmates which your business has made ; and splendid pal- 
aces, at an enormous expense, to extend a shelter and a 
home for those whom your employment has turned from 
their own habitations. Is this a moral employment ? 
Would it be well to obtain a living in this way in any other 
business ? 

5. The business is inconsistent loith the law of Gody 



16 TRAFFIC IN ARDENT SPIRITS. 

which requires us to love our neighbor as ourselves, A 
sufficient proof of this would be a fact which no one could 
deny, that no man yet, probably, ever undertook the busi- 
ness, or pursued it from that motive. Its defence is not, 
and cannot be put on that ground. No man in the com- 
munity believes that a continuance in it is required by a 
regard to the welfare of his neighbor. Every one knows 
that his welfare does not require it ; and that it would be 
conferrino- an inestimable blessino- on other men, if the traffic 
was abandoned. The single, sole object is gain ; and the 
sole question is, whether the love of gain is a sufficient 
motive for continuing that which works no good, but con- 
stant ill to your neighbor. 

There is another law of God which has an important 
bearing on this subject. It is that golden rule of the New 
Testament, Avhich commends itself to the conscience of all 
men, to do to others as you would wish them to do to you. 
You may easily conceive of your having a son, who was in 
danger of becoming a drunkard. Your hope might centre 
in him. He might be the stay of your age. He may be 
inclined to dissipation ; and it may have required all your 
vigilance, and prayers, and tears, and authority, to keep 
him in the ways of soberness. The simple question now 
is, what would you wish a neighbor to do in such a case ? 
Would it be the desire of your heart, that he should open 
a fountain of poison at your next door ; that he should, for 
gain, be willing to put a cup into the hands of your son, 
and entice him to the ways of intemperance ? Would you 
be pleased if he would listen to no remonstrance of yours, 
if he should even disregard your entreaties and your tears, 
and coolly see, for the love of gold, ruin coming into your 
family, and your prop taken from beneath you, and your 
gray hairs coming down Avith sorrow to the grave ? And 
yet to many such a son may you sell the poison ; to many 
a father whose children are clothed in rags ; to many a man 



TRAFFIC IN ARDENT SPIRITS. 17 

whose wife sits weeping amidst poverty and want, and 
dreading to hear the tread and the voice of the husband of 
her youth, once her protector, who now comes to convert 
his own habitation into a helL And there are not a few 
men of fair standing in society who are engaged in this ; 
And not a few — tell it not in Gath — who claim the hon- 
ored name of Christian, and who profess to bear the image 
of Him who went about doing good. Can such be a moral 
business? 

6. The traffic is a violation of that law ivhich requires 
a man to honor God. Whether ye eat, or drink, or what- 
soever ye do, do all to the glory of God. And yet is this 
a business which was ever engaged in, or ever pursued, 
with a desire to honor God ? Is it an employment over 
which a man will pray ? Can he ask the God of heaven 
to give him success ? Let him, then, in imagination, follow 
what he sells to its direct result ; let him attend it to its 
final distribution of poverty, and woes, and crimes, and 
death, and then kneel before heaven's eternal King, and 
render thanksgiving for this success ? Alas, it cannot be. 
Man pursues it not from a desire to honor God. And can 
the man who is engaged in a business on which he cannot 
implore the blessing of heaven ; who is obliged to conceal 
all thoughts of it if he ever prays ; who never engaged in 
it with a desire to glorify God, or to meet his approbation, 
can he be engaged in a business which is lawful and right ? 

I might dwell further on these points. But I am now 
prepared to ask, with emphasis, whether an employment 
that has been attended with so many ills to the bodies and 
souls of men ; with so much woe and crime ; whose results 
are evil, and only evil continually ; an employment which 
cannot be pursued without tending to destroy the very 
purposes of the organization of society ; without violating 
the rule which requires us to render a valuable considera- 
tion in business ; without violating the rule which requires a 

VOL. IX. 9* 



X8 TRAFFIC IN ARDENT SPIRITS. 

man to promote the welfare of the whole of the commu- 
nity ; which promotes pauperism and crime, and imposes 
heavy burdens on your fellow- citizens ; which is opposed 
equally to the love of man and the law of God — whether 
this is a moral, or an immoral em]ploy merit ? 

The question is submitted. If moral, it should be driven 
on with all the power of American energy ; with all the 
aids of wealth, and all the might of steam, and all the 
facilities of railroads and canals ; for our country and the 
church calls the man to the honorable employment. But 
if it be immoral and wrong, it should be abandoned on the 
spot. Not another gallon should ever pass from your store, 
if it be evil, only evil, and that continually. 

We are prepared now to examine a few of the objec- 
tions to this doctrine. 

1. The first is, that the traffic is not condemned in the 
Bible. To this the answer is very obvious. The article 
was then unknown. Nor was it known until 600 years 
after the Bible was completed. This mode of extending 
and perpetuating depravity in the world was not suggested 
by the father of evil, until it was too late to make a formal 
law against it in the Bible, or to fortify the argument of 
human depravity from this source. It is neither in the 
Bible, nor in any other code of laAvs, the custom to specify 
crimes which do not exist. How remarkable in a code of 
laws would have been such a declaration as the trafficker 
demands, " Thou shalt not deal in ardent spirits," hundreds 
of years before the article was known. The world would 
have stood in amazement, and would have been perplexed 
and confounded by an unmeaning statute. But further, it 
is not the practice in the Bible, or in any other book of 
laws, to specify each shade and degree of wrong. Had it 
been, there could have been no end of legislation, and no 
end to books of law. I ask the dealer in ardent spirits, 



TRAFFIC IN ARDEl^JT SPIRITS. 19 

where is there a formal prohibition of piracy, or bigamy, 
or kidnapping, or suicide, or dueUing, or the sale of ob- 
scene books and paintings ? And yet does any man doubt 
that these are immoral ? Does he believe that the Bible 
will countenance them ? Will he enorao-e in them, because 
they are not specified formally, and with technical preci- 
sion, in the Scriptures ? The truth is, that the Bible has 
laid down great principles of conduct, which on all these 
subjects can be easily applied, Avhich are applied, and which, 
under the guidance of equal honesty, may be as easily 
applied to the traffic of which I am speaking. Still further, 
the Bible has forbidden it in principle, and with all the 
precision which can be demanded, A man cannot pursue 
the business, as has been shown, Avithout violating its great 
principles. He cannot do justly in it ; he cannot show 
mercy by it ; he cannot seek to alleviate human woes by it ; 
he cannot do as he would wish to be done unto ; he cannot 
pursue it to glorify God. The great principles of the Bible, 
the spirit of the Bible, and a thousand texts of the Bible 
are pointed against it ; and every step the trafficker takes, 
he infringes on the spirit and bearing of some declaration 
of God. And still further, it is his business to make out 
the propriety of the employment, not ours to make out the 
case against him. Here is the rule — for him to judge. 
By this he is to be tried ; and unless he can find in the vol- 
ume a rule that will justify him in a business for gain that 
scatters inevitable woes and death ; that accomplishes more 
destruction than all the chariots of war and the desolations 
of gunpowder on the field of blood ; that sends more hu- 
man beings to the grave, than fire, and flood, and pestilence, 
and famine, altogether ; that heaps on human society more 
burdens than all other causes combined ; that sends armies 
on armies, in a form more appalling, and infinitely more 
loathsome than Napoleon's "food for cannon," to the 
grave : unless he can find some prophecy, or some princi- 



20 TRAFFIC IN ARDENT SPIRITS. 

pie, or some declaration, that will justify these, the Bible 
is against him, and he knows it. As well might he search 
for a principle to authorize him to plant a Bohon Upas 
on every man's farm, and in the heart of every city and 
hamlet. 

2. A second plea is, "If I do not do it, others will ; 
the traffic will go on." Then, I answer, let others do it, 
and on them, not on you, be the responsibility. But it is 
said, perhaps, if it is not in your hands— the hands of the 
respectable and the pious — it will be in the hands of the 
unprincipled and the profligate. I answer, there let it 
BE. There, if anywhere, it should be. There, if these 
principles are correct, is its appropriate place. And if that 
Avere done, intemperance would soon cease to curse the 
land. It is just because it is upheld by the rich, and the 
rejyutable, and by 'professed Christians, that the reform drags 
so heavily. The business has never found its proper level. 
And that the dealers in it would kindly forego this plea 
of benevolence, and feel themselves released from this ob- 
ligation. But is this a correct principle of conduct? Is 
this the rule which heaven has given, or which conscience 
gives, to direct the doings of man ? Have I a right to do 
all which I know other men will do ? Other men will com- 
mit murder. Have I a right to do it ? Other men will 
commit adultery. Have I a right to do it ? Other men 
will curse, and swear, and steal. Have you a right to do 
it ? Other men will prey on unoffending Africa, and bear 
human sinews across the ocean to be sold. Have you a 
right to do it ? The traffic in human flesh will go on ; 
ships will be fitted out from American ports; and Ameri- 
can hands will bear a part of the price of the tears and 
groans of enslaved men. And why should not you parti- 
cipate with them, on the same principle ? 

3, A third excuse is, that the traffic is the source of gain 
to the country. Now this is known to be not so. More 



TRAFFIC IN ARDENT SPIRITS. 21 

than 100,000,000 of dollars would be necessary to repair 
to this land the annual loss in this business. Is it no loss 
that 300,000 men are drunkards, and are the slaves of indo- 
lence and want ? Is it no loss to the nation that 30,000 each 
year go to the grave ? Is there no loss in the expense of sup- 
porting 75,000 criminals, and nine-tenths of the paupers in 
the land ? Is it no loss that bad debts are made, and men 
are made unable and unwilling to pay their debts ? Whence 
are your bad debts ? Whence, but directly or indirectly 
from this business ? From the indolence, and want of prin- 
ciple, and want of attention, which intemperance produces ? 

4. The man who is engaged in this business says, per- 
haps, *' I have inherited it, and it is the source of my gain ; 
and what shall I do ?" I answer, beg, dig — do any thing 
hut this. It would be a glorious martyrdom to starve, con- 
trasted with obtaining a livelihood by such an employment. 
In this land, assuredly, men cannot plead that there are no 
honorable sources of livelihood open before them. Besides, 
from whom do we hear this plea ? As often as otherwise 
from the man that rolls in wealth ; that lives in a palace ; 
that clothes his family in the attire of princes and of courts ; 
and that moves in the circles of fashion and splendor. 
how cheering is consistent pleading ; how lovely the ex- 
pressions of perfect honesty ! This business may be aban- 
doned without difficulty. The only question is, whether 
the love of man, and the dictates of conscience, and the 
fear of God, shall prevail over the love of that polluted gold 
which this traffic in the lives and souls of men shall intro- 
duce into your dwelling. 

During a warmly contested election in the city of New 
York, it is stated in the daily papers that numerous applica- 
tions were made for i^istols to those who kept them for sale. 
It is added that the application was extensively denied, on 
the ground of the apprehension that they were intended for 
bloodshed in the excitement of the contest. This was a 



22 TRAFFIC IN ARDENT SPIRITS. 

noble instance of principle. But on the plea of the dealer 
in ardent spirits, why should they have been withheld ? The 
dealer in fire-arms might have plead as the trafficker in 
poison does : " This is my business. I obtain a livelihood 
by it. I am not resioonsihle for what will he done with the 
fire-arms. True, the people are agitated. I have every 
reason to believe that application is made with a purpose to 
take life. True, blood may flow and useful lives may be 
lost. But / am not responsible. If they take life, they are 
answerable. The excitement is a favorable opportunity to 
dispose of my stock on hand, and it is a part of my business 
to avail myself of all favorable circumstances in the com- 
munity to make money." Who would not have been struck 
with the cold-blooded and inhuman avarice of such a man ? 
And yet there was not half the moral certainty that those 
fire-arms would have been used for purposes of blood, that 
there is that ardent spirits will be employed to produce 
crime, and poverty, and death. 

I have no time to notice other objections. Nor need I. 
I have stated the i^t'inciiole of all. I just add here, that the 
excuses which aie set up for this traffic will apply just as 
well to any other business as this, and will fully vindicate 
any other employment, if they are to be sustained. Apply 
these excuses to the case of a bookseller. The question might 
be suggested, whether it was a moral or an immoral business 
to deal in infidel, profligate, and obscene pictures and books. 
True, it might be alleged that they did evil, and only evil 
continually. It might be said that neither the love of God 
or man Avould prompt to it. He might be pointed to the fact, 
that they ahoai/s tended to corrupt the morals of youth ; to 
blight the hopes of parents ; to fill up houses of infcimy ; to 
blot out the hopes of heaven ; and to sink men to hell. But 
then he might with commendable coolness add, "This traf- 
fic is not condemned in the Bible. If / do not engage in 
it, others will. It contributes to my livelihood ; to the sup- 



TRAFFIC IN ARDENT 8PIRITS. 23 

port of the press ; to the promotion of business ; and I am 
not responsible for their reading the books, nor for their 
desire for them. I am pursuing the way in which my 
fathers walked before me, and it is my living, and I will do 
it.'" Wherein does this plea differ from that of the traf- 
ficker in ardent spirits? Alas, we have learned how to 
estimate its force in regard to other sins ; but we shrink 
from its application in regard to this wide-spread business, 
that employs so much of the time and the wealth of the 
people of this land. 

Here I close. The path of duty and of safety is plain. 
These evils may be corrected. A virtuous and an indepen- 
dent people may rise in their majesty and correct them all. 
I call on all whom I now address, to exert their influence 
in this cause ; to abandon all connection with the traffic ; and 
to become the firm, and warm, and thorough-going advo- 
cates of the temperance reformation. Your country calls 
you to it. Every man who loves her welfare, should pursue 
no half-way measures ; should tread no vacillating course 
in this great and glorious reformation. 

But more especially may I call on young men, and ask 
their patronage in this cause. For they are in danger ; and 
they are the source of our hopes, and they are our strength. 
I appeal to them by their hopes of happiness ; by their 
prospects of long life ; by their desire of property and health ; 
by their wish for reputation ; and by the fact that by absti- 
nence, strict abstinence alone, are they safe from the crimes, 
and loathsomeness, and grave of the drunkard. Young 
men, I beseech you to regard the liberties of your country ; 
the purity of the churches; your own usefulness; and the 
honor of your family — the feelings of a father, a mother, 
and a sister. And I conjure you to take this stand by a 
reference to your own immortal welfare ; by a regard to that 
heaven which a drunkard enters not — and by a fear of that 
hell which is his own appropriate, eternal home. 



24 TRAFFIC IN ARDENT SPIRITS. 

Again I appeal to my fellow professing Christians ; the 
ministers of religion, the officers and members of the pure 
church of God. The pulpit should speak, in tones deep, 
and solemn, and constant, and reverberating through the 
land. The watchmen should see eye to eye. Of every officer 
and member of a church it should be known where he may 
be found. We want no vacillating counsels ; no time-serving 
apologies ; no coldness, no reluctance, no shrinking back in 
this cause. Every church of Christ, the world over, should 
be, in very deed, an organization of pure temperance under 
the headship and patronage of Jesus Christ, the friend and 
the model of purity. Members of the church of God most 
pure, bear it in mind, that intemperance in our land, and 
the world over, stands in the way of the Gospel. It opposes 
the progress of the reign of Christ in every village and 
hamlet ; in every city ; and at every corner of the street. It 
stands in the way of revivals of religion, and of the glories 
of the millennial morn. Every drunkard opposes the mil- 
lennium ; every dram-drinker stands in the way of it; every 
dram-seller stands in the way of it. Let the sentiment be 
heard, and echoed, and reechoed, all along the hills, and 
vales, and streams of the land, that the conversion of a man 
who hahitually uses ardent spirits is all but hopeless. And 
let this sentiment be followed up with that other melancholy 
truth, that the money wasted in this business — now a curse 
to all nations — nay, the money wasted in one year in this 
land for it, would place a Bible in every family on the earth, 
and establish a school in every village ; and that the talent 
which intemperance consigns each year to infamy and eter- 
nal perdition, would be sufficient to bear the Gospel over 
sea and land — to polar snows, and to the sands of a burning 
sun. The pulpit must speak out. And the press must 
speak. And you, fellow- Christians, are summoned by the 
God of purity to take your stand, and cause your influence 
to be felt. 



]¥o. 306. 

JOHN DE LOIG; 

OR 

THE PRODIGAL OF FIFTY YEARS. 



BY A CLERGYMAN IN PENNSYLVANIA. 

Taking a ride of a few miles on horseback, and ascend- 
ing an elevation, upon the top of which was a cluster of 
cottages, I visited an aged couple, whose reputation for 
piety had spread through all that country. Like Zacha- 
rias and Elizabeth, they were " both righteous before God, 
walking in all the ordinances and commandments of the 
Lord blameless." Here the morning and the evening sacri- 
fice of praise and thanksgiving was daily offered ; and here 
the neighboring villagers came together, from time to time, 
to present to their Creator the humble homage of their 
hearts, and to unite their supplications before his throne. 
Their animated and cheerful countenances bespoke their 
peace of mind ; a peace which the vicissitudes of life had, 
in a great measure, ceased to disturb ; a peace which nothing 
but a sense of the divine approbation could afford, and 
which seemed daily to acquire new strength, as they felt 
life to be receding, and eternity, with its solemnities, draw- 
ing nigh. 

The old man in former days had been an excellent singer, 
and there was still something in his voice and manner 
which seldom failed to awaken a kind of sacred enthusiasm 
in all who heard him. In former years he had stored his 
memory with worthless songs, with which he used to amuse 
the Youno- ; but since his return to God, he had been as 
diligent in treasuring up delightful hymns, which he sung 
for his own edification, and that of others. 

As I entered the door of his dwelling, he met me with 
a pleasant look and a cordial shake of the hand, and gave 

VOL. LX. 10 



2 JOHN DE LONG. 

me an honest welcome. Having seated myself, and know- 
ing, from long experience, that the readiest way to make a 
profitable religious visit is to enter at once upon some re- 
ligious topic, without first complimenting the world with 
transient remarks upon its business or its changes, I said, 

I suppose you are one of those favored few who feel 
always heaven-born and heaven-bound ; you hardly know, 
I suppose, those ups and downs and changes of feeling 
which oftentimes distress us weaker Christians. 

Blessed be God, said he, I do feel that I walk in the 
light, and that Jesus is constantly precious to my soul ; 
still, there are seasons when I have not that full enjoyment 
with which God pleases to favor me at other times. Not 
that I have painful doubts as to the final issue, for I can 
tndy say, " I know in whom I have helieved,'" and am con- 
fident that he will keep that which I have committed to 
him ; but the infirmities of nature come in, and render the 
body dull and heavy, and seem, for a season, to cloud the 
soul and interrupt the Spirit's communications. Upon the 
whole, however, I have reason for unceasing thankfulness, 
that it is with me as well as it is. It is but a few years 
since I set my face heavenward, and, during that time, I 
can truly testify I have served a faithful Master, one who 
has said, "I will never leave thee nor forsake thee," and 
Avho keepeth covenant for ever. 

Well, said I, friend John, the saints of old often spoke to 
each other on the great concerns of the soul, and delighted 
to rehearse the dealings of divine Providence, for the en- 
couragement of others. Suppose you give us a brief state- 
ment of the Spirit's operations with yourself, in bringing 
you out from nature's darkness into God's marvellous 
light. I have heard it said you was once a faithful ally of 
the powers of darkness, and it may be interesting and prof- 
itable to hear something of the way in which your views 
have been changed, and your mind disciplined in the obe- 
dience of Christ. 

I have no objection, sir, he replied, to* gratify you in 
this respect, for I am often called upon to speak of tliese 



JOHN DE LONG. 3 

matters to neighbors and friends ; yet it is seldom I can do 
it with a suitable command of feeling, or without making 
my heart bleed afresh for sins and follies I would gladly, 
if possible, for ever erase from my memory. The rehearsal, 
however, of what I once was, when sin had uncontrolled do- 
minion over me, while it would awaken in my own heart only 
painful recollections, could give you but little satisfaction ; 
I shall, therefore, be very brief in this part of my narrative. 

The history of my former life is but the history of every 
other notoriously wicked man, Avith this difference, that 
while some men are distinguished for one species of im- 
morality, and others for another, in me vice of every kind 
reigned triumphant. With the exception of murder, there 
is scarcely a crime with which I was not familiar. My youth 
was spent in the utter neglect of every thing that was good, 
and in greedily walking after the ways of my own heart, 
and according to the sight of my own eyes. The Sabbath 
was habitually violated, the house of God neglected, evil 
company carefully sought and delighted in, and the society 
of pious people as carefully avoided. My highest pleasure 
consisted in frolicking and carousing ; and for many years 
there was scarcely a midnight dance, or any other scene 
of riot and disorder, within many miles around, which was 
not graced, or rather disgraced, by my presence. 

The same course was continued even after I was mar- 
ried, although I well knew that such irregularities were then 
less excusable ; yet such was the force of early habits that 
I could not deny myself. In such places I felt easy and at 
home — there I was sure to meet with others as corrupt as 
myself, who strengthened all my prejudices, and were dis- 
posed to run to as great lengths as I could, in intemperance 
and blasphemy, and in ridiculing holy men and holy things. 

Such places are the very schools of Satan ; and those 
who habitually visit them not only run the risk of effacing, 
ere long, every good impression from their minds, but the 
truth is, whatever they may be wilUng to confess, their 
minds already are deeply corrupted. 

Feeling myself lost, as it were, to all good, I took a ma- 



4 JOHN DE LONG. 

lignant pleasure in trying to make others as abandoned as 
myself. Instead of going to cliurch on the Sabbath, I held 
out every inducement to the young people and children in 
the neighborhood to come together on that day at my 
house ; and studied to amuse them by relating some of 
my own wicked exploits, or telling them obscene stories. 
Possessing a kind of vulgar wit, I soon found my Sabbath 
audiences quite regular in their attendance, and, to appear- 
ance, mightily pleased. The amount of mischief which, in 
this way alone, I was guilty of, cannot be known until the 
final day ; and I can never think of it but with the deepest 
compunction and self- abhorrence. 

During this career of vice and folly I had, at times, it is 
true, deep convictions of guilt, and awful apprehensions of 
death and eternity ; but I considered such feelings, for the 
most part, as a weakness, and endeavored always to stifle 
them as quickly as possible. I sometimes found it pretty 
difficult to effect this in my sober moments, but never failed 
to accomplish it by having recourse to my usual antidote, 
intoxication. With respect to religion, and all its concerns, 
I had the most gloomy impressions. I viewed it as some- 
thing Avell enough to be possessed when men come to die, 
but as utterly inconsistent with all the enjoyments and com- 
forts of life. Christians appeared to me a race of gloomy, 
unhappy mortals ; and the breath of prayer, emphatically, 
as melancholy breath. It appeared to me, that if I became 
religious there was an end of all earthly comfort — that my 
friends would abandon me, and the remainder of my days 
be one unvaried scene of gloom and dulness. 

Such had been my life until I reached about the 49th 
year of my age. At that time, Avhich was nearly six years 
ago, it pleased God, in his holy providence, to bring you 
and brother S. C. into this country, to proclaim the truths 
of the everlasting Gospel. I did not go to hear you myself, 
but finding a considerable excitement among the people, I 
sometimes had a secret wish to go. I was, in truth, 
ashamed to show myself at a place of worship. Hearing, 
however, that you intended to administer the Lord's supper 



JOHN DE LONG. 5 

in D. S.'s barn, and not recollecting ever to have seen it 
administei'ed, and knowing that there would be a great 
crowd of people, among whom I might in a measure hide 
myself, I determined to attend that meeting. Accordingly 
I went, with most of my neighbors ; but coming rather 
late, and finding the barn already filled, I was obliged to sit 
upon the sill of the door. It so happened that I seated 
myself by the side of an old man, who, in former years, 
had been my companion in sin ; but, for some time, had 
been a reformed man, and a professed follower of Christ. 
Your text was, "■ By faith Noah, being warned of God of 
things not seen as yet, moved with fear, prepared an ark 
to the saving of his house; by the which he condemned 
the world, and became heir of the righteousness which is 
by faith." Heb. 11:7. During the sermon my attention 
was fixed. I felt more than usually solemn. But at the 
close of the sermon, when the line was drawn between 
those who might and those who might not worthily par- 
take, and I witnessed the movement of those that were 
going forward to the table, and saw among them some who, 
in former life, had run, with myself, the downward way ; 
and particularly, when I saw my aged friend, who sat at 
my side, arise to find his seat at the table, my feelings 
became overwhelming, and I was forced to say to myself, 
*' Just so it will be with me at the day of judgment; friend 
S. and hundreds of others that I was acquainted with here, 
will receive the joyful salute, ' Come, ye blessed, inherit 
the kingdom prepared for you,' and will go and dwell for 
ever with the Lord, while I shall be left behind. Just as 
we are separated now, shall we be for ever separated in a 
future state of existence." I felt worse than it is possible 
to describe, and did not know but I should sink. I then 
concluded to arise and stand up, and see if I did not feel 
better. This, however, made no difference ; and although 
I was desirous to stay until the exercises were ended, yet I 
found it was impossible. I took my hat and hastened from 
the place, and took a walk down through the village. 

As I walked along, I found the tears incessantly rolling 

VOL. IX. 10* 



6 JOHN DE LONG. 

doAvn my cheeks and watering the path on which I trod. 
It immediately occurred to me, " This will not answer. 
Suppose I should meet some of my former jolly companions, 
what would they say to see me coming away from the meet- 
ing crying ? I should not know where to hide my head. 
These feelings must, in some way or other, be suppressed, 
and the sooner the better." I accordingly determined to go 
and get partly intoxicated, which I had always before found 
to be a speedy and effectual method of removing trouble. 
I went to a tavern and drank a gill of spirits. I shudder 
to think how I could thus peril my soul ; yet still I found 
no abatement of my dreadful feelings. The judgment-day, 
with all its solemnities, was before me. I still, in imagina- 
tion, saw the righteous receiving the plaudit, "Well done, 
good and faithful servants," and rising with their glorious 
Redeemer to a world of glory, while I was left behind to 
mingle my unavailing cries with those of devils and damned 
spirits, and to sink with them into everlasting night. In a 
little while, my guilty soul, with all its crimes unpardoned, 
must stand, helpless and naked, in the presence of a justly 
offended God. Now, thought I, there is no time for tri- 
fling ; I shall soon be in that awful hell I have so much 
dreaded. To stand out any longer, I plainly saw, would 
not answer. Call on God I must, or be damned for ever. 
I forthwith left the house, and aimed for a piece of wood 
near at hand. I came to a convenient spot, where a tree 
had fallen, and kneeled by the side of it, and endeavored 
to pray. I cried to God in the best way I could for mercy 
and forgiveness, and to save my guilty soul from going doAvn 
the pit. But although my misery was intolerable, and my 
feelings almost agonized, yet I could say but little more 
than *' God be merciful to me, the chief of sinners." If I 
could have wept, it would have been some relief; but the 
fountain of my tears was dried up. I returned, after a 
while, to my home, and, in course of the day, went several 
times to the same place for prayer ; but there was no alter- 
ation in my feelings, and not a tear could I shed. The 
night that followed was a sleepless one to me. The pains 



JOHN DE LONG. 7 

of hell seemed to get hold upon me, and the terrors of the 
Lord to distract me. Next day my exercises and feelings 
were very much the same. But the day following I ex- 
perienced a little gleam of hope that there was yet forgive- 
ness with God, through Christ, even for such a wretch as 
I. The thought of this so overwhelmed my heart that 
the fountain of my tears was now broken up, and my tongue 
unloosed for prayer. I continued by that log, praying 
and weeping, the greatest part of the day — it was almost 
drenched with my tears, and for several days afterwards it 
was never dry. I was enabled more and more to trust in 
the divine mercy, and to give myself up to Christ, deter- 
mining, if I must perish, that I would die at his feet, crying 
for mercy ; at the same time a secret whisper seemed to 
assure my heart, that there no soul was ever lost. He ap- 
peared to me a Saviour just suited to my wretched circum- 
stances, as willing and able to save to the uttermost, all 
who come to God through him. Thus, by degrees, my 
painful and desponding feelings passed away, and light, and 
joy, and peace possessed my heart. Although I had been 
before an abandoned drunkard, yet it has now been more 
than five years since I met with this change, and I have 
had no more hankering after spirituous liquors than if I 
had never tasted them. I can truly say, I never knew 
what happiness was before ; and if religion was followed by 
no blessed consequences beyond the grave, yet the peace 
of mind it here administers, renders it worthy of the pursuit 
of every individual. Its ways are ways of pleasantness, 
and it is profitable as well for the life that now is, as for 
that which is to come. 

While our aged friend was going on with his narrative, 
several of his pious neighbors had, one after another, step- 
ped in, and when he had ended, we improved the occasion 
for a little season of social prayer. After which, the old 
man sung the annexed hymn, which he had committed to 
memory, and which so well corresponded Avith his own 
feelings, and was sung with such a heavenly pathos as to 
draw tears from every eye. 



Q JOHN 1>E LONG. 

Nay, I cannot let thee go, 
Till a blessing thou bestow ; 
Do not turn away thy face — 
Mine's an urgent, pressing case. 

Thou didst once a wretch behold, 
In*rebellion blindly bold, 
Scorn thy grace, thy power defy — 
That poor rebel, Lord, was I. 

Once a sinner, near despair. 
Sought tliy mercy-seat by prayer ', 
Mercy heard, and set him free — 
Lord, that mercy came to me. 

Many years have passed since then, 
Many changes I have seen ; 
Yet have been upheld till now — 
Who could hold me up but thou ? 

Thou hast help'd in every need, 
This emboldens me to plead ; . 
After so much mercy past, 
Canst thou let me sink at last ? 

When these exercises were finished, I felt refreshed, 
and my spiritual strength renewed, and could not help re- 
peating, again and again, ''It was good to be there." 

Reader, are you wandering from Christ, like John De 
Long? Return; trust in his merits, and you also shall find 
mercy. Or is your own heart bleeding over the obduracy 
of some hopeless prodigal ? Despair not of success. By 
your faithful labors and prayers he may yet be brought to 
bow at the Saviour's feet. There is mercy in Christ for 
"the chief of sinners." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



No. 307. 

THE 

HARVEST PERISHING 

FOR 

¥ANT OF LABORERS. 



AN APPEAL TO CHRISTIANS GENERALLY, TO PIOUS PHYSICIANS, » 

TO MINISTERS, AND TO PIOUS YOUNG MEN. 



BY REV. JOHN SCUDDER, M. D. 

MISSIONARY AT CEYLON. 

It is a heart-rending truth, that though eighteen hun- 
dred years have passed away since the Saviour died, the 
greater part of our world is stiH involved in moral darkness. 
Nearly six hundred millions of Mohammedans and pagans 
know nothing of Christianity ; more than one hundred and 
fifty millions of the Roman and Greek churches have buried 
its spirituality under the pomp of external forms, not to say 
of gross idolatry ; and many called Protestants are almost 
as destitute of the means of grace as the heathen. 

It is a momentous inquiry. What is to become of the 
eight hundred millions who inhabit our world ? Are they 
on the road to heaven, or to hell ? What says the volume 
of inspiration? "The wicked shall be turned into hell, 
and all the nations that forget God." With the exception 
of a few millions who give evidence of real piety, is there 
not awful reason to fear that the remainder are rushing in 
amass to everlasting burnings? Amazing consideration! 



2 THE HARVEST PERISHING 

I look around me with astonishment, and ask, Is there no 
remedy ? Yes, says the same volume of inspiration, " the 
blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin." 

But before the way can be prepared for the application 
of this remedy, most of them will be beyond the reach of 
mercy for ever. Would that the evil could stop even here. 
But alas, if things move on in their present course, despair 
may be written in letters of blood on the door-posts of the 
dwellings of most of their children, and of their children's 
children. Placed as I am, in the midst of hundreds of 
thousands of perishing heathen, I see enough to keep me 
weeping night and day for them. 

O that I had to weep for the heathen only ! But when 
I look to the country which gave me birth, and see the 
extensive moral wastes, where the voice of the Christian 
minister is never heard, and mark the prevalence of deso- 
lating en'or, my heart almost dies within me. Popery 
already numbers not less than five hundred thousand in her 
ranks, and infidelity perhaps still more. Should these 
increase with the regular increase of our population, at the 
end of two hundred years, if they make not a single prose- 
lyte, they will amount to more than fifty millions. We are 
not, however, to suppose that they will make no proselytes. 
To say nothing of infidelity, popery will go forward with 
rapid strides in all our destitute settlements. An enterprise 
to bring them under the authority of the pope was com- 
menced a few years ago, and has been crowned with remark- 
able success. **In 1828, $25,000 were sent from Europe 
by the ' Papal Association for the Propagation of the Faith,' 
for supporting missions in the United States ; and some 
hundreds of ecclesiastics are now exerting their influence 
from Canada to Louisiana." 

From late accounts, it seems that great efforts have been 



FOR WANT OF LARORERH. 



made for several years in the empire of Austria to diffuse 
popery through the United States. A Society was formed 
in 1829, called the "Leopold Foundation in the Austrian 
empire for the support of Catholic missions in America." 
The receipts of the Association, from July, 1829, to Octo- 
ber, 1830, were about 50,000 florins ; in the following year, 
81,000; in the third year, 60,000; making in all 191,000 
florins, or $91,680. 

It is stated that the number of Roman Catholic bishop- 
rics is nine : namely, Cincinnati, Bardstown, St. Louis, New 
Orleans, Alabama, Charleston, Philadelphia, New York, 
Boston, and the archbishopric of Baltimore. It is men- 
tioned that in the diocese of Philadelphia, which consists of 
the states of Pennsylvania and Delaware with a part of the 
state of New Jersey, there is a population of 100,000, of 
which 25,000 are residents in Philadelphia. The number 
of churches in the diocese is fifty, and of priests, thirty- 
eight. Papal seminaries of learning are poisoning the minds 
of many of your sons. That at Bardstown has contained, 
on an average, for the last four years, one hundred and 
fifty students. Their schools for girls have proved gins to 
entrap the daughters of unwary Protestants. To use their 
own language, " The Protestants themselves rejoice at the 
sight of our temples erected to the true God, and feel a 
peculiar attachment to the Catholic worship, whose pomp 
and splendor form so striking a contrast with the barren- 
ness and nudity of Protestant worship." A theatre in our 
destitute settlements would not probably collect so many 
people as the farce they exhibit on '' Good Friday." Other 
species of error will doubtless enlist in their ranks men of 
enlightened minds, who are willing to believe a lie, though 
unwilling to become the dupes of popery ; but while these 
slay their thousands, popery will slay its ten thousands. 



4 THE HARVEST PERISHING 

What mean sucli appeals as the following from a cler- 
gyman west of the Alleghany moimtams ? " Could your 
Committee," he says, " and the affluent friends of your So- 
ciety, see the progress of error and vice at the West — the 
wide West, they would tremble as they never have trem- 
bled for our country. The progress of Romanism, together 
with open and disguised infidelity, will require, according 
to present appearances, but a few years to prepare for your 
presses a Tract which you may entitle, ' The last hojje of 
the world fallen — America ruined /' Be assured, that in all 
the departments of benevolence efforts altogether unprece- 
dented must be made, and made soon, or our coimtry is 
lost : our civil and religious institutions, all the blessings of 
a free government, will be swallowed up as with a flood ; 
and woe, woe, will be written in tears and blood all over 
this once fair and happy land." 

Such statements are either without foundation, or, if 
things proceed but a little longer as they have done, the 
knell of our departed liberties will soon be sounded. 

But I turn again to this eastern world, embracing six 
hundred millions to whom the beloved name of Jesus is 
unknown. When I take a view of these vast regions of 
spiritual death, my heart dies within me at the slow prog- 
ress of Christianity. I have been here more than twelve 
years, but- 1 regret to say that the number of ordained 
European and American missionaries is but a very little 
greater than when I came. 

The Christian world does not seem to any great extent 
awake to the momentous business of missions. As the 
work is now carried on, there is scarcely a missionary to a 
million of souls. In some instances a single missionary is 
quite alone, and two, five, ten, or fifteen hundred miles 
from any fellow-laborer. In some cases, again, a number 



FOR WANT OF LABORERB. 5 

of missionaries are together, and have but a few thousand 
souls around them. But more commonly you see one or 
two at a station in the midst of ten, fifty, or a hundred 
millions of souls, with no other laborer to help forward the 
conversion of the surrounding multitudes. The mode of 
conducting missions at present, in most cases, is in fact like 
sending one soldier to storm a fort, five to conquer a prov- 
ince, a hundred to subjugate an empire. While such is the 
case shall I hold my peace ? No. This cannot be. If I 
forget you, ye perishing heathen, let my right hand forget 
her cunning: if I do not remember you, let my tongue 
cleave to the roof of my mouth — if I prefer not you to my 
chief joy. "■ 0, when will the groans and dying agonies of 
a famishing world, which has long cried in vain for the 
bread and water of life, be heard, and the church of God 
roused to action ?" 

The state of the heathen world urges upon us the great 
duty of endeavoring to raise up and send forth preachers 
of the Gospel. If degradation, pollution, and every species 
of crime which can be enumerated, are calls for us to engage 
in this work, we have such calls. The very nature of the 
pagan religion forbids any other state of things. The char- 
acters of their gods are as debased as is possible to conceive. 
Brumha, who is called the creator, betrayed a criminal pas- 
sion to his own daughter, and was deprived by Siva of the 
privilege of being worshipped, for his lying. Vishnu, the 
preserver, was an adulterer, a thief, and a liar. He was 
cursed by Paruvathe, the wife of Siva, for lying, and by 
her changed into a snake. Siva's adulteries are numbered 
by thousands. A modest person will not even dare men- 
tion the particulars of them. Many of the images which 
are worshipped are of the most indecent kind ; some of them 
absolutely shocking. Belonging to the temples are dancing- 
VOL. IX 11 



6 THE HARVEST PERISHING 

girls of the lowest character, supported wholly or in part 
by the revenues of the temple. One part of their daily 
business is to dance before the idols, at which time they 
sing the most corrupting songs, and exhibit the most lasciv- 
ious gestures. Their dress is often so thin as not to deserve 
the name of clothing. During the festivals at their temples, 
their joy keeps pace with the number of these dancers and 
the gross obscenity of their songs. It is not uncommon for 
Brahmins, at such times, to mix with the multitude, and 
select the finest women they meet, and demand them of 
their relatives in the name of the idol. Their demand, 
though often rejected, is often complied with. Husbands 
deliver up their wives, and fathers their daughters. They 
become the wives of the gods, or in other words, the pros- 
titutes of the Brahmins. Their public processions are of a 
piece with their other things. Men entirely naked dance 
before the idol in open day, and in the public streets. The 
celebrated Abbe Dubois, a Roman Catholic priest, who 
spent many years in the Mysore country, says, "/ have 
never beheld an Indian procession ivithout its j^resenting me 
the image of hell.'" 

As might be expected, the minds of men, women, and 
children become polluted to such a degree that they carry 
the pernicious lessons of their temples and festivals into all 
the walks of private life. As children are conversant with 
such scenes from their early childhood, and as no pains are 
taken by their parents to curb their passions, they of course 
soon show their degeneracy. Fornication is very common 
among them. Adultery is prevalent to a surprising degree. 
"A chaste woman, faithful to her husband, is scarcely to 
be found among the millions of the Hindoos." Vast num- 
bers of married men keep concubines. If a climax be want- 
ing to this horrid picture, it will be found at one of their 



FOR WANT OF LABORERS. 7 

ceremonies, always held at night, in which there is a pro- 
miscuous intercourse among the sexes. Brahmins and pa- 
riahs, husbands and wives ; in a word, all classes and de- 
scriptions of people, promiscuously degrade themselves to 
a level with irrational animals. 

The religion I have now described must necessarily be 
a prolific source of every species of crime. In addition to 
those already mentioned, that of destroying illegitimate 
children before their birth is common. In Bengal it was 
represented to the late Mr. Ward, that the number could 
not be less than ten thousand a month. To the dishonesty 
of this people there are no bounds. / have never seen a 
man who is not under the injiuence of Christianity y whose 
word I ivould trust. Perjury prevails to such a degree, 
that I have no doubt I could hire a hundred men for a shil- 
ling to testify to any falsehood. '' Pooree," says a Hindoo, 
** is the heaven of the Hindoos ; yet there the practices of 
mankind are adultery, theft, lies, murder of the innocent, 
whoremongery, disobedience to, and abuse of parents, de- 
filing of mothers, defiling of sisters, defiling of daughters. 
Such is the religion of Juggernaut." 

In view of the preceding facts and statements, I wish 
to make a solemn appeal to four classes of evangelical 
Christians in the United States : lay Christians, jnous phy- 
sicians, ministers of the Gospel, and pious young men. 

TO EVANGELICAL CHRISTIANS OF ALL DENOMINATIONS. 

To my lay brethren and sisters I wish to say, you must 
labor diligently, with fasting and prayer, to bring forward 
the thousands of pious young men belonging to your churches 
for the Christian ministry. Are any of you the fathers 
and mothers of devotedly pious young men ? You must 
not be merely willing to give them up, you must be ur- 



8 THE HARVEST PERISHING 

gent with them to fly to the help of their perishing breth- 
ren in your destitute settlements, and in pagan lands ; yea, 
even more so than the Egyptians were with the Israelites 
to be gone from their borders. Are there young men of 
intelligence and piety among your neighbors or acquaint- 
ances ? Go to their houses, lay before them their duty, and 
urge them to hasten to its performance. Every professor 
of religion who does not employ his tongue in this business, 
is without excuse. 

Your labors must be accompanied with prayer. The 
army which you are called upon to raise against the leagued 
hosts of Roman Catholics, Universalists, deists, and infidels 
of every name, must be raised, and must fight in the 
strength of heaven. Like Jehoshaphat, you must set your- 
selves to seek the Lord. "Prayer ardent opens heaven.'* 
Wield but this weapon aright, and five of you shall chase a 
hundred, and a hundred put ten thousand to flight. Youi* 
enemies shall fall before you, for the Lord your God, he it 
is who fighteth for you, as he has promised you. I fear 
that most of us have very little of the true spirit of prayer. 
We want more such assemblies as were convened in " an 
upper room," in the days of the apostles. We need more 
of the Annas and Hannahs of ancient days, and of the Su- 
sanna Anthonys of the modern church. When Christians 
understand more fully the mighty effects which proceed 
from an untiring intercourse with heaven, there will be more 
days of fasting and prayer, both public and private ; and it 
is not improbable that many individuals may be found who 
will devote a great portion of their lives to prayer. 

You must also contribute of your substance to educate 
these 2^recious youth. I know you have already done much. 
As far as the missionary cause is concerned, I take the lib- 
erty to thank you in the name of all my beloved brethren of 



FOR WANT OF LABORERS. 9 

different denominations, who have been sent to the heathen 
of our western wilderness, of Burmah, of Ceylon, and of 
other countries and islands. I thank you in the name of 
the fifty thousand children instructed in their schools. I 
thank you in the name of all those who have triumphed 
over death, and are now singing '' the song of Moses and 
the Lamb," as well as of the hundreds of converts now 
alive. I thank you again and again, for all these things. 
Though many of you may have made great sacrifices to do 
what you have done, and almost think you are able to do 
no more ; yet let me ask you, cannot you give even a little 
more, to assist your education societies in their endeavors to 
supply the destitute parts of our country and the world 
with preachers of the Gospel ? These societies were never 
so loudly called upon by the Head of the church, to go for- 
ward in their work. No other country has been blessed to 
such a degree with revivals of religion ; and God has, in a 
peculiar manner, in these revivals, remembered our youth. 
He has heard your prayers, that he would send forth la- 
borers into the harvest, so far as to pour out his Spirit upon 
your young men ; and if you withhold the means for quali- 
fying them and sending them forth, will he accept your 
prayers for the further outpouring of the Spirit ? 

Consider, too, that if these means are withheld, millions, 
to all human view, must be left to drag out a miserable 
existence without God, and without hope here ; and after 
death, have inflicted on them, for ever, the awful curses 
denounced upon the ungodly and unbelieving : " He that 
believeth not, shall be damned." " If any man worship the 
beast and his image, and receive his mark in liis forehead or 
in his hands, the same shall drink of the wine of the wrath 
of God, which is poured out, without mixture, into the cup 
of his indi2:nation, and he shall be tormented with fire and 

VOL. IX. 11* 



10 THE HARVEST PERISHING 

brimstone in the presence of the holy angels, and in the 
presence of the Lamb." And shall these awful curses be 
inflicted upon them from your neglect ? Forbid it, thou 
suffering Lamb of God, forbid it. 

Let me entreat you, dear brethren, to reflect ^^ow much 
you owe to your Saviour. You are his redeemed people ; 
bought with his own precious blood. Nothing else would 
suffice to satisfy ofi'ended justice. To pay the price de- 
manded for your redemption, he left the glory he had with 
the Father, came to this earth, was a man of sorrows and 
acquainted with grief, and so poor that he had not where to 
lay his head. Follow him to the garden of Gethsemane, 
and view his bloody sweat ; to the bar of Pilate, and see 
him crowned with thorns, spit upon, and buff"eted ; and 
lastly, up the hill of Calvary, bearing that cross upon which 
he was to expire. In view of this most aff'ecting scene, are 
you not willing to make greater sacrifices for the promotion 
of his blessed cause ? 

Again, be excited to go forward in view of the soul-aii- 
imating joy of seeing the world supplied with preachers of 
the Gospel. The joy of relieving a fellow-creature from 
bodily distress, or from death, is great ; but what will be 
the joy of having been instrumental in turning a sinner from 
the error of his ways ? What ^vill it be, in the last day, 
when we shall, on the one hand, have a full view, afar off", 
of the lake which burnetii with fire and brimstone, where 
the lost are to weep, and wail, and gnash their teeth for 
ever ; and on the other, of those glorious mansions prepared 
for all the followers of the Lamb? Let the value you put 
upon the Gospel excite you to make this efl'ort. Suppose 
you were deprived of it, and of all the hopes you have of 
escaping the damnation of hell, and obtaining the joys of 
heaven ; and suppose you were as sensible as you now are 



FOR WANT OF LABORERS. H 

of its worth, what would you not give to obtain it ? Would 
you not willingly part with all your possessions, and become 
beggars, rather than they should not send it to you ? 0, 
Christians, fly to the work. Do it with your might. The 
motives to it are infinite. Now is the accepted time. The 
heathen are before you. Your Redeemer bids you go and 
pluck them as brands from the burning. " To-day, if you 
will hear his voice, harden not your hearts." While you 
delay, the heathen perish, and you rob your Saviour of the 
joy and praise of receiving the heathen for his inheritance. 
You now stand solemnly charged to carry the glory of 
Immanuel into all nations, for their salvation. 

TO PIOUS YOUNG PHYSICIANS. 

Pious physicians, especially by entering the ministry 
and acting in the united capacity of physician to soul and 
body, have a very extensive opportunity of doing good. 
Such are greatly needed in our destitute settlements, and 
among heathen nations, where there is often extensive 
suffering from want of medical aid. That you may be 
better enabled to judge as to the course of duty to be pur- 
sued by you, I will mention three things, to which I beg 
you will give your attention. 

By going to a heathen land, you will be instrumental in 
removing an immense amount of bodily suffering. This is 
true, especially in regard to operative surgery. That such 
may also be the case at home, I readily allow. But there 
is a vast difference. Generally, at home, most persons are 
so near several physicians and surgeons that they can obtain 
relief, even if he who ordinarily attends them is gone. Of 
operative surgery, the heathen, in this part of the world, 
are almost entirely ignorant. I doubt whether one of them, 
unless taught by a foreigner, ever performs so simple an 



12 THE HARVEST PERISHING 

operation as blood-letting. Of course, in all those cases 
where the Fives of the people might be spared if some one 
acquainted with the healing art was at hand, they must 
necessarily die. 

By going to a heathen land, you will have a much more 
abundant opportunity of communicating religious informa- 
tion than at home. The probability is, that you may be the 
only physician among hundreds of thousands of people 
destitute of the knowledge of which I have just spoken. 
The consequence is, that you will soon acquire an influence 
which will induce them to flock to you in great numbers. 
When they have seen me amputate, or heard of my ampu- 
tating limbs, performing the operation for cataract, tapping 
in dropsy, etc., they have called me the god of this world, 
and a worker of miracles. In point of miraculous powers, 
they have said that I have borne away the palm from their 
great idol, Corduswammy. As might naturally be expected 
among such a people, these vain expressions tend to inspire 
those who hear them with confidence in me. I may prob- 
ably within bounds say, that if all who have come to me 
were different individuals, they, with persons who have 
accompanied them, would amount to tens of thousands. 
Of these, great numbers hear the Gospel who never would 
otherwise hear it. My present medical assistant, who has 
not yet been with me four years, thinks that, independently 
of others, he has read the Tract entitled " The Heavenly 
Way " to thousands. 

If you go to a heathen land, you may also be instru- 
mental in doing a great deal of good by teaching the medi- 
cal and surgical arts to native young men. In this way, 
the amount of suffering which may be prevented beyond 
your own sphere of action will be immense. If these young 
men should become pious, as it might be expected many 



FOR WANT OF LABORERS. 13 

of them would, the weight of their influence in their 
respective villages, on the side of Christianity, would be 
very great. Not long since, in a village near Madras, about 
one hundred and twenty Roman Catholics, if I remember 
correctly, deserted their corrupt faith, through the instru- 
mentality of a young man who was formerly with Mr. 
Rhenius, of the church mission at Palamcotta. The great- 
est loss, by far, which this mission ever sustained by death 
among its native members, was that of Philip M. Whelply, 
a pious young man, who had learned something of medicine 
and surgery from me. 

So much do I feel the importance of this subject, that I 
think no mission, if possible, should be sent out without 
one who, like his adorable Master, will go about preaching 
the Gospel of the kingdom, and healing all manner of sick- 
ness and all manner of disease among the people. 

Will you obey the loud calls which are made to you ? 
The awful condition of immense multitudes who are on the 
road to eternal woe, and who must inevitably be lost unless 
you hasten to their relief, calls upon you to obey them. 
Beware, beware, I entreat you, how you lightly dismiss 
the subject. Let every step you take in this matter, be 
taken in reference to that day when you must meet your 
Saviour at his dread tribunal, with all those heathen to 
whose help you are called to fly. 

TO MINISTERS OF THE GOSPEL. 
To ALL EVANGELICAL MINISTERS OF THE GoSPEL in the 

United States, I beg to address a few brief considerations 
on the subject of their personal duties, in regard to bring- 
ing forward young men for the Christian ministry. My 
object is, to entreat you to take the same views you have 
taken a thousand times before, of the deplorable moral 



14 THE HARVEST PERISHING 

condition of the millions inhabiting our world, and ask your- 
selves, What more can we do to send them preachers of the 
Gospel ? Taking it for granted that the American churches 
have abundant means to go forward in evangelizing the 
world, it is a question of momentous import, What ought to 
be done by their ministers to promote it ? I answer, 

1. It appears to me they ought to exert themselves to 
induce Christians to iway more. I very much fear that one 
grand deficiency of the church in our day, consists in the 
want of fervent, importunate prayer. If all who are set for 
the defence and confirmation of the Gospel, could be more 
where Moses was, with the rod of God in our hands, and 
with the Aarons and Hurs in our respective congregations, 
to hold them up when weary, we should be giants in slay- 
ing its enemies. '' I know not," says Jeremy Taylor, 
** which is the greatest wonder, either that prayer, which is 
a duty so easy and facile, and so ready and adapted to the 
powers, and skill, and opportunities of every man, should 
have so great effects, and be productive of such mighty 
blessings ; or that we should be so unwilling to use so easy 
an instrument in doing so much good." " If the whole, or 
the greater number of the disciples of Christ," says John 
Foster, ''were, with an earnest, unalterable resolution of 
each, to combine that heaven should not withhold one 
single influence which the very utmost effort of conspiring 
and persevering supplication could obtain, it would be a 
sign that a revolution of the world was at hand." I^o thing 
can withstand the force of importunate prayer. Armies 
disappear before it, as the morning cloud and early dcAv 
before the scorching sun. Prison doors fly open, and 
chains burst as a thread of tow is broken when it touches 
the fire. What a noble spectacle would be presented to 
the angels in heaven, to see a million of Christians in 



FOR WANT OF LABORERS. 15 

America prostrate before their Redeemer, all with one 
accord pleading for this one definite object, that the Lord 
of the harvest will send forth laborers into his harvest. 

2. Greater exertions must also be made to awaken the 
attention of the churches to the momentous import of this 
subject. For this purpose, it appears to me that it should 
be brought before them, not merely from the pulpit, but 
especially in social meetings for prayer. There the wants 
of a perishing world, and the obligations of Christians to 
contribute of their substance and give up their sons to sup- 
ply these wants, may be familiarly urged ; and the oppor- 
tunity will be favorable to press upon the minds of pious 
young men their duty to engage in the service of the 
church. I would further suggest the duty of frequently 
visiting such young men ; ascertaining the state of their 
minds, and giving them the counsel and aid adapted to the 
case of each. Let them be brought seriously to consider 
whether they can so much glorify their Saviour in any other 
situation in life as in the ministry. You can urge the duty 
of their engaging in it with as much importunity as you 
would urge the subject of repentance upon a perishing sin- 
ner. I see not how they can eat, and drink, and sleep, or 
even pray, and read their Bibles, and go to the sanctuary 
of the Lord, with the least composure of mind, as long as 
you continue to make the groans and dying agonies of hun- 
dreds of millions sound in their ears, and they do not stretch 
out their hands to relieve them. While I deprecate the 
thought of introducing any into the ministry, unless they 
be of honest report, full of the Holy Ghost and wisdom, I 
must also deprecate the thought that we are quietly to sit 
down and say, if God has designed to bring forward young 
men for the ministry, he will do it without any personal 
exertions on our part. The reason why I lay so much 



16 THE HARVEST PERISHING 

stress upon private, personal exertion, is, that I am per- 
suaded that unless it is done, the church will lose the 
talents of some of the best of her sons. There are many 
young men who, of all others, are most fit to preach the 
Gospel ; but who, like the ancient servants of God, have 
formed so low an estimate of themselves that they never 
dare think of it. 

3. An enlarged and more systematic effort must be made 
to obtain funds for the education of your indigent young- 
men. I fear this object has not engrossed sufficient atten- 
tion. The Saviour has left the definite direction, " Go ye 
into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every creature ;" 
and if there are pious young men to obey this command, 
and they are kept back by want of pecuniary means, will nat 
the Saviour consider us as verily guilty if we do not exert 
ourselves to the utmost to bring them forward ? 

May I ask you, my brotlier in the ministry, now reading 
these lines. Are you doing all you can to supply your own 
country and the world with preachers of the Gospel ? If 
so, go. on, and tens of thousands will thank you in the last 
day. 

TO PIOUS YOUNG MEN. 

In closing these appeals, I wish to address a few words 
to the PIOUS YOUNG MEN conuected with all the evangelical 
denominations in the United States. 

I much doubt whether many of these young men have 
ever even agitated the question whether they are called of 
God to engage in this great business. Manj^, especially 
those who live in more remote places, where the pubHca- 
tions of the education, missionary, and other societies arc 
'o a very limited extent circulated, have, it is to be feared, 
but little knowledge of the moral dearth of our land and 



FOR WANT OF LABORERS. 17 

world. Or, if they have such knowledge, the subject is so 
seldom presented to their minds with the force it deserves, 
or with reference to personal duty, that but comparatively 
little impression is produced. Such could hardly be expect- 
ed to inquire whether they ought to enter the ministry. 

My friend, who are you, now reading these lines ? Are 
you one of the pious young men belonging to the American 
churches ? Though you may be included in the number 
who ought to preach the Gospel, you may have various 
reasons for concluding that you are not. Let us examine 
these reasons. 

1. You say you cannot enter the ministry because you 
have not the memis to obtain an education. But have you 
applied, through your pastor, or otherwise, for assistance 
from any society or board of education ? If not, can you 
continue to urge the want of means as an excuse ? 

2. You urge that you have not the requisite qualifica- 
tions. Let me inquire what qualifications you do need. 
Want of piety ? Go to the foot of the cross, and lie there 
till you obtain it. As, however, you may form too low an 
estimate of your piety, you cannot confide solely in your 
own judgment in this matter, and consequently are under 
obligations to ask the opinion of judicious friends. 

Do you urge want of talents ? This may be a legitimate 
plea ; but it has been urged by some of the most eminent 
men which the world has produced. When God required 
the services of Moses, how earnest was he in argument for 
declining. Jeremiah said, " Ah, Lord God, I cannot speak, 
for I am a child." 

4. Do you say, " I do not feel that I have a call to the 
ministry ? If I could ascertain that I had one, I would en- 
ter on a course of preparation." But is there no Avay to 
ascertain this ? It appears to me there is. Consider the 
VOL. IX. 1'^ 



18 THE HARVEST PERISHING 

momentous bearings of this question of duty. You allow 
that you are bound to do all the good and prevent all the 
evil you can in the vv^orld. By entering the ministry, with 
the aid of the Holy Spirit, you may be instrumental in con- 
verting many of your fellow- men ; in raising up preachers 
of the Gospel ; and in doing much good in various other 
ways. If you do not enter it, you leave the field to be 
filled with the natural and rapid growth of errors in doc- 
trine and in practice, which will soon amount to little less 
than heathenism. Go to God in humble and importunate 
prayer for direction ; follow the indications of his provi- 
dence and the guidance of his Spirit ; take counsel of his 
ministers ; be willing to go where duty calls ; and if you 
seriously believe that you can glorify God more hy prepar- 
171 g for the ministry, and there be no valid reasons against it, 
then it appears to me plain that you are to wait for no other 
call ; and woe be to you if, through your own criminal neg- 
lect, you preach not the Gospel. 

To those of you, beloved brethren, who have such a be- 
lief, I will mention some of the motives which should con- 
strain you to engage in this work. 

1. Your ohligation to your Saviour should move you. 
He has enrolled your name in heaven, and prepared a place 
for you at his right hand, where you are to drink for ever 
of the streams which make glad the city of your God. 
had you a thousand lives to spend in the service of this 
adorable Being, or had you ten thousand tongues to sound 
abroad his praise, you should rejoice to dedicate all to him 
who has done so much for you. 

2. Your obligations to your neighbor. Him you are 
commanded to love as yourself. Thousands of your fellow- 
men, who are all your neighbors^ are perishing. The soul 
of every one of these has been pronounced by Him who has 



FOR WANT OF LABORERS. 19 

the keys of death and hell, to be of more value than the 
whole world. This thought alone ouofht to be sufficient to 
make you rejoice to leave your farm, or your merchandise, 
or the law, or medicine, and fly to the help of any one who 
can possibly be rescued from so tremendous a doom. 

3. Consistency of conduct. On your knees, at the throne 
of grace, you plead with your Saviour to send more laborers 
into the harvest. How can you spread forth your hands, 
while you are unwilling to do your part towards the ad- 
vancement of his kingdom, and keep back a part of the 
price ? 

4. The rewards which await you, if found faithful. " They 
who turn many to righteousness," shall shine "as the stars 
for ever and ever." What joy shall thrill through your 
bosom, in seeing the honor which those whom you are in- 
strumental in saving will bring to your Redeemer. You 
should never forget that every soul which is saved will, 
through some period of eternity, bring more glory to this 
adorable Being than yet has been brought by all the myr- 
iads who have gone to heaven. 

In consideration of what has been said, I have two ques- 
tions to ask, answers to which I solemnly enjoin it upon 
you to give to the Head of the church. 

Bo you intend to go up to the help of the Lord in this 
mighty work ? If so, whatsoever your hands find to do, 
do it with your might. 

Arc you disposed to decline entering the ministry, or are 
you halting between tioo opinions ? But are you prepared 
to resist the calls which are made upon you ? I entreat 
you to think well of this matter before you come to a de- 
termination in the negative. As an ambassador of the 
King of heaven, I charge you to make these calls a subject 
of much prayer and meditation. Let the first question on 



20 THE HARVEST PERISHING, ETC. 

your self-examination list, for morning, be. Am I going to 
glorify my Saviour to-day by not setting my face towards 
the Christian ministry ? And let your first question on 
your self-examination list, for evening, be, Have I glorified 
God to-day by not setting my face towards the ministry ? 
While engaged on your farm, or in your shop, or in your 
law, or medicine, often put the question to your conscience. 
Do I believe my God looks down upon me with as much 
approbation as he would if I were now engaged in laboring 
in the vineyard of his Son ? 

Can you quietly stand still and see multitudes perish ? 
Have you no bowels of pity ? Have you no sentiments of 
compassion ? Have you no tender concern for your perish- 
ing fellow-men ? If you have, I beseech you to show it, 
by flying to their help. How will your very knees smite 
together with trembling, when you see them pointing out 
their hands towards you in the presence of the assembled 
imiverse, and hear them saying, "There stand the men 
who solemnly covenanted, over the body and blood of their 
Lord, that they would love their neighbor as themselves ; 
but they loved us not : though they knew what evil was 
coming upon us for ever, they pitied us not?" How will 
your hearts die within you, when you hear your Saviour 
say, Is this the love you bear to your fellow-men, to let 
them sink into the fire never to be quenched, without one 
effort on your part to save them? Is this the way you 
have showTi your gratitude to me, who shed my blood for 
you? 



No. 308< 



THE 



FOOLS' PENCE. 




Have you ever seen a London gin-shop ? There is, per- 
haps, no statelier shop in the magnificent chief city of Eng- 
land. No expense seems to be spared in the building and 
the furnishing of a gin-shop. 

Not many years ago a gin-shop was a mean-looking, 
and by no means a spacious place, with a few small bottles, 
not bigger than a doctor's largest vials, in the dusty win- 
dow. But now, however poor many of the working classes 
may be, it seems to be their pleasure to squander their 
little remaining money upon a number of these j)alaces, 
as if they were determined that the persons whom they 
employ to sell them poison should dwell in the midst of 
luxury and splendor. I do not mean to say, that we have 
VOL. IX. 12* 



2 THE FOOLS' PENCE. 

a right to throw all the blame upon the master or the mis- 
tress of a gin-shop. For my part, I should not like to keep 
one, and be obliged to get rich upon the money of the poor 
infatuated creatures who will ruin both soul and body in 
gin-drinking ; but the master of the gin-shop may be heard 
to say, " I don't force the people to drink ; they will have 
gin, and if I do not sell to them somebody else will." The 
story of "The Fools' Pence," which follows, is worth at- 
tending to. 

A little mean-lookino- man sat talkinor to Mrs. Crowder, 
the mistress of the Punch-bowl : " Why, Mrs. Crowder," 
said he, " I should hardly know you again. Really, I must 
say you have things in the first style. What an elegant 
paper ; what noble chairs ; what a pair of fire-screens ; all 
so bright and so fresh ; and yourself so well, and looking 
so well !" 

Mrs. Crowder had dropped languidly into an arm-chair, 
and sat sighing and smiling with affectation, not turning a 
deaf ear to her visitor, but taking in with her eyes a full 
view of what passed in the shop ; having drawn aside the 
curtain of rose-colored silk, which sometimes covered the 
window in the wall between the shop and the parlor. 

" Why, you see, Mr. Berriman," she replied, " our busi- 
ness is a thriving one, and we don't love to neglect it, for 
one must work hard for an honest livelihood ; and then you 
see, my two girls, Letitia and Lucy, were about to leave 
their boarding-school ; so Mr. Crowder and I wished to 
make the old place as genteel and fashionable as we could ; 
and what Avith new stone copings to the windows, and new 
French window-frames to the first floor, and a little paint, 
and a little papering, Mr. Berriman, we begin to look toler- 
able. I must say too, Mr. Crowder has laid out a deal of 
money in fitting up the shop, and in filling his cellars." 

" Well, ma'am," continued Mr. Berriman, " I don't 
know where you find the needful for all these improve- 
ments. For my part, I can only say, our trade seems quite 
at a stand-still. There's my wife always begging for money 
to pay for this or that little necessary article, but I part 
from every penny with a pang. Dear Mrs. Crowder, how 
do you manage?" 

Mrs. Crowder simpered, and raising her eyes, and look- 



THE FOOLS' PENCE. 3 

ing with a glance of smiling contempt towards the crowd 
of customers in the shop, *' The fools' pence — 'tis the 
fools' pence that does it for us," she said. 

Perhaps it was owing to the door being just then opened 
and left ajar by Miss Lucy, who had been serving in the 
bar, that the words of Mrs. Crowder were heard by a man 
named George Manly, who stood at the upper end of the 
counter. He turned his eyes upon the customers who were 
standing near him, and saw pale, sunken cheeks, inflamed 
eyes, and ragged garments. He turned them upon the 
stately apartment in which they were assembled ; he saw 
that it had been fitted up at no trifling cost; he stared 
through the partly open doorway into the parlor, and saw 
looking-glasses, and pictures, and gilding, and fine furniture, 
and a rich carpet, and Miss Lucy, in a silk gown, sitting 
down to her piano- forte : and he thought within himself, 
how strange it is, by what a curious process it is, that all 
this wretchedness on my left hand is made to turn into all 
this rich finery on my right ! 

''Well, sir, and what's for you?" 

These words were spoken in the same shrill voice which 
had made the " fools' pence " ling in his ears. 

Geoi-ge Manly was still in deep thought, and with the 
end of his rule — for he was a carpenter — he had been mak- 
ing a calculation, drawing the figures in the little puddles 
of gin upon the counter. He looked up and saw Mrs. 
Crowder herself as gay as her daughters, with a cap and 
colored ribbons flying off her head, and a pair of gold 
earrings almost touching her plump shoulders. ^ ''A glass 
of gin, ma'am, is what I was waiting for to-night, but I 
think I've paid the last ' fools' pence ' I shall put down on 
this counter for many a long day." 

George Manly hastened home. His wife and his two 
little girls were sitting at work. They were thin and pale, 
really for want of food. The room looked very cheerless, 
and their fire was so small that its warmth was scarcely 
felt; yet the commonest observer must have been struck 
by the neatness and cleanliness of the apartment and every 
thing about it. 

" This is indeed a treat, girls, to have dear father home 
60 soon to-night," said Susan Manly, looking up at her 



4 THE FOOLS' PENCE. 

husband as he stood before the table, turning his eyes first 
upon one and then upon another of the httle party ; then 
throwing himself into a chair, and smiling, he said, 

" Well, children, a'n't you glad to see me ? May not 
those busy little lingers stop a moment, just while you 
jump up and throw your arms about your father's neck, 
and kiss him ?" 

*' yes, we have time for that," said one of the girls, 
as they both sprang up to kiss their father. 

" But we have no time to lose, dear father," said Sally, 
pressing her cheek to his, and speaking in a kind of coax- 
ing whisper close to his ear, "for these shirts are the last 
of the dozen we have been making for Mr. Farley, in the 
Corn-market." 

"And as no work can be done to-morrow," added 
Betsy gravely, who stood with her little hand in her 
father's, "we are all working as hard as Ave can; for 
mother has promised to take them home on Monday after- 
noon." 

"Either your eyes are very weak to-night, dear wife," 
said George, "or you have been crying. I'm afraid you 
work too hard by candlelight." ♦ 

Susan smiled, and said, " WorTcing does not hurt my 
eyes," and as she spoke, she turned her head and beckoned 
with her finger to her little boy. 

"Why, John, what's this that I see?" said his father. 
" What, you in the corner ! Come out, and tell me what 
you have been doing." 

" Nay, never mind it, dear husband ; John will be very 
good, I hope, and we had better say no more about what 
is past." 

"Yes, but I must know," said he, drawing John close 
to him. " Come, tell me what has been the matter." 

John was a plain-spoken boy, and had a straight- forward 
way of speaking the truth. He came up to his father, and 
looked full in his face, and said, " The baker came for his 
money to-night, and would not leave the loaves without 
mother paid for them ; and though he was cross and rough 
to mother, he said it was not her fault, and that he was 
sure you had been drinking away all the money ; and when 
he was gone, mother cried over her work, but she did not 
say any thing. I did not know she was crying, till I saw 



THE FOOLS' PENCE. 5 

her tears fall, drop, drop, on her hands ; and then I said 
bad words, and mother sent me to stand in the corner." 

"And now, John, you may bring me some coal," said 
Susan ; ''there's a fine lump in the coal-box." 

" But first tell me what your bad words were, John," 
said his father; ''not swearing, I hope ?" 

"No," said John, coloring, but speaking as bluntly as 
before, " I said that you were a bad man. I said, bad 
father." 

" And they were bad words, I am sure," said Susan, 
very calmly ; " but you are forgiven, and so you may get 
me the coal." 

George looked at the face of his wife, and as he met 
the tender gaze of her mild eyes now turned to him, he 
felt the tears rise in his own. He rose up, and as he put 
the money into his wife's hands, he said, " There are my 
week's wages. Come, come, hold out both hands, for you 
have not got all yet. Well, now you have every farthing. 
Keep the whole, and lay it out to the best advantage, as 
you always do. I hope this will be a beginning of better 
doings on my part, and happier days on yours ; and now 
put on your bonnet, and I'll walk with you to pay the 
baker, and buy a bushel or two of coal, or any thing else 
you may be in want of ; and when we come back I'll read 
a chapter of the Bible to you and the girls, while you get 
on with the needle-work." 

Susan went up stairs to put on her bonnet and shawl, 
and she remained a little longer, to kneel down on the spot 
where she had often knelt almost heart-broken in prayer — 
prayer that her heavenly Father would turn her husband's 
heart, first to his Saviour, and then to his wife and children ; 
and that, in the meantime, he would give her patience. She 
knelt dow^n this time to pour out her heart in thanksgiving 
and praise. The pleasant tones of her husband's voice 
called her from her knees. 

George Manly told his wife that evening, after the chil- 
dren were gone to bed, that when he saw what the pence 
of the poor could do towards keeping up a fine house, and 
dressing out the landlord's wife and daughters ; and when 
he thought of his own hard-working, uncomplaining Susan, 
and his children in want, and almost in rags, while he was 
sitting drinking, and drinking, night after night, more like 



6 THE FOOLS' PENCE. 

a beast than a man, destroying his own manly strength, 
and the fine health God had given him, he was so struck 
with sorrow and shame, that he seemed to come to himself 
at last. He made his determination, from that hour, never 
again to put the intoxicating glass to his li^DS, and he hoped 
he made it in dependence upon God for grace and strength 
to keep it. 

It was more than a year after Mrs. Crowder, of the 
Punch-bowl, had first missed a regular customer from her 
house, and when she had forgotten to express her wonder 
as to what could have become of the good-looking carpenter 
that generally spent his earnings there, and drank and 
spent his money so freely — 

" There, get on as fast as you can, dears ; run, girls, 
and don't stop for me, your beautiful dresses will be quite 
spoilt ; never mind me, for my levantine is a French silk, 
and won't spot." 

These words were screamed out as loud as her haste 
would permit, by Mrs. Crowder, who was accompanying 
her daughters, one Sunday evening, to the tea-gardens. 

She was answered by Miss Lucy, " You know, ma, we 
can't run, for our shoes are so tight." 

*' Then turn into one of these houses, dears," said the 
mother, who was bustling forward as fast as she could. 

"No, indeed," replied the other daughter, who found 
time to curl her lip with disdain, notwithstanding her haste 
and her distress, "I'll not set a foot in such filthy hovels." 

" Well, dears, here is a comfortable, tidy place," cried 
the mother at length, as they hastened forward ; " here I'll 
enter, nor will I stir till the rain is over ; come in, girls, 
come in. You might eat off these boards, they are so 
clean." 

The rain was now coming down in torrents, and the two 
young ladies gladly followed their mother's example, and 
entered the neat and cleanly dwelling. Their long hair 
hung dangling about their ears, their crape bonnets had 
been screened in vain by their fringed parasols, and the 
skirts of their silk gowns were draggled with mud. They 
all three began to stamp upon the floor of the room into 
wbich they had entered with very little ceremony ; but the 
good-natured mistress of the house felt more for their dis- 
aster than for her floor, and came forward at once to console 



THE FOOLS' PENCE. 7 

and assist them. She brought forth clean cloths from the 
dresser-drawer, and she and her two daughters set to work 
to wipe off, with quick and delicate care, the rain-drops 
and mud-splashes from the silken dresses of the three fine 
ladies. The crape hats and the parasols were carefully- 
dried at a safe distance from the fire, and a comb was offered 
to arrange the uncurled hair, such a white and delicately 
clean comb as may seldom be seen upon a poor woman's 
toilet. 

When all had been done that could be done, and, as 
Miss Lucy said, "they began to look themselves again," 
Mrs. Crowder, who was lolling back at her ease in a large 
and comfortable arm-chair, and amusing herself by taking 
a good stare at every thing and every one in the room, sud- 
denly started forward, and cried out, addressing herself to 
the master of the house, upon whose Bible and at whose 
face she had been last fixing her gaze, "Why, my good 
man, we are old friends : I know your face, I'm certain ; 
still, there is some change in you, though I can't exactly 
say what it is." 

" I used to be in ragged clothes, and out of health,"- 
said George Manly, smiling, as he looked up from his 
Bible ; " I am now, blessed be God for it, comfortably clad, 
and in excellent health." 

"But how is it," said Mrs. Crowder, "that we never 
catch a sight of you now ?" 

"Madam," said he, "I'm sure I wish w^ell to you and 
all people ; nay, I have reason to thank you, for words of 
yours were the first means of opening my eyes to my own 
foolish and sinful course. You seem to thrive— so do we. 
My wife and children were half-naked and half-starved only 
this time last year. Look at them, if you please, now ; for, 
so far as sweet, contented looks go, and decent raiment 
befitting their station, I'll match them with any man's wife 
and chiklren. And now, madam, I tell you, as you told a 
friend of yours one day last year, that ' 'tis the fools' 
PENCE w^hich have done all this for us.' The fools' pence ! 
I ought to say, the pence earned by honest industry, and 
spent in such a manner that I can ask the blessing of God 
upon the pence." 

When Mrs. Crowder and her daughters were gone, 
George Manly sat without speaking for some considerable 



3 THE FOOLS' PENCE. 

time. He was deep in thought, and his gentle, pious wife 
felt that she knew on what subject he had been thinking 
so deeply ; for when he woke up from his fit of thought, a 
deep sigh stole from his lips, and he brushed away the 
tears which had filled his eyes. 

*' Susan," he said, " what can I render to the Lord for 
all his goodness to me ? From what a fearful depth of ruin 
have I been snatched ! Once I met some of my old com- 
panions, who so set upon me to draw me to drink with them, 
that I thought Satan must have urged them on. Another 
time, I went walking on, and found myself at the door of 
the poison-shop, without knowing how I got there ; but 
God gave me strength to turn instantly away, and not 
linger a moment to dally with temptation. 

*' I could not help thinking, as I was reading this holy 
book, when that showy dame came in from Avhose hand I 
so often took the poisonous cup, how much I\owed to God 
for saving me from ruin, and giving me that peace and 
satisfaction in religion which I now enjoy ; and making 
rae, I hope, a blessing to you all. 0, what a love was the 
love of Christ to poor sinners ! He gave his own blood as 
our precious ransom ; he came to save us from our sins, 
that we may serve him in newness of life." 

The above history, which is taken from a Tract of the 
Religious Tract Society in London, has its counterpart in 
the case of multitudes in our own country. Let him who 
would not shorten his days, and make his family wretched, 
and ruin his own soul, resolve with George Manly, " never 
again to put the intoxicating glass to his lii^s ;'' and like 
him, let him go humbly and with childlike confidence to 
God for strength to keep his resolution, and for grace to 
pardon all his sins, through the blood and righteousness of 
Christ. Then shall he have peace of mind, and be a 
blessing in his day ; and when this brief life is ended, he 
shall enter into eternal joy. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



]¥o. 309. 

THE 



MISCHIEFS OF SLANDER. 



When the celebrated Bernard was about to die, he de- 
clared that there were three things for which he felt bound 
to render thanks to God, one of which was, " that he had 
never willingly slandered another, and if any one had fallen, 
he had hidden it as much as possible." It would be well 
for religion, and happy for the world, if every professed 
Christian were able, at the close of life, to bear a similar 
testimony. How much hatred and strife would be prevent- 
ed. How many of the offences which disturb the church 
would be for ever unknown. It is proposed to consider 
some of the more specious fo^^ms of this odious sin, its ma- 
lignity, and the means of avoiding it. 

Slander often consists merely in signs or significant ac- 
tions. There may be calumny in an expression of the coun- 
tenance ; in a hint or inuendo ; in an altered course of con- 
duct ; in not doing what you have been wont to do, staying 
away from a neighbor's house, or withholding some accus- 
tomed civility. You may both give pain to the heart of 
your brother, and awaken strong prejudice against him, by 
a lofty air, a nod of the head, a turning out of the way, a 
glance of the eye, a shrug, a smile, or a frown. This 
method of slander the Psalmist appears to have deprecated 
when he prayed, " Let not them that are mine enemies 
wrongfully rejoice over me ; neither let them wink with the 
eye that hate me without a cause." You may avoid com- 
mitting yourself by words which might be quoted to your 
disadvantage, and, perhaps, subject you to the discipline 
of the church, and yet slander your brother grievously in 
the sight of God. You may insinuate more to his injury, 
by a mysterious or distrustful look, or by silence Avhen you 
ought to speak, than you could have done in a prolonged 
conversation. Nay, you may be aware of this, and it may 
be your purpose to convey by signs more than you dare 
express in words. 

VOL. IX. 13 



2 THE MISCHIEFS OF SLANDER. 

Another covert method of slander is, by listening to the 
calumnies of others, without expressing your disapprobation. 
" There are," says one, *' not only slanderous throats, but 
slanderous ears also ; not only wicked inventions, which en- 
gender and brood lies, but wicked assents, which hatch and 
foster them." It was a maxim of the Emperor Domitian, 
that such as give ear to slanderers are worse than slander- 
ers themselves. No retailer of scandal ever tells his story 
without watching to discover, either in your countenance or 
your remarks, how you receive it. Hence, it is often in your 
power to arrest it before it proceeds any farther. In many 
cases this may be done simply by a look of disapprobation, 
and surely ought to be done, at whatever sacrifice. " The 
north wind," says Solomon, " driveth away rain ; so doth an 
angry countenance a backbiting tongue." Austin, it is said, 
had an inscription on his table, the import of which was, 
that no one should ever have a seat there who would be 
guilty of detraction. 

Again, if you may incur this guilt by listening to the 
calumnies of others, much more may you do it by repeating 
them. Your sin, in this way, may be greater than the orig- 
inal offence. Your station may be more prominent, and 
your means of rendering a false report injurious, far greater. 
It may originate, perhaps, with a discarded and angry ser- 
vant, whom few or no one would believe. But when taken 
up by you, and reported, it goes out endorsed with your 
authority ; and for the mischiefs which result from it you 
are justly responsible. " Where no wood is," says the wise 
man, " the fire goeth out ; so, where there is no tale-bearer, 
the strife ceaseth." 

Nor does it certainly palliate your guilt, that you report 
it with an air of regret : you " hope it is not so ;" you *'do 
not tell it for truth;" "it is only Avhat you have heard." 
This may be but a device to shield your own reputation, 
while you hurl a poisoned arrow at your brother's. 

Nor does it render you less criminal, that the malignant 
tale be substantially true. By the canons of Christ, it is 
lawful to "speak evil of no man." And it is no less slan- 



THE MISCHIEFS OF SLANDER. 3 

derous in his sight to proclaim your brother's faults inju- 
riously and uncalled for, than to charge him with faults of 
which he is not guilty. It is not enough that you speak the 
truth of others ; you are required to speak it "■ in lover 

An adroit method of some for propagating calumny is, 
hy asking questions. "Have you heard," say they, of this 
or that fault in one whom it is their purpose to malign ? 
"Is it true," that he has done this or that ? Their design 
in making these inquiries is malevolent, and so far, slander- 
ous. They wish to originate a train of thought, to the in- 
jury of the person of whom they speak ; to give a hint which 
shall awaken curiosity, and occasion further inquiry. It is 
a base method employed for drawing out and making pub- 
lic, through the agency of another, what they are afraid or 
ashamed to be considered the authors of themselves. 

Akin to this cowardly expedient is that of bestowing 
hypocritical praise. You commend a man, perhaps, in the 
presence of a known enemy, for qualities to which his pre- 
tensions are very doubtful. You extol, it may be, his be- 
nevolence and liberality, before those who you know will 
not believe you, and who will be prompted by your insidi- 
ous praise to speak of his parsimony. How often is this 
done for no other purpose than to elicit expressions of dis- 
like in the hearing of others, at once to injure another in 
their opinion, and gratify the enmity of one's own heart. 

Another method of slandering others, which is lamenta- 
bly common, is, the misconstruction of their language. This 
may be done by a misplaced emphasis, or by exaggeration, or 
by draAving false or disallowed inferences. It is also done 
by lame and garbled quotations, of which the prince of 
slanderers gave a specimen worthy of himself, when he 
would have induced the Son of God to cast himself from 
the temple. Matt. 4 : 6. The text from David, Ps. 91:11, 
was wholly inapplicable ; but was made to suit his purpose, 
by abridging it. The omission, by the tempter, of the 
words, "to keep thee in all thy ways," was a slight one in 
appearance, yet it was the pivot on which the meaning of 
the passage turned. 



4 THE mSCHIEFS OF SLANDER. 

The same thing is virtually done when you intentionally, 
or through a culpable carelessness, misinterpret the conduct 
of others. *' Men's actions," as one observes, "have two 
aspects : one, in which candor and charity will, another in 
which disingenuity and spite may view them ;" and in such 
cases to misapprehend is calumnious. It is lamentable that 
so many illustrations of this species of slander may be found 
even among the professed friends of religion, in their jeal- 
ousies and animosities; the "hard speeches" arising out of 
their differences of doctrine or policy, modes of adminis- 
tering ordinances, or governing the church ; when, instead 
of exercising that charity which "hopeth all things," they 
nurture that jealousy which creates beams from motes, and 
makes a brother " an offender for a word ;" when the ex- 
travaofances of an individual are visited on the head of the 
whole party ; when some word or phrase in a discourse is 
susceptible of two interpretations, and the more erroneous 
is given, and at once blazoned abroad as convicting the au- 
thor of heresy ; in short, when the mantle of charity is so 
narrow that it cannot hide a single error in opinion or con- 
duct, no matter how trifling, which lies without the circum- 
ference of our own school or denomination. And is it 
strange, that out of the abundance of such a heart the 
mouth should often speak words which come within the 
prohibition of the command, "Thou shalt not bear false 
witness against thy neighbor?" 

Such are some of the more specious modes of propa- 
p-ating calumny, and for which the occasions and incitements 
are occurring daily. 

Sometimes it proceeds from a narroivness of soul, which 
cannot brook another's superiority ; or from excessive self- 
love or vanity. Sometimes it is done to he esteemed ivitty, and 
to raise a laugh, at no matter what expense. Again, it is the 
offspring of pure malignity, which takes delight in satire ; 
very frequently of envy and jealousy. The slanderer may 
be of the same trade or profession, and a less favored rival 
for public patronage. Despairing of success by honorable 
competition, he endeavors to help his oivn credit by injuring 



THE iMISCHIEFS OF SLANDER. 5 

that of his rival. He resorts to misrepresentation. Not 
unfrequently his invidious remark is made with the injunc- 
tion of secresy, which is too generally disregarded ; and the 
slander is eventually whispered as widely as if it had been 
proclaimed in the market-place, or upon the house-tops. 

At another time it proceeds from resentment. In the 
intercourse of trade, or as master and servant, employer and 
laborer, the one party has become displeased. There is, it 
may be, a misunderstanding about the contract, or the man- 
ner in which it has been fulfilled. And how exceedingly 
common to conceal all dissatisfaction in maTcing a settlement, 
yet afterwards to go away and slanderously ivhis2yer it. He 
accuses the other of covetousness, or of double-dealing, of 
"grinding the face of the poor," of being a bad paymaster, 
and a hypocrite in religion. The slander goes a'broad, pro- 
ducing an unfavorable impression upon the minds of those 
who do not know the injured individual, which may not be 
effaced to the end of his or of their life. Indeed, he may never 
know that such a calumnious report exists, nor the reproach 
to which he is subjected on account of it. 

But let us turn for a moment to some of the evils re- 
sulting from this hateful and debasing sin. And what havoc 
has it made iq^on j^rivate character. How many persons of 
long- established integrity, with endowments suited to render 
them eminently useful, have been made the objects of sus- 
picion, then shunned, then traduced, and ultimately ruined. 

Thus it was an evil tongue which first set Naboth on 
high, and then murdered him. It was Ziba's slander which 
robbed Mephibosheth at once of his reputation and of his 
property. 2 Sam., ch. 16. This cast Jeremiah into a dun- 
geon, and Daniel into a den of lions. " The lohisperer sep- 
arateth chief friends,'" says Solomon; and the hearts that 
have been divided by this " sharp sword," the intimacies 
which have been sundered, who can enumerate ? 

Again, the domestic evils that follow it. What language 

can adequately set forth the desolation that an evil tongue 

has spread in households ? The base insinuation against 

perhaps a virtuous and affectionate wife, or a kind and faith- 

VOL. IX. 13* 



6 THE MISCHIEFS OF SLANDER. 

ful husband, has kindled a spark of jealous5^ producing an 
explosion which has scattered the once-united family into 
fragments that could never be gathered again. In how 
many cases has it severed parent from child, brother from 
brother, and made irreconcilable foes of those who were be- 
fore most tenderly attached. 

But look yonder. Survey a scene at which the heart 
bleeds. That melancholy father without employment, was 
not long ago an enterprising man of business. A benig- 
nant Providence smiled on his industry; his affairs were 
prosperous; his means of meeting all just demands against 
him were ample, and his prospect of affluence was morally 
certain. But the breath of scandal whispers an insinuation 
to his prejudice, and his credit is brought into suspicion. 
A panic commences ; his creditors rally, and in a single 
hour he is plundered. In their merciless strife to secure 
themselves, he is stripped at once of his past gains, and of 
the means of gain in future. His large and helpless family, 
from present abundance and prospective independence, are 
reduced to penury. A little while ago it was his happiness 
to minister to every rational want of his children — now, he 
has no home for them, and knows not where he shall find 
their daily bread. Such a picture may seem overwrought, 
but it is the faithful history of thousands. 

But of all the disturbers of the peace of neighborhoods 
and villages, what agent half so successful as a tale-bearing, 
slanderous tongue ? Its influence is pestiferous, and, like a 
moral sirocco, blasts every thing that Ues within the field 
over which it sweeps. To the harmony, reciprocation of 
kind offices, and happiness that had hitherto prevailed, 
** succeeds a train of grovelling and base hostilities ; deprav- 
ing all who practise them, and distressing all against whom 
they are practised. Anxiety and dismay haunt every fire- 
side ; and a funeral gloom settles upon every prospect, and 
broods over every hope." 

But when the victim of slander is a disciple of Christ, 
an officer of the church, or a minister of the Gospel, what 
skill in numbers can compute the extent of injury done by 



THE MISCHIEFS OF SLANDER. 7 

the wound inflicted directly upon the cause of rehgion ; or 
of good prevented by cripphng his abiUty to be useful ? 

The aftecting story of Boerhaave, so distinguished in the 
medical profession, is well known. With piety, and learning, 
and gifts, and an ardent zeal to glorify his divine Master, his 
heart was fixed upon consecrating his life to the sacred min- 
istry. The preliminary steps had been so far taken, that he 
had gone to Leyden to obtain his license to preach — when, to 
his utter astonishment, he found the way completely hedged 
up. An insinuation was dispersed through the University, 
that made him suspected of error no less shocking than Athe- 
ism itself. It was in vain that his friends plead his published 
sentiments, which contained unanswerable confutations of 
the very heresies with which he was charged : the torrent of 
popular prejudice was irresistible ; and thus this preeminently 
great and good man was utterly frustrated in his pious pur- 
pose by the slander of an insignificant person, who had be- 
come his enemy from mortified pride. So true it is, as his 
biographer well observes, that no merit, however exalted, is 
exempt from being not only attacked, but wounded by the 
most contemptible whispers. Those who cannot strike with 
force, can poison their weapon, and, weak as they are, give 
mortal wounds, and bring a hero to the grave. This is but 
one example oi good prevented which heads a long catalogue. 

But the sins committed by Christians in their angry dis- 
pntes, which have been engendered by a viperous tongue, 
admit of no rehearsal. How has the spectacle of such mil- 
itant professors gladdened the hearts of the wicked, who, as 
they have looked on, have said to themselves, ''Ah, so 
Avould we have it ;" while the general result of these anti- 
Christian quarrels has been, not only to confirm the infidel 
in his unbelief, and render him more daring and blasphem- 
ous, but to add incalculable numbers to his party. Is not 
the tongue, then, Avell defined by James to be " a world of 
iniquity ?" And when we take into view the variety and 
amount of wickedness in which the grand adversary/ and the 
slanderer cooperate, is it not very apparent why, in the sacred 
writings, the same word should be used to signify them both ? 



8 THE MISCHIEFS OF SLANDER. 

From contemplating such pictures of ruin as have been 
presented, is it too much to hope that one and another hith- 
erto heedless on this subject, will direct his attention to him- 
self, and inquire. How shall I keep my "tongue from 

EVIL, AND MY LIPS FROM SPEAKING GUILE?" 

First of all, remember that the preparation of the heart, 
and the answer of the tongue, are both from God ; and go 
to him, in humble believing prayer, for that aid which he 
alone can give, and which it is equally your privilege and 
duty to seek. It was one petition in the daily prayer of 
Jeremy Taylor, both for himself and his friends, that they 
might be delivered from the spirit of slander. 

Again, would you cease to speak ill of others, you must 
cease to think ill of them. And I know of no means of at- 
taining this so effectually, as to sttid^/ faithfully your own 
character. "There are no souls so fearful to judge others 
as those who most judge thetnselves. They give a favorable 
interpretation to what others do, because they are acquaint- 
ed with their own frailties ; just as in the Olympic games, 
the wrestlers did not put the crown upon their own heads, 
but upon the heads of others." It is an excellent rule of 
some, never to speak evil of their enemies : it is a better 
rule of a singular few, to speak evil of none. 

It is recorded of Peter the G-reat, that when one was 
speaking ill of another in his presence, he first listened at- 
tentively, but soon interrupted him with the question, " Is 
there not a. fair side to his character? Come, tell me what 
good qualities you can remember." This is admirable. 
Here is true greatness, and an example which it would im- 
prove many professed Christians to copy. 

When I behold a member of the church of Christ ready 
to animadvert on the faults of others, always discovering 
much to censure, but nothing to commend, I feel constrain- 
ed to say to him. Go and learn a lesson of charity, not of 
Solomon, nor of Paul, nor of James, nor or Christ, but in 
the school of that wise Milesian, whose maxim, afterwards 
consecrated at the Delphic Oracle, was, " Kvoio thyself.'' 

How slow should you be to hear, and how much slower 



THE MISCHIEFS OF SLANDER. 9 

to believe the evil that is whispered abroad concerning your 
brethren. It should be, moreover, your invariable rule, 
never to let your mind be decided by the representation of 
one party, until you have heard the other. " He that is 
first in his own cause seemeth just, but his neighbor cometh 
and searcheth him." 

Again, if this is a sin which " so easily besets us," we 
should never cease to ivatch against it. There is a story of 
one Pambus, an unlettered man, in the early ages of the 
church, who came to another that was versed in the Scrip- 
tures, and desired to be taught a psalm. Upon his turning 
to the 39th, and reading the 1st verse, ** I said, I will take 
heed to my ways, that I sin not with my tongue,^'' " Hold !'' 
exclaimed his grave pupil, ''read no further; this verse 
will be enough, if I can practise it." 

Especially should we be on our guard in times of temp- 
tation. It was sage advice given to Caesar by an old Ro- 
man, not to speak or act when he was angry, until he had 
repeated the letters of the alphabet. At such seasons 
should we " keep our mouth as with a bridle ;" and in 
most cases, no check will be more prompt and effectual 
than the question put to our conscience, What is my motive 
for speaking ? Is it to be avenged ? Then it is a hateful 
one, and I ought to hate myself on account of it, and re- 
pent. Is it to entertain the circle around me with a tale of 
scandal? Then I expose my own depravity, and have 
much more reason to speak evil of myself, than of him 
whom I am about to vilify. Or is it to discharge my Chris- 
tian obligations, and do the person good ? Why not then 
pursue the method enjoined by Christ? " Go and tell him 
his fault between thee and him alone, and if he hear thee, 
thou" hast made a noble conquest, thou " hast gained thy 
brother. But if he will not hear thee," then, as a matter 
of solemn duty, not of pique, " tell it to the church," the 
tribunal ordained by Christ to correct it. 

In connection with this, we offer another remark, by 
way of caution, against an infirmity of many, who, by report- 
ing in your ears the ill-natured speeches of others, often do 



10 THE MISCHIEFS OF SLANDER. 

you a greater unkindness than they did by inventi7ig them. 
For while, in some few cases, the information may serve a 
valuable end, by putting you on your guard, yet, in far 
more, it operates only to wound, without doing you any pos- 
sible good : and it is proof of no ordinary grace in exercise, 
if, after hearing the tale of such a slanderer, and of such a 
talebearer, you do not think far less favorably of them hoth. 

But what dissuasive from this sin should have such an 
abiding influence over a professor of religion, as the 2>^'^- 
cepts and examples of our blessed Redeemer ? Of all beings 
in the universe, who was ever slandered so cruelly and so 
causelessly ? Yet " when he was reviled, he reviled not 
again." When his enemies called for curses on him, he 
sought for blessings to come down on ther)i. And are you 
a professed disciple of such a Master ? with what consist- 
ency, then, can you retain your name or your relation, if, 
when the language of love to his enemies was on his lips, 
'* the poison of asps" is so often under yours ? 

Remember, moreover, how repugnant is your conduct 
to his "golden rule." Put yourself, calumniator, in the 
place of your injured brother, and imagine the tale to be 
told of yourself, which you are now telling of him. Would 
you think it kind, or Christian ? Imagine that it is your 
own father, or mother, or brother, or sister, who is the 
subject of the slanderous story which you are reporting ; 
and how do you view your conduct then ? Do not forget, 
that reputation, peace of mind, and domestic happiness, are 
as dear to others as they are to you. Their sense of morti- 
fication and of ridicule is as keen, and their sensibilities no 
better fitted to endure the buff"eting of public scora. 

Again, would you be spared a thorny pillow for your 
death-bed, begin in due season to govern youi* tongue. 
" Whoso keepeth his mouth and his tongue, keepeth his 
soul from troubles." And Avhat great troubles in life, and 
how much greater in death, can in this way be prevented. 
How severe are the reproaches of that conscience which, 
in the last "honest hours" of life, begins to recount the 
mischiefs of a slanderous tongue. 



THE MISCHIEFS OF SLANDER. H 

I happened, says Cotton Mather, to be present in the 
room of a dying man, who could not leave the world in 
peace, until he had lamented to a Christian acquaintance, 
whom he had sent for on this account, the unjust calumnies 
which he had often cast upon him. And when asked what 
was the occasion of his abusive conduct, whether he had 
been imposed upon by false reports, he made, says Mather, 
this horrible reply : " No ; it was merely this : I thought 
you were a good man, and that you did much good in the 
world, and therefore I hated you." And having made this 
confession, he added. Now is it possible for such a wretch 
as I am to find pardon ? 

And how large a proportion of the slanders of the 
world concerning the church, are the offspring of malignity 
against the truth. How careful then should they be, who 
love the truth, " to keep the door of their lips" so vigil- 
antly as to cut off all occasion of reproach from those who 
desire and seek it. 

In conclusion, let us prize more and more highly that 
abounding grace which is able to cleanse even the polluted 
heart of man, and render it pure and holy. Such are the 
power, the promise, and the effect of the Gospel. In the 
incarnation and sufferings of Christ we have ample atone- 
ment made to take away the guilt of sin ; and in the gift 
of the Spirit, an influence which is able to separate us from 
its defilement. Here is provision made for the two-fold 
work of our pardon and sanctification. By this every cor- 
rupt passion and unhallowed desire may be eradicated, and 
this depraved creature restored to the image of God. Let 
it be the immediate concern of every reader, to examine this 
subject with reference to himself. How far am I guilty ? 
What sins of the tongue have I contracted, which call for 
this blood of cleansing ? 

Are you a minister of the Gospel, who have often re- 
buked the sin of slander in others ? let the question be put 
to youi- conscience, how far you have set them the qk- 
ample ? What agency have you had, either by your tongue 
or your pen, in producing those commotions in the church, 



12 THE MISCHIEFS OF SLANDER. 

or in the world, by which the mantle of charity has been 
so often rent, Christian fellowship interrupted, and the min- 
istry blasphemed ? 

Are you a member of the church ? What part have you 
had in creating those family divisions and alienations among 
brethren ; and in procuring that reproach of the ungodly, 
throucrh which the Saviour is so often wounded ? Be en- 

o 

treated to examine your life, with a special view to your 
sins of speech. " If any man seem to be religious, and 
bridleth not his tongue, this man's religion is vain." A licen- 
tious tongue, habitually indulged, is presumptive evidence 
of an unregenerate heart. If this is your besetting sin, be 
persuaded either to restrain and bring it into subjection at 
once, or renounce your Christian hope. Indulging it, your 
religion is only seeming. To retain a sarcastic, bitter, revil- 
ing, slanderous tongue, is as inconsistent with your pro- 
fessed hope in Christ, as is drunkenness, or blasphemy, or 
murder. 

Are you connected with an unbelieving husband or wife, 
or are you a member of an unbelieving household ? be as- 
sured that your ungoverned tongue is doing more to quiet 
them in sin, to vilify the church and her ordinances, and 
all things sacred, than can be effected by any efforts of 
open blasphemers. From a regard to their souls, as well 
as your own, resolve at once to reform. Remember, that 
the love which you profess to bear towards others, not only 
worketh no ill to them, but it thinketh none. It does not 
blaze abroad their sins, but it covers them. It weeps over 
them, prays over them, endeavors to " convert the sinner 
from the error of his way," and so to save him. 

As you would honor Christ, who has taught us this 
lesson of divine charity, *' let this mind be in you that was 
in him ;" be moved by the same benevolent spirit, and 
"let your speech be always with grace, seasoned with 
salt." " If o.ny man offend not in word, the same is a jjer- 
fect man, and able also to bridle the whole body.'' 



]Vo. 310. 

STRIKING 



FULFILMENT OF PEOPHECY. 



The prophecies, besides many other evidences, prove the 
Bible to be of divine origin. Some of those of Moses con- 
cerning the Jews will here be stated, with the evidence of 
their fulfilment. 

PROPHECY IN NINETEEN PARTICULARS. 

" But it shall come to pass, if thou wilt not hearken unto the 
voice of the Lord thy God, to observe to do all his commandments 
and his statutes which I command thee this day ; that all these 
curses shall come upon thee." Deut. 28 : ] 5. 

1. " The Lord shall bring a nation against thee from far, from 
the end of the earth, as switt as the eagle flieth ; a nation whose 
tongue thou shalt not understand." Ver. 49. 

2. " A nation of a fierce countenance, which shall not regard 
the person of the old, nor show favor to the young." Ver. 50. 

3. '' And he shall besiege thee in all thy gates, until thy high 
and fenced walls shall come dov/n, wherein thou trustedst, through- 
out all thy land." Ver. 52. 

4. " And thou shalt eat the flesh of thy sons and of thy daugh- 
ters, in the siege and in the straitness wherewith thine enemies 
shall distress thee ; so that the man that is tender among you, and 
very delicate, his eye shall be evil towards his brother, and towards 
the Avife of his bosom, and towards the remnant of his children." 
Ver. 53, 54. 

5. " The tender and delicate woman, which would not adven- 
ture to set the sole of her foot upon the ground for delicateness, 
her eye shall be evil towards the husband of her bosom, and to- 
wards her son, and towards her daughter, and towards her infant ; 
for she shall eat them, for want of all things, secretly in the siege." 
Ver. 56, 57. 

6. " And ye shall be left few in number, whereas ye were as 
the stars of heaven for multitude." Ver. 62. 

7. " And the Lord shall bring thee again into Egypt with ships." 

8. " And there ye shall be sold unto your enemies for bond- 
men and bondwomen, and no man shall buy you." Ver. 68. 

9. " And ye shall be plucked from off the land whither thou 
goest to possess it." Ver. 63. 

10. " And the Lord shall scatter thee among all people, from 
the one end of the earth even unto the other." Ver. 64. 

11. " And yet for all that, when they be in the land of their 
VOL. IX. 14 



2 STRIKING FULFILMENT OF PROPHECY. 

enemies, I will not cast them away, neither Avill I abhor them, to 
destroy them utterly, and to break my covenant with them." Lev 
26 : 44. 

12. " And among these nations shalt thou find no ease, neither 
shall the sole of thy foot have rest." Deut. 28 : 65. 

13. " And thou shait be oppressed and spoiled evermore, and 
no man shall save thee." Ver. 29. 

14. " Thy sons and thy daughters shall be given unto another 
people, and thine eyes shall look, and fail with longing for them all 
the day long." Ver. 32. 

15. " The Lord shall smite tliee Avith madness, and blindness, 
and astonishment of heart." Ver. 28. 

16. " And thou shalt serve other gods." Ver. 36. 

17. " And thou shalt become an astonishment, a proverb, and 
a byword, among all nations whither the Lord shall lead tliee." 
Ver. 37. 

18. " The Lord will make thy plagues wonderful, and of long 
continuance ; even sore sicknesses, and of long continuance." 
Ver. 59. 

19. " The generation to come of your children, and the stran- 
ger from a far land, shall say. What meaneth the heat of this great 
anger ? Then men shall say. Because they have forsaken the cov- 
enant of the Lord God of their fathers, which he made with them 
when he brought them forth out of the land of Egypt, the Lord 
rooted them out of their land in anger and in wratli, and in great 
indignation, and cast them into another land, as it is this day." 
Deut. 29 : 22-28. 

Here is the prophecy ; on which it may be observed, 

1. It is delivered in plain language; it is not dark, nor 
capable of bearing many meanings. 

2. It was delivered many hundreds of years before the 
time of its fulfilment. Tliis is here needless to be proved, 
for it has never been denied by the opposers of Christianity. 

THE FULFILMENT. 

We shall now attend to the fulfilment of the above nine- 
teen particulars, in their regular order. 

1. A nation was to be " brought against them from far; 
a nation whose tongue they should not understand." This 
description answers to the Romans, who actually did come 
against them. They were not from Syria, nor from Asia 
Minor, nor from Greece, but from distant' Italy ; and the two 
great generals, Adrian and Vespasian, came from command- 
ing in the still more distant isle of Britain. It also answers 
to the language of tlie Romans. With the Syriac, the Ara- 



STRIKING FULFILMENT OF PROPHECY. 3 

bic, and the Chaldee, they were somewhat acquainted, as 
all these eastern languages bear a near resemblance. But 
of the Roman, in the far west, they knew nothing. Gener- 
ally, also, the Roman conquests were " as swift as the eagle 
flieth." Said Csesar, "I came, I saw, I conquered." 

2. The nation should be '' of a fierce countenance," and 
should show no mercy. The Romans were proverbially of 
a stern, fierce countenance ; and although they were merci- 
ful to other conquered nations, still every historian says that 
here they were cruel. '' When Vespasian entered Gadara," 
says Josephus, " he slew all, man by man, showing mercy 
to no age." The same slaughter was made at Gamala. 
" For nobody escaped," says the historian, " but two women ; 
and they escaped by concealing themselves from the rage 
of the Romans. For they did not so much as spare young 
children, but every one snatching up numbers, cast them 
down the citadel." 

3. " Throughout all their land " they were to be besieged 
in their cities, and their " walls, in which they trusted, were 
to come down." This became the case of the Jews. " They 
trusted in their walls," and would seldom fight in the open 
fields. But " throughout all their land " their walls did not 
secure them ; and even Jerusalem itself, strongly fortified as 
it was by its three walls, its towers, its ravines, and its moun- 
tains, had many of its battlements "torn down" before the 
entrance of the army. And when it was finally taken, the 
conquering commander exclaimed, " Surely, God has been 
our assistant. He has driven them from these fortifications. 
For what could man do towards overthrowing such towers ?" 
He then caused the vvhole to be demolished, except a part 
of the western wall and three of the towers, which were left 
to show its former strength, and the greatness of its fall. 

4. The siege was to be held out until a famine ensued, 
and then the dearest relatives Avere to show towards one 
another the worst cruelt}^ Generally, under the pressure 
of a common evil, a common sympathy is excited. This is 
natural. Houses have been burned, and the remains of their 
inmates have been found in the nearest embrace. Vessels 
have been shipwrecked, and families have gone down into 
their watery grave linked in one another's arms. We might 
expect the same of the inhabitants of Jerusalem. But what 
says the historian who saw the whole of these doings? 



4 STRIKING FULFILMENT OF PROPHECY. 

" Women snatched the food out of the very mouths of their 
husbands, and sons of their fathers, and mothers of their 
infants." " In every house, if there appeared any semblance 
of food, a battle ensued, and the dearest friends and relations 
fought with one another, snatching away the miserable pro- 
visions of life." 

5. Relations were not only to exercise towards one an- 
other an imnatural hatred, but the tender mother was to 
devour her child. This occurred both at the Babylonian and 
Roman conquests. The historians describe the particulars, 
but the painful task may here be spared. Let it suffice 
simply to say, it was done. 

6. They should '' be left few in number." This is one 
of the wonderful features of their history. At the time of 
David and Solomon they w^ere a large nation. They were 
very numerous also before the Roman conquest. And now 
at this late day, from slaughter and oppression, they are 
comparatively a small people. At one time the Romans 
destroyed the astonishing number of nearly one million and 
a half. Whereas, had they increased regularly from their 
first settlement, they would now^ have been one of the largest 
nations on the globe. 

V. They should be carried again into Egypt by ships. 
The historians say, that "at the taking of Jerusalem by 
Titus, -the captives who w^ere above seventeen years of age, 
were sent bound to the works in Egypt ; those under seven- 
teen years were sold." They do not mention whether they 
were sent by land or water. But as the distance to Egypt 
was long, especially by land, navigation common, and they 
were sent hound, the latter w^ould be the easier mode. 

8. While they Avere in Egypt they should want buyers. 
This also occurred. They were so valueless, from the scar- 
city of the buyers, that no care was taken of them, " and 
11,000 perished from want." Afterwards they were brought 
in such numbers that "the Egyptians massacred them." 

9. They should be driven from the land of Canaan. 
While the war w^as raging, their country was devastated, 
and many taking refuge at Antioch, the inhabitants peti- 
tioned Titus, the Roman commander, to have them expelled 
from their city. " No," replied he humanely, " their own 
country is laid w^aste, and whither can they go ?" After- 
wards the emperor Adrian made a law forbidding them, on 



STRIKING FCLFILMENT OF rUurilECY. 5 

pain of death, from entering- Jerusalem — some say, the 
whole country. In the 12th century, Benjamin Tudela, a 
Jew, travelled in all parts to learn the state of his nation. 
In Jerusalem he found only two hundred Jews, in another 
city only two, and in another only twenty. The case is sim- 
ilar now. The traveller in that region meets with here and 
there a solitary Jew, who seems like an alien in his own land. 

10. They should be " scattered from one end of the earth 
to the other." They are found in Europe, Asia, Africa, and 
America ; even in the extremities of China and Japan. 

11. While thus scattered, they were not to be destroyed, 
but to exist distinctly, the same people. How astonishing 
the fulfilment. Every thing on earth is affected and altered 
by time. But the Jews, notwithstanding the assaults of a 
thousand different circumstances in every age and clime, 
remain the same people. 

12. While remaining the same people, and scattered 
through every part of the world, they should find no per- 
manent home. From various countries they have been 
driven again and again. In the year 600, they were com- 
pelled, in France, either to embrace Christianity, or to leave 
the kingdom. In G12, the same happened in Spain. In 
the middle of the 10th century a residence was given them 
at Prague, and soon after they were obliged to leave it. In 
the middle of the 11th century they were banished by the 
Caliphs from the East, and came in great numbers to Eu- 
rope. But here they were soon exposed to the fury of the 
crusaders. In the latter end of the 13th century they were 
banished from England by Edward I., and not permitted to 
return until the days of Cromwell. In the latter end of the 
14th century they were driven from France the seventh time. 
In the latter end of the 15th century they were banished 
from Spain by Ferdinand and Isabella. According to Ma- 
riana, they amounted to 170,000 families. Many of them 
perished, some sought refuge in Africa, and some in Portu- 
gal, from whence they were soon expelled. In the middle 
of the same century they were burnt alive in Germany, be- 
cause they were supposed to be the cause of a contagious 
disease that prevailed there. And lately, in the 18th cen- 
tury, they were banished from Prague by the queen of Bo- 
hemia. Every other nation possesses a spot which it calls 
by the endearing title of home ; but when we turn to the 

VOL. IX. 14* 



6 STRIKING FULFILMENT OF PROPHECY. 

Jews, we behold a different spectacle : like the wind of 
heaven, they wander round the earth, seeking rest, and 
finding none. 

13. They should also suffer a continued series of oppres- 
sion. Our own country is the only one in which they have 
not suffered a constant political oppression, and here they 
do not escape that of prejudice and public opinion. This 
is astonishing in a world where all is change. Babylon, 
Carthage, Macedonia, and Rome, have in turn been the op- 
pressor and the oppressed. If they have ruled other nations 
with a rod of iron, these nations have in turn taken the rod 
in their own hands, and beaten their cruel masters ; and 
they again have given way to other lords, who have ruled 
their little hour. But for Israel the laws of nature seem 
changed. Their night of adversity, during all these ages, 
is cheered by no rising morn. 

14. Their children should be taken from them. In sev- 
eral countries, particularly Spain and Portugal, their chil- 
dren have been taken from them, to be educated in the Ro- 
man Catholic religion. Thousands have thus been torn from 
the arms of their parents and confined in monasteries. How 
singular the prophecy, and its fulfilment. 

15. They should be filled with madness, blindness, and 
astonishment of heart. When they were conquered, they 
did not, like other conquered nations, submit quietly to their 
fate ; but for centuries they were actuated by a mad and 
blinded fury. In one of their unsuccessful revolts against 
the Roman government, says the historian, " they murdered 
the Greeks and Romans wherever they could find them ; 
cut their bodies in pieces, tore off their skin and wore it as 
a mantle, devoured their flesh and intestines, besmeared 
themselves with their blood, etc. etc." Delicacy forbids 
the pursuit of the subject through many centuries and 
different nations. 

16. They should "serve other gods." This, as is well 
known, many of them have done, especially those of the 
ten tribes. 

17. They should become an astonishment, "a proverb, 
and a byword." The description is as accurate as if it had 
been given in our own day. They are a proverb, a byword ; 
and when we think of their dispersion, their sufferings, and 
their preservation, an astonishment. They have been in some 



STRIKING FULFILMENT OF PROPHECY. 7 

countries until their skin has turned black, and they are called 
" the black Jews," but in spirit they are still the same. 

18. Their unhappy condition was to be '•' of long contin- 
uance." This is another of the astonishing traits of the 
prophecy. Since their dispersion, kingdoms and empires 
have arisen and passed away ; revolutions have changed the 
face of the globe again and again ; earthly magnificence and 
grandeur have flourished, and become hid in the ruins of 
time ; but the Jewish nation, which in its dispersion seems 
like a bubble on the waves, is an ever-during monument. 

19. The cause of their singular history was to be known. 
If they are an ever-during monument, that monument, for 
the benefit of mankind, is not without an inscription. It tells 
us, that for their inattention to the Bible, as containing the 
commands of Jehovah, their condition is thus. If a city is 
destroyed by a volcano or an earthquake, or a nation is com- 
pelled to bend under the yoke of an oppressor, the reasons why 
divine Providence permits the stroke are wrapped in mys- 
tery. But in the case of the Jews his purposes are known. 

Here, then, is the fulfilment — a complete agreement with 
the prophecy in the several particulars. 

WHENCE THIS AGREEMENT? 

1. The agreement could not come from a 2)olitlcal fore- 
sight in. Moses, because there Avas nothing from which he 
could judge that such things would occur; nothing from 
which he could judge that an unknown nation would come 
from afar and conquer the Jews ; nothing from which he 
could judge that they would behave with an unnatural bar- 
barity towards one another while under the siege ; nothing 
from which he could judge that they would be carried in 
ships to Egypt, and there sold as slaves ; nothing from which 
he could judge that they would be scattered through every 
country under heaven, and while thus scattered, that they 
would remain for seventeen centuries a distinct people, with 
the cause of their dispersion told wherever they went, and 
with a burden of oppression for ever resting upon them. To 
suppose that Moses could predict such things by a political 
foresight, would be like supposing that Julius Caesar, 1,800 
years ago, could predict, by a political foresight, who would 
now sit on the throne of France, who on the throne of Eno-. 
land, or who would be president of the United States. 



S STRIKING FULFIl-MENT OF PROPHECV. 

2. The agreement could not come from chance, because 
the opposing chances are infinite, and therefore it is impos- 
sible, Man}^ hundred years before, how many chances were 
there against the conquest of the Jews by the distant Ro- 
mans ? Nay, how many chances were there against the 
extension of the Roman arms beyond the limits of Italy ? 
Nay, how many chances were there against the very exist- 
ence of such a nation? How many chances were there 
ao-ainst the unnatural barbarity of the Jews durina^ the 
sieo-e, or ao-ainst their conveyance on the Mediterranean in 
ships to Egypt, or agamst their massacre there for want of 
sale ? How many chances were there against their disper- 
sion thousands of leagues through every land, and through 
every clime ? How many chances were there against their 
continued oppression for so long a time ? And while thus 
oppressed, and thus intermingled with every people, how 
many chances Avere there against their existence as a sep- 
arate nation, for seventeen hundred years ? Not to sum up 
all the nineteen particulars, where every particular increases, 
by an astonishing ratio, the number of chances against the 
occurrence as a whole, we see that the number of opposing 
chances is infinite ; and therefore that the event of the 
agreement by chance is impossible. 

Suppose that I had on cards many hundred letters, and 
should lay them on the floor in such an order that they 
would form a pleasing tale, or a beautiful poem : suppose, 
further, that a person should enter the room, and inquire of 
me how they all came in that order; should I be believed, 
were I to say that I threw them out of my hand, and they 
all fell in that position by chance? No. Because the 
chances against such an order are infinite ; and therefore the 
event impossible. So it is with the present prophecy. Its 
fulfilment by chance is impossible. 

3. This complete agreement between the prophecy and 
its fulfilment could come, therefore, in no other way than 
the one in which we are told it did — by divine insjnmtion. 
The conclusion is easy, and unavoidable ; no other can be 
made. Let us, therefore, look upon the Bible as it is — a mes- 
sage from God, " bringing life and immortahty to light." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY 



l¥o. 311. 



VISITING ON THE SABBATH, 



In no form, perhaps, is the day of the Lord dishonored 
with so little consciousness of criminahty as by making 

VISITS AND CALLS AMONG NEIGHBORS ANO FRIENDS. EvCn 

professors of rehgion seem not sufficiently aware of the evil 
of the practice ; and it is well, if in some places the preva- 
lence of the custom does not blind the eyes of ministers of 
the Gospel, and deter them from giving the instruction and 
reproof which so injurious a practice demands. 

As a dissuasive from such a violation of the divine com- 
mand to "remember the Sabbath-day and keep it holy," 
let me urge, that visits exert an injurious influence on your- 
self AND YOUR OWN FAMILY. 

They keep you from reading the B'lhle, and the other 
duties of the closet. These duties, which are indispensable 
to the maintenance of religion in the soul, and should re- 
ceive special attention on the Sabbath, can nowhere be so 
well performed as at home, where every one has, or ought 
to have, a place for retirement. Even on a visit to your 
nearest friends, you will be expected to mingle with the 
family in which you are, and will hardly be disposed to 
seek a place of seclusion, adapted to the serious perform- 
ance of private religious duties. 

The habit of visiting keeps you from the house of God 
and the Sahhath- school. No Sabbath visitor will be found 
uniformly in his pew at church, or at the head of a class, 
or scrupulous in the performance of the other appropriate 
duties of the day. 

If you are the head of a family, that portion of it which 
remains at home is left ivithout your guidance. The duty 
to sanctify the Sabbath extends not only to yourself, but to 
your children and household. Whatever directions to ob- 
serve the Sabbath you may give on your leaving home, 
they will be apt to disregard ; especially since they see you 
transgressing the very command you require them to obey. 
Besides, by your absence you leave your household exposed 



2 VISITING ON THE SABBATH. 

to the temptation of going themselves from home ; visiting, 
rambhng, playing, if not practising grosser foi'ms of violat- 
ing God's holy day. You leave them, moreover, exposed 
to the visits, evil example, and pernicious influence of in- 
truders from other families. In short, you will have every 
reason to fear that in your absence the Sabbath will be 
shamefully violated by those of your own household, and 
by " the stranger within thy gates." 

Your visits occasion yourself, your leasts, or doinestics, 
unnecessary and unlawful labor on the Sabbath-day. You 
are not only to abstain from labor yourself, but j^ou are re- 
quired to see that your household and your beasts do the 
same. " Thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, 
nor thy daughter, thy man-servant, nor thy maid-servant, 
nor thy cattle." No matter whether the amount of labor 
is more or less ; it is clearly forbidden by the law of God. 

This habit is equally injurious to the family you visit. 

It gives them additional labor on the Sabbath. Often 
the Sabbath is thus made a day of feasting. Whatever 
may be the Avish of the visitors, there will be, even among 
their nearest friends, more preparation, and of course more 
secular and sinful labor, for the entertainment, than if the 
family had been alone. 

The family you visit are also hindered from attending to 
their i^roper Sabbath employments. How can the head of 
the family find opportuifity for instructing his household ; 
and how can he or they suitably engage in the reading of 
the Bible, or private prayer and meditation, when they are 
encumbered with visitors ? No family craves the character 
of being inhospitable ; and their members will hardly dare 
leave the visitors, even to instruct the Sabbath-school class, 
or attend to other appropriate duties of the day. 

Too often you also introduce into the family you visit 
worldly and unprofitable conversation. If you do not do 
this yourself, you tempt them to do it. They will hardly 
suppose that you have left your own family for the sake of 
spiritual discourse at the house of another, and will not be 
likely to intrude such discourse upon you. Do not facts 
warrant these inferences ? Were a man to treat his Sabbath 
visitors with religious conversation, or with reading the 
Scriptures, how long would his house be thronged with 



VISITING ON THE SABBATH. 3 

them? What more effectual, and I may add, what more 
proper expedient can be adopted by any family to rid them- 
selves of such intruders ? In view of this subject, I remark, 

1. Visits to your relatives, even your parents or children, 
are for the most part attended with the same evils as visits 
to others. 

2. Visits made by leaving home on Saturday/ and return- 
ing on Monday, are liable to most of the objections to visits 
which are begun and ended on the Sabbath. There may 
be a little less of labor on the Sabbath by the beasts that 
carry you, but the labor of the family you visit is increased ; 
they are more or less hindered in their proper Sabbath em- 
ployments for the whole day ; that portion of your family 
which you leave at home is without a guide in their Sabbath 
duties, or any one to lead them in family worship ; and 
your seat is vacant in the house of God, where you ought 
every Sabbath to be seen, for the encouragement of your 
minister and Christian friends, and as an example to your 
children and others. 

3. Visits or calls on the Sabbath are often made under 
the pretence of visiting the sick. When this is done with 
the design of giving such relief to the bodily or spiritual 
wants of the sick as they will not be likely to obtain without 
your visit, then you perform an act of mercy, and your visit 
is not only lawful but commendable. But to visit or call on 
the Lord's day merely because there is a sick person in the 
family, is a most weak apology for the crime of Sabbath- 
breaking. If the family deem it a kindness, it is only be- 
cause it is customary, and therefore expected, and because 
the family have inadequate views of the sanctity of the 
Lord's day. By such visits or calls, the sick, as well as the 
rest of the family, are really incommoded. The Sabbath 
is often a hard day in the house of the sick, when friends and 
neighbors come in throngs, merely or principally because 
they are unwilling to spare time for that purpose on other 
days. 

4. Visits or calls made on the Sabbath because you are 
unwilling to spare time for them on other days of the week, 
are utterly inexcusable. God has consecrated the whole 
day to his worship and service, and we may not do our 
pleasure therein. You need all your time on that day to 



4 VISITING ON THE SABBATH. 

learn the will of God, to worship him and to perform acts 
of mercy and benevolence, which you cannot neglect with- 
out incurring guilt. 

5. The habit of visiting on the Lord's day must always 
keep professors of religion wiio indulge in it uninstructed, 
luorldly-minded, and unfruitful. They misspend the time 
specially given them to read and meditate on the truths of 
religion, and to attain a spiritual frame of mind. If you 
inquire after well-informed, dihgent, spiritual, and fruitful 
Christians, you will find them among those who perform on 
the Sabbath its appropriate duties, and scrupulously abstain 
from what they fear to be a violation of its sanctity ; who 
"exercise themselves'' on this subject to maintain "a con- 
science void of offence." On the other hand, those who are 
less scrupulous in the observance of the Sabbath, will be 
found to be less employed on other days of the week in 
prayer, reading the Scriptures, and other duties. 

6. Visits on the Sabbath, hv ^yrofessors of religion, tend 
to ])our contempt upon this institution of Ood, and upon 
the Christian name. The due observance of the Lord's 
day is the great means of preserving the fear and worship 
of God in the world. Let the sanctification of the Sabbath 
be neglected by Christians, and the world will soon forget 
that there is a Bible ; the duties enjoined in it will not be 
performed, nor its requirements obeyed ; and the ordinances 
of religion, and even the name of Christian will become a 
reproach. 

7. Long continued custom can no more justify Sabbath 
visits than any other vicious practice. It is very easy to 
slide into the general practice of what is inexpedient and 
injurious. Mankind are not apt to reflect seriously upon 
their conduct when they see the same course pursued by 
others. We deem it the imperious duty of all, especially 
of every preacher of the Gospel, to consider, steadfastly to 
resist, and fearlessly to expose the evils of Sabbath-breaking 
in all its forms ; and we venture to affirm, that where the 
practice of visiting on the Lord's day prevails, it furnishes 
a satisfactory reason why efforts to promote the cause of 
enlightened, spiritual, and fruitful religion, have been at- 
tended with so little success. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



IVo. 313. 

MY FATHER'S PRAYER 

AN AUTHENTIC NARRATIVE. 



The hour that gave birth to James , witnessed the 

departure of his mother. His father had been attacked with 
a violent fever, and hiy at that moment apparently in the 
agonies of death. The sound of the words, "Her spirit is 
departing," heard by the husband, roused him ; and in the 
most imploring manner he begged to be carried to her bed- 
side, that he might see her once more. The request was 
instantly complied with. She waved her hand in a last 
adieu, and her spirit took its upward flight. 

The life of the father was spared ; and as soon as the 
powers of his mind returned, he took the surviving pledge 
of a mother's love into his trembling arms, and in solemn 
prayer consecrated him to God. As his infant powers ex- 
panded, he felt the obligation to regard, first of all, the wel- 
fare of his soul, and labored faithfully to instil into his 
opening mind the great truths of religion. 

He had thus made his infant son the object of his care 
for nine years, when he was attacked with a lingering dis- 
ease that forewarned him the child must soon be left an 
orphan, and he had no resource but to cast him, by faith, 
upon the mercy of God, through Jesus Christ. Long had 
he taught him the sinfulness of his heart and the love of 
God manifested in the mft of his Son, and ofuided his infant 
lips in prayer ; and just before he died he called him to his 
bedside, put his hand on his head, and with eyes and heart 
raised to heaven, recommitted him to the protection and 
guidance of the Father of the fatherless. The child lifted 
his eyes to those of his dying father, saw them suffused in 
tears, and heard his faltering voice committing his soul to 
God through Jesus Christ, and that father's prayer made 
an indelible impression on his heart. 

The guardianship of James was committed to a near 
relative, who carefully invested his ample patrimony, and 
gave him the best advantages of education in a neighboring 
VOL. IX. 15 



2 MY FATHER'S PRAYER. 

school. Here he unhappily attracted the notice of one of 
the assistant teachers of the institution, a gentleman of fas- 
cinating manners, and an accomplished scholar, whose prin- 
ciples and conversation exerted over him a most controlling 
influence. This gentleman had travelled extensively, seen 
much of the world, and acquired a rich fund of entertaining 
information and anecdote. He had visited America ; was a 
warm -republican ; and gave such glowing descriptions of 
American scenery and manners, and the happy results of 
freedom from European tyranny, as captivated the mind of 
his young pupil, and induced him to form the fixed resolution, 
that, when of age, he would hasten to this happy land, and 
become one of her/ree citizens. 

Having thus gained the ear and the heart of James, this 
teacher took him into his own room, made him an intimate 
companion, and began gradually to poison his mind with 
the most deep-rooted and mahgnant principles of infidelity. 
Perceiving that he had firmly embraced the principles of 
religion, and fearing the consequences of an open attack, he 
at first raised no objection against Christianity as a revela- 
tion from God ; but began by attacking such doctrines of 
the Gospel as he could present in an odious light : partic- 
ularly the purpose of God eternally to punish any of his 
offending creatures. He pointed to the goodness of God 
in the. works of nature, and argued that such a doctrine was 
the foulest stain upon the Most High. Then he proceeded 
to intimate that the Bible was a forgery, and Christianity a 
delusion ; and at length to pour upon his mind the multi- 
plied and specious objections and cavilHngs of infidel writers. 
It is not surprising that the unsuspecting youth fell a prey 
to the artifices of this arch-deceiver, who not only claimed 
to be his sincere friend, but by his fascinating manners, his 
false premises and erroneous conclusions, was prepared to 
deceive those far better fortified than his present victim. 

Tlie guardian of James was kept in profound ignorance 
of this change of his principles ; and at length received him 
with open arms into his family, and placed him in an impor- 
tant and lucrative situation in his own employ. 

James entered upon his new duties with high spirits, 
and resolved to do his utmost to give satisfaction to his 
guardian, who loved him as his own son ; but with such 
principles secretly cherished, he was ill prepared to with- 



MY FATHER'S PRAYER. 3 

stand the temptations of life. For twelve months he kept 
aloof from vicious society, with the exception that once, in 
the absence of his protector, he rambled to the theatre. He 
was captivated with the performance, and longed for the 
time when he could indulge his favorite passion without 
restraint. Soon after this he left the house of his guardian ; 
and in his new situation, destitute of religious principle, sur- 
rounded with the pleasures of a voluptuous city, and many 
gay, thoughtless companions, though during the day he 
attended to the duties of his office, yet at night he was often 
at the theatre, ensnared by the most vicious of society ; and 
from the theatre to the tavern, and a participation of the 
flowing bowl and the merry song, the transition was easy 
and natural. For some time he kept up a decent appear- 
ance, and regularly attended to business ; but being an infi- 
del at heart, he forsook the house of God, and devoted the 
Sabbath to sinful amusements and indulgences. After the 
first transgression of this nature, conscience gnawed his 
heart like a viper, and set before him in fearful array the 
warnings and admonitions of his departed father, the remem- 
brance of whose last prayer stung him to the heart. His 
frequent absence from the house of God excited the suspi- 
cions of his affectionate guardian, which were at length con- 
firmed by his meeting him reeling home from a midnight 
debauch. He saw that he was already on the verge of ruin, 
warned him of his danger, and extorted promises of amend- 
ment ; but alas, his religious principles were gone ; and he 
sunk deeper and deeper in sin and folly, till, becoming of 
age, he made preparation to fulfil his favorite project of 
exchanging his native land for America. His infidel com- 
panions expressed their grief in the prospect of his leaving 
them, and showed their sincerity by joining him in a scene 
of mirth and dissipation previous to the parting hour. 

While partaking in this scene, a pious lady entered : 
" Young man,'" said she, " I o,m sorry to see that you are in 
all things the reverse of your pious father ; hut mark it, his 
prayers in your behalf luill yet be ansivered." This was a 
dagger to his soul ; he hung his head abashed ; and though 
he persisted in his infidelity, often did this expression, like 
a warning angel, call upon him to return from the road of 
death. 

He landed in this country, which had been viewed by 



4 MY FATHER'S PRAYER. 

him as a paradise upon earth ; but it proved no paradise to 
him. He became a leader among inlidels, an open scoffer 
and blasphemer. Having been seduced himself, he became 
a seducer of others ; and that he might be enabled success- 
fully to contend with the unwary, he carefully read all the 
infidel writings he could procure. 

But conscience, like an ever-gnawing worm, incessantly 
annoyed him. After being warmly engaged in casting con- 
tempt upon the religion of Christ, it would arise before his 
mind in all the majesty of truth, and thunder the threaten- 
ings of a holy God in his ears : " Perhaps this religion may 
be true ; perhaps Christ is the Son of God ; perhaps he 
will yet judge the world ; and if so, what will become of 
thee, proud blasphemer ? Wilt thou not tremble then, and 
call upon rocks and mountains to fall upon thee and hide 
thee from the face of Him that sitteth on the throne ?" 

These thoughts often created painful misgivings ; but 
instead of investigating this most important of all subjects, 
he closed his eyes against the light ; and to strengthen him- 
self in his ruinous system, when he returned to society he 
would again urge his objections, and endeavor to make 
proselytes to his soul-destroying scheme. 

He appeared nearly gone beyond all hope of recovery, 
when a deadly disease seized upon him, and he was brought 
to the. verge of the grave. Alas, he had no hope. All 
within was darkness and despair ; and he felt that he was 
about to launch upon a boundless ocean, and with neither 
pilot nor guide. But his life was spared. 

He had spent five years in America, in the neglect of all 
the means of grace, and living without God in the world, 
when on a summer evening he wandered from his dwelling, 
and amused himself by following the windings of one of 
those narrow paths which are so common in the western 
wilderness. He seated himself beneath the foliage of a 
large oak ; and in this lone spot, secluded from all ej^es but 
that of the Omnipresent, he was led imperceptibly to a new 
and unusual train of reflections. His earthly prospects had 
been blasted ; his infidel friends had stripped him of his 
patrimony ; he was now a wanderer in a foreign land, and 
penniless among strangers. 

These sad reverses first occupied his mind. The next 
inquiry was their cause. This led him to a review of his 



MY FATHER'S PRAYER. 5 

past life ; the instructions and exhortations of his pious 
father ; his warm expressions of gratitude to God for the 
gift of his Son ; and now the dying scene was present to 
his view. He thought he could almost hear the fervent 
supplications of the man of God ; and feel his hand upon 
his head, when he committed him to the protection of the 
Father of mercies. He burst into tears ; his head sunk upon 
his bosom, and in an agony he clasped his hands. His boy- 
ish years passed in review before him ; the suggestions, the 
artifices, and bold assertions of his false friend caused the 
bitter groan to burst from his heart ; for to this he could 
trace the aberrations of his subsequent life — his daring 
rebellion — his avowed opposition to the cause of Christ — 
and his horrid blasphemies. 

Alas, thought he, it is no wonder I am thus circum- 
stanced, for every step I have taken in life has been wrong. 
As I have grown in years, I have grown in sin ; and my 
astonishment is, that such a monster should be permitted to 
live upon the earth. Pursuing these painful reflections, he 
was led to think upon God ; that awful Being against whom 
he had rebelled ; whose presence he felt then pervaded 
him, and whose eye then scanned all his secret musings. 
He had such a view of the awful majesty and inflexible jus- 
tice of Jehovah, as filled him with fearfulness and trembling. 

"And this, my soul," said he, "is the tremendous 
God against Avhom thou hast rebelled — this is the awful 
Being whose holy law thou hast violated, and whose beloved 
Son thou hast contemned. 0, I cannot stand before this 
dreadful God, who is now here present with me, and who 
surely has given me this fearful view of himself as the 
prelude to my eternal destruction. Down, down, guilty 
wretch — fall down before this terrible God." 

Instantly he prostrated himself upon the earth ; but 
such was his sense of sin and shame that he was silent. He 
could not open his mouth, but the language of his heart 
was, GUILTY, GUILTY, GUILTY ! There he lay for some time, 
but not a word could he speak. He rose, and in bitter an- 
guish paced to and fro, while the awful majesty of God was 
exhibited before him, and the aggravation of his sins caused 
his heart, as it were, to bleed within him. He fell upon his 
knees — he smote upon his breast, and in bitter agony cried, 
" God be merciful to me a sinner." The tears now fell 

VOL. IX. 15* 



(5 MY FATHER'S PRAYER. 

freely — a faint ray of hope that mercy might yet be sought 
and pardon found, sprang up in his heart : on rising from 
his knees he covenanted to hve and die seeking the pardon 
of his manifold transgressions ; and while he felt grateful 
that he had not long ago been sent to hell, his heart whis- 
pered, All this is in answer to my father s prayer. 

With a bleeding heart he returned to his home ; and 
there again fell upon his knees before the Most High, and 
implored his pardoning mercy. He resolved to abstain from 
all external sin, and live in the discharge of every duty ; 
and on this ground he vainly hoped to obtain pardon. The 
next Sabbath his neighbors were astonished to see him in 
the house of God, and still more so, when he retired without 
making one ill-natured remark on what had been said. True 
to his resolution, three times a day he was upon his knees 
before God, and he was in a good degree enabled to refrain 
from external sin ; but alas, his case appeared more and 
more desperate ; for every day he made fresh discoveries 
of the sinfulness of his thoughts, which he found proceeded 
from a corrupt fountain. Still he persevered ; but the longer, 
the worse he became in his own estimation ; and the clearer 
his views of the inflexible justice of Jehovah, the more he 
discovered his own exposure to his righteous indignation. 
Such was his sense of guilt, that sleep forsook him ; and 
when those around him were slumbering, he, in some secret 
and retired grove, lay prostrate on the ground, crying for 
mercy. Sometimes, when about to partake of the bounties 
of God's providence, he had such views of his un worthiness, 
that he Avas compelled to leave the table, feeling that such 
a sinner deserved not to breathe the air and tread upon the 
earth, much less to partake of God's rich blessings. Days 
and weeks passed away, and no peace reached his troubled 
mind. 

The arrows of Jehovah's wrath were drinking up his 
spirits, and all his efforts to obtain pardon and acceptance 
had proved abortive. Almost in a state of despair, his 
bitter cry was, " God, is there no hope for a wretch like 
me ; and must I sink beneath thy wrath for ever ? Justice 
says 'tis right, but appalling thought, to be banished from 
God, and shut up in eternal despair!" 

In this sad frame, he called to his recollection a precious 
treasure he had preserved from the wreck of all his earthly 



MY FATHER'S PRAYER. 7 

fortune. "Ah," said he, " to my mother's Bible I will apply : 
here I may obtain relief from my bitter anguish." He opened 
that blessed book, and read, " Seeing we also are compassed 
about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside 
every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, 
and let us run with patience the race that is set before us, 
looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith." 

These words melted his heart ; and this was his lan- 
guage : " Are the eyes of saints and angels fixed upon those 
who are running for the Christian crown? Then these 
holy beings behold me laboring under a load of guilt which 
presses me to the earth. And does my sainted father 
behold me, thus self-condemned and longing after an inter- 
est in the pardoning love of God ? Above all, does the 
Holy One himself behold me, thus prostrate before him, 
stripped of all my self-dependence and all my false pleas, 
and sensible that, without his interposition, I am lost ; and 

0, will he spurn me from his feet, and cast me off for ever ? 
And shall I not be permitted to cast one look to Jesus, who 
is the author and finisher of faith ?" 

Again he cast his eye upon the sacred page, and read, 
''Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth 
every son whom he receiveth." These words were to his 
wounded heart as precious balm : " And is it possible," said 
he, " that God, in love, has thus chastened me ? And have 

1, poor guilty wanderer, been thus scourged previous to my 
being numbered among the sons of God ? Is it possible 
that I shall be thus privileged, who have been the chief of 
sinners, who have deserved the lowest hell ? Shall I yet 
be permitted to cry, ' Abba, Father ?' " 

Then it was that he experienced what words cannot 
describe, and none but those who have received the white 
stone, and in it a new name written, can comprehend. He 
heard no sound — he saw no sight with his natural eye — no 
miracle was performed on his physical system — he received 
no new faculty ; but to express it as near as we can, the 
eye of his mind was steadily fixed upon God, who caused 
his GOODNESS to pass before him, proclaiming his name, 
" The Lord, .the Lord God, merciful and gracious, forgiving 
iniquity, transgression, and sin." 

This view filled his mind with reverence, awe, and de- 
light. Now, for the first time, he saw the beauty of holi- 



8 MY FATHER'S PRAYER. 

ness, and that in that consists the chief excellency of God — 
now he saw that his sins reflected on the character of Jeho- 
vah — now he beheld the fitness and excellency of the plan 
of salvation, and Jesus appeared to him the " chief among 
ten thousands, and altogether lovely ;" for he " beheld his 
glory as the glory of the only begotten of the Father, full 
of grace and truth." With holy joy, he cast himself at his 
feet ; and with deep contrition for his past offences, sur- 
rendered to him the throne of his heart, and swore alle- 
giance to him for ever. 

And what an hour was that to his soul ! For first, 
came pardon ; then peace, and the love of God shed abroad 
in his heart ; and joy in the Holy Ghost, thrilling through 
all the faculties of the soul, and refreshing it with the 
waters of those rivers of pleasure that flow at God's right 
hand. Now, for the first time in his life, was James a happy 
man ; and now, for the first time, did he reflect with sincere 
pleasure and holy thankfulness on that scene when his 
father commended him to Him who was true to his trust, 
and who felt for him as mortal cannot feel. And now, on 
his bended knees, he returned most grateful thanks to the 
Father of mercies for his unspeakable goodness. 

Years have passed away, and James is now a faithful 
minister of the Gospel, publishing its glad tidings to dying 
sinners-. Often has he been heard to bless God for " my 
father's prayer ;" and scarcely less often for "my moth- 
er's Bible," which he has bound to his heart as a rich 
treasure, and which he expects, when he leaves the walls 
of Zion, to transmit to his descendants as a light to their 
path and a lamp to their feet — as their guide and counsel- 
lor from life to life, and from world to world. 

To the truth of every part of the above narrative he has 
given his solemn testimony ; and at his desire, it is published, 
that God may be glorified, and that you, reader, moved by 
his goodness and mercy, may make no delay in embracing 
that Saviour whose service on earth is blessed, and whose 
praise must fill all holy hearts for ever. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



No. 313. 



THE 



POOR MAN'S HOUSE REPAIRED; 



OR, 



THE WRETCHED MADE HAPPY. 



A NARRATIVE OF FACTS. 




For fifteen years of my married life I was as miserable 
as any woman could be. Our house was the picture of 
wretchedness externally, and it looked still more wretched 
within. The windows were patched, the walls shattered, 
the furniture defaced and broken, and every thing was going 
to ruins. 

It had not always been so ; for, once my home was happy, 
and I used to take much pleasure and some pride in hearing 

the neighbors say, " How neat and trim neighbor N 's 

house always looks I" But they could not say so long. 



2 THE POOR MAN'S HOUSE REPAIRED. 

One thing after another changed. Our table was no longer 
spread with comfortable food, nor surrounded with cheer- 
ful faces ; but there were scanty meals, sour looks, and loud 
and angry words ; while, do the best I could, I wps not 
able to conceal the tatters of my own and my children's 
clothing. My husband is a mechanic ; his employment is 
good, and he might have made his family as happy as any 
family in the place ; but he was in the habit of taking ardent 
spirit every day. He thought it did him good ; / knew it 
did not, for I found him every day more and more unkind. 
Our comforts, one by one, were stripped away, till at last I 
saw myself the wife of a confirmed drunkard. 

I well remember, one evening, I was sitting by the fire, 
mending my poor boy's tattered jacket. My heart was 
very sad. I had been thinking of the happy evenings I 
had spent with my husband before our marriage ; of the 
few pleasant years that succeeded ; of the misery that then 
came ; of the misery yet to come ; and for me there seemed 
no ray of hope or comfort. My husband was a terror to 
his family, and a nuisance to the neighborhood ; my chil- 
dren were idle, ragged, and disobedient; myself a heart- 
broken wife and wretched mother. While I thought of all 
this, r could no longer retain my composure, but, dropping 
my work, I leaned my head upon my hand and wept bit- 
terly. My husband had been absent all day, and I was 
now expecting him home every minute. It was growing 
late, so I wiped away my tears as well as I could, and put 
the embers together, to make my fireside look as inviting as 
possible. But I dreaded my husband's return — his sharp 
voice and bitter words pained me to the heart, and rougher 
treatment than all this I often experienced from him who 
had once been to me all that I could wish. 

At length the door opened, and Robert entered. I saw 
by his flushed countenance and angry expression that I had 
better remain silent ; so, with a sinking heart, I placed a 
chair for him by the fire, and continued my work without 
speaking. 

Robert broke silence, and in a sharp tone said, *' What 



THE POOR MAN'S HOUSE REPAIRED. 3 

on earth do you sit there for, at work on that dirty rag ? 
Why, don't you give me something to eat ?" and snatching 
the work roughly from my hands, he threw it into the fire. 
I sprang forward to rescue my poor child's garment, and 
so quick were my movements, that I saved it from much 
injury. But while I was shaking the ashes from it, my 
husband again snatched it from my hands, and with a ter- 
rible oath, defying me to touch it, once more threw it into 
the fire. I was afraid to attempt to save it ; so I turned 
away, with bitter feelings to see my labor all lost, and my 
destitute child made still more destitute by its father's hand. 
But, as patiently and kindly as I could, I set before Robert 
the supper I had prepared for him. It did not look very 
inviting, to be sure ; but I could offer nothing more. He 
swore he would not taste a particle. I now reproached him 
for not having provided- any thing better for myself and 
children. But this was no time for reproach. Robert's 
anger rose to the highest pitch. He dashed the cup and 
plate I had placed for him to the floor, and seizing me 
roughly by the arm, he opened the door, and forcing me 
from the dwelling, bid me enter again, if I dared. The 
night was cold and windy. I was thinly dressed, and even 
ill. But I forbore to take refuge under a neighbor's roof. 
My heart was too sad and desolate to admit of human con- 
solation. At this sorrowful moment I remembered that 

" Earth hath no sorrow that heaven cannot heal ;" 

SO, falling almost unconsciously upon my knees, I prayed 
that God would comfort my stricken heart ; that my sins 
might be pardoned ; that I might be enabled to repose all 
my griefs in the bosom of that gracious One who has kindly 
promised to give the heavy-laden rest. I then prayed for 
my miserable husband, that God would have mercy upon 
him, and deliver him from his dreadful delusion before it 
was too late. I prayed, too, for my poor children, with all 
the fervor of a mother's soul. This was the first prayer I 
had off'ered for years ; for I had been an impenitent woman. 
Had I prayed sooner, T might have saved myself much 



4 THE POOR MAN'S HOUSE REPAIRED. 

sorrow and distress. But as it was, I arose from my knees 
with feelings far less hopeless and bitter. I then crept 
back to the house, and on looking in at the window, I found 
that Robert had fallen asleep ; so I opened the door quietly, 
without disturbing his heavy slumbers, and laid myself 
down to rest. 

The events of this evening were no uncommon events 
to me. Each succeeding day brought but the same rough 
treatment, the same wretchedness and want. Robert grew 
worse and worse. He not only destroyed all our peace, 
but brought noise and discord into the whole neighborhood, 
till at last, for the sake of quiet, he was taken to the house 
of correction. I never can forget that dreadful night when 
he was carried away. He came home shockingly intoxi- 
cated. The little children crept into the farthest corner of 
the house to shield themselves from his fury. He threat- 
ened every thing with destruction. I was in danger of my 
life, and ran for safety into the nearest house, where a poor 
widow lived. Robert followed — we fastened the door — he 
swore he Avould set fire to the building, and burn it over 
our heads. But some one passing by heard the uproar, and 
went for the town officers. Several of them came, just as 
my infatuated husband was pelting the window with stones. 
They took him away by force, while he was uttering the 
most shocking oaths. I sat down and wept with shame and 
vexation. My little Jane put her arm round my neck, and 
said, " Don't cry, ma — he has gone — wicked pa has gone, 
and I hope he will never come back — he is so cross, and 
beats us so." I hardly knew what to say in answer to my 
little girl, but I felt that it was a dreadful thing to have my 
children speak so of him whom I would gladly have taught 
them to love and honor. 

I determined, now my husband was away, to support 
my family by my own work ; for wretched as my home was, 
I could not bear to leave it and come upon the town. I 
could not earn much, for my health was feeble, but I man- 
aged, by depriving myself of several meals, to save enough 
to mend my poor neighbor's window. 



THE POOR MAN'S HOUSE REPAIRED. 5 

But Robert longed to regain his liberty. He resolved 
that he would do better, and upon promising orderly con- 
duct, was permitted to return to his family. Badly as he 
had treated me, I was glad to see him back again. He 
looked humble, and spoke to me kindly. He kissed the 
younger children, too, and for a while every thing went on 
smoothly. To me it seemed like the dawning of better 
days, and when Robert one evening brought home some 
new shoes for our oldest boy, and a new gown for my little 
Jane, I actually wept for joy, and Jane said, her "wicked 
pa had come back very good." 

But these bright days were not to last. Darker ones 
came, darker than I had ever known before, or perhaps they 
seemed darker, from the transient sunshine that had gleamed 
upon us. I again heard my children crying for food, when 
I had no food to give them. I was again often turned from 
my dwelling, or, if I offered any resistance, was forced to 
receive harsh words and cruel blows. But it is in vain to 
tell all I suffered. Many have gone through the same fiery 
trial, and will feel that a recital of my woes is but a recital 
of what they too have borne. 

There was one privilege, the want of which I at this 
time felt deeply. The village church was Avithin sight of 
our door. I used to hear the bell ring, and see the children 
of the neighborhood go by, neatly dressed, to the Sabbath- 
school ; but I had no gown, nor bonnet, nor shawl fit to 
wear, and my children were still more destitute than myself. 
So we were obliged to spend the Sabbath in sadness at 
home, while Robert, if the day was fine, would profane it 
by going on the water to fish, or would linger with his 
companions round the door of the grogshop — not to enter, 
it is true ; for the dram-seller, with his wife and children, 
dressed very fine, and were accustomed to attend church ; 
and but for that dreadful shop, I might have gone there 
too. 

Our minister was one ^ those who thought it his duty 
to " reason on temperance," as well as "righteousness," and 
"judgment to come ;" and through his exertions, and the 
VOL. IX. 16 



Q THE POOR MAN'S HOUSE REPAIRED. 

exertions of other good men, a reform had commenced, 
which gave great encouragement to the friends of human 
happiness and virtue. Temperance-meetings were held 
once a month in different parts of the town, and in spite of 
much opposition, and many prophecies to the contrary, the 
cause went on. 

I heard much said about these meetings, and resolved to 
attend the next ; so, when the evening came, I borrowed a 
cloak and bonnet of one of the neighbors, and hastened to 
the church. The prayers I there heard did my wounded 
spirit good, and the plain, impressive language of the min- 
ister spoke to my very heart. I resolved to persuade my 
husband, if possible, to go with me when there should be 
another meeting. 

A circumstance occurred about this time that quite de- 
stroyed my remaining courage, and almost caused me to 
give Robert up for lost. We lived in a small, shabby-look- 
ing house, a part of which he rented to a very poor family. 
They could not pay the rent immediately upon its being due. 
It was in the depth of winter, and the poor woman had a 
little infant, not more than two weeks old. But Robert's 
heart. was shut to all kind feelings. One very stormy day 
he drove the whole family out of doors, and they were 
obliged to seek some other dwelling. It was too much for 
the poor woman in her feeble state. She caught a severe 
cold, and died in a few days. After this heartless act, my 
faith quite failed me, and I felt as if nothing could recall my 
husband to a sense of duty. But I little knew the workings 
of his mind. He seemed to return a little to his senses, 
when he saw that his cruelty had probably caused the death 
of the poor woman, and rendered a large family of helpless 
children motherless. His countenance became more dark 
and gloomy, and he scarcely raised his eyes to notice any 
one. 

Things were in this state, when one day our minister 
called, as he was visiting the people of his parish. I was 
very glad to see him, and told him all my griefs freely. He 
gave me what consolation he could, and informed me that 



THE POOR MAN'S HOUSE REPAIRED. 7 

there was another temperance-meeting in the evening, which 
he hoped I would attend; "and," added he, "bring your 
husband along with you, if you can persuade him to come." 

When Robert came home to supper, I was surprised and 
delighted to find him sober ; so I told him of the minister's 
visit, and the meeting in the evening. He seemed pleased 
that the minister had called, and even asked me how things 
looked about the room, "for," said he, "we don't look quite 
so stylish here as we once did, Mary." 

" No, Robert," said I, with a sigh, as I surveyed the 
wretched apartment ; " but if you would attend the tem- 
perance-meeting, and hear what the minister says about 
saving money, I think it would soon look much better here, 
and the boys might have better jackets, and I might have a 
better gown. Oh, Robert" — 

I would have said more, but my eyes filled with tears, 
and I could not. Robert hung down his head, and looked 
ashamed. He knew he had spent, for rum, money enough 
to feed and clothe his family well. I thought he had half 
a mind to tell me he would go with me. When I had cleared 
away the supper, and sent the children to bed, I put on my 
bonnet, and said, "I will just step into neighbor Warren's, 
and borrow Nancy's cloak." 

' " Have not you any cloak of your own ?" said he. 

" No," I replied, " I have been without one a long time." 

Robert said no more, but when I came back with the 
cloak, and said to him, "Will you go with me?" he said, 
in a tone which seemed as if he were trying to suppress 
kinder feelings, " Go along, Mary, and don't be always fret- 
ting about me." I was grieved, but said nothing, and pro- 
ceeded to the meeting alone, praying that Robert might 
think better of it, and come. The services were even more 
interesting than they had been at the preceding meeting. 
The minister said every thing to convince, and I felt a dis- 
tressing anxiety, that I could not control, to have my hus- 
band hear all that was said. Judge, then, of my surprise 
and pleasure, when, a short time after I had returned home, 
Robert entered, and said, " Guess where I have been, Marv." 



g THE POOR MAN'S HOUSE REPAIRED. 

"Not to meeting, Robert." 

*' Yes, Mary, to meeting. I took up my hat after you 
had gone, thinking that I would go down to the shop ; for I 
felt uneasy, and wanted something to suppress my disagree- 
able thoughts. But as I passed by the meeting-house, it 
was so well lighted up, and the bell was ringing, and the 
people going in, I thought perhaps I had better go in too ; 
and I am glad I did. Wife, I do believe the minister is 
right. I know that hard drinking has been the ruin of 
myself and family, and while the minister was speaking, I 
thought I would try to break away from my bad habits." 

" 0, Robert, will you try?'' I exclaimed, while my heart 
beat with pleasure to hear him thus speak. 

" 'Tis hard work, Mary, harder than you think for." 

" I know it is hard, my dear husband ; but only think of 
the happiness it would bring to us all — of the ruin from 
which it will save our little boys — the agony from which it 
will save your poor wife. 0, Robert, if you have one spark 
of love remaining in your bosom for any of us" — 

I could not go on ; but leaning my hands upon my hus- 
band's shoulder, I sobbed aloud. 

Robert seemed affected, and said, in a doubtful tone, 
''Perhaps I might leave it off by degrees." 

"0 no, Robert, no," I answered, "that will never do. 
Don't you remember how particular the minister was to say, 
'Leave it off at once?' You will never do it by degrees." 

Robert looked steadily into the fire, and did not say one 
word more. When not under the influence of strong drink, 
he is a man of good sense, and I thought it better to leave 
him to his own reflections. I know not what passed through 
his mind. The kinder and better feelings of other days 
seemed to be awakened from their slumber, or rather. He 
from whom "all just thoughts and holy desires proceed," 
was influencing his determination. As for myself, I longed 
in secret to pour out my soul to God. So I went into the 
bedroom, where my poor children were fast asleep ; and 
after seeing that they were well covered up, I kissed each 
one of them, and knelt down by their side to offer up my 



THE POOR MAxN'S HOUSE REPAIRED. 9 

prayer. I prayed as I had never done before. I seemed, 
through my Redeemer, to gain a nearer and bolder access 
to the throne of grace. My heart was filled with deep grat- 
itude, penitence, humility, and joy ; and from that hour I 
have dared to hope myself a child of God. O that blessed, 
blessed night. It caused joy among the angels in heaven, 
over the reconciliation of one soul to God — over the desire 
of another soul to return to the path of duty. It caused 
joy on earth, in our poor, humble dwelling — ^joy in the bosom 
of the long-afflicted wife — ^joy that her own soul was trust- 
ing in Christ — ^joy that her husband was purposing to for- 
sake his wretched way, and turn into a happier, better path. 

The next day, before Robert went out, I encouraged him 
all I could to persevere. I brought to his remembrance as 
much of the lecture as I could, so that it might be fresh in 
his mind. He left me in good spirits, and promised to see 
me again at night a sober man. But 0, what an anxious 
day was it for me ! I dreaded, and yet longed for evening 
to come, and my heart beat as I heard his footstep at the 
door. But he had kept his word — he had not tasted a drop 
of spirit during the day. He had seen, too, the minister and 
several members of the Temperance Society, In conse- 
quence of the meeting on the last evening, many new names 
were added to the temperance list, and they had promised, 
in case of entire abstinence till the next meeting, to receive 
his. I could scarcely believe my senses when I heard my 
husband speak thus, and the prospect of his becoming a 
sober man seemed too delightful to be ever realized. For 
a time, I rejoiced with trembling ; but when, day after day, 
I saw him return orderly and quiet, my courage revived, 
and I felt that he would 'persevere. 

At length the evening came round for the next meeting, 
and my husband and myself went, so happy ! and put 
our names to the pledge. What a different prospect did 
our home now present. I could not keep my countenance 
for joy, when the neighbors came in to congratulate me on 
the change. I could now dress my children neat and com- 
fortable, and send them to the Sabbath-school. I went my- 

VOL. IX. 16* 



2Q THE POUR MAN'ri HOUSE REPAIRED. 

self with my husband constantly to church, and on making 
known my wish to our minister, publicly professed my faith 
in the Saviour of sinners. Thus happily did the winter and 
summer pass away. One day in autumn, as the minister 
was passing by, my husband was in the road in front of the 
house. 

The minister remarked, '' I am glad, Robert, to see your 
Jiouse repaired and looking so well." 

" Thank you, sir ; why, it does look some better." As 
the minister w^as about to pass on, Robert added, " Mr. G., 
I have not drank a drop of rum for one year, come next 
Monday. So you see the effect upon my house. I used to 
work hard before, and spent about all I earned for rum, to 
drink myself, or to give away. Many a time I have been 
at my work on a Sunday, and earned a dollar or more in 
the course of the day, and taken the money, and then laid 
out the whole in rum. Now I can clothe my family well, 
and have something to lay out upon my house. Last sum- 
mer, my boy and I saved sixty dollars besides supporting 
the family." 

Sixty dollars saved ! But who can tell the value of the 
happy days and nights of this year ; or the worth of a 
kind, sober, industrious husband and father, compared with 
a cross, cruel, and drunken one ? Ask the wife ; what 
would she tell you ? Ask the children ; what would be 
their answer ? 

Some of my husband's former wicked companions felt 
piqued and envious that Robert was free from their degrad- 
ing habit. They saw him thriving, respected, and happy. 
His life and prospects were a continued reflection upon theirs. 
They longed to see him fall, and determined, if possible, to 
effect his ruin. As he was quietly returning home one even- 
ing, he passed by the shop which he was once so much in 
the habit of frequenting. They accosted him : by taunts 
and jeers which he had not firmness enough to resist, they 
drew him into their company. Once there, they thought 
him within their power. When they could not induce him 
to violate his pledge by taking rum, they called him a ''cold- 



THE POOR MAN'S HOUSE REPAIRED. 11 

water man ;" " a white-livered coward ;" " priest-ridden ;" 
*' afraid of his minister," and many other titles of reproach. 
They then told him he had not promised to drink no wine ; 
and, after much persuasion, they induced him to take a glass. 
But in this glass they had mingled the poison. Once stim- 
ulated, he called for more and yet more, till these Avretches 
had the pleasure of seeing him Avho had so long stood firm, 
reeling from the shop, to mar at once all that was pleasant 
and peaceful at home. When my husband did not return 
at supper-time, I felt rather anxious, but thought he might 
be delayed, as he sometimes is ; so I put his supper to the 
fire and sat down to my knitting-work, while one of the 
boys read to me from his Sabbath- school book. 

We were thus employed when my deluded husband en- 
tered. O the agony of that moment ! Had he been brought 
to me a corpse, I could not have been more shocked. Had 
those wicked men that thus seduced my husband entered 
my house and done the same things that they caused him 
to do, they might have been indicted for the outrage. In 
the morning Robert had come to himself; but he saw in the 
broken furniture, in the distrustful looks of the children, in 
the swollen eyes and distressed countenance of his wife, more 
than he cared to know. There was a mixture of remorse 
and obstinacy in his looks, and when he left me for the 
morning, instead of his usual " Good-morning, Mary," he 
shut the door roughly after him and hurried away. 

When evening came again, Robert returned to the shop, 
and asked for a glass of rum. He wanted something to 
stifle the keen reproaches of conscience. The dram-seller 
knew my husband, knew of his reform, that from being a 
nuisance to the town, he had become an orderly and re- 
spectable citizen ; and now that he had been seduced from 
the right way, instead of denying him the cause of all our 
former misery — instead of a little friendly advice — with his 
usual courteous smile, he put the fatal glass into his hand. 

For a time my poor Robert continued in a very bad way. 
He mingled again with his profane and wicked associates ; 
he was ashamed to see his minister, and took no notice of 



J2 THE POOR ftlAN'S HOUSE REPAIRED. 

him when he passed ; hung doAvn his head when he met 
any of his temperance friends, and seemed to be fast re- 
turning to his former miserable habits. 

But he was not thus to become the dupe of wicked and 
designing men. His wife's prayers and tears were not thus 
to be of no avail. On a sudden he awoke from his delusion. 
He had lived a whole year without rum ; and though ex- 
posed to all weathers, he knew his health had been better, 
his head clearer, his nerves firmer, his purse heavier, and 
his home happier. He called one evening to see the Presi- 
dent of the Temperance Society ; confessed his weakness in 
yielding to temptation ; asked the forgiveness of the Society ; 
requested to have his name, which had been erased from 
the temperance list, renewed ; and promised never again to 
violate the pledge. Since that night my husband has con- 
tinued a perfectly temperate man. No temptation has ever 
led him again to violate his pledge. 

I have been induced to give this history of his reform to 
the world, in order, if possible, to persuade others to follow 
his example, to show them how quiet and plenty were re- 
stored to a wretched dwelling, virtue and respectability to 
a ruined family, and the 2>oor maris house repaired. 



A clergyman, worthy of all confidence, and acquainted with the 
writer of the above, and the circumstances detailed, testifies, that the 
case is " literally and faithfully described." 



]Vo. 314. 

DAVID ROUGE. 

AN AUTHENTIC NARRATIVE. 

BY REV. G. DE FELICE, 

OF BALBEC, FRANCE. 
With sliglit additions from Le Semevr, a Frencli periodical. 



David Rouge was a journeyman, of Plainchamp, a small 
village in the canton of Vaud, Switzerland. God had given 
him health ; but he gave himself up to intemperance, uttered 
the most shocking blasphemies, and often indulged in the 
most violent paroxysms of rage. 

One day, having labored long in the water, near the 
torrent of Vevay, he was seized with violent rheumatism. 
The disease made rapid progress. His legs and arms were 
covered with ulcers ; his body was swollen in a frightful 
manner ; and soon after, he was struck with a general pa- 
ralysis, and became so emaciated as to resemble a living 
skeleton. The unhappy man could not move one of his 
limbs ; but lay with his arms extended, as if upon a cross, 
and suffered the most excruciating pains. 

This was his condition for two years. He murmured ; he 
cried out; he blasphemed; he was transported with rage. 
Did not God know that he needed his limbs to labor and 
support his family ? What had he done to be chastised in 
this manner ? Were not his sufferings more than he could 
endure ? Sometimes he gav^e himself up to despair. 
"Death !" he cried, " death, kill me ; life is hateful to me !" 
He cursed the day of his birth, and attempted to kill him- 
self ; but as he could scarcely move, it was wholly beyond 
his power. His friends tried to console him ; but in vain. 
His wife wished sometimes to read to him passages from 
the Bible ; but he would not listen to her. " What avails 
the Bible ?" said he ; " will the Bible heal me ? it is health 
I want, not the Bible." 

At length a pious lady, who came to Vevay to spend 
Saturday and the Sabbath of each week, heard of his situa- 
tion and visited him. 

" Ah, I wish I could tell you," said David afterwards, 
*' the good which her visit did me. There was something 



2 DAVID ROUGE. 

in her manner that consoled me, Avithout my knowing how. 
She offered to read to me from the Bible, where alone she 
said I could find consolation. I could not refuse , and from 
that hour, that dear, dear lady, forgetting that she had come 
here to breathe the fresh air, passed at my bedside nearly 
the whole of the time she was in the village. She read to 
me the Scriptures, choosing the portions which she thought 
suited me best, then explaining what she read, often praying 
with me, and bew-in^ the Lord to instruct and comfort me." 

He now began to see his sins, and to feel that he must 
sink under the weight of them for ever. He was pointed to 
the promises of the Gospel. 

" But are these addressed to me?''' cried David. 

" Yes, the}^ are addressed to you," replied his pious 
friends ; " Christ says to all, ' Come unto me, all ye that 
labor and are heavy Jaden, and I will give you rest.' " 

" But I have despised the Saviour to this day ; I have 
openly offended him from my youth," continued David, "so 
that I dare not now go to him." 

" Fear not," replied his friends, '' Christ is ready to re- 
ceive all who come to him. He has said in his word, ' I, am 
not come to call the righteous, but sinners to. repentance.' " 

This was a ray of light for the paralytic. " ^"^ow," cried 
he with joy, "I understand the design of Jesus Christ's 
coming upon earth. Yes, now I see that he can save ' the 
chief of sinners.' He has said it; and he is able to accom- 
plish it." 

He cast his soul on Christ, to be Avashed and purified 
throuo^h his atoninof blood. His faith in Christ brought 
peace to his mind, and peace of mind gave him patience to 
bear his sufferings. His wife no longer viewed him as the 
same person ; she Avas astonished to see hoAv this man, be- 
fore so impatient, so irritable, had become, in a short time, 
so mild and so resigned to the \\\\\ of God. Oh, Avhat a 
precious treasure to knoAv Christ and to believe in him. 
Then all is changed in our heart ; Avhat appeared to us an 
evil, A\'e regard as a good ; afflictions Avhich caused us to 
murmur, excite us to bless the Lord ; and the sick man on a 
bed of suffering, is more happy Avhen he has chosen Christ 
for his portion, than are kings on their thrones. 

David now became an object of deep interest to all Avho 
had the opportunity to visit him. It Avas, indeed, instruc- 



DAVID ROUGE. 3 

tive to find in a small, obscure, damp chamber, confined for 
ten years upon a bed, where through a small window he 
merely got a glimpse of the sky and of an old tree that 
shaded his room, a man not only submissive to the will of 
his Creator, but contented with his lot, and who testified, 
both by the expression of his countenance and by his dis- 
course, that his soul possessed true happiness. It was de- 
lightful and affecting to see the open and much -worn Bible 
lying upon the table, as if to invite some friend of his soul 
to read to him ; and to hear from a body, wasted to a skel- 
eton and exhibiting the livid aspect of death, a voice bless- 
ing God, and saying with David, " It is good for me that I 
have been afflicted." It was impossible, on seeing this con- 
tentment in a situation apparently so Avretched, not to rec- 
ognize the power of faith, the truth of the promises of God, 
and the reality of the agency of the Holy Spirit in the heart 
of him who believes and prays. The sight of this poor par- 
alytic extolling the mercy of God, was so powerful on the 
heart, that several who came to see him were awakened 
from their indifference and hopefully converted to God. 

" Do not deceive yourselves," he would say to them. 
" Take care ; do not live as I have done, who made light, for 
forty years, of eternal punishment, not reflecting that be- 
cause it is eternal, we should use all our eff"orts to escape it. 
Believe me ; what I say can be despised hj none but the 
thoughtless or profligate. Hear, though the warning comes 
from so vile a creature as myself. ' Fly from the wrath to 
come.' But this you can never do in your own strength. 
Jesus Christ must pardon your sins, and keep you to the 
end. Trust in him, and you shall find mercy. He has said, 
* Him that cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out.' Do not 
put off" to another day the things which concern your peace." 

The fame of the paralytic soon spread into all the sur- 
rounding region. Every one admired the wisdom and 
goodness of God, who could glorify his name by the mouth 
of a man so poor and Avretched in the eyes of the w^orld. 
From all parts people came to see him, to hear him, and 
profit by his instructive exhortations. Pastors of churches 
went to learn the power of the Gospel from this humble 
paralytic ; for they thought with reason, that all their studies 
and all their learning w^ere not worth the simple, unaffected 
faith of David Rouge : they came to him that the pride of 



4 DAVID ROUGE. 

human reason might be humbled, and they returned strength- 
ened, rejoicing and blessing God. 

David Rouge lived eight years after his conversion, to 
be a living witness of the effects of Christian faith. He ex- 
perienced much uneasiness and pain in his whole body, 
particularly his legs and arms. It Avas often necessary, in 
order to ease him, to rub them till the skin -was blistered ; 
he had also on his back and feet great sores, which gave 
him much pain. He rarely slept more than fifteen minutes 
at once ; and to a friend who spoke of his long and tedious 
nights, he said, " God is with me. When I think on him, 
and on the mercies he has shown me, and reflect on all his 
promises, I am not tired." He longed, indeed, to depart and 
be with Christ ; but he committed himself to his disposal, 
and could say with the apostle, " I have learned in whatso- 
ever state I am, therewith to be content." 

At length the time of his deli\'erance arrived. He felt 
symptoms which he had not felt before ; and about fifteen 
days previous to his death, said to his wife, " Now I believe, 
thanks to God, my hour is come. Behold the moment I 
have so long expected." During these days, he suffered 
much, but enjoyed peace of mind. The day before his de- 
parture, he exhorted his youngest son, who was attending 
him, " to enter into the strait and narrow way that leads to 
eternal life." Only a moment before he died, he had a 
short delirium, and even then it could be seen w^hat thoughts 
occupied his mind ; all at once he asked his wife for his 
shoes and cane, that he might depart ; and said to his son, 
"Hear me, we all go to God by faith." 

Thus did David Rouge give up his last breath, and enter 
into rest, after ten years of sickness and sufferings. Ten 
years of pain. A long period ; but O how short compared 
with eternity, on which he has now entered, and where he 
will sing the song of redeeming love for ever. Let no one 
murmur against God in suffering, which may be sent in great 
mercy ; and let no omj^ost^mne repentance and faith in Christ 
till the day of sickness and death, lest he thus resist and 
grieve the Holy Spirit, and the sorrows of a death- bed be 
exchanged but for the deeper sorrows of despair eternal. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



]\ro. 313. 
STRIVE TO ENTER IN 

AT THE STRAIT GATE. 



Theuie is not an enterprise we undertake that requires 
so much exertion as to reach heaven. Those who con- 
clude that they know enough of the subject ah'eady, and 
that heaven will come as a thing of course, and fold their 
arms and slumber on, will die in their sins, and never see 
the King in his beauty. Th-e few years of their probation 
will slip by before they are aware, and they will just begin 
to feel the importance of doing something, when they shall 
find themselves upon a dying bed, the harvest past, the 
summer ended, and they unsanctijied. The divine direc- 
tion is, " Strive to enter in at the strait gate," agonize to 
enter in. There is here no tameness or waiting, no listless- 
ness or indifference. We are to put on the whole armor of 
God, and force our way to heaven, as men cut themselves 
a path, by dint of prowess, through the ranks of the enemy, 
and make their escape when there seems nothing before 
them but death. Who can you expect to be concerned for 
your salvation, if you care not for it yourself? Who will 
agonize for your cleansing, and your pardon, and your ac- 
ceptance, if you care for none of these things ? If God 
ever interpose in your behalf, the first thing he will do will 
be to awaken you to the concerns of your own soul. If 
3^ou are not now awakened, it is certain you are still in the 
broad way to destruction. Let me offer a few reasons why 
you should try to he saved. 

1. You cannot expect to he saved without trying. " The 
kingdom of heaven," says Christ, ''suffereth violence, and 
the violent take it by force;" implying, as all agree, that 
if we would be saved we must make great exertion. 

If we would get to heaven, there is a great deal of 
truth that we must know and believe. We must be ac- 
quainted with the character of God, that we may love him ; 
with the character, offices, and work of Jesus Christ, that 
VOL. IX. n 



2 STRIVE TO ENTER IN AT THE STRAIT GATE. 

we may trust in him ; with the nature and operations of 
the Holy Ghost, that we may feel his sanctifying influence. 
AVe must be acquainted Avith our hearts, or we shall never 
see the need of their being purified ; and with all the great 
doctrines of the Gospel, or there will be no medium of our 
cleansino-. " Sanctify them through thy truth." We must 
know the Scripture account of heaven, or we cannot wish 
to be there ; and to learn all this truth will require great 
exertion. 

We have a great many sins to subdue, and must calcu- 
late to wrestle hard for the mastery. Neither pride, nor 
envy, nor anger, nor vanity, nor ambition, nor lust, nor 
selfishness can enter heaven. We must put off" all these : 
"anger, wrath, malice, blasphemy, filthy communication 
out of our mouth." These vile aflfections must all have 
been subdued when we reach heaven. The warfare is no 
mean one. And more yet : "We wrestle not against flesh 
and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against 
the rulers of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high 
places." " We must fight the good fight of faith, and lay 
hold on eternal life." 

Nor can we enter heaven unless we have all the features 
of the divine image: we must "add to our faith, virtue; 
and to virtue, knowledge ; and to knowledge, temperance ; 
and to temperance, patience ; and to patience, godliness ; 
and to godliness, brotherly-kindness; and to brotherly- 
kindness, charity." We must be familiar with the exercises 
of " love, joy, peace, long-suff"ering, gentleness, goodness, 
faith, meekness, temperance." We must "forget those 
things which are behind, and reaching forth unto the things 
which are before, press towards the mark for the prize of 
the hio'h callino^ of God in Christ Jesus." Now all this 
implies great exertion, which if we do not make, we cannot 
reach the kingdom of God. 

2. Striving to be saved, you have the most kind assur- 
ance of success. The obstructions to your salvation are all 
removed by the death of the Lord Jesus Christ. God can 
now "be just, and the justifier of him that beheveth." 
"Mercy and truth are met together, righteousness and 
peace embrace each other." If you seek wisdom "as 
silver, and search for her as for hid treasure," you shall 
"understand the fear of the T^ord. and find the knowledf^e 



STRIVE TO ENTER IN AT THE STRAIT GATE. 3 

of God." ''He that seeketli findetli, and to him that 
knocketh it shall be opened." And hence the kind invita- 
tion, " Seek ye the Lord while he may be found ; call yc 
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 will abundantly pardon." 

Sinner, as God is true, who has given all these assur- 
ances and promises, it will be your own fault if you are 
not saved ; and you will have, to torment you in the future 
world, the consciousness that you chose darkness rather 
than light, because your deeds were evil. You might have 
lived in heaven, had you not despised the mercy offered 
you, and counted yourself unworth}^ of everlasting life. 
When was it ever known that a sinner made any suitable 
exertions to be saved, and still was lost? Among all their 
unreasonable complaints of perdition, none ever had occa- 
sion to say, "I went to the Saviour at his invitation, I 
beheved the promises, and had assurances of pardon, and 
hope of heaven, and yet am lost!" No; not one of the 
spirits in prison can have any such alleviation of his torment 
as the thought that he perished through the failure of a 
Saviour's promise. Why, then, will you not be saved ? 
God will glorify himself by you, either in your destruction 
or salvation, and he commands you to choose life. But you 
must choose now : " Now is the accepted time, now is the 
day of salvation." If you will not believe, the sin and the 
ruin will be your own. 

3. You should try to be saved, because, with a heav- 
enly temper, you can he more useful in life. How much 
can you do to induce men to respect the name of God, and 
obey his law, and honor his government, and keep his 
Sabbath, and revere his sanctuary, and obey his Gospel. 
You can set an example to men of all the duties of piety, 
and induce others, by your godly conversation, to glorify 
your Father in heaven, and thus become a light of the 
world. You can help to strengthen Christian affection, and 
bind into a still closer and lovelier union the members of 
the body of Christ. You can aid their joy, and promote 
their sanctification and their usefulness. You can set an 
example of the moral virtues, and by your conduct and 
precepts elevate public sentiment, till a great amount of the 



4 STRIVE TO ENTER IN AT THE STRAIT GATE. 

misery that falls to the lot of sinners around you shall be 
cured or alleviated. And when saved yourself, you can, 
by God's blessing, induce other sinners to fly for refuge, 
and lay hold on the hope set before them in the Gospel. 
But none of this can it be hoped you will do till you are 
saved yourself. 

4. You should try to be saved, because you could he so 
useful in heaven. God has given you a mind, and if not 
now the most brilliant, it might, perhaps, be such in heaven. 
The rough block of marble may embosom the most beau- 
tiful specimens of polished and useful workmanship. Your 
mind could at once be placed in the school of Christ, and 
afterwards in heaven might claim, for aught you know, a 
blessed elevation among its ransomed choirs. Unclog it, 
and none can say but it may yet vie with angelic powers ; 
and God might then employ it, we know not how, in the 
loftiest enterprise. We do not believe that heaven will be 
a place of idleness. Some new anthem may perpetually 
elicit more delight through all the heavenly courts. Some 
new means of doing good to that Avorld, or this, or some 
other, may from time to time arrest the attention of angels, 
and secure the cooperation of all the holy assembly. Such, 
we may suppose, was the visit of Gabriel to Daniel ; and 
such the song of angels, heard by the watchful shepherds 
at the birth of Christ. None can say that the Redeemer 
may not employ, in administering the government of this 
world, the very beings he has redeemed from it with his 
blood. sinner, we regret that you should be lost, for we 
know not how useful you might be in heaven. 

5. You should try to be saved, also, because you could 
be so happy in heaven. Even in this poor world there is 
enjoyment. How much greater will be our bliss in heaven, 
where all obstructions to our happiness will be removed. 
There will be no unhallowed passions to be excited. No 
pain will there arise from anger, wrath, malice, envy, ambi- 
tion, covetousness, pride, vanity, lust, jealousy, or revenge. 
There will be no natural body to hunger, thirst, faint, and 
tire ; to suffer pain from frost, or heat, or famine, or pesti- 
lence, or wound, or bruise, or mutilation, or death. There 
will be no foe to hurt your character, your interest, your 
feeUngs, or your person ; no rival to hate, or inferior to 
despise. There will be in heaven no sun to scorch, or storm 



STRIVE T«J ENTER IN AT THE STRAIT GATE. 5 

to destroy, or moon or sun to be eclipsed, or sky to be 
clouded. Suppose all this, and how much of life's misery 
is gone. 

Add now to the removal of these obstructions every 
positive good that an Almighty God can bestow : a mind 
fully illuminated, a heart the seat of every kind and holy 
affection, a conscience exonerated from guilt, an imagination 
unlimited in its power of conception, a judgment that can 
never err. Let there be presented to the admiring view all 
that is lovely, all that can be included in the golden city, 
the rivers and the tree of life, the banquet of the Lamb, 
*'the far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory," the 
everlasting song, the uninterrupted rest, and the society 
for ever of holy men and holy angels. All this would 
render you so happy, that we cannot endure the thought 
of your being lost. Try then to be saved, that you may 
be happy in heaven. 

6. What others have done for your salvation should 
induce you to try to be saved. The plan for your redemp- 
tion was laid in heaven. To accomplish it, the Son of God 
became incarnate, lived a life of sorrow, and died on the 
cross, and now ever lives to make intercession for you. 
How much he must have cared for your soul! In the 
achievement of the same plan of mercy, the Holy Spirit 
was sent from heaven to awaken and sanctify you. He 
has often strove with you, has produced alarm in your con- 
science, and perhaps deep conviction ; has given the truth 
sometimes a fixed lodgment by the side of your heart. 
Thus has he evinced his readiness to save you. And his 
ministers, too, have long and earnestly pleaded with you. 
In many a sermon, unless you have absented yourself from 
the house of God, they have pleaded with you to " flee 
from the wrath to come, and lay hold on everlasting life." 
And they have sometimes felt an agony for your soul, that, 
it would seem, could not be denied. Many a time in the 
midnight hour they have prayed for you, and then have 
come from their closets and wept over you, and all, it 
seems, to no purpose. 

It may be that a pious parent has long cared for your 
soul. Through the fear that you would be lost, that faith- 
ful friend may have wished many a time that you had 
never been born. O, could you have known the anxiety 

VOL. IX. I'7* 



6 STRIVE TO ENTER IN AT THE STRAIT GATE. 

and the agony of that parent, while watching over the 
slumbers of your cradle, then you would try to be saved. 

And it may be that a pious brother, or sister, or wife, 
is at this moment pleading at the throne of grace for your 
salvation. And will you not then care for yourself, and 
try to be saved ? All this care for you, and you none for 
yourself ! 

1. You should try to be saved, because you must be 
infinitely degraded in hell. You are to remember that you 
were made a little lower than the angels ; that you have a 
nature capable of being elevated to a close companionship 
with them, and of pouring forth a praise as noble, and 
glowing with a love as ardent as theirs. And now, to think 
of sinking with such a nature down to hell, of being the 
companion of devils, and of employing your lips in un- 
ceasing blasphemy, how gloomy the conception! There 
will be in your case the shame of being convicted, and that 
before assembled worlds, and of being banished into outer 
darkness, where is Aveeping and gnashing of teeth. And 
your fall from the hope of heaven must be known. You 
must be for ever congregated with the meanest of your 
race, the thief, the robber, the murderer, the swindler, the 
liar, the drunkard, and the whole mass of convicts. And 
your employment will be suited to the temper of your heart, 
and all restraint removed. Hence, despair, and blasphemy, 
and malice, and revenge, will be the habitual and the de- 
graded exercise of the damned. 

8. You should try to be saved, because the most hitter 
refiections aioait you if you are not saved. You will reflect 
how much was done to save you ; how much the Saviour 
did ; how much the Father did ; how much the Spirit did ; 
how much your Christian friends did — all to no purpose. 
You will reflect how many sermons, and prayers, and tears, 
and entreaties, and Sabbaths, and sacraments, and admo- 
nitions of conscience, and revival seasons, and alarming 
events of Providence, have spent their force upon you to 
no purpose, hardening you, Avhen perhaps they might have 
saved yoa. 

You will reflect how easy were the terms of salvation ; 
that you were offered life, if you would only believe ; that 
no truth was required to be believed but that of w^hich you 
had evidence, and no duty to be done but that which w^ould 



STRIVE TO ENTER IN AT THE STRAIT GATE. 7 

have been pleasant; that your hfe, if you had believed, 
would have been more happy, your death tranquil, and 
your eternity glorious. You will reflect how nigh you 
came to the kingdom of God, and was lost. Born in a 
Christian land, of Christian parents, the Bible early in your 
hand, and 3'OU as early taught to read it, given up to God 
from your birth, instructed carefully in the truth, and fur- 
nished with the Sabbath and all its holy appendages — it 
will seem to you for ever that you sunk down to perdition 
from the very threshold of heaven. 

You will reflect how many, with no more, and perhaps 
/ fewer advantages than you, have escaped to heaven. Your 
brother or sister, it may be, was saved, while you were lost. 
Some, perhaps, of your immediate friends, of Avicked fam- 
ilies, and having nothing like the advantages that you had, 
have reached heaven, while you have been lost. Shall 
these bitter reflections prey upon you like a famine or a 
pestilence for ever? Will you not try to be saved? 
" Strive to enter in at the strait gate ; for many, I say unto 
you, shall seek to enter in, and shall not be able." 

9. You should now attempt to be saved, because the 
longer you ijostpone, the less is the prohahility that the at- 
tempt will ever be made. Whatever are the reasons of the 
postponement, they are reasons furnished by depravity, and 
will, of course, increase with the growth of sin. If it be 
enmity to the kind and lovely Saviour, it will multiply with 
your years, and ripen with your age. If his eternal ex- 
cellencies have never yet won your heart — if the glories 
that have attracted the gaze, and waked the song of angels, 
and been echoed in notes of victory through the caverns of 
death, have produced no thrill of joy in your soul, how 
can you hope that, as his glories shall become more brill- 
iant, and the notes of his conquest shall wax louder and 
louder, your spirit will become subdued ? Will it not rise 
in its wrath, and envenomed at length like the serpent that 
has plunged its fangs into its own life-stream, seal its own 
damnation, and lie down in fire ? W^ait not till heaven has 
raised another shout of victory ; stay not till Christ has 
conquered the gods of China, or quelled the demons of 
Ham's dark empire, lest his glories should pierce your soul 
through with the poisoned arrows of everlasting chagrin. 
wait not to have the hero of Calvary put forth any 



g STRIVE TO ENTER IN AT THE STRAIT GATE. 

hidden glory of his name. Devils will taunt the sinner 
that waits for this, and is damned. His laurels wave 
already over their dark empire, and their king quails at his 
power, and dies anew, whenever another, and still another 
victory is sung. 

10. Or do you postpone embracing the Saviour because 
you have not yet had your Jill of sin ? Surely, it has made 
you miserable enough. When it has assailed your health, 
or your character, or your business, you have wished you 
had never loved sin, or learned to sin ; you have regretted 
that you ever formed an acquaintance with him who tempted 
you to sin ; that you entered that circle whose bewitching 
snares have caught you and held you ; that ever you visited 
that scene of dissipation, or went to that house of death. 
How horrid, to be filling up life with these regrets, and to 
pore unavailingly over what should be at once repented of 
and abandoned. How grovelling, to be howling upon your 
bed, when, if you would only be ingenuous enough to re- 
pent, you might be lifting up your voice in praise, and be 
singing, on your way to the grave, songs sweet as angels 
use. The meanness of sin will render it impossible that the 
lost should have any respect for themselves, or for each 
other, in the world of death. How utterly vain the ex- 
pectation that there shall be in that world any thing worthy 
to be called society, or kindness, or friendship. 0, it will 
be all a mass of desimir, and chagrin, and hatred, and 
shame ; when, if men would only be wise now, and accept 
the offered Saviour, all this might be exchanged for heaven, 
where kindred spirits might bask in everlasting sunshine 
through all the years of the existence of the unchanging 
God. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



No. 310. 



I WILL GIVE LIBERALLY, 



I HAVE a number of reasons. 

1. The objects for which I am called to give are ^reat 
and noble. It is the cause of letters and religion, of man 
and of God, for which my donations are wanted. The in- 
terests of time and eternity both are involved in it. I can- 
not give calculatingly and sparingly to such a cause, and for 
such objects. 

2. Liberal donations are needed. The cause not only 
deserves them, but requires them. It takes a great deal to 
keep the present operations agoing ; and we should every 
year extend the works. Do you not know that we have the 
world to go over, and that the millennium is just at hand ? 
Behold, the morning of that da}^ is getting bright. We can 
almost see the sun peering above the horizon. 

3. I can afford to give liberally. My means either now 
enable me, or, by economy and self-denial, may be so in- 
creased as to enable me to give liberally. I will give lib- 
erally, so long as I do not resort to economy and self-denial ; 
and if I do resort to them, that will enable me to give lib- 
erally. 

4. I will give liberall}^, because I have received liberally. 
God has given liberally. He has not only filled my cup, 
but made it to run over. He has given me " good measure, 
pressed down, and shaken together, and running over." I 
will imitate him in my gifts to others, and especially in my 
donations to his cause. 

5. I am liberal in my expenditures, and therefore I will 
be in my donations. Why should I spend much, and give 
little ? Is spending the more blessed ? No ; it is giving 
that is said to be more blessed. The conduct of a man 
whose expenditures are large, and his donations small, is 
literally monstrous. I will not act so out of all proportion. 
If I must retrench, I will retrench from my expenditures, 
and not from my benefactions. 



2 I WILL GIVE LIBERALLY. 

6. The time for giving is short, and therefore I will give 
liberally, while I have the opportunity of giving at all. 
Soon I shall be compelled to have done giving. 

7. A blessing is promised to liberal giving, and I want 
it. "The liberal soul shall be made fat;" therefore I will 
be liberal. " And he that watereth shall be watered also 
himself;" therefore I will water. "There is that scatter- 
eth, and yet increaseth;" therefore I will scatter; and not 
sparingly, but bountifully : for " he which soweth sparingly, 
shall reap also sparingly ; and he which soweth bountifully, 
shall reap also bountifully." 

8. I will give liberally, because it is not a clear gift ; it 
is a locm. " He that hath pity upon the poor, lendeth unto 
the Lord " — lendeth to the best of paymasters, on the best 
security, and at the highest rate of interest ; for the Lord 
renders double, aye, a hundred-fold, in this life, to say noth- 
ing of the life to come. I will lend him liberally. 

9. I will give liberally, because however hard the times 
may be with me, they are harder with those who have not 
the Gospel. 

10. I will give liberally, because there are many who 
would give liberally, but cannot ; and many that can, and 
will not. It is so much the more necessary, therefore, that 
those should, who are both able and inclined. I used to 
say, " I will not give liberally, because others do not. There 
is a richer man than I am who does not give so much as I 
do." But now, from the same premises, I will draw the 
opposite conclusion. Because others do not give liberally, 
I will. 

11. I have sometimes tried giving liberally, and I do 
not believe I have ever lost any thing by it. I have seen 
others try it, and they did not seem to lose any thing by it ; 
and, on the whole, I think a man is in no great danger of 
losing, who puts liberally into the treasury of the Lord and 
possessor of all things, who is himself the giver of every 
good and perfect gift. 

12. And finally, when I ask myself if I shall ever be 
sorry for giving liberally, I hear from within me a prompt 
and most decided negative, " No, never." 

Wherefore, I conclude that I will give liberally. And 
now I will take care that I do not nullify my resolution, by 
putting an illiberal construction on liberally. I will under- 



I WILL GIVE LIBERALLY. 8 

stand it as meaning /ree^y, cheerfully, largely ; or, in other 
words, as meaning what I ought to give, and something more. 
I will tell you how I will do. An object being presented 
to me, when I have ascertained what justice requires me to 
give, I will add something, lest, through insidious selfish- 
ness, I may have underrated my ability ; and that if I err, 
I may be sure to err on the right side. Then I will add a 
little to my donation, out of generosity. And when I. have 
counted out what justice requires, and what generosity of 
her free-will offers, then I will think of Him who, " though 
he was rich, for our sakes became poor, that we, through 
his poverty, might be rich ;" and I say not that I will add 
a little more, but how can I keep back any thing ? 

" Were the whole realm of nature mine, 
That were a present far too small : 
Love so amazing, so divine, 

Demands my soul, my life, my all." 

This is my resolution, and these are my reasons for it. 
Reader, what is your resolution ? Will you not give liber- 
ally too ? But perhaps you hesitate, and have some objec- 
tions to suggest. Peradventure you say, for it is often 
said, ''the calls are so many." Well, let us see how that 
is, and what sort of an objection it constitutes. Are they 
really so many ? Reckon them up. Perhaps they are not, 
after all, so man}^ as you imagine. Any thing which annoys 
us at intervals, is apt to be considered as coming oftener 
than it really does. When a man has rent to pay, how fre- 
quently quarter-day seems to come round. But it is not so 
Avith him who is the receiver. 

But if the calls are many, are they more than the ivants ? 
And ought they not to be as many ? Would you have the 
calls fewer than the wants ? That would never do. In that 
case some wants Avould never be supplied. Besides, you 
should consider who makes or permits the wants — and 
therefore the calls — to be so many, lest your complaint cast 
a reflection on God. 

If the calls are so many, and we must decline some of 
them, which shall they be ? Widows and orphans, and the 
poor generally, you dare not, as you fear God, exclude from 
your charities. Will you refuse the call of the Bible agent, 
or the Tract agent. Will you withhold from the cause of 
Sahhath- schools, or of Temperance ; from Foreign Missions, 



4 I WILL GIVE LIBERALLY. 

or from Home Missions, or from both ? Or will you con- 
tribute to send out and support missionaries, but refuse to 
aid in their education ? For my part, I do not know what 
calls to except ; and therefore I judge the safer way to be, 
to refuse none. 

If the calls for donations are many, the calls for expend- 
itures are more ; and yet Ave are patient of these last. And 
perhaps we not only spend, but ivaste, in more ways than 
we give. Then it should be remembered, that if the calls 
are so many, the importunity will not last long. Not more 
than some seventy or eighty years does it ever continue. 
If it is an annoyance, yet you can bear it a few years. In 
eternity you will not receive these or any other calls. And 
if they vex you, yet consider, they very differently affect 
others. Yonder is a poor woman reading the Bible which 
your money paid for. There is another, weeping over a 
Tract, for which she is indebted to your donation. There 
is a third, blessing the good people who support domestic 
missions ; and there is a heathen mother, who, perhaps, 
would, ere this, have immolated her child, if your contribu- 
tion had not helped to send her the Gospel. 

But perhaps you say, I would meet all these calls — I 
would give liberally, but "I can't afford it." This is 
another common apology. Let us look at it. Can you not 
afford it ? It may be you are mistaken. Perhaps you can 
aflbrd it. The heart is deceitful. We are very apt to say 
we can't do things which we can do. But admitting that 
you cannot afford it, that is no sufficient apology. There is 
another thing besides ih^ fact of the inability to be consid- 
ered — the cause of the inability. Why can you not afford 
it ? Might you not have the ability ? 

Perhaps you do not earn as much as you might. If that 
be the case, your not being able to afford it is no excuse. 
All you have to do is, to earn more, and then you can afford 
it. Only be a little more industrious, and a little more en- 
terprising, and the difficulty will vanish. And why should 
not a man earn to give, as well as earn to eat, drink, and 
put on? Are these last more blessed than giving? 

But perhaps the case is, that you do not save as much 
as you might. You earn enough, but you do not economi- 
cally use it ; and so it is for want of economy that you can- 



I WILL GIVE LIBERALLY. 5 

not afford it. Neither is this any valid apology. You have 
only to practise economy, and then you will be able to ex- 
ercise liberality. And is it not worth a man's while to save, 
that he may have it in his power to give ? 

It may be that I have not yet suggested the true cause 
of your inability. Perhaps you luear so much of your 
money that it leaves you without the means of giving. Or 
the reason you can't afford it may be found, if not in your 
apparel, yet in the style of your furniture, or in the service 
of your table, or in the expensiveness of your equipage. 
Now, if any one of these suppositions be correct, you see 
you are left without excuse. All you have to do is, to re- 
trench in these respects, and then you can afford it. If you 
neither can, nor could afford it, then, and then onl}^ do you 
make out a good apology. If you can earn no more, save 
no more, and spend no less, then you are excused — you 
can't afford it. 

But it is my opinion, there are few persons who cannot 
better afford to give than not to give. There is no loss in 
giving. There is great gain in it. Giving is sowing. What 
farmer cannot afford to sow ? The money that is bestowed 
in charity is seed money ; and he that soweth bountifully, 
shall reap also bountifully. It is poor policy to be parsi- 
monious in the use of seed money. 

It will grieve me not a little, if any one, after reading 
all this, shall, instead of coming into the resolution I recom- 
mend, adopt another, which a certain member of the church 
once expressed in these words : " I have done giving." 
The words made a great impression on my mind. Done 
giving, said I to myself. Has he, indeed ? Has he given 
all ? Has the disciple imitated the Master ? Was he rich, 
and has he become poor for the sake of others, that they, 
through his poverty, might be rich ? Oh no, he has some- 
thing left yet — perhaps is rich still — perhaps, through the 
favor of Providence, richer at this moment than he would 
have been had he never given any thing. Who knows but 
his honoring the Lord with his substance has been the means 
of filling his barns with plenty ? It may be bad policy in 
him to stop giving. 

" Done giving." Why ? Is there no more need of giv- 
ing ? Is every want abundantly supplied ? Is the whole 

VOL. IX. 18 



I WILL GIVE LIBERALLY. 



population of our country furnished with the means of 
grace ? Is the world evangelized ? Have missionaries vis- 
ited every shore ? Is the Bible translated into every lan- 
guage, and distributed in every land — a copy in every fam- 
ily — and every member of every family taught to read it ? 
Are the accommodations for widows and orphans as ample 
as they should be ? Is there a house of refuge for every 
class of the human family that needs one ? Have the poor 
ceased from the land? Oh no; there are no such good 
reasons as these for ceasing to give. 

Well, does the man feel worse for having given away so 
much ? Has it made him unhappy ? Is his experience 
different from that of the Lord Jesus, who said, " It is more 
blessed to giv^e, than to receive ?" 

Or has he come to the conclusion to give no more, from 
having found that what has been given hitherto has done 
no good ? And is it so, that no good has been done by all 
the Bibles published, and all the Tracts distributed, and all 
the missionaries sent abroad into our own land, and into the 
world, and all the schools established, and all the children 
taught to read, and all the civilization introduced, and all 
the asylums opened, and all the poor relieved ? No good 
been done ! Great good has been done by what has been 
given ; but still more will be done by what shall be given 
hereafter. Bibles and Tracts can now be printed at a cheaper 
rate than heretofore ; and the conductors of our benevolent 
institutions have learned, by experience, that economy which 
can be learned in no other way. And yet now, when a dol- 
lar goes so much farther than ever before in doing good, 
will a man say, " I have done giving ?" It is just the time 
to go on giving. 

Had I, for a moment, the ear of him who says he has 
done giving, I would ask him if he has done 7'eceiving — if 
God has done giving to him. 

" Done giving." Done lending to the Lord. Done sow- 
ing and watering. Done offering the sacrifices with which 
God is well pleased. Done making the widow's heart leap 
for joy, and bringing on himself the blessing of them that 
were ready to perish ! So this is his determination. Well, 
I am sorry — sorry for the sake of the poor, and the sick, 
and the orphan, and the ignorant, and the heathen. But 
no less sorry am I for the man's own sake. Poor man ! 



I WILL GIVE LIBERALLY. 7 

poor, with all his affluence ; for there is really no one more 
poor than he who, with the ability to give, has not the 
inclination. He is enriched with abundance, but not with 
liberality. 

*' Done giving." Well, then, if he will not give his 
money, he must keep it. And yet how short the time he 
can keep it. Had he not better freely give away some of 
it, than wait for it all to be taken from him ? Reader, do 
you not think so ? Then resolve for yourself, " I will give 
liberally." 

■ Are you not a Christian ? Christians used to give lib- 
erally. Why should they not now ? The primitive believ- 
ers were bountiful. Many of them parted with all their 
worldly goods for the sake of Christ — sold their possessions 
and laid the entire proceeds at the apostles' feet. Now, I 
do not say that we should do the same. But it strikes me, 
that if they gave their principal, we might, at least, afford 
to contribute our interest. 

A remarkable example of liberality we find recorded in 
the 8tli and 9th chapters of Paul's 2d Epistle to the Co- 
rinthians, where, wishing to excite the Corinthians to the 
exercise of bountifulness, he tells them what their brethren 
of Macedonia had done — how liberally they had given. 

They gave, though they were very poor — in " deep pov- 
erty," ch. 8 : 2. They had the best of all excuses for not 
giving. Truly, they could not afford it. But having it in 
their heart to give, they contrived, by dint of some ingenuity, 
and perhaps no little self-denial, to get it into their power 
to give. Such liberal souls had they, that it made their very 
poverty abound unto the riches of their liberality. I have 
sometimes thought, if their deep poverty so abounded, what 
would not their great riches have done, had they been as 
wealthy as some American Christians ? 

Well, having, though so very poor, contrived to bring it 
within their power to give, what then did these Christians 
do ? Why, they not only went to the full extent of their 
ability, but even beyond it. " For to their power, I bear 
record, yea, and beyond their power," they gave. The 
disciples of our day do not give more than they are able. 
I wish it could be said that they give according to their 
ability. 

But though they gave beyond their ability, they did not 



9 1 WILL GIVE LIBERALLY. 

give beyond their disposition. They gave willingly. They 
had it in their hearts to give even more. It was done, "not 
grudgingly, or of necessity." No one said, as it is some- 
times said now, " Well, I suppose I must give you some- 
thing." Nor was their willingness the effect of any appeals 
made to them. They were not put up to it. They were 
" willing of themselves^ It was entirely spontaneous. The 
apostles had not to entreat them to give ; but they had to 
entreat the apostles to receive their gift. " Praying us with 
much entreaty, that we would receive the gift." It is not 
so now. Now, the hegging is on the other side. What 
Christians these were. They were of the same mind with 
Christ. They agreed with him in regard to its being more 
blessed to give than to receive. Few modern disciples ap- 
pear to accord with the Master in that sentiment. 

Do you wonder how these Christians came to be such 
cheerful and liberal givei-s ? I will tell you. It was owing 
to " the grace of God bestowed on them," as it is related in 
verse 1. That always makes people liberal. Grace is a 
generous principle. There is nothing opens the heart like 
it. Under its influence they " first gave their own selves to 
the Lord." Now, when a man has given away himself, it 
is easy to give what only appertains to him. The great 
matter is, to give the person ; the property follows as a mat- 
ter of course ; indeed, it is included in the first gift. The 
reason some give no more property to the Lord's cause is, 
that they have never given themselves to him. They have 
not begun right. Reader, have you begun right ? Have 
you consecrated and made over your person to the Lord ? 
Have you given liberally in that respect ? He who has not 
given himself, has not imitated Christ, for he gave himself. 
He gave liberally. He was rich — O how rich ! And he 
became poor — who so poor ? — and for our sakes. The Mace- 
donians felt the force of this persuasive consideration. This 
love of Christ constrained them. They were emulous to 
do like him. What Christian will not yield himself to the 
cogency of this love, and not only give liberally of what he 
has, but make a full surrender of all he is, to Christ and 

HIS CAUSE ? 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



i¥o. 317, 



CALL AND QUALIFICATIONS 



THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 



BY REV. RALPH EMERSON, D.D. 



What constitutes a call to the Christian ministry ? And 
what are the proper qualifications for that work? 

Seen by the intelligent and glowing eye of Christian 
philanthropy, this subject will excite deeper interest at 
every inspection. Why has not the world long since been 
converted to Christ ? There has never been an adequate 
number of well-qualified men to " preach the Gospel to ev- 
ery creature." And why has the church been so harassed 
with internal dissensions and calamities ? Improper men 
have been clothed with the sacred office. These answers 
are sufficient to account for the appalling facts, without 
recurring to subordinate causes. 

It is the object of this Tract to help pious young men 
to discern their duty, and at the same time to aid those who 
may be called to advise and assist them. I begin with some 
remarks by way of precaution. 

1. A young man is not to wait for an audible voice from 
heaven. The most useful men, since the days of the apos- 
tles, have heard no such call ; w^hile such as have followed 
an imaginary voice, have shown themselves blind enthusi- 
asts. The same may be said of any miraculous indication 
since the days of inspiration. Should any man now present 

VOL. IX. 18* 



2 CALL AND aUALIFlCATIONS 

such a claim, we may well demand of liim the primitive 
evidence of his divine commission, the working of miracles. 

2. No more reliance is to be placed on dreams or visions. 
The superstitious or the insane person will be more likely 
than the rational, to imagine some man of Macedonia stand- 
ing by him at night and imploring his help. 

3. Unaccountable impressions on the mind, however 
strong and solemn, do not of themselves indicate a call. 
The weak, the ignorant, the superstitious, the fanatical, and 
presumptuous, have ever been found more liable to such 
unaccountable impressions, than the sober and discreet. 
When the Spirit of God impresses any particular duty on 
an individual, it is, doubtless, in view of truths and facts 
which the attentive mind can designate. 

4. Certain passages of Scripture coming suddenly to the 
mind, are no proof of such a call. Such a text as the fol- 
lowing may unexpectedly enter the thoughts, and perhaps 
long ring in the ear of a recent convert — Go thou and preo.ch 
the Gospel. But let him remember, that Satan once quoted 
Scripture to a much better personage, to induce him to cast 
himself headlong from the pinnacle of the temple, in pre- 
sumptuous reliance on divine support. Still, let no one 
think lightly of the movings of the Holy Ghost on the heart, 
in seeking so good a work. The caution is against a coun- 
terfeit of the divine impulse. It is none but such as " God 
judges faithful and fit for the ministry," that he thus moves 
to the work. 

5. Neither are any remarkable dispensations of Provi- 
dence to be regarded in themselves as indicating a call. 
Signal blessings or reverses in our business or prospects 
may, indeed, prepare the way for the aonsecration to the 
ministry of talents already possessed. Such is often the 
fact with merchants, lawyers, and others. Obligations 
which justly bound them to earthly occupations are thus 
unexpectedly severed, and they are left to the free choice 



FOR THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 3 

of that vocation for which the Spirit may recently have con- 
ferred the crowning quaHfication, a change of heart. But 
other men, besides those who have the requisite wisdom and 
grace for usefulness in the ministry, are liable to become 
bankrupt or hopeless in their worldly business, or to be so 
prospered as to open the way for an escape from worldly 
entanglements ; and woe to the Judas who first turns his 
thoughts to the ministry because he can succeed in nothing 
else. 

6. No strength of desire for the glorious work can of 
itself constitute a call. David desired to build a house to 
the name of that God who had redeemed his soul and pros- 
pered him in his kingdom. And this desire was highly com- 
mended ; but God forbade him to do it. Eminent saint as 
he was, God saw him to be not the proper man for that 
sacred work. And it would be preposterous to suppose, 
that all who have a heart to the work of the ministry, are 
fully adapted to this highest vocation on earth. God him- 
self has taught us, in illustrating the topic of divers gifts 
and callings, that he has framed the spiritual as he has the 
natural body — each member for its place ; and it would be 
absurd for all the members to aspire to be the head. A 
proper desire for the divine work will lead one candidly to 
inquire for, and cheerfully to occupy his own sphere of 
usefulness. 

7. The general charge which Christ gave his disciples, 
to preach his Gospel among all nations, does not imply a 
call on each individual personally to preach it. For if so, 
then it equally implies that all are to become missionaries, 
and the whole church is to emigrate to heathen lands. The 
import of Christ's language is plainly this : that the grand 
Christian enterprise of preaching the Gospel at home and 
abroad he commits to the church as a common concern. 
All are to bear their part in its accomplishment. And each 
individual is to inquire conscientiously, how he can eflxjct 



4 CALL AND aUALIFICATIONS 

the most ; whether by preaching the Gospel in person, or 
by doing all in his power to give it efficacy at home, and 
send it to the ends of the earth. 

8. It is. not every one who can pray with fervor, and 
speak with fluency in the social circle, that is fit to become 
a preacher. Many an excellent deacon has changed himself 
into a very poor minister. A ready and fervent utterance 
is but one out of many qualifications that are needed. 

9. Nor is it sufficient for one to plead the pressing want 
of laborers as a reason for his admission to the field. True, 
in such an exigency, poor reapers are better than none ; and 
many must now be accepted whose services would be of 
more use in some other department, if there were such a 
supply of first-rate men as the church may expect at a 
future day. Still, in order to be accepted at any time, the 
man must be truly a reaper — one who will gather, and not 
waste the precious grain. 

We now turn to the positive side of the subject. 

Here I may remark, that it is not my object to show 
what a minister ought to be, or to paint a clerical character 
of ideal perfection. Indeed, I am not to paint the clerical 
character at all ; but I simply propose to notice some of the 
leading traits of character which a young man should pos- 
sess, who is to commence a course of preparation for the 
ministry. Strong statement and brilliant coloring would of 
course be misplaced, where they would be liable either to 
allure or to intimidate such as are here called to the most 
calm and unimpassioned discrimination of the prevalent 
indication of duty. 

1 . Personal holiness is to be regarded as indispensable. 
A neglect of this rule has proved the bane of established 
churches, and likewise of some others. Where the neglect 
prevails widely, it is first a consumption on the vitals of 
religion, and then, in succeeding generations, the plague of 



FOR THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 5 

heresy or of infidelity. To the wicked, God saith, What 
hast thou to do, to declare my statutes ? To whom can this 
apply, if not to ungodly ministers ? 

2. Good common-sense is a prime requisite. It may not 
be easy to define this term : still, few will be hkely to mis- 
take its import. We may call it a sound and independent 
judgment in practical concerns. It stands equally in con- 
trast with a propensity to impracticable theories on tlie one 
hand, and to a blind application of general rules on the 
other. Thus, one may be a great scholar, while he has no 
judgment to reduce his facts and precedents to practice. 
Or he may possess great powers of speculation, with no 
skill to apply them in the moment of practical exigency. 
This trait of character is capable of great improvement. 
The best school for this purpose is the active business of 
life, and intercourse with men. 

If, then, a young man has been detained on the paternal 
farm, or in the counting-room, or the workshop, till the age 
of sixteen, or even twenty, let him not think the years lost 
in regard to the sacred profession. It was, perhaps, the 
best school for him, though he may have been in it a little 
too long. Patience of labor, quickness of observation, 
judgment, practical tact, in short, a common-sense discipline 
of mind is thus attained, which is indispensable to his high- 
est usefulness. To this add the value of such an acquaint- 
ance with common life and common men as he could not 
otherwise gain. 

But while this talent, or rather this happy assortment 
and combination of talents, is capable of great improvement 
in most persons, yet it is doubtless implanted by nature in 
very different degrees — and in some it is scarcely found at 
all. These ma)?- be amiable in temper, and good in their 
intentions, but they can never do a tiling right. They may 
be very laborious, but they bring little to pass. Some small, 
if not some great mistake is found to mar the whole. But 



6 CALL AND aUALIFICATIONS 

why it is they fail, they cannot imagine. Nor can you ef- 
fectually teach them. To put them right in one thing, is, at 
best, but to fix one more rule or precedent in the memory, 
which they will, perhaps, as blindly or as fancifully apply 
in the next. You impart no practical wisdom ; and conse- 
quently, though they may be very grateful, and may see 
their present fault, and be confident for the future, they are 
none the better. They are continually plunging into diffi- 
culty. Help them out of six troubles, and they are soon in 
the seventh. Such men are nature's incurables. "Bray 
them in a mortar with a pestle among wheat, yet will not 
their folly depart from them." 

It is grievous that such men should ever enter the sacred 
ministry, where sound common-sense is more needed than 
anywhere else ; where no two transactions, whether in the 
pulpit or out of it, are precisely alike, and nothing can be 
done by mere rule ; and where wayward and fanciful ex- 
periments are the most unseemly and the most perilous. 

If, then, a young man be particularly deficient in com- 
mon-sense, let him remain in some more secluded sphere, 
or Avhere he will be under the guidance of some other mind. 
If he has already become a scholar, and must live by his 
knowledge, let him translate books, or examine proof-sheets; 
but let him not enter the ministry, where he will involve 
himself and his people in troubles, and bring disgrace on 
the sacred profession and the cause of God. 

3. A good disposition is highly important. Doubtless 
the disposition may be so bad as of itself to interpose a 
barrier to the prospect of usefulness. Christ was as harm- 
less as he Avas undefiled ; as amiable and beneficent as he 
was wise and dignified. Hence that winning grace in his 
lips, by which he spake as never man spake. Paul, with 
all his decision, we may regard as either naturally amiable, 
or as having become so by the mellowing power of deep 
conviction, and the sweetening joys of a glorious hope. Nor 



FOR THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 7 

is it merely a single species of bad inclination that unfits 
one for the ministry. Perhaps a selfish, mean, sordid, sus- 
picious, or envious disposition, is even worse than that of a 
violent or irritable temper, as being more hopeless of cure. 

4. A resjjcctahle degree of native talent is requisite. And 
it is not simply the amount of mental power that is to be 
considered. At least as great regard is to be paid to the 
Icind of talents, or rather to the amount of exxellence found 
in the combination. Some men move swiftly, but in such 
devious directions as to make but little progress. Much 
of the good they do is counterbalanced by the bad. If, 
then, a man has a well-balanced mind, and if that mind is 
fired by a burning soul, an ardent native temperament 
now turned into the channel of Christian love, with God's 
blessing he will effect much, though his simple strength of 
mind is not great. Much more depends on ardor and per- 
severance than on mere intellect. Some who have held but 
a low rank in college, have been successful in the ministry. 
Such men are humble and faithful. They go directly to 
their work, and toil all the day, and all the year. And that 
God whom they honor is pleased to honor them. 

But let no young man be very confident that he shall 
thus supply his lack of mental power. The number of such 
men is small. A mere resolution will not make him such. 
That admirable balance of the mind, playing nimbly, yet 
safely, on its pivot, and the glowing devotedness by which 
it is fired, are seldom found in union. 

5. Diligence is requisite. This has been already inti- 
mated, but is worthy of a distinct notice. Why should it 
ever be said of an idle boy, " He will be good for nothing 
but to send to college ?" That is just the place to which 
he should not be sent, unless you would spend your money 
for naught. And most preposterous and wicked of all is it 
to think of sending him into the ministry, after he has slum- 
bered away his ten or fifteen years of pretended prepara- 



8 CALL AND aUALIFICATIONS 

tion. If he will not labor in your vineyard, you may be 
sure he will not labor in the Lord's vineyard. By hard 
blows you may drive a sluggish body to its daily task ; but 
a sluggish mind, never. If the ethereal spirit goes at all 
to any purpose, it goes like the breath of heaven, not im- 
pelled, but impelling and rejoicing in its career. And to 
toil day and night, with alert and wakeful movement — does 
the indolent youth give promise of this ? Vain delusion. 
He will cumber the ground on which he will stand all the 
day idle. No ; if he has given no signs of mental industry 
at school and in his leisure hours, and yet will not follow 
the plough, change his occupation ; put him into the work- 
shop — behind the counter — into a toll- house — anywhere 
rather than into a college, and afterwards into an occupa- 
tion the most arduous, and calling for the most spontaneous 
labor of any which angels behold among the children of 
men. 

" From such apostles, O ye mitred heads, 
Preserve the church ; and lay not careless hands 
On skulls that cannot teach, and will not learn." 

6. Firmness and holy boldness are needful. He who is 
to be a standard-bearer in the Lord's host, must not be 
faint-hearted in view of real or imaginary dangers. In full 
but friendly tones he must be able to tell men their duty 
and their danger, whether they will hear or forbear. 

On this trait, however, it is important to remark, that 
the inexperienced and unobserving are liable to err in judg- 
ing of character. The bashful man is not always found to 
be a timid man, or wavering in the pursuit of measures 
which he sees of vital importance. And less frequent is it, 
that the shy and blushing boy grows up a timid man. On 
the contrary, he may become distinguished for cool, intrepid, 
and perseveiing courage ; and this from the very fact, that 
his courage is founded in principle, instead of being a mere 



FOR THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 9 

animal attribute — in principle, the very soul of that moral 
courage which a minister needs. He has his well-weighed 
object to gain, and will not desert the field till it be accom- 
plished. He has, moreover, like the sensitive female, al- 
ready died his death in anticipation, and therefore he stands 
firm, while those of better but untested nerves desert 
around him. And further, in this holy warfare, through 
faith, even the timid become brave. Out of weakness they 
become strong ; wax valiant in fight ; put to flight the ar- 
mies of the aliens. Indeed, in Paul's delineation of weak- 
ness made strong by the visions of faith and the fire of love, 
we have perhaps the best possible illustration of the dis- 
tinctiv^e nature of holy boldness. It is not mere strength 
of human nerve. There is a softening, a refining, an ele- 
vation, and a steadfastness even, to be gained, before a man 
will stand in chains before Felix and a haughty throng, and 
at once shake and melt the heart of his judge. 

Self- diffidence, too — let it ever be remembered, where 
religion is concerned — impels the soul to look upward for 
strength, while native boldness reposes on a self-confidence 
of its own creating. The courage of the apostle John Ave 
may suppose to have partaken deeply of this celestial char- 
acter ; and that of Paul to have been remodelled after the 
same type by the powerful grace of God. 

No one, then, need be discouraged because of his native 
modesty. God can give him a tongue to speak ; and he 
will give it, as he would have given to Moses, if duly be- 
sought and confided in for such a blessing. 

But courage and firmness there must be — the more of 
the rio-ht kind, the better ; and the more these are wanting, 
the more must an elevating faith be cultivated, so that the 
youth may be brought to feel it is rather God who is to 
speak by him in vindication of his own cause. But if he 
give no rational promise of any such attainment, let him not 
seek an office for which he has no prospect of being cora- 
VOL. IX. 19 



10 CALL AND QUALIFICATIONS 

petent. Such a temperament, for instance, as that of Cow- 
per, could not acqmre the requisite self-possession by any 
ordinary attainments in faith. 

1. He should have a heart to enter with delight into the 
work, provided there be a prospect of his greatest useful- 
ness in that sphere. Some men seem as if born to delight 
in addressing popular assemblies, and laboring to sway the 
public mind. Such a native predilection may have its use, 
but is not essential. A much more important predilec- 
tion, not native, but implanted by the Holy Ghost, is to be 
sought in every one who would be a coworker in the sal- 
vation of men : I mean a desire to be engaged in their sal- 
vation, resulting from love to their souls and to God. This 
language, though simple, is selected Avith special care to 
meet the exact case. Some men express a desire for the 
salvation of their fellow-men, and yet they seem not ready 
to do much to promote it, directly or indirectly. And some, 
on the other hand, appear very zealously engaged in saving 
men, who, paradoxical as it may seem, care but little for 
their salvation. Such feel but little joy at conversions by the 
preaching of others ; and may know assuredly, that they 
have not the right spirit for a preacher of the Gospel. This 
is not the spirit that John the Baptist felt, when he had 
labored long and hard to prepare the v/a)^ for the Lord's 
reception among men, and then felt his "joy fulfilled," 
when they forsook him to follow Christ. The object for 
which he longed, was the salvation of men and the glory of 
Christ : and for this he rejoiced to decrease while Christ 
should increase. Some of his disciples, it seems, felt not 
so, while they manifested a rival solicitude. The spirit of 
this great precursor of the new dispensation is the genuine 
spirit of the Gospel ministry ; a spirit which Satan's king- 
dom more dreads than the whole array of the Christian 
world without it. 

The man who possesses this spirit, has looked up to a 



FOR THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. H 

bleeding Saviour and been healed. He now looks abroad 
on a dying world, and his soul goes forth in longings which 
cannot be uttered ; and like the spirit that moved on the 
deep, it seems to spread itself in tender sympatliy over all. 
"Why may not they also be all healed?" it asks, with 
mingled hope and Avonder. ''There is balm enougli, and a 
Physician that is adequate, and tongues enough to .speak 
the joyful tidings. And speak it they soon must, and to 
the praise of this Redeemer, or the very rocks will cry out." 
Still, perhaps he scarcely dares to harbor the thought of 
ever being deemed worthy himself to proclaim the glad 
tidings. For the present, it seems enough for him to be 
permitted, in this "new world" on which he has opened 
his eyes, to bear some humble part in aid of those who shall 
be called as ambassadors of God to men. Viewed in this 
new relation to a dying world and to God, a radiance of 
glory comes down from heaven around the secluded sphere 
in which sovereign grace has found him. In that sphere, 
whether at the plough, the bench, the anvil, the counter, he 
is not merely content, but will rejoice to remain, provided 
it be the calling in which it may please God to make him 
the most useful in the salvation of souls. But yet, when he 
muses, with some gathering hope, on the most blessed em- 
ployment on earth, his heart exclaims, " 0, if I could be 
fitted for that employment, how should I delight to sa}^ 
Here, Lord, am I, send me where thou wilt, to preach thy 
Gospel — in this or in other lands — to the rude or the re- 
fined — the poor or the rich — in evil report or good report — 
only let me be where I should be, and suitably preach thy 
Gospel for the salvation of men. Let the glory be all as- 
cribed to the riches of thine own free grace and power." 

Now, men of such a spirit are the men whom a dying 
world needs ; and whom it must have, or its multitudes will 
continue to crowd the way to death. Such men see joy set 
before them which the world cannot proffer— that for which 



12 CALL AND aUALIFICATIONS 

the Saviour endured the cross, despising the shame. They 
are prepared to enjoy, not only their own success, but that 
of all the laborers. And when the world shall be filled 
with these alert and happy coworkers — not one of them a 
contra -^YorkeY — its salvation shall be rapidly hastened. 

At least a germ of this buoyant spirit, to commence 
with, is needful in every one who is to devote himself to the 
celestial vocation. A mere leaden sense of duty will never 
serve him as a vivid spring of action. It is true, one may 
properly be led, by mere dutj^ first to examine the question ; 
and every young man should be led by it to such an exam- 
ination. But when a youth, who supposes himself convert- 
ed, has dehberately contemplated the subject, and still finds 
not his soul beginning at all to glow with the kindlings of a 
sacred " desire for the good work ;" if he had rather be a 
farmer, a merchant, a lawyer, a statesman ; and his voice 
come a third time, / ^9ray thee have me excused ; and he 
prefers that others should reap the field, and reap the final 
reward, through grace, of turning many to righteousness, and 
be the men to shine as the stars for ever and ever : excused — 
alas for his hapless choice ! he knows not the price put 
into his hand — yet, excused he must indeed be, both from 
the toil and the reward. The cause "needs not such aid." 

But happy for some younger brother of his, who may 
rejoice to accept the despised birthright, and who, mingled 
with suitable humility, feels a leaping forth of his heart to 
the work, coming, as came the Saviour from heaven on his 
embassy to dying men, saying, " I delight to do thy will, 
O my God." 

8, He should have a spirit to enter zealously into the 
cause of missions, temperance, ministerial education, and 
all the other great enterprises for the salvation of the world. 
The nature of this spirit is sufficiently indicated under the 
last head. And as to its vast importance, we have no space 
for the delineation. Still, the topic cannot be passed with- 



FOR THE CIIRISTIAX MINISTRY. 13 

out remarking, that the pastor who does not enter into these 
things, knows neither how to labor for the salvation of the 
whole world, nor yet for the salvation of his own people, 
or his own soul, as he ought. He will loiter behind his age, 
and soon be numbered with things obsolete. 

9. His constitution and habits should be such as to 
admit of the requisite study, and of public speaking. In 
judging of these, it is to be remembered, that not every 
frail body, nor every species of disease, brings imbecility on 
the whole man. Some of the most efficient spirits in the 
church have put forth their energies through the organs of 
a sickly frame. Such were Baxter, Doddridge, Edwards, 
Martyn, and Robert Hall. Nor is it every robust constitu- 
tion that is fitted to endure the peculiar toils of study and 
of speaking. Experiment alone can fully decide in a large 
number of cases. 

But while some of a feeble frame may be found to en- 
dure such labor, and by their mental energy and pious zeal 
to do much good, yet let no one be consecrated to the sa- 
cred work merely because he is incapacitated for common 
employments. This would be reversing the rule God gave 
for the Jewish priesthood. The maimed, the blind, the 
deformed, were not to minister at his altar. And if such a 
rule is not now to be regarded as of divine obligation, yet 
surely a blemish ought not to be the leading reason for 
seeking the ministry. To enter God's special service be- 
cause you cannot serve yourself in some more congenial 
way, is surely an insult to his majesty. Personal blemishes 
may not only give pain to an audience every Sabbath, but 
also prove a serious bar to influence and usefulness ; and 
this was doubtless one reason for excluding the deformed 
from the ancient priesthood. 

Weak lungs, or a feeble voice, may also be regarded, in 
decided cases, as proof that a youth is to glorify God in 
some other calling. 

VOL. IX. 19* 



J4 CALL AND UUALIFICATIONS 

In the preceding remarks, I have endeavored to present 
the chief requisites in one who has a call in providence to 
enter on a course of preparation for the ministry. It is not 
to be supposed that all the qualifications that are desirable 
have been mentioned. The case of each individual must, 
of course, be decided, not in view of any single excellence, 
but by a comprehensive regard to his whole case, including 
his character, the age in which he lives, the country, indeed 
the whole circumstances in which he is placed. Nor can it 
be too deeply impressed on all minds, that the grand ques- 
tion is not, luhether one may do some good in the ministry, 
hut, ivhere can he he employed to the hest advantage ? 

Supposing, now, the question decided with a young man 
in favor of his entering on a course of preparation for the 
ministry, there remains yet a further consideration. 

The amount of acquisitions in knowledge and men- 
tal DISCIPLINE TO BE SOUGHT. 

This point, too, must be decided in view of the wiiole 
case. Were man's life now that of the antediluvians, it 
might be unwise in him to commence pastoral or missionary 
labors amid such a world of intellectual giants, and pos- 
sessed of so much time, before the age of threescore years 
and ten. He would then be comparatively a boy. But 
now, man's life is a vapor that appeareth for a little time, 
and then vanisheth away. What he does he must do quick- 
ly, though it be done but imperfectly. And amid such 
urgency as the present, doubtless many are called to seek 
the ministry, who are already too far advanced in life to 
admit of their passing through the more regular course of 
training. For some, it will be best to resort to a theologi- 
cal seminary by a shorter course than that of a college ; 
particularly, if I may name a period in which not a few men 
of experience are agreed, it will be well for such as have 
passed the age of twenty-four before commencing the study 



FOR THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 15 

of Latin or Greek. And for others, especially those who 
have reached the age of about eight- and-twenty, a still 
shorter course, and perhaps of private instruction, may be 
conducive to their highest usefulness on the whole. The 
increased difficulty of acquiring new languages, and the 
haste that men usually feel for a profession at so late a pe- 
riod of life, are additional reasons for the shorter course, of 
greater or less force in the case of different individuals. 

But while there may be exceptions, it is now deemed 
important, by competent judges, that generally a full and 
liberal course of study be pursued, including literature, 
science, and theology. Such a course in college and the 
theological seminary is increasingly demanded by the prog- 
ress of society, the loud voice of public opinion, and espe- 
cially of the ministers of most denominations, as already 
explicitly uttered. 

"But," says the zealous youth, glowing, perhaps, with 
the best feeling, " can I not be more speedily fitted to go 
forth and do at least some good?" Yes, doubtless, if 
your heart prove true to the work — and perhaps, inadver- 
tently, some evil also, to balance the good. But have you 
yet closely examined the real object of this intense eager- 
ness ? You feel, it may be, " mi indescribable longing to 
be engaged in saving souls." But ought you not to ponder 
the nature and object of this ardent desire until you shall 
be able to describe it, or at least to conceive of it more 
definitely ? There may be a youthful and heroic leaping 
forth of the soul, in its pantings for immediate action in so 
glorious a cause, which, at best, is of but a mixed and im- 
perfect nature. We would neither blame nor check any 
thing youthful, merely because it is youthful ; but neither 
should it pass without moral scrutiny, because it is to be 
expected in the young. Young men, it was once remarked 
by Dr. D wight, misjudge, not from the want of ability to 
discriminate, but because they are too precipitate to exam- 



IQ CALL AND aUALIFICATIONS 

ine. If time for reflection, then, will help you to anticipate 
the wisdom of years, be entreated, in a case so momentous, 
prayerfully to take that time. 

But perhaps you will plead that you have already done 
this, in respect to the motives that stir your zeal, and are 
ready to do it further in respect to the guidance of this zeal, 
''Without claiming perfection," you say, " I still find some- 
thing more solemn and ethereal than a mere love of action, 
or even mere sympathy. I long to be engaged in saving 
souls, and to glorify Him who came from heaven to save 
them." 

The answer is good ; and, we would hope, from a good 
conscience. But a further question must now be put, if we 
would reach the point of true wisdom. Is it the object of 
your glowing zeal, to be publicly engaged in doing good 
now, at all events ; or is it, in view of all the light you can 
gain, to aim at the utmost j^ossible good tvhile on earth — 
saving as many of these sinking souls as you can in the 
course of your whole life ? This is the only just light in 
which to ponder the main question. Think of it, then, 
deeply in this light ; and ask the voice of experience to aid 
your meditations. 

To these last directions, perhaps, you also give your 
cordial assent. And it may furthermore be that you will 
say, " All this I have done from the beginning ;" (would 
not Jesus love this young man?) "and I have sought to 
consult the best of experience, namely, that which was 
guided by his wisdom from above, and followed by the best 
results. It is the experience of the apostles them- 
selves ; those faithful but ignorant fishermen, who went 
forth everywhere preaching that men should repent. This 
simple annunciation, which they made with a glowing 
tongue, was everywhere followed by divine power on the 
souls of men. And my heart pants to do the same, in hope 
of a like blessing." 



FOR THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 17 

It is, then, in closely following the true spirit of this 
example, that you hope for such a blessing. Of course, if 
any mistake be found here on your part, you desire its cor- 
rection. 

At what period, then, did these poor fishermen go forth 
on their final embassy ; and -with what degree of prepara- 
tion and endowment ? He who called them to the work, 
on a certain occasion, bade them lift up their eyes and be- 
hold the fields white already to the harvest. The harvest 
was also great, and the laborers few. Their hearts burned 
within them — as yours does now. And the Saviour's heart 
likewise burned with a more intense flame to have them in 
the great field that was daily perishing. What, then, was 
his command to them? Go, without a moment's delay, 
and save whom you can ? No ; but, " Pray ye the Lord of 
the harvest, that he would send forth laborers." And how 
long did he detain them about him, praying that laborers 
might be sent, and preparing themselves to go ? Certainly 
three, if not seven years. True, he sent some of them oo- 
casionally on short and simple messages, in preparing his 
way among the people, just as you may now go forth. But 
most of the time they were about him ; and during three 
years he spake to them as never man spake. Nor was it 
merely the brief but comprehensive epitome of instruction 
that is now left for our learning in the Gospels. One of 
their number affirms, that if the whole had been written, he 
supposes the world would not contain the books. 

It is also to be remembered, that they had the promise 
of the divine Spirit to bring all these things to their remem- 
brance. None of this vast amount of instruction was to be 
lost, but they were to have it always ready, as occasion 
should require. 

Consider, likewise, that he who taught them, foreknew 
the situation in which each one would be placed. He could, 
therefore, impart exactly the knowledge and admonition 



18 CALL AND aUALIFICATIONS 

they needed, without spending their time in a preparation 
for mere contingencies. 

Reflect further, that when all was done, and they had 
seen this same divine Teacher ascend up where he was be- 
fore, they were not to embark on their embassy until clothed 
with miraculous powers,* and filled with the Spirit of inspi- 
ration, and blessed with the gift of tongues. 

Now, put all these things together, and say. Did Christ 
send forth ignorant men to preach his Gospel ? Or did he 
seem in haste to send them ? Or could this delay result 
from the want of that same ardor which ymi now so prop- 
erly feel? ''I Wisdo7ndwellivith 2>riidence.'" He knew the 
training men need, in order to preach as he would have 
them preach. And the example he has thus given is worth 
more than the combined experience of the whole church 
besides, even had that experience appeared to teach a dif- 
ferent lesson. 

This divine example, if it convict of any thing, will 
convict the advocates for the most thorough training, of 
having been too lax and accommodating, in giving their 
consent that any should go forth with less than the com- 
paratively imperfect preparation which is called liberal. 
We say, if a man is already of mature age, and has acquired 
wisdom in some pursuit of business, and has also a family 
which he cannot long leave, he may take a shorter course. 
But what says the example we are examining ? Were not 
these men of mature age at the time Christ called them 
from the walks of common labor and the seat of civil office ? 
Had they not acquired practical wisdom ? Were not some 
of them even married and settled in families ? 

To the young man, then, who has no such incumbrance, 
and who does not inordinately wish for what the apostles 
could so freely forsake in order to be with Christ and gain 
their divine education — to such an one we would saj^. Pon- 
der well the sacred precedent you have adduced. Have 



FOR THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 19 

you more wisdom tlian these men had when they came 
under Christ's teaching ? Can you hope to gain more that 
will be to your purpose, in seven or ten years, than they 
gained while with him ? Would you not rather be with 
Christ one year, than in a college or a theological seminary 
three years — with Christ, who could tell in a single breath 
respecting some doctrine, what it will now cost you months 
of study fully to settle in your mind ? And then to be gifted 
with languages which it will cost you years to acquire. 
And will you not need as much wisdom and knowledge as 
they needed, who first spread Christianity ? Is not the 
present age as learned as was that of the apostles ? Is not 
even most of human knowledge of a later date ? On what 
principle, then, will you think to curtail that thorough prep- 
aration which reason sanctions, and which Christ's example 
so plainly demands ? 

You may think it a great pity that you must spend so 
much of your precious life before you can begin to act 
effectively. But was it not equally sad, that the apostles 
should spend so much of theirs ? And sadder still, that 
Christ should live on earth till he began to be about thirty 
years of age, before he commenced his public ministry ? A 
pity that we must spend so much of our time. Are we, 
think you, wasting this time — misspending it ? Are we 
doing otherwise than God would have us do — than he de- 
signed us to do, when he formed us men, and not angels ? 
Could he not make us at once fit for action — full-grown 
men, without the gradations of infancy, childhood, and 
youth ? Could he not raise up better ministers from the 
stones of the street, than you even hope to be? If so, 
where is the pity ? Is it, that Providence has indeed so 
made man, that half his life must be spent in preparation 
for the highest usefulness during the other half ? Engage 
then in thorough preparation, like a Christian man, grateful 
that God has given you capacities to gain such wisdom at 



20 CALL AND aUALIFICATIONS 

all, and deeply impressed that you have a great work before 
you in preparing to preach, as well as in the final discharge 
of that high office. When you have faithfully devoted the 
customary period to prayerful study, you will feel, as thou- 
sands have felt before you, that much more remains to be 
learned, than all which you at first imagined requisite. Then 
will you begin more deeply to feel the truth, that it requires 
much, very much, to constitute a good minister. This is a 
truth which will continually deepen in your view, in the 
course of actual experience ; and you will exclaim, with 
increasing emotion. There is not on earth another office which 
requires such a combination of excellences. 

Neither need you be troubled with the thought, that 
possibly you may die soon after completing your prepara- 
tion. That is for God to decide. And if you must soon 
die, still it is quite possible you may accomplish as great 
amount of good in this way, as by a premature entrance on 
the ministry ; for some persons of piety and discretion 
effect as much good while among their fellow- students, as 
in any equal portion of subsequent life. The early death, 
too, of one who is prepared for extensiv^e usefulness, seems 
often' to occasion as much good as could have been hoped 
from prolonged labors. It summons a fresh host to the 
onset. Such possibilities are a cheering offset to the ill- 
boding supposition just adduced. 

But not to dwell on these possibilities, I remark, in 
favor of thorough preparation, that the hand of skill some- 
times effects much by a single movement. A physician 
may save the most precious life by one prescription ; but it 
cost him a life of study and experience to gain that skill. 
It has been well observed by a living preacher, that the 
battle of Waterloo, on which hung the destinies of half the 
globe, was soon fought ; but the wisdom which dictated 
tlie victoiious movement, was the attainment of many years. 
The sifrnature of our chief macfistrate can be given to a law 



FOR THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 21 

"by the movement of his pen ; but what fearful interests hang 
on the moment of decision. Yet not more fearful, as eter^ 
nity shall disclose, than may hang on some few of the sen- 
tences in the last sermon of your short life. Mighty events 
for both worlds were decided by Peter's short address on 
the day of Pentecost. Would he have made that address 
if he had not followed Jesus in his full course of prepara- 
tion ? It is worth a life of prayerful study, to be privileged 
to preach such a sermon as that by Mr. Livingstone, at the 
kirk of Schotts, in Scotland, when about five hundred 
turned to the Lord. Such results come not by chance, 
either as it respects the means, or the grace that blesses 
them. If you would preach such a sermon, follow the 
pattern of preparation your Lord has given. It is as much 
a duty to iwepare to preach the Gospel well, as actually to 
preach it well ; and he who is properly engaged in such 
preparation, is truly and acceptably serving Christ, and 
ready to meet him at a moment's warning. 

Thus have I endeavored, as fully as the limits of this 
Tract would permit, to meet the true spirit of the questions 
proposed for discussion. 

Having now seen the pressing need of young men to 
preach the Gospel, and the kind of men that are needed, 
and the acquisitions they should first make, it may not be im- 
proper, in conclusion, veiy briefly to inquire, how are these 
YOUNG MEN TO BE SUPPLIED ? A momcutous qucstion, truly, 
for the church at large, and particularly for those on whom 
the responsibility is more immediately devolved. And w^ho 
are these responsible persons ? The following classes may 
be readily designated. 

First, the converted young men in our country. If such 
as are gifted by nature and grace for the work, will not 
freely come forward and devote their lives to the divine 
calling, the world will not be saved. Are you, then, a 

VOL. IX. 20 



2 2 CALL AND aUALIFICATIONS 

youno- man whose heart the Lord hath opened to rejoice in 
his kingdom ? Seriously and prayerfully inquire with your- 
self, whether it may not be your duty and your most exalt- 
ed privilege to bear a part in hastening his kingdom, by 
leaving your farm, your merchandise, your shop, your office, 
your endeared home, and giving up your life to preaching 
this same Jesus, whose word has now become so precious 
to your soul. Inquire of others, and especially of your 
minister, in hope that they may cast light on your path. 
Above all, inquire of God, with a mind that wishes to know 
and do his will. There is not a young man under the age of 
thirty, who ought not solemnly to ponder this question as 
a matter of personal duty. Perhaps you will be able — or 
will rather be compelled — very speedily to decide it in the 
negative. Be it so : still, the time spent in such examination 
is not lost. If properly spent, it will do you good while 
you live. It will make you a more active and practical 
Christian, by the elevation of mind and purity of purpose 
which such a contemplation is fitted to impart. Excite also 
your young brethren, perhaps more gifted than yourself, to 
make the same investigation for themselves. 

Xhe parents of 2^^'omising young men belong to the re- 
sponsible number. Are you, as a father, blessed with a son 
of the suitable natural endowments, and now doubly blessed 
by his hopeful conversion ? Make yourself more than thrice 
happy in him, for this world and the future, by giving up 
this son to an employment so elevated, so needful, and in 
which angels would delight to minister. For mere world- 
ly gain, or honor, or ease, to yourself or him, you cannot, 
you must not withhold him. The Lord hath need of him, 
and you must rejoice to send him forth. Are you a devout, 
but poor widowed mother, wiiose desolate heart is sustained 
by an only son, a child of many prayers, and that heart 
now overflowing with gratitude for the conversion of this 
son? Strange as it may seem to the eye of worldly wis- 



FOR THE CHRISTIAN MINISTRY. 23 

dora, you will be the last to need exhortation to the duty 
now in question. If, like her who gave all her living, you 
find it consistent to gratify your strongest desire, and give 
your only son in cheerful faith, the God of the widow and 
the fatherless may make it a memorial better than that of 
sons and of daughters. 

But with Christian parents we stop not heie. Ye 
fathers and mothers in Israel, what to you are sons and 
worldly substance more than to other parents ? Every 
thing, if you have but hearts to know it. Wait not, then, 
till your sons are converted, but from their birth feel that 
they are the Lord's, and continually pray that they may 
be sanctified for his service. While rearing them in faith, 
often tell them you have thus dev^oted them to him. In 
due time, cheerfully consent to the expense of their educa- 
tion at college, in hope that the divine Spirit will then meet 
them, if not before, and form them vessels of honor. Nor 
cease to hope, and pray, and labor in faith, provided they 
should not so soon be turned to the Lord ; nor, indeed, 
ever regret your efforts for so good an object, though you 
should not see it accomplished in the manner you had 
hoped. But many such parents will see their object ac- 
complished speedily ; many are, in fact, seeing it accom- 
plished, from year to year, through the revivals that so 
frequently bless our schools of learning. 

Teachers, also, of every class, from the common and 
the Sabbath school, up to the college, belong to this re- 
sponsible number. They have special opportunities for 
discerning and guiding the most useful talents the country 
contains. Well may it be expected of them, that they Avill 
not neglect so responsible a trust. God will require it. 
By a single word fitly spoken, the most obscure Sabbath- 
school teacher may give to the church a blessing that can- 
not be estimated. 

And last, but chief of all, may be named the ministers 



24 CALL AND aUALIFICATIONS, ETC. 

of the Gosinl. To you, ye spiritual guides and watchmen, 
is given in charge a sacred deposit, which you are bidden, 
in turn, to commit to faithful men, who are able to teach 
others. And it is no less your duty to seek out and pro- 
vide such men for the church, than to see to it that you in- 
trust the deposit with no othei*s. You, above all other men, 
are the guides of education. You are acquainted with the 
schools and the youth of the land, and with their parents ; 
and God has given you a voice that will be heard on this 
subject by parent, child, and teacher. Let each Christian 
minister, then, speak this word of power as God would 
have him speak, and thus every year double the whole use- 
fulness of his own public ministry by selecting at least one 
for the high calling from those who might otherwise remain 
in obscurity. And when seasons of refreshing come from 
the presence of the Lord, let the holy man preach each 
sermon as though he were going to convert men who were, 
in turn, to become ministers, and who would take him as 
their pattern for imitation through life. Let him teach the 
young converts as though he were teaching embryo minis- 
ters, and, without needless delay, direct the minds of those 
who 'give promise of usefulness to the work of the sanc- 
tuary. He that will be thus faithful over a little, will be 
made ruler over much. He will soon see another outpour- 
ing of the Spirit, and another, and another still. His sun 
will finally go down in glory, and his light will be long 
reflected by a hemisphere of stars. 

Thus let Zion's watchmen and all her sons be intent on 
increasing this great and primordial source of Christian in- 
fluence, and soon the earth will be full of the knowledge of 
the Lord, as the waters cover the sea. Reader, will you 
stand in your lot, and do your part in this work? and though 
perhaps you may be neither a prophet nor a prophet's son, 
thus receive a prophet's reward, as having, at least, preached 
the Gospel by the mouth of another. 



i\o. 318. 

THE APOSTATE. 

AN AUTHENTIC NARRATIVE. 



The writer was well acquainted with R A , late 

of Maryland, whose brief history is here given. At the age 
of about twenty he became anxious for his soul, and con- 
vinced that the course he had hitherto pursued, if persisted 
in, would lead to endless misery. With this conviction he 
resolved to seek the Lord while he might be found, and it 
was not long before he thought he had obtained an interest 
in him, and joined the church. For some time his life was 
apparently consistent with his profession. At length he 
formed an acquaintance with a gay young lady, of great 
personal attractions, but an entire stranger to religion ; and 
although she was not pleased with his religious profession, 
yet his family and personal appearance were such, that she 
consented to marriage ; thinking that, in due time she would 
be able to cure him of his religious frenzy. 

She soon commenced the attempt. At first she urged 
that, if they wished to be thought w^ell of by their friends, 
they ought not to refuse to join them at places of diversion 
and amusement ; that he must know how persons of his 
inclination were despised by people of respectability ; and 
that he had so much reading and praying in his house, the 
neighbors laughed at him. In fine, said she, " I married 
you to be happy ; but I utterly despair of happiness, unless 
you give up your religion and be like other people." 

He told her that happiness was what he wanted, but 
he had never found it in the way she proposed ; that the 
happiness which sprung from the customs and pleasures of 
this world was not substantial ; though for the present it 
mio-ht be sweet, in the end it would be bitter as death. 

Havino- found these efforts unavailing to obtain her pur- 
pose, she refused to attend family devotion. He wept, 
grieved, and in secret often prayed for her. She continued 
to employ every stratagem which her wicked imagination 
could invent. At length, wearied by her constant opposi- 
tion and persecution, he resolved he would try to get to 

VOL. IX. ''^O^ 



2 THE APOSTATE. 

heaven alone, as she would not go with him ; and deter- 
mined to attend to his private devotions, and omit those of 
the famil3^ His wife, however, pursued hira to his closet ; 
and succeeded in driving him to the relinquishment of 
every religious duty. And now that he forsook God, God 
forsook him ; the native corruptions of a wicked heart began 
to stir within him, and raged, till the}^ broke out in greater 
excesses than he had ever been guilty of before. 

Some time after this he heard a sermon, in which his 
sins were brought fully to his remembrance. He then renew- 
edly promised to serve the Lord, let him meet with ever so 
much opposition. But the obstacles were greater than he 
supposed. He found himself in the hands of the enemy, 
with less ability to resist temptation than he had before. 
He was like a man who, bound while asleep, struggles, but 
cannot free himself; groans under his bondage and strives 
for libert}^, but in vain. At this juncture his wife redoubled 
her efforts, and gained her point a second time. He con- 
tinued sinninof with little remorse, till, havinaf lost all desire 
for the means of g,Tace, and entirely forsaking the company 
of the people of God, he gave himself up to the customs 
and maxims of the world, and even to open vice ; when at 
length he was laid on a bed of affliction, and his life was 
despaired of. 

Now his fears were alarmed ; his sins appeared in 
dreadful colors before him ; and such was the sense of his 
guilt, that he dared not look to God for mercy. " How can 
I," said he, "expect that God will pardon me, when I have 
run contrary to his will, grieved his Spirit, sinned away all 
the peace I once enjoyed, and have gone farther since my 
apostasy, than I ever did before I named his name. Oh, 
that I had my time to live over again. Oh, that I had 
never been born." His disorder increased, and his fears 
were wrought up to terror. "If," said he, "God would 
give me another trial, I would amend my ways. If God 
will not hear me, perhaps he will hear the prayers of his 
people on my behalf. Oh, send for them, that they may 
pray for me ; for how can I stand before the avenger of sin 
in this my lamentable condition." 

His Christian friends visited him ; God appeared to an- 
swer their prayers, and, contrary to expectation, he recov- 
ered. But as his bodily strength increased, his convictions 



THE APOSTATE. 3 

subsided ; and by the time he was fully restored to health, 
he forgot his danger, and actually returned to all his former 
vices. 

Some years after his recovery I fell in company with 
him, and we entered into close conversation on the state of 
his soul. I asked him what he thought would be his des- 
tiny, if he died in his present state. 

" Why," said he, " as sure as God is in heaven, I should 
be damned." 

"Well," said I, " do you mean to die in this state? Do 
you never think of changing your course of life ?" 

" My friend," said he, " I have no desire to serve God ; 
I have no desire for any thing that is good : to tell you the 
truth, I as much believe that my damnation is sealed, as 
that I am now conversing with you. I remember the very 
time when the Spirit of God departed from me ; and what 
may surprise you more than all, I am no more troubled 
about it than if there was no God to punish sin, and no hell 
to punish sinners in." 

I was struck speechless at his narration : it is not in my 
power to describe my feelings. The bold indifference 
which marked his features, and the hardness of heart dis- 
played by him, were truly shocking. After I parted with 
him my meditations were engaged upon the awful subject. 
" Lord," thouo-ht I, " with whom have I been conversino- ? 
An immortal spirit clothed with flesh and blood, Avho ap- 
pears to be sealed over to eternal damnation. A man who 
once had a day of grace and the offer of mercy, but now 
appears to be lost, for ever lost. To him the door of heaven 
is shut, never more to be opened. He once had it in his 
power to accept salvation, and because he did not improve 
his time and talents, God has judicially taken them all away, 
and given him over to blindness of mind. He is neither 
moved by mercy nor terrified by judgment." 

About two years after this he was laid upon the bed of 
death. His conscience roared like thunder against him, and 
his every sense appeared to be awake to torment him. His 
sickness was short, and his end was awful. His Christian 
friends visited him, and desired to administer comfort, but 
he was comfortless. They told him that perhaps he was 
mistaken — it was not so bad with him as he imagined. 

" Ah," said he, " would to God I was mistaken ; happy 



4 TilE APOSTATE. 

Avoiild it be for me. But can I be mistaken about my sick- 
ness ? is it imagination which confines me here ? are my 
pains imaginary ? No, no, they are a reahty ; and I am as 
certain of my damnation as of my pains." 

Some persons offered to pray with him. But he forbade 
it, and charged them not to attempt it. For, said he, " that 
moment that you attempt to hft up your hearts to God on 
my behalf, I feel the flames of hell kindle in my soul : you 
might as well pray for Satan as for me ; you would have as 
much success. Do you think to force God ? do you think 
to force the gates of heaven, which are barred by justice 
against me ? Never. Your prayers shall return upon your 
own head ; I want none of them." 

The distress of his mind seemed to make him forget the 
pains of his body, and he continued in nearly the same 
situation till the day of his death. All that Christians or 
Christian ministers could say to him, made no impression. 
He never asked one to pity or pray for him. 

Just before his departure, after he had been rolling from 
side to side for some time, with horror depicted in every 
feature, he called to his wife to bring him a cup of cold 
water ; for, said he, " in one hour I shall be where I shall 
never get another drop." She brought him the water, he 
drank it with greediness, and reached back the cup with a 
trembling hand ; then staring her in the face, his eyes flash- 
ing w^ith terror, he cried out, " Rebecca, Rebecca, you are 
the cause of my eternal damnation." He turned over, and 
Avith an awful groan left the world, to enter upon the untried 
realities of a dre^id eternity. 

Beloved reader, meditate on this narrative. Be not con- 
formed to this world. Yield not to the temptations of the 
adversary of souls. Fear much, lest a promise being left 
you of entering into the rest of the people of God, you come 
short ; and a hardened, impenitent sinner, or a self-ruined 
backslider, finally inherit the portion of the hypocrite and 
unbeliever, " where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not 
(juenched," and where " the backslider shall be filled with 
his own ways." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



No. S 1 9. 

HISTORY 

OF 

CORPORAL MURRAY, 

OF THE FIFTH REGIMENT, UNITED STATES INFANTRY 



I s 




-...^^-i^-..-^^^ 



" This day," said the speaker, addressing companies A 
and B of the above-named regiment, at Chicago, September 
15, 1834, " this day, you have carried to the grave the cold 
remains of Pwo of your companions in arms. One wide 
grave contains them both. You have discharged over them 
the farewell shot ; 

' But honor's voice could not awake their dust, 
Or flattery soothe the dull, cold ear of death.' 

The sound echoed over the calm lake before you, but it 
reached them not ; nor will aught awake them till the 
trumpet shall sound that will call up the slumbering dead. 



2 HISTORY OF CORPORAL MURRAY. 

The morninof P:un, that has so often summoned them to 
duty, tliey will hear no more. The bugle's notes they will 
never more obey. Yet one summons they will obey : they 
will come forth * in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at 
the last trump ; for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead 
shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed.' 

" How sudden has been their removal from you. Five 
nights since, they w^ere on guard together ; they came off 
touched with fearful disease, to enter the same ward of the 
hospital. In the same hour, between nine and ten this 
morning, they died ; now their bodies are sleeping in the 
same grave, and their souls have appeared before God. At 
the same moment they shall arise, when * all that are in 
their graves shall come forth : they that have done good, 
to the resurrection of life ; and they that have done evil, to 
the resurrection of damnation.' " 

One of these individuals w^as James Murray, whose 
brief history is now presented. Those who knew him best, 
will rejoice to see his portrait true to the life, as he was 
after he had been taught by the Spirit of God. 

He w^as a native of Ireland. His parents resided a few 
miles from Belfast, and were in very respectable circum- 
stances in life. There he received the rudiments of a good 
education, as it was the wish of his parents to establish him 
in some mercantile employment. 

In religious belief they were followers of the Romish 
church, and they trained their children in the same faith. 
From his school, where he had acquired some knowledge 
of the Latin and Greek, he was sent at an early age to Bel- 
fast, where his brothers w^ere then engaged in profitable 
business. There he was apprenticed to an apothecary, with 
whom he remained three years. From that station he was 



HISTORY OF CORPORAL MURRAY. 3 

sent to the College of Physicians and Surgeons at Glasgow, 
Scotland ; but he remained there only a short period, when, 
without the knowledge of his parents, he shipped for Amer- 
ica. The reasons which induced him to take this rash step 
are not now known with certainty. It is probable that 
among them were a roving spirit, and the flattering hope of 
accumulating wealth. In this last he was disappointed ; 
but his failure may have been the means of securing to him 
an eternal treasure. 

Soon after reaching Canada, he opened in Quebec, in 
company with another, a store of drugs and medicines, of 
which he had considerable knowledge. 

Not succeeding in this business, discouraged and heart- 
broken, he wandered from place to place, a stranger in a 
land of strangers ; and at length, wishing to forget his folly, 
his parents, and his native country, he enlisted as a soldier 
in the United States army at Boston, in the year 1830. 

If he had not endeavored to drown his self-made sor- 
rows by the use of ardent spirits before this period, and if 
this had not been one of the principal causes of his enter- 
ing the service, he had not been long in the army, where 
the whiskey-ration was then dealt out to him as regularly as 
his bread and meat, before he was confirmed in habits of 
intemperance. 

Indeed, he needed no small share of moral courage to 
stand erect as a temperate man, when, so universally, 

" Drinking was the soldier's pleasure." 

Could he bear to have old soldiers laugh at him as they 
swallowed the liquid fire, and call him a bahy, white-livered, 
because he could not drink his two gills a day ? How much 
reason have my friends of the army now to praise God that 



4 HISTORY OF CORPORAL MURRAY. 

this patronized, fostered reign of luhisTcey is passed ; that 
they who now come temperate to the ranks, are not brought 
under its influence ; that government now kindly provides 
the nutritious sugar and coffee, instead of that mischief- 
making, soul-destroying poison. 

It was not so when Murray enlisted. Those who knew 
him will remember the influence which the drunkard's drink 
had upon his athletic form and vigorous mind, while using 
the daily whiskey-ration at Fort Howard. 

Removed to the wild frontier, a thousand miles west 
from the place of his enlistment, exposed to temptations in 
every form, and wishing to cast oblivion over his past life, 
he often indulged in the most brutal intoxication. Frequent 
exposure and hardships, brought upon himself by that 
course of utter folly, soon undermined his strong constitu- 
tion, and planted the seeds of disease which has so early 
terminated his life. 

Yet the intelligence and skill of Murray soon drew the 
attention of his oflicers, and he was promoted to the rank 
of corporal. 

But this did not conquer his craving thirst. How could 
it, when the fire was daily fed by the dealing out of his 
two gills ? The vulture thus preying upon his liver, and 
encouraged by government sanction to drink, his allowance 
was soon not sufficient to answer the cry of " Give, give," 
which he felt coming up continually from his burning breast. 
Often intoxicated, the patience of his officers was exhausted, 
and he was at length tried for drunkenness, broken, and 
reduced to the ranks. 

He had yet some ambition, and by a strong eff'ort 
abstained for a season, till he regained the confidence of the 
commander and was restored to his station, which he re- 



HISTORY OF CORPORAL MURRAY. 5 

tained to the day when his feJ low- soldiers accompanied him 
with reversed arms ; showing that these weapons would be 
used by him no more — that, as a soldier, he was at rest. 

It was in the autumn of 1832 that my personal ac- 
quaintance with Corporal Murray commenced. Company 
" A " arrived at Fort Brady in October of that year. They 
had heard of the blessed outpouring of the Spirit of God 
which we had enjoyed the winter and spring previous ; that 
most of the officers at that post, and many of the enlisted 
men, had been converted, and had publicly professed their 
faith in Christ ; that ardent spirits had been entirely ex- 
cluded from the fort ; and that most of the men had also 
given up the pernicious beer. 

Their curiosity was of course excited about these 
** strange things." For a time they watched cautiously the 
influence of these temperance measures and prayer-meetings 
upon the character of soldiers ; but soon some of them were 
led to wish they could share the happiness they saw their 
companions in arms enjoying. They were convinced that 
there is a joy in the duties of piety which they had never 
experienced, and that the religion of Christ is fitted to bless 
men in every condition in life ; that it can give comfort in 
the barracks, as well as in the quiet dwelling ; in the camp, 
as well as in the cottage ; on the wild frontier, as well as 
in the peaceful village. The first step in reform, with many 
of them, was to add their names to the Temperance Soci- 
ety. 

In that distant outpost, near where the magnificent Lake 
Superior empties its crystal waters through the broad, 
translucent river St. Mary, withdrawn from the more busy 
scenes of public life, and removed from many of the temp- 
tations to drink with which they had long been surrounded 
VOL. IX. 21 



6 HISTORY OF CORPORAL MURRAY. 

they found it comparatively easy to make the pledge of 
total abstinence, and to keep it. 

Corporal Murray was among the first in company " A " 
that joined the Temperance Society. Before doing this, 
after he reached Fort Brady, notwithstanding the strength 
of his mind and his resolution to the contrary, he was once 
intoxicated. He knew that he was exposed again and again 
to fall, if he did not seek some new shield to defend him- 
self. The Society offered him this defence ; he took it, and 
it was the probable means of saving him from a di-unkard's 
grave and a miserable eternity. He never repented that step. 
Happy are they who follow his example in this thing. 

Being a Roman Catholic, he at first ridiculed the relig- 
ious meetings ; and instead of attending them, used to go to 
the quarters of an Irish family next door, and pass the time 
which we devoted to the worship of God, in card-playing. 
While we begged the Lord to forgive them, we could hear 
their fearful oaths and senseless laugh. In profaneness, I 
am told, he had then hardly his equal in the camp. One 
night he was determined to break up our praying by his 
oaths and noise. In this he did not succeed. Afterwards, 
when he looked back on that scene with shame and grief, he 
said, *' I did not know what I was doing." 

I was first led to inquire the name of this man, by see- 
ing his manly form and generous features regularly at church 
on the Sabbath. And with great pleasure I learned that 
he had so far cast off the trammels of his Romish educa- 
tion as to listen with a degree of interest to the word of 
God. 

Besides attending pubhc worship on the Sabbath, he 
was at length brought into the Bible class. The pleasing, 
solemn scenes of that post-schoolhouse, where we studied 



HISTORY OF CORPORAL MURRAY. 7 

together " the glorious Gospel of the blessed God," many 
will never forget. The truths there heard, I doubt not, will 
prove to many "a savor of life unto life ;'' and thus be 
remembered to eternity. 

It was there the Lord convinced Murray of sin, and 
showed him that all the ceremonies of the Romish church 
were in vain to his salvation. For a time he thought if he 
became moral, broke off drinking, swearing, and Sabbath - 
breaking, and did what the world calls honorable, he should 
secure heaven ; but then he had not seen the depravity of 
his heart, his entire natural pollution, and the necessity of 
the blood of Christ to cleanse from all sin. He long con- 
cealed his feelings, too proud to acknowledge that he was 
seeking peace from religion. Then he was loud in argu- 
ments and full of cavilHng against the truth. But con- 
science would not sleep. It was as a fire shut iip in his 
bones. He saw the operations of the Spirit on the minds 
of others. Some of his companions were rejoicing in the 
hope that God had forgiven their sins, and others were 
asking what they should do to be saved. 

In the spring of 1833 his feelings were such that he 
could conceal them no longer. He had been so opposed to 
religion that his associates could hardly believe him sincere 
when he told them he was resolved to seek the Lord. Yet 
his deep solemnity and perseverance soon convinced them 
that he was not trying to deceive. 

With great pleasure I learned that he wished to be in- 
structed in the way of life. With deep emotion he told 
me how conscious he was of his lost condition, and begged 
to know if there was mercy for such a sinner. He thought, 
he said, that he was willing to submit to God, but that God 
would not receive him. But the true reason why he was 



8 HIrfTORY OF CORPORAL MURRAY. 

not then accepted is contained in these, words of Christ : 
" Ye Avill not come to me, that ye may have hfe." 

I knelt and prayed with him, begging the Lord to break 
the chains of sin, and dehver him from that device of Sa- 
tan which has destroyed so many souls ; but he arose, with 
others in the same state of mind, yet unsubdued. For days 
they remained in this darkness, inclined to cast the blame 
of their impenitence on God. The difficulty was, that 
they yet depended on themselves, and feared to trust their 
all to Christ. They would not, like the sinking Peter, feel 
that there was no hope except in the power and mercy of 
the Saviour, and cry confidently, "Lord, save; I perish!" 
They feared to trust their souls to Jesus. 

But, thanks to our almighty Saviour, they at length saw 
their error; and some found peace and joy in believing. 
In one of our delightful Bible- class meetings, corporal 
Murray hoped that his sins were forgiven ; and that, un- 
worthy as he was, he had been accepted for Christ's sake. 
As he told me of his hope, my soul, that had travailed for 
him,. rejoiced exceedingly, and I could have fallen on his 
neck to kiss him, when I looked upon him as created anew 
in Christ Jesus. In a brief time he was again surrounded 
with clouds and fears, until, while reclining one night on 
his bunk in the guard-room, and offering ceaseless prayer to 
be enlightened from above, he hoped he was truly renewed 
by the Holy Ghost. 

When I next met him, he said, " I think I have good 
news for you;" and joy beamed in his countenance as he 
spoke. In describing that scene, he said, " The feelings of 
my heart remind me of that part of our Saviour's instruc- 
tions to Nicodemus : * Marvel not that I said unto you, ye 
must be born again. The wind bloweth where it listeth. 



HISTORY OF CORPORAL MURRAY 9 

and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence 
it Cometh, nor whither it goeth ; so is every one that is born 
of the Spirit.' " I could not but rejoice in the hope that he 
had been thus born. 

The last Sabbath of April following, he publicly pro- 
fessed his faith in Christ with several of his companions, 
and sat down to the table of the Lord with the little band 
of believers which had been gathered at this distant point, 
and which, eight days after, was scattered over this frontier, 
never again to meet as a church, till all who then partook 
worthily, shall meet in heaven, to feast at the great supper 
of the Lamb. 

Sixteen months have now passed since that solemn, 
pleasing day. With excited hopes and many fears for the 
lambs of the scattered flock, who were thrown into scenes 
of trial, in a few days from that event we landed at Chicago 
and entered the fort. None entered it with a more health- 
ful countenance or a firmer step than Corporal Murray ; but 
he is the first of that band of professed soldiers of the cross 
whose death Ave have been called to mourn. 

Though, after his arrival here, temptations came in neiv 
and ever-varying forms, and on that account tenfold more 
dangerous, yet, by the grace of God, he was able to resist 
and come off more than conqueror. 

Though, before conversion, he was notoriously and aw- 
fully profane, since then, not an oath has been heard from 
his lips. Though before often intoxicated, and at times 
apparently past hope, he has since entirely abstained, not 
only from ardent spirits, but from ivine, strong beer, and all 
inebriating drinks. He saw that these enemies had cast 
down many wounded ; that the first drink generally broke 
the charm, and was followed by inevitable ruin ; and hii 
VOL. IX. -1'' 



10 HISTORY OF CORPORAL MURRAY. 

resolution never to touch or taste remained unshaken to the 
hour of death. By grace he was saved, through faith. 

Although, previous to his conviction of sin, a strong 
supporter of the Romish church, he has since looked upon 
it as the deceiver of the nations ; as '' that man of sin, the 
son of perdition, Avho opposeth and exalteth himself above 
all that is called God, or that is worshipped ; so that he, as 
God, sitteth in the temple of God, showing himself that he 
is God." He deplored the influence of this faith over his 
native country, and feared that his parents were still en- 
slaved in its iron fetters. 

Even the enemies of the faith in which he died are con- 
strained to confess that, from the time of his making a 
religious profession, he maintained an untarnished name. 
Sweet is the memory of the just. 

Though, previous to his moral change, he felt that by his 
own good works he could secure eternal life, since then he 
has ever felt that all our righteousness is but filthy rags — 
that he could be accepted of God only on account of the 
merits and atonement of Christ. 

As a Christian, he was meek and retiring, yet firm and 
unwaverino-. Where others fell, to the fearful woundincr of 
the cause of the Lord, he, sustained by grace, stood un- 
shaken. Let who else would be absent from church, his 
place was regularly filled Avhen not detained by duty or 
sickness. Rarely was he absent from our evening prayer- 
meeting. And never was a word of accusation brought 
against Corporal Murray by brother or by enemy. Yet he 
had sad occasion to weep over the backsliding of many 
around. When speaking of the inactivity and remissness 
of some professed Christians, I once said to him, " Do these 
things make you doubt the truth of religion ?" He replied 



HISTORY OF C(JRPORAL MURRAY. U 

with a pleasing firmness, '* no, sir, no ; I have that within 
me that will not let me doubt." 

As a soldier, he was a pattern of faithfulness and punc- 
tuality. Pleased to obey every command of his superiors, 
he was strict in requiring obedience from those whom it 
was his duty to command. Though educated for a very 
different station in life from that Avhich he at last filled, in 
this he was contented and happy, after he had learned, from 
experience, the true source of peace of mind, in the service 
of the Lord. And in this he intended to remain till he had 
kept his oath to serve the United States five years faithfully. 
Those years were fast passing away, and he was beginning 
to anticipate pleasure in civil life, as a teacher or farmer, 
when he was unexpectedly discharged from his warfare by 
death. From the army on earth we trust he has been trans- 
ferred to the hosts of heaven ; from the ranks of enlisted 
men, to the privileges of God's elected sons. 

On Thursday, September 11, Major W. came to inform 
me of his illness. "Corporal Murray," said he, "and an- 
other man are very sick, and the physicians pronounce their 
disease cholera." 

I hastened to the hospital and found the men in extreme 
pain. The features of Murray were ghastly ; his flesh 
seemed to have vanished ; the pain of his cramped limbs 
was severe, and a constant hiccough indicated a fearful 
stage of disease. 

His first remark, as I took his cold, clammy hand, was, 
*'I believe I am about to leave you, Mr. ." 

" It may be so ; but I hope the Lord will please to spare 
you. How do you feel in this near prospect of death ?" 

" It does not look fearful," he replied ; " I am not afraid 
to die." 



22 HISTuRY OF CORPORAL MURRAY. 

" Your confidence at this hour is in Christ, I trust." 

** In Christ only — only through his merits do I hope for 
acceptance." 

His incessant hiccoughing made it impossible for him to 
say much. After praying with him, asking only that the 
will of the Lord miorht be done, I turned to mark his feel- 
ings. His hands were still clasped and raised in the atti- 
tude of prayer, and his eyes fixed as if beholding glory, 
invisible to those around him. 

His actions and his words exhibited a cheerful resigna- 
tion to the will of God. When allowed to quench his 
burning thirst with a spoonful of barley-Avater or a few ' 
drops of ether, he said to me, " This is a small allowance ; 
my heart is burning in me." 

"Yes," said I; "but how enviable is your condition, 
compared with theirs who, in the lake of fire, call in vain 
for a drop of water to cool their burning tongues." 

" Yes, yes," he replied, " I hope that may never be my 
case." 

Sabbath noon, one week from the day we had been pres- 
ent together at the commemoration of the Saviour's death, 
I conversed with him for the last time. Still, his confidence 
Avas in Christ Jesus, with, whom he hoped to reign for ever 
and ever. In referring, then, to that last opportunity of 
communing with the people of God, and contemplating the 
prospects of soon meeting his ascended Lord at his table in 
heaven, he had strong consolation. Death was making rapid 
progress ; and the friend whose spiritual life I had watched 
with so much interest from the hour of his new birth, could 
hardly be aroused from the fearful sleep that was stealing 
upon him. At times he was in a measure delirious. After 
this interview he had no rational conversation with any one. 



HISTORY OF CORPORAL MURRAY. 13 

In moments of mental wandering, lioAvever, he spoke of de- 
liverance from sin ; and once, with great beauty and confi- 
dence, exclaimed, as though conscious of present pain and 
sure of speedy relief, " There's rest hereafter ; I'll go hail 

for itr 

When I called on Monday morning, he had just ceased 
to breathe ; he had " fallen asleep." 

" His languishing head was at rest — 
Its thinking and aching were o'er." 

It was pleasant to think, as I looked upon his noble features, 
silent in death, that his soul was now enjoying the society 
of the redeemed in heaven. 

But with painful emotions I turned to the bed of his 
companion in suffering, whose blood-shot eyes and deep 
gasping told that soon his spirit too would be in eternity. 
In looking at him I was cheered with no comforting hope 
that his would be the death of the righteous. For him, 
that was a fearful hour. In fifteen minutes he too was 
dead. They fell together ; yet it may be true of them, that 
" one was taken, and the other left ;" that one will arise to 
the resurrection of life, the other to the resurrection of dam- 
nation. Who will think it wise to put off preparation for 
death to such an hour as that ? 

" Death cannot make our souls afraid, 
If God be with us there." 

But if God be not with us, who will dare to die ? " It is a 
fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God !" 

It was faith in our Lord Jesus Christ which enabled our 
departed friend Murray to look with pleasure upon ap- 
proaching death. Christ was his Rock. They who build 
on any other foundation will find it treacherous. May his 



14 HftTORY OF CORPORAL MURRAY. 

fellow- disciples, having begun by repentance and faith, 
" continue to the end ;" and may those who know not his 
spiritual joy, break off their sins by repentance, and bring- 
forth the fruits of righteousness. Only they who do so, 
can hope to enter the kingdom of heaven. 

He fell on guard, both as an American soldier and as a 
soldier of the cross. Blessed are they whom the Lord, when 
he cometh, shall find so doing. 

I may not detain the reader by telling my emotions 
as I watched the ebb of life from the sunken features of 
Murray, and thought of his parents four thousand miles 
distant, so ignorant of the fate of their son. How many, 
like him, wander from the friends of their childhood ; yet 
how few, comparatively, secure the friendship of the Sav- 
iour, and exchange, in death, the pallet for a mansion in 
heaven. 

"Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his 
saints." And every remembrance of those we love is pre- 
cious, whom we have seen falhng asleep in Jesus. This 
feeling prompted me to go immediately from the grave of 
Corporal Murray to his room, to inquire if he had left any 
manuscripts that would throw any light on his history, or 
on the feelings of his heart. 

I found but three papers, yet these were pleasing me- 
mentos. His library consisted of a Bible, which he had pur- 
chased ; a New Testament, presented to him by his pastor ; 
a Village Hymn-book, given him by Mrs. H. at Fort Brady ; 
and a few choice Tracts. 

The manuscripts were, the Constitution and Proceed- 
ings of the Company " A" Temperance Society, of which 
he was Secretary ; his answers to the questions of the Bible 
class, which he wrote out at the time he attended it; and 



HISTORY OF CORPORAL MURRAY. 15 

a memorandum, in which he had written two hymns and a 
brief comment on a passage of Scripture. 

Not a letter, or any clue to his early history, could be 
found. And these three papers were all that showed any 
thing of the feelings of his heart. But these were peculiarly 
gratifying, since, though dead, he speaks forcibly by them 
of the ground of his hope, and the source of his conso- 
lation. 

The sentiments of the first hymn were drawn from the 
passage of Scripture, John 16 : 2, "In my Father's house 
are many mansions," etc. I may not lengthen this narra- 
tive by copying both these beautiful hymns ; but leave the 
reader to judge of the feelings of his heart from the second, 
which follows. 

" Now adieu, ye fields of gladness, 
Fields wherein I used to roam ; 
But without a tear of sadness, 
I can leave thee, O my home : 

Jesus calls me — 
I am ready ; Lord, I come. 

What though darkness, pain, and sorrow. 

Consummate my early doom ; 
What though dying moments borrow 

Fearful shadows from the tomb : 
Light immortal 

Soon shall dissipate the gloom. 

See unnumbered angels flinging 
Golden crowns before his throne ; 

Hark ! the ransomed spirits singing 
Notes to mortal ears unknown : 

' Thou art worthy ! 
Jesus, Saviour, thou alone !' 



2Q HISTORY OF CORPORAL MURRAY. 

Lingering bonds of nature sever — 

O for pinions like a dove ; 
Heavenly wings, to soar for ever 

With angelic hosts above : 
Singing, ' Glory ! 

Glory to redeeming love !'" 

The wish expressed in this last verse seems almost to 
have been a prophetic one ; and as it so beautifully shows 
that his treasure and his heart were in heaven, I cannot 
doubt but he who, six days before, was with us in the 
prayer-meeting, assisting our songs of praise with the sweet- 
tuned flute, is now striking a heavenly harp in concert with 
angel voices, as they sing with rapture the ceaseless song, 

" Glory, glory to redeeming love !" 

" Many die as sudden, few as safe." Reader, would 
you meet death in peace ; would you shout victory as you 
enter the deep waters ; would you triumph over death, the 
last enemy of the redeemed ; seek now an assurance that 
the Saviour is your friend. Be faithful and honest with 
yourself and your God. Repent, and believe on the Lord 
Jesus Christ, and you shall be saved. 



]\o. 330. 

"I'VE NO THOUGHT OF DYING SO," 



AN AUTHENTIC NARRATIVE. 



A B was a son of wealthy and influential par- 
ents, in one of the northern counties of the state of New 
York ; and the substance of what I am about to relate is 
well known in the neighborhood where he lived and died. 

He commenced business for himself early in life, and 
exhibited considerable shrewdness and energy of mind. 
But the safeguards of virtue and piety did not shield him in 
the perilous season of youth ; and he soon became, in the 
language of the world, a bold, generous-hearted fellow, 
growing in popularity and wealth. He was above the fear 
of religious admonition and the authority of the Bible ; and 
was considered quite able to confute any Christian believer. 
He was indeed a young man of promise ; but his life was a 
dreadful illustration of the words of holy writ : " the heart 
of the sons of men is full of evil, and madness is in their 
heart Avhile they live ; • and his end was a scene of thicken- 
ing horrors. 

About a year before his death, and not above five years 

asfo, A B was ridina^ with an intimate friend, when 

the conversation which follows was held. This friend, as he 
now says, was, at the time, considerably impressed by re- 
ligious truth ; but, that he might be comforted in his impen- 
itence by the scepticism of his more intelligent and reckless 
comrade, or for some other reason, he felt desirous to know 

B -"'s sentiments fully in religion. Accordingly, after a 

little hesitation, he commenced by saying, 

" B , you and I have been much together, and have 

confidence, I believe, in each other as friends. We have 
conversed freely upon almost every subject ; but there is one 
that we have never seriously talked about. It is a subject 
VOL. IX. 22 



2 "FVR NO THOUGHT OF DYING SO." 

that has troubled me for some time ; and I should like to 
know what are really your candid opinions. If you don't 
wish to have them told, I will keep the matter to myself." 

" 0, certainly," was the reply, " I've no objection against 
making known any of my opinions." 

"Well, then," said Henry — for so I will name his 
fiiend — " what do you think about the Bible ? Is it true ? 
And is there any such thing as religion ; or is it all a delu- 



sion 



"Why, as to that," said B , "I've no more doubt 

that there is a God, and that religion is a reality, and that it 
is necessary to be what the Christians call pious in order to 
be happy hereafter, than that we are riding together." 

Henry was greatly surprised ; and looking at him intent- 
ly, to see whether there was not designed trifling, B 

proceeded. 

" It is plain enough that the Bible is true. It's a book 
that no mere man could ever have written ; and a book, in 
my opinion, that no one, however wicked he may be, can 
read, and believe in his heart to be an imposition. I have 
tried often to believe so. And no one can look at the Chris- 
tian religion, and see what it is designed to effect, without 
feeling that it must be from God. In fact, no man can be 

a Deist who isn't a fool. For reason and conscience 

confirm the Christian doctrines, and satisfy me that there is 
a place of happiness and of misery hereafter." 

Henry was amazed at these confessions from one who 
had been nurtured in infidelity, and was regarded by the 
pious as a heaven-daring young man. At length he replied, 

" If this is your belief, B , you're in an awful situation. 

What can you think of your present course?" 

"Why, it's a pretty bad one, to be sure; but I've no 
thought of cbjing so. I mean to become a Christian. But 
tlie fact is, a man must have property : unless he has, he is 
scarcely respected even by Christians themselves. And I 
mean to make money and enjoy life ; and when I've got 
things around me to my mind, then I will be liberal and 



"I'VE NO THOUGHT OF 1)Y1NG SO." 3 

feed the poor, and do good — that's the way church-mem- 
bers do." 

" But how long do you think it will be safe for you to 
indulge your present habits ? Being out late and drinking 
have already injured your health." 

"I've thought of that," answered B . ''But I'm 

young and hearty ; though I intend to quit cards and drink- 
ing pretty soon." 

" I speak as a friend, B ; but I did not suppose, 

from what I have heard you say, that you believed in a 
Saviour, or in heaven or hell." 

"I do, as much as you or any man." 

*'Doyou remember playing cards at ?" And 

here Henry referred to most horrid j)rofanity uttered during 
a night of carousal. 

'' Oh, when I swore so, I was a little intoxicated ; but I 
felt sorry for it afterwards. I know it's wrong, and I always 
feel sorry. But when I'm among those fellows, I can't very 
well help it." 

"But how often," continued his still doubting friend, 
" have I heard you say, that religion was nothing but priest- 
craft, and that Christians were a pack of fools?" 

" I know I've said so when they've crossed my path, and 
made me angr}^ And I think now, that a good many of 
those who pretend to be Christians are nothing but hypo- 
crites. But that there is real religion, and that there are 
some who possess it, and have what you and I know nothing 
about, it's no use to deny." 

The conversation continued much in this strain for some 
time ; and made a deep and most happy impression on the 
mind of Henry. 

As for his companion, "madness was in his heart" as 
lono; as he lived, and he soon went " to the dead." He 
continued to drink, until he was known to be a drunkard. 
He mingled with gamblers, till his moral sensibilities seemed 
wholly blunted. At length, after a night of dissipation, he 
started for home — was thrown from his wagon, and badly 



4 "I'VE NO THOUGHT OF DYING so." 

bruised; disease set in, with dreadful severity, upon his 
constitution, greatly enfeebled by irregularities; and in a 
little space delirium tremens hurried him to his grave. 

Every reader may well be astonished at the inconsisten- 
cies, as well as shocked at the impiety of this poor wretch ; 
yet who can avoid seeing that his character is essentially 
that of thousands who mean finally to enter the kingdom of 
heaven ? Are there not many who read this, respectable 
before the world ; free, as they think, from gross vices, and 
from danger; that have already entered the path which 
sunk tliis young man to eternal night ? Let the gay and the 
fashionable, and especially let every young man remember, 
that the steps which take hold on hell are by no means sel- 
dom those which ^rs^ lead to the convivial card-party. Here 
the lovers of pleasure find an atmosphere peculiarly intoxi- 
cating, which renders serious society and instructive employ- 
ment altogether distasteful ; and are drawn, step by step, 
into the associated vices which destroy body and soul. 

Let him who peruses this narrative also remember, that, 
however confident and bold he may be in scepticism, his 
confidence will desert him at the hour of need. Nay, his 
hopes from any system of infidelity will vanish now, if he 
will only sit down and reflect — if he will but seriously list- 
en, for a few hours, to the sober decisions of reason and 
conscience. 

And finally, let no one imagine that religion is something 
always, as it were, waiting on him : a prize which, at any 
future time, he has little more to do than to reach out his 
hand and take. It is not so. And yet many trust in this 
delusion, and quiet themselves with this hope, at the very 
hour that they are passing the bounds of mercy. Reader, 
are you saying, " I've no thought of dying as I am — I mean 
to become a Christian ?" Beware. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



"WHERE DID HE GET THAT LAW?" 



In a neat and beautiful city, in one of the northern 
states, lived a lawyer of eminence and talents. I do not 
know many particulars of his moral character ; but he was 
notoriously profane. He had a negro boy, at whom his 
neighbors used to hear him swear with awful violence. One 
day this gentlemen met a decided Christian, who was also 
a lawyer, and said to him, " I wish, sir, to examine into the 
truth of the Christian religion. What books would you 
advise me to read on the evidences of Christianity ?" 

The pious lawyer, surprised at the inquir}^, replied, 
" That is a question, sir, which you ought to have settled 
long ago. You ought not to have put off a subject so im- 
portant to this late period of life." 

'•' It is too late," said the inquirer. " I never knew much 
about it ; but I always supposed that Christianity was re- 
jected by the great majority of learned men. I intend, how- 
ever, now to examine the subject thoroughly myself. I 
have upon me, as my physician says, a mortal disease, under 
which I may live a year and a half, or two years, but not 
probably longer. What books, sir, would you advise me 
to read?" 

"The Bible," said the other. 

"I believe you do not understand me," resumed the 
unbeliever, surprised in his turn; ''I wish to investigate the 
tnifh of the Bible." 

" I would advise you, sir," repeated his Christian friend, 
" to read the Bible. And," he continued, " I will give you 
my reasons. Most infidels are very ignorant of the Scrip- 
tures. Now, to reason on any subject Avith correctness, we 
must understand what it is about which we reason. In the 
next place, I consider the internal evidence of the truth of 
the Scriptures stronger than the external." 

VOL. IX. '-^2^' 



2 WHERE DID HE GET THAT LAW 1 

"And where shall I begin ?" inquired the unbeliever. 
"At the New Testament?" 

"No," said the other; "at the beginning- — at Genesis," 

The infidel bought a commentary, went home, and sat 
down to the serious study of the Scriptures. He applied 
all his strong and well-disciplined powers of mind to the 
Bible, to try rigidly but impartially its truth. As he w^ent 
on in the perusal, he received occasional calls from his pro- 
fessional friend. The infidel freely remarked upon what he 
had read, and stated his objections. He liked this passage — 
he thought that touching and beautiful — but he could not 
credit a third. 

One evening the Christian lawyer called, and found the 
unbeliever at home, w^alking the room with a dejected look, 
his mind apparently absorbed in thought. He continued, 
not noticing that any one had come in, busily to trace and 
retrace his steps. His friend at length spoke, " You seem, 
sir," said he, " to be in a brown study. Of what are you 
thinking?" 

"I have been reading," replied the infidel, "the moral 

LAW." 

"Well, what do you think of it?" asked his friend. 

" I will tell you what I used to think," answered the in- 
fidel. " I supposed that Moses was the leader of a horde 
of banditti ; that having a strong mind, he acquired great 
influence over a superstitious people ; and that on Mount 
Sinai he played oflf some sort of fireworks, to the amaze- 
ment of his ignorant followers, Avho imagined, in their min- 
gled fear and superstition, that the exhibition w^as super- 
natural." 

" But what do you think now ?" interposed his friend. 

"I have been looking," said the infidel, "into the ?iatuye 
of that law. I have been trying to see w^hether I can add 
any thing to it, or take any thing from it, so as to make it 
better. Sir, I cannot. It is j^erfect.'' 

" The first commandment," continued he, "directs us to 
make the Creator the object of our supreme love and rev- 
erence. That is right. If he be our Creator, Preserver, 



WHERE DID HE GET THAT LAW 1 3 

and supreme Benefactor, we ought to treat him, and none 
other, as such. 

" The second forbids idohitry. That certainly is right. 

" The third forbids profaneness. 

"The fourth fixes a time for rehgious worship. If there 
be a God, he ought surely to be worshipped. It is suitable 
that there should be an outward homage, significant of our 
iuAvard regard. If God be worshipped, it is proper that 
some time should be set apart for that purpose, when all 
may worship him harmoniously and without interruption. 
One day in seven is certainly not too much ; and I do not 
know that it is too little. 

" The fifth defines the peculiar duties arising from the 
family relations. 

" Injuries to our neighbor are then classified by the 
moral law. They are divided into offences against life, chas- 
tity, property, and character. And," said he, applying a 
legal idea Avith legal acuteness, *' I notice that the greatest 
offence in each class is expressly forbidden. Thus, the great- 
est injury to life is murder ; to chastity, adultery ; to prop- 
erty, theft; to character, perjury. Now the greater offence 
must include the less of the same kind. Murder must in- 
clude every injury to life ; adultery every injury to purity ; 
and so of the rest. And the moral code is closed and per- 
fected by a command forbidding every improper desire in 
regard to our neighbor. 

"I have been thinking," he proceeded, ''where did 
MosES GET THAT LAW ? I liave read history : the Egyp- 
tians and the adjacent nations were idolaters ; so were the 
Greeks and Romans ; and the wisest and best Greeks or 
Romans never gave a code of morals like this. Where did 
Moses get this laiv, which surpasses the wisdom and philos- 
ophy of the most enlightened ages ? He lived at a period 
comparatively barbarous ; but he has given a law, in which 
the learning and sagacity of all subsequent time can detect 
no flaw. Where did he get it ? He could not have soared 
so far above his age as to have devised it himself. I am 
satisfied where he obtained it. It must have come from 



4 WHERE DID HE GET THAT LAW ? 

heaven. I am convinced of the truth of the rehgion of the 
Bible." 

The infidel — infidel no longer — remained to his death a 
lirm believer in the truth of Christianity. He lived several 
years after this conversation ; about three, I believe. He 
continued to pursue the study of the Bible — his views of the 
Christian religion expanding and growing correct. Pro- 
faneness was abandoned. An oath was now as offensive to 
him as it was familiar before. When his former gay com- 
panions used one, he habitually reproved them. He remon- 
strated with them upon its folly and want of meaning, and 
said that he could never imagine before, how painful pro- 
fane language must be to a Christian. But did he become 
a sincere disciple of Christ ? He always expressed great 
doubt upon that point. He could hope for nothing from 
the world, and he was afraid that he mio-ht choose other 
pleasures from that circumstance, without a radical change 
of heart. 

I learned these particulars, a few years since, from one 
of the parties ; and have endeavored to give them with 
strict accuracy. 

Let the reader meditate on this history, for it is believed 
to be- rich in practical instruction. The main thought is 
this, that the moral law is a monument — a sublime monu- 
ment of the great moral transaction at Sinai, in the de- 
livery of the ten commandments. But mark also the spe- 
cies of unbelief here exhibited ; the improvement made of a 
lingering disease ; the judicious advice and kind attention 
of the Christian friend ; the beautiful arrangement of Provi- 
dence by which these concurred ; the excellence of the 
moral law as explained and felt ; and, under the blessing of 
the Holy Sj)irit, the glorious reforming power of the Bible. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



No. 323. 

MOTIVES TO EARLY PIETY. 



BY THE LATE HARLAN PAGE. 

My dear young Friend — While I see so many youth 
hastening unprepared to eternity, I cannot forbear caUing to 
you to stop for a moment, and consider what affecting mo- 
tives urge you to make your peace with God. 

Your Christian friends earnestly desire your salvation. 
They see your danger. They know that unless your heart 
is renewed by the Holy Spirit, your soul must be lost. It 
is with pain that they see you in the pursuit of sinful pleas- 
ure, trifling away your precious time, and treasuring up 
wrath against the day of wrath, preparing for a more ag- 
gravated doom. They plead with you. They weep and 
pray for you, night and day. They long to rejoice over you 
as a new-born heir of heaven. And must they plead, and 
Aveep, and pray for you in vain ? do not despise their re- 
proof. Let them embrace you as a fellow-heir of the grace 
of life. Let their hearts be made glad by seeing you turn- 
ing from sin and folly, and accepting the offers of eternal 
life. 

The angels of God desire your salvation. Yes, their 
golden harps are tuned to raise a louder song of joy over 
every one who will repent. Will you not be the first to 
cause the arches of heaven to reecho, that another wanderer 
has returned ? Shall angels long for your salvation, and 
you be unconcerned about it yourself ? But more, 

Christ himself desires your salvation. For this he be- 
came "a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief." For 
this he endured the agony of the garden and the cross. He 
calls you, by his word, by his providence, and by his Spirit. 
He declares that he " is not wiHing that any should perish, 
but that all should come to repentance." And shall he call 
in vain ? Is it nothing to you, that he shed his precious 
blood, and bore the wrath of Jehovah for perishing sinners ? 



2 iMOTIVEri TO EARLY PIETY. 

heart of adamant, that will not melt in view of such 
condescension, suftering, and love. vile ingratitude, that 
can behold, unmoved, " the Son of God in tears," offer- 
ing himself for man's redemption. 

Consider, also, the glories of heaven. There is the throne 
of God and of the Lamb. There, the pure river of the 
water of life for ever flows. There, saints and angels offer 
their unceasing praises. There, your departed Christian 
fiiends mingle their voices with the heavenly choir. There, 
all unite in shouting, " Hallelujah, hallelujah, for the Lord 
God omnipotent reigneth." " Blessing, and honor, and 
glory, and power, be unto Him that sitteth on the throne, 
and -unto the Lamb for ever and ever." There, every hum- 
ble penitent at last arrives. There is the consummation of 
all his happiness. There he takes his fill of pleasure, for 
ever to increase with his capacity. It is there the angels 
wait to rejoice at your conversion. 

Think, too, of the misery of hell. the horrors of 
despair ! What pencil can paint, what tongue can tell, or 
what pen describe them ? Weeping, and wailing, and gnash- 
ing of teeth constitute the horrid discord of the abodes of 
the damned. There, the stings of a guilty conscience, that 
worm that never dies ; heart-rending reflections on murdered 
time; the view of saints in glory afar off; the surrounding 
gloom of the infernal pit ; unavailing lamentations and de- 
spair, all conspire to render their misery complete. 0, 
" who can dwell with devouring fire ? Who can inhabit ever- 
lasting burnings ?" Can you disregard the groans of those 
who are now suftering the just vengeance of an angry God ? 
Will you sleep on, and delay, until you are awakened by the 
liowlings of that tempest which will assuredly be poured 
out upon the wicked ? Alas, what will you then do ; how 
will you then escape, if you "neglect so great salvation?" 
Consider the worth of the soul. Its value can be meas- 
ured only by eternity. When millions of millions of ages 
shall have rolled away, your soul will still be active, and its 
capacity to sutler or enjoy for ever increasing. 



MOTIVES TO EARLY PIETY, 3 

"0 the soul that never dies" — here spending its short 
probation, and preparing for the glories of heaven or mise- 
ries of hell. 

Death is rapidly approaching. Perhaps this night you 
Avill close your eyes to awake in eternity. Thousands have 
been thus surprised. How many of your companions are 
gone, never to return. Their state is fixed. They are now 
enduring the wrath of God, or singing his praises in the 
paradise above. Whoever you are, you may be assured 
that death is nigh to you. To him you must yield, willing 
or unwillinof ; and eternal woe must be your doom, unless 
you haste to Christ, the only refuge from the impending 
storm. remember, that you are mortal, that time flies, 
that death approaches, and that you have yet no hope, but 
are exposed every moment to be cut down, and consigned 
to everlasting ruin. 

The day of judgment is at hand. Soon the loud trump 
of the archangel will awake the sleeping dead ; and you 
among them will come forth to "the resurrection of life," 
or " the resurrection of damnation." Then the Saviour, 
whom you have loved, or despised, will appear in the clouds 
of heaven, to give to every one "according as his work shall 
be." Before him you must stand with assembled millions, 
while he bids you depart, or welcomes you to a seat at his 
right hand. How dreadful must be that day to you, if you 
are not clothed with the robe of Christ's righteousness. 
What will you do v/hen the Judge shall pronounce your 
awful doom ? How will you then feel, when your dear rel- 
atives and friends shall arise to meet Christ in the air, and go 
with him to the New Jerusalem above, while you are left 
behind, a companion of wretched men and devils — for ever 
to sink in misery — for ever to remain an outcast from the 
presence of God, from your Christian friends, and without 
the prospect of any alleviation of your woe ? With Avhat 
agony must you take up your final abode, where "the smoke 
of your torment will ascend up for ever and ever." 

Other motives mio-ht be uro-ed, but if these will not 



4 MOTIVES TO EARLY PIETY. 

awaken you to a sense of your danger, others would be un- 
availing. Now, you have a day of grace. Now, the saints 
are praying for you ; the angels of God wait to rejoice over 
you ; the Lord Jesus Christ, by his ^vord and by his Spirit, 
is entreating you to come ; the glories of heaven are offered 
you ; the miseries of hell are unveiled to your view ; while 
the worth of your soul, the rapid approach of death and 
judgment, urge you to make haste — to escape for your life 
from the destruction that awaits you. 0, my young friend, 
as you value your eternal well-being, I beseech you awake 
from tin's slumber. Arise, and go to Jesus. Go to him a 
iuimble beggar ; go, penitent and believing. None such w^ere 
ever sent empty away. While you tarry, your sins are ac- 
cumulating, your danger is increasing. Delay a little longer, 
and your soul, your precious, immortal soul, is lost for ever. 



As the beloved man who wrote these lines Avas drawing 
near to death, he was asked, " Do you feel that it is your 
choice now to go?" "Yes," he replied, ''if it is God's 
Avill." 

" Should he please to restore you, would you not be 
willing to remain here and labor a little lono-er?" 

*' yes, I think so, if it Avas his will. But my work on 
earth is all done. I want now to go and be with Christ. 
Propliets, and apostles, and martyrs are there ; and many 
pious friends are there — I feel that I should like to meet 
them. Christ will be there ; and we shall be like him, and 
see him as he is: that will be enouo-h." 

Again he repeated the words, "Home, home," and 
prayed, " 0, for a free and full discharge. Lord Jesus, 
come quickly. Why wait thy chariot wheels so long ? I 
dedicate myself to thee. may I have the victory. come 
quickly. Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



J¥o. 3S3. 



THE 



BIBLE AN INSPIRED BOOK. 



PROVED BY SIX ARGUMENTS. 



If a revelation from God is necessary, that Ave may 
know his will, ascertain our duty, and secure our future 
safety, there is presumptive evidence springing from the 
divine benevolence, that it has been given. 

Such revelation is necessary, because the light of na- 
ture, whether regarded in the works of creation and provi- 
dence, or in the moral sense of right and wrong in man, 
fails entirely in communicating a knowledge of the forgive- 
ness of sin, and therefore is insufficient to guide us in the 
very first step towards happiness. 

If it be s-aid that God is bountiful and kind, patient and 
forbearing, and therefore is merciful and will pardon sin ; 
we reply, that the inference is at least exceedingly equivo- 
cal. A criminal may have a reprieve, .and be allowed 
lodging and support between his condemnation and execu- 
tion ; but all these afford no pledge of his pardon. The 
aigument from God's goodness, if carried out, would prove 
that there neither is, nor can be, evil of any kind in the 
world ; a conclusion which our own experience sufficiently 
contradicts. A revelation, therefore, is necessary ; and this 
revelation we have in the Bible. 

I. PROOF FROM PROPHECY. 

In the Bible we find predictions recorded, the corre- 
sponding events happening afterwards, and the events such 
as no human sagacity could have foreseen. 

It is admitted that uninspired men have sometimes fore- 
told events which have afterwards come to pass. In the 
diversified combination of things, they have been able to 
VOL. IX. '^*^ 



o THE BIBLE AN INSPIRED BOOK. 

conjecture shrewdly; but, in the nature of the events fore- 
told, the systematic arrangement, the precision of circum- 
stance, the unfailing accomplishment, in every thing that 
can foi-m the basis of an argument in favor of inspiration, 
tlie prophecies of Scripture are jjeculiar and unrivalled. 

The bondage of the descendants of Abraham in Egypt 
was foretold to the patriarch, and its exact duration men- 
tioned. 

The captivity of the Jews in Babylon was matter of 
known prophecy, its limitation precisely defined, and Cyrus 
even mentioned by name, as their iuture restorer. 

The utter destruction of Babylon w^as foretold in all its 
minutest circumstances, at the time of its greatest might 
and glory. 

The ruin of the temple of the city of Jerusalem, and the 
dispersion and desolation of the Jewish nation, were all cir- 
cumstantially foretold. And the condition of that people, 
scattered among the nations, peeled, and trodden under 
foot, yet still preserved distinct, and refusing, under every 
combination and pressure of circumstances, to blend with 
those around them, is a continual miracle — a standing cer- 
tificate of the divine origin of Bible prophecy. 

These, and many similar predictions, could only be made 
and fulfilled by that omniscient One, w^ho know^s the end 
from the beginning, and who in the empire of his providence 
does not fail to accomplish his own will. 

Of all the prophecies contained in the Bible, hoAvever, 
those relating to the mission and ivork of Messiah are the 
most prominent and convincing. His incarnation, miracu- 
lous achievements, sufi:erings, death, including the very 
form and circumstances of it, resurrection, and subsequent 
glory, were foretold ages and centuries before the events 
took place. Consult especially Tsa. 53, and Dan. 9. In 
all the predictions respecting Messiah, there is an entire 
^(nity, a perfect system ; a continual development of a sin- 
gle promise, age after age in the progress of the world's 
liistory, without its ever being contradicted or abandoned in 
one solitary instance throughout the Bible. 

The writers of the Old Testament were men of different 
ages; living at different periods; of every variety of rank, 
habit, and pursuit ; liable to be influenced by the fluctua- 
tions of surrounding sentiments, views, and habits; and 



THE BIBLE xVN INSPIRED BOOK. 3 

yet they all coincide in, and never lose sight of, one great 
object of expectation. To this there is no parallel in 
human things ; nor can it be accounted for in any other 
way than by the superintendence and inspiration of the 
Almighty. 

II. PROOF FROM MIRACLES. 

A miracle is a suspension of a known law of nature — a 
result produced above, and contrary to the regular operat- 
ing laws of nature ; such as causing iron to swim, con- 
verting water into wine, and the like. Of these, many are 
recorded, both in the Old and New Testament Scriptures, 
wrought expressly in confirmation of the divine commission 
of those claiming to be the messengers of the divine Avill. 
They are the seal of God's authority to tlie truth of what 
was declared by those who performed them. The man w^ho 
performs what is above his power, must be aided by a supe- 
rior power. If he controls or suspends one law of nature 
Avithout the aid of another, there is proof that the power by 
which these laws are ordained and influenced is exerted on 
his behalf; his divine mission is ratified, and the truth of 
Avhat he declares under this sanction is not to be questioned. 
That follows of course ; for it is mere atheism to imagine 
that the God of truth would thus prostitute his omnipotence 
to sanction imposture, and give falsehood currency. 

That the miraculous facts recorded in the Scriptures 
actually took place, is scarcely a matter of controversy ; 
indeed, they cannot be denied without discrediting all his- 
torical evidence. The unbelieving Jews and early infidels 
did not deny them, but they considered them as impos- 
tures : " He casteth out devils through Beelzebub, the 
prince of devils." Celsus, admitting the facts, asserted 
that Christ was a magician ! 

False and spurious pretences to miracle there have been 
in the world ; but whence these counterfeits, if there never 
had been a reality ? And let the miracles of Scripture be 
compared with all else that pretends to like authority, and 
their genuineness will at once be manifest to every ingenu- 
ous inquirer. With the magicians of Egypt, the confession 
will be made, " This is the finger of God.''' 

" These things were not done in a corner." They were 
openly performed ; in the presence of multitudes — in the 



4 THE BIBLE AN INSPIRED BOOK. 

presence of enemies. They were of such a kind, and 
wi-ouo-lit in such a manner, that the spectators of tliem 
coulf not be imposed on and deceived ; their senses and 
understandings could judge of them. They were admitted 
at the time, and memorials of them instituted and regularly 
lianded down. The acknowledgment of the rulers of the 
Jews respecting the healing of the impotent man by Peter 
and John, is applicable to them all : '' that indeed a nota- 
ble miracle hath been done by them is manifest to all them 
that dwell in Jerusalem, and we cannot deny it." 

A whole nation was miraculously delivered from their 
oppressors ; for forty years miraculously fed, led, and pro- 
tected ; and miraculously established in the land of their 
destination, according to previous prediction and promise. 
At the setting up of the Christian dispensation, the blind 
and the lame were restored, the maimed recovered from 
their blemishes, thousands fed by the miraculous produc- 
tion of the necessary materials, and the dead raised to life. 

III. ARGUMENT FROM THE EARLY SPREAD OF THE GOSPEL. 

The manner and extent of the first spread of the Gospel 
is proof direct of the divine interference in giving success to 
the efforts of those who labored in its propagation. And 
as was remarked in reference to the preceding argument, 
the God of truth and holiness cannot speciall}" cooperate in 
the advancement of imposture. 

The obstacles overcome were most formidable ; the re- 
sults achieved, stupendous; and the instrumentality em- 
ployed, in itself totally inadequate. 

Christianity, in its infancy, had to encounter the hostility 
of the world; the power and prejudices of both Jews and 
pagans ; the habits, the ophiions of mankind ; the interests 
of all the privileged orders ; the influence of the priesthood ; 
of tlie aristocracy ; the philosophy, the learning, the accus- 
tomed licentiousness and profligacy of manners ; the ivhole 
arruij of the moral, intellectual, and p>hysical force of the 
world. And all these were successfully encountered by a 
few obscure Jewish fishermen ; without arms, without po- 
litical power, without earthly patronage in any form, with- 
out pretension to human philosophy, without extraordinary 
natural endowments; and their only w^eapon was the Gos- 
pel of Christ, the very success of which demonstrates it to 



THE BIBLE AN INSPIRED BOOK. 5 

be " the sword of the Sph-it," " the word of God." They 
preached a crucified Saviour — Jesus and the resurrection, 
and the forgiveness of sins through his merits ; and they 
prevailed. They made no compromise with the prevaiHng 
idolatry of the world ; gave no immunity to any sinful indul- 
gence ; but plainly told the nations that their gods were no 
gods, and exacted their submission to the most rigorous 
rules of holy living — and they succeeded. To all this there 
is no parallel in our world's history. Let the infidel satis- 
factorily account for it, and yet retain his infidelity, if he 
can. 

Let not the wide spread of the Mohammedan delusion 
be objected. The cases are not parallel. The Gospel 
wages exterminating w^ar against human corruption ; the 
Koran ministers food to the passions of the licentious and 
ambitious. The w^eapons of Christianity are spiritual only : 
Mohammed and his disciples propagated their faith by the 
power of the sword. The religion of Christ is adapted to 
every form and condition of society, and to every clime : 
that of Mohammed could not have succeeded among nations 
enlightened and of ac-tive intellect. 

Gibbon's insinuation, that, when Christianity was intro- 
duced, the world was tired of its superstitions, and pre- 
pared for any change, is sufficiently disproved by the treat- 
ment which it gave the Christians : it resisted and perse- 
cuted them, and clung to its superstitions to the utmost. 

The objection that Christianity ow^es its success to jjer- 
secution, is alike false. This objection concedes that Chris- 
tians were thoroughly convinced of the truth and reality of 
the religion for which they sufi:'ered. But persecution, when 
it goes beyond what is merely necessary to rouse the ener- 
gies of men, is injurious to the cause of the persecuted. 
Men are not bribed by suffering. 

Christianity, nevertheless, commencing its career at Je- 
rusalem, the very place where occurred the great facts upon 
which it is founded, and which, were they untrue, might 
then and there have been for ever disproved, penetrated on 
every hand, subduing to the obedience of the faith, until, in 
a little while, it took possession of the throne of the Ccesars. 

And not only its early success and spread, but also the 
kind of influence upon individuals and communities which 
it has exerted wherever truly received, prove its heavenly 
VOL. IX. 23* 



6 THE BIBLE AN INSPIRED BOOK. 

origin. Its influence upon individual character, and upon 
all the relations of social life ; upon all that pertains to the 
life that is, and every hope and prospect of that which is 
to come, have ever been most benign and blessed, and wor- 
thy the benevolence of the great Supreme. "The heart 
has become renewed ; the impure have abjured vice ; the 
covetous, the cruel, the faithless, the godless, have been 
gloriously changed into the holy, the gentle, the faithful, the 
worshippers of the true God in spirit and in truth." The 
passions which no earthly charm could tame, have been 
subdued and sanctified ; and the religion of love has conse- 
crated the domestic scene, and blended and beautified in 
sweetest accord the diversified members of the social body. 
It has filled with peace, and hope, and holy triumph, the 
hearts of millions just on the utmost verge of time, w^here 
infidelity is ever wont to leave its victims in despair. Is 
not such a religion divine ? 

IV. HARMONY OF THE SCRIPTURES. 

The inspiration of the Scriptures is also shown in the 
universal consent and harmony of all their 2)cirts : in the 
doctrines and precepts they inculcate, as well as the facts 
which they state, and the predictions which they utter. 
The morality of the Bible has, in this respect, the impress 
of divinity. It is not only pure and sublime, but harmoni- 
ous throughout ; uninfluenced by all the intellectual and 
moral changes of the world. We know that the state and 
habits of society influence every thing human — the fine 
arts, painting, poetry — the moral sense and judgment, the 
perception of right and wrong ; but from all this bias, the 
morality of the Bible is exempt. When the diversity of 
human opinions, and of moral codes adopted by men, are 
considered ; and it is remembered that the writers of the 
Bible are dispersed over a period of thousands of years, and 
were taken from all the ranks of life — monarchs and cour- 
tiers, herdsmen and fishermen, learned and illiterate ; this 
consent and harmony is entirely without a solution other 
than tliat which inspiration furnishes. 

V. GENERAL SCOPE AND OBJECT OF THE SCRIPTURES. 

The scope of the Scriptures, which is to abase the pride 
of man, and render all glory to God, furnishes another 



THE BIBLE AN INSPIRED BOOK. 7 

proof of their divinity. A system like this, the vanity, 
self-love, and depravity of man would for ever have ren- 
dered him incapable of devising. No other system than 
that of the Bible has ever embraced such results. Tlie 
heathen, whilst they sought by their sacrifices to deprecate 
wrath, and to be delivered from evil, never aimed them- 
selves, to become holy. To humble pride, subdue the 
passions, and cultivate a universal benevolence, entered not 
into their system. 

The Scriptures, and they only, whilst they search the 
heart and exhibit man as he is, a fallen, guilty, lost crea- 
ture, present the abundant provision that is made for his 
salvation, for the pardon of sin, and the restoration of peace 
to the guilty conscience ; for sanctification, comfort, guid- 
ance, glory — all in a way becoming the perfections of Deity. 
There is in them a divine sufficiency and perfection, an 
adaptation to all possible circumstances. 

Vr. ADAPTATION TO THE SPIRITUAL WANTS OF MAN. 

The last argument which will now be adduced, is the 
spiritual evidence by which the Scriptures prove themselves 
divinely inspired to the soul of the true believer. They 
" make wise unto salvation." And although this evidence 
is not perceived by the sceptic, the testimony of millions 
entitled to credit, that they have felt its convincing power, 
and fearlessly pledged their souls upon its truth, should 
make him pause. The apostles and martyrs, and all the 
Christian world from age to age, are not to be regarded as 
impostors, as fanatics, or idiots. 

They assert, that, by the Scriptures, God has spohen to 
their souls ; that, by the agency of the divine Spirit, the 
truth of the Bible has been borne home upon their hearts, 
with a force of evidence, a power of demonstration, alto- 
gether irrepressible ; that they have been individually 
convinced of sin, made to feel it as the Bible reveals it, 
been spiritually enlightened, changed in the whole moral 
man, have embraced salvation therein revealed, received 
forgiveness, obtained peace, and been made to rejoice in 
hope of the glory of God ; that they " know in whom 
they have believed, and are persuaded that he is able to 
keep that which is committed unto him against that day," 
towards which they are looking with fondest anticipation ; 



Q THE BIBLE AN INSPIRED BOOK. 

and rather than relinquish their hope, they will surrender 
their lives. 

The experience which the believer has of the light, and 
truth, and power of the Scripture upon his own soul, is a 
far better demonstration than all argument besides. He 
feels that the word of God is quick and powerful ; a dis- 
cerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart ; searching 
all the inner man ; enliglitening the conscience ; exposing 
the deformity and danger of sin ; revealing Christ as the 
way of salvation, all-perfect, all-sufficient, without whom 
there is neither life nor hope ; in whom there is majesty 
and glory, a perfection of wisdom and richness of grace 
inexhaustible ; pardon for guilt, strength for duty, consola- 
tion in sorrow — all this revealed and conveyed by the 
word : and the result is, the heart and life are purified, as 
nothing else can purify them ; and the soul is sanctified and 
fitted to dwell with God, in that life and immortality which 
the Scriptures have brought to light. 

Again we say, it behooves the sceptic to explain all this 
upon some other hypothesis than the acknowledgment that 
" all Scripture is given by inspiration of God," or to aban- 
don his scepticism. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



]¥o. 334. 

LAST DAYS OF llEV, BR, PAYSON. 



The Rev. Edward Pays ox, D. D., was the son of an esti- 
mable clergyman in Rindge, N. H., and, for the last twenty 
years of his life, pastor of a church in Portland, Maine, 
where he died, October 22, 1827, aged 44. His valuable 
and instructive memoir is published by the American Tract 
Society, and has been read with interest by thousands. 

During much of the last year of his life he suffered the 
most severe bodily anguish. His right arm and left side 
lost all power of motion, and the flesh became insensible to 
external applications, while internally he experienced a sen- 
sation of burning which he compared to a stream of liquid 
lire poured through his bones. He continued his public 
ministrations a part of each Sabbath for some months after 
this attack ; and when prostrated on his dying bed, was 
enabled, through the marvellous displays of divine grace, to 
plead, with unwonted eloquence, the cause of his Redeemer. 
On the 19th of September he dictated the following letter 
to his sister : 

" September 19, 1827. 

" My dear Sister — Were I to adopt the figurative lan- 
guage of Bunyan, I might date this letter from the land of 
Beulah, of which I have been for some weeks a happy in- 
habitant. The celestial city is full in my view. Its glories 
beam upon me, its breezes fan me, its odors are wafted to 
me, its sounds strike upon my ears, and its spirit is breathed 
into my heart. Nothing separates me from it but the river 
of death, which now appears but as an insignificant rill that 
may be crossed at a single step, whenever God shall give 
permission. The Sun of righteousness has been gradually 
drawing nearer and nearer, appearing larger and brigliter 
as he approached, and now he fills the whole hemisphere, 
pouring forth a flood of glory, in which I seem to float like 
an insect in the beams of the sun ; exulting, yet almost 
tremblino-, while I gaze on this excessive brightness, and 
wondering, with unutterable wonder, why God should deign 
thus to shine upon a sinful worm. A single heart and a 
single tongue seem altogether inadequate to my wants : I 



2 LAST DAYS OF REV. DR. PAYSON. 

want a whole heart for every separate emotion, and a whole 
tongue to express that emotion. 

"But why do I speak thus of myself and my feelings ? 
why not speak only of our God and Redeemer ? It is be- 
cause I know not what to say. When I would speak of 
them, my words are all swallowed up. I can only tell you 
what effects their presence produces, and even of these I 
can tell you but very little. 0, my sister, my sister, could 
you but know what awaits the Christian ; could you only 
know so much as I know, you could not refrain from rejoic- 
incr, and even leaping for joy. Labors, trials, troubles would 
be nothing ; you would rejoice in afflictions, and glory in 
tribulations ; and, like Paul and Silas, sing God's praises in 
the darkest night, and in the deepest dungeon. You have 
known a little of my trials and conflicts, and know that they 
have been neither few nor small ; and I hope this glorious 
termination of them will serve to strengthen your faith, and 
elevate your hope. 

" And now, my dear, dear sister, farewell. Hold on 
your Christian course but a few days longer, and you will 
meet, in heaven, your happy and affectionate brother, 

"EDWARD PAYSON." 

September 21, he exclaimed, "0, what a blessed thing 
it is ta lose one's will. Since I have lost my will, I have 
found happiness. There can be no such thing as disap- 
pointment to me, for I have no desires but that God's will 
may be accomplished." 

"It sounds so flat, when people tell me that it is just 
for God to afflict me, as if justice did not require infinitely 
more." 

He was asked, " Do you feel yourself reconciled ?" " 0, 
that is too cold. I rejoice, I triumph ; and this happiness 
will endure as long as God himself, for it consists in admir- 
ing and adoring him." 

" I can find no words to express my happiness. I seem 
to be swimming in a river of pleasure, which is carrying me 
on to the great fountain." 

Sabbath morning, September 23, he said, " Last night 
I had a full, clear view of Death, as the king of terrors ; 
how lie comes and crowds the poor sinner to the very verge 
of the precipice of destruction, and then pushes him down 



LAST DAYS OF REV. DR. PAYSON. 3 

headlong. But I felt that I had nothing to do with this ; 
and I loved to sit like an infant at the feet of Christ, who 
saved me from this fate. I felt that death was disarmed of 
all its terrors ; all he could do would be to touch me, and 
let my soul loose to go to my Saviour." 

" I am more and more convinced that the happiness of 
heaven is a benevolent happiness. In proportion as my 
joy has increased, I have been filled with intense love to all 
creatures. I long to measure out a full cup of happiness to 
every body, but Christ wisely keeps that prerogative in his 
own hands." 

His exertions in conversing with visitors greatly in- 
creased his sufferings, but he could not refrain. 

To a young convert he said, " You will have to go 
through many conflicts and trials ; you must be put in the 
furnace, and tempted, and tried, in order to show you what 
is in your heart. Sometimes it will seem as if Satan had 
you in his power, and that the more you struggle and pray 
against sin, the more it prevails against you. But when you 
are thus tried and desponding, remember me ; I have gone 
through all this, and now you see the end." 

** Christians might avoid much trouble and inconvenience, 
if they Avould only believe what they profess — that God is 
able to make them happy without any thing else. They 
imagine that if such a dear friend were to die, or such and 
such blessings to be removed, they should be miserable ; 
whereas God can make them a thousand times happier 
without them. To mention my own case : God has been 
depriving me of one blessing after another; but, as every 
one was removed, he has come in and filled up its place ; 
and now, when I am a cripple, and not able to move, I am 
happier than ever I was in my life before, or ever expected 
to be ; and, if I had believed this twenty years ago, I might 
have been spared much anxiety." 

Fearing that his strength would not allow him to con- 
verse indiv'idually with all the members of his congregation, 
he directed invitations to be given from the pulpit, that they 
would visit him in classes. To the heads of families he 
spoke thus : 4 

" It has often been remarked that people who have been 
into the other world, cannot come back to tell us what they 
have seen ; but I am so near the eternal world, that I can 



4 LAST DAYS OF REV. DR. PAYSOX. 

see almost as clearly as if I were there ; and I see enough 
to satisfy myself, at least, of the truth of the doctrines 
wiiich I have preached. I do not know that I should feel 
at all surer, had I been really there. 

" It is always interesting to see others in a situation in 
which we know that we must shortly be placed ourselves ; 
and we all know that we must die. And to see a poor crea- 
ture, when, after an alternation of hopes and fears, he finds 
that his disease is mortal, and death comes to tear him away 
from every thing he loves, and crowds, and crowds him to 
the very verge of the precipice of destruction, and then 
thrusts him down headlong — there he is, cast into an un- 
known world ; no friend, no Saviour to receive him. O, 
how different is this from the state of a man who is pre- 
pared to die. He is not obliged to crowd reluctantly along ; 
but the other world comes like a great magnet, to draw 
him away from this ; and he knows that he is going to en- 
joy — and not only knows, but begins to taste it — perfect 
happiness ; for ever and ever ; for ever and ever ! * * 

" And now God is in this room ; I see him, and 0, how 
unspeakably lovely and glorious does he appear — worthy of 
ten thousand thousand hearts, if we had them. He is here, 
and hears me pleading with the creatures that he has made, 
whom he preserves, and loads with blessings, to love him. 
And 0, how terrible does it appear to me, to sin against 
this God ; to set up our wills in opposition to his ; and when 
we awake in the morning, instead of thinking, ' What shall 
I do to please my God to-day ?' to inquire, ' What shall I 
do to please myself to-day ?' " After a short pause he con- 
tinued, " It makes my blood run cold to think how inex- 
pressibly miserable I should now be without religion. To 
lie here, and see myself tottering on the verge of destruc- 
tion. O, I should be distracted. And when I see my fel- 
low-creatures liable every moment to be reduced to this 
situation, I am in an agony for them, that they may escape 
their danger before it be too late." 

On another occasion, he said, " I find no satisfaction in 
hxjking at any thing I have done ; I want to leave all this 
bcliind— it is nothing— and fly to Christ to be clothed in his 
righteousness." 

Again, " I have done nothing myself. I have not fought, 
but Christ has fought for me ; I have not run, but Christ 



LAST DAYS OF REV. DR. PAYSON. 5 

has carried me ; I have not worked, but Christ has wrought 
in me : Christ has done all." 

" 0, the loving-kindness of God — his loving-kindness ! 
This afternoon, while .1 was meditating on it, the Lord 
seemed to pass by, and proclaim himself ' The Lord, the 
Lord God, merciful and gracious !' how gracious. Try 
to conceive of that, his loving-khidness, as if it were not 
enough to say kindness, but /oi'?'»^-kindness. What must 
be the loving-kindness of God, who is himself infinite love !" 

" It seemed this afternoon as if Christ said to me, ' You 
have often wondered and been impatient at the way by 
which I have led you; but what do you think of it now?' 
And I was cut to the heart, when I looked back and saw 
the wisdom and goodness by which I had been guided, that 
I could ever for a moment distrust his love !" 

Speaking of the temper requisite to the light discharge 
of ministerial duty, he said, " I never was fit to say a word 
to a sinner, except when I had a broken heart myself ; when 
I was subdued and melted into penitence, and felt as though 
I had just received pardon to my own soul, and when my 
heart was full of tenderness and pity." 

As the young men of his congregation assembled in his 
chamber, he thus addressed them : 

t "■ You will all one day be obliged to embark on the same 
voyage on which I am just embarking ; and as it has been 
my especial employment, during my past life, to recommend 
to you a Pilot to guide you through this voyage, I wished 
to tell you what a precious Pilot he is, that you may be 
induced to choose him for yours. I felt desirous that you 
might see that the religion I have preached can support me 
in death. You know that I have many ties which bind me 
to earth ; a family to whom I am strongly attached, and a 
people whom I love almost as well : but the other world 
acts like a much stronger magnet, and draws my heart away 
from this. Death comes every night, and stands by my 
bedside in the form of terrible convulsions, every one of 
which threatens to separate the soul from the body. These 
continue to grow worse and worse, until every bone is 
almost dislocated with pain, leaving me with the certainty 
that I shall have it all to endure again the next night. Yet, 
while my body is thus tortured, the soul is perfectly happy 
and peaceful — more happy than I can possibly express tp 
VOL. IX. 24 



5 LAST DAYS OF REV. DR. PAYSON. 

you. I lie here, and feel these convulsions extending higher 
and higher; but my soul is filled with joy unspeakable. I 
seem t^ swim in a flood of glory which God pours down 
upon me. And I know, I knoiv, that my happiness is but 
beoun ; I cannot doubt that it will last for ever. And now, 
is tliis all a delusion ? Is it a delusion, that can fill the 
soul to overflowing with joy in such circumstances ? If so, 
it is surely a delusion better than any reality. But no, it is 
not a delusion ; I feel that it is not. I do not merely know 
that I shall enjoy all this — / enjoy it now. 

" My young friends, were I master of the whole world, 
what could it do for me like this ? Were all its wealth at 
my feet, and all its inhabitants striving to make me happy, 
what could they do for me? Nothing — nothing. Now, 
all this happiness I trace back to the religion which I have 
preached, and to the time when that great change took 
place in my heart which I have often told you is necessary 
to salvation ; and I novf tell you again, that Avithout this 
change, you cannot, no, you cannot see the kingdom of God. 

" And now, standing, as I do, on the ridge which separ 
rates two worlds ; feeling what intense happiness or misery 
the soul is capable of sustaining ; judging of your capacities 
by my own, and believing that those capacities will be filled 
to the very brim with joy or wretchedness for ever ; can it 
be wondered at that my heart yearns over you, my chil- 
dren, that you may choose life, and not death ? Is it to be 
wondered at, that I long to present every one of you with a 
full cup of happiness, and see you drink it ; and that I long 
to have you make the same choice v/hich I made, and from 
which springs all my happiness?" 

While speaking of the rapturous views he had of the 
lieavenly world, he was asked if it did not seem almost like 
the clear light of vision, rather than that of faith. " Oh," 
he replied, *' I don't know — it is too much for the poor eyes 
of my soul to bear ; they are almost blinded with the exces- 
sive brightness. All I want is to be a mirror, to reflect 
some of those rays to those around me." 

A friend, with whom he had been conversing on his ex- 
treme bodily sufferings, and his high spiritual joys, remark- 
ed, " I presume it is no longer incredible to you, if ever it 
was, that martyrs should rejoice and praise God in the 
flames and on the rack." "No," said he, "I can easily 



LAST DAYS.OF REV. DR. PAYSON. 7 

believe it. I have suffered twenty times — yes, to speak 
within bounds — twenty times as much as I could in being 
burnt at the stake, while my joy in God so abounded as to 
render my sufferings not only tolerable, but welcome. The 
sufferings of this present time are not luorthy to he compared 
with the glory that shall he revealed.'^ 

At another time, " God is literally now my all in all. 
While he is present with me, no event can in the least 
diminish my happiness : and were the whole world at my 
feet, trying to minister to my comfort, they could not add 
one drop to the cup." 

" It seems as if the promise, ' God shall wipe away all 
tears from their eyes,' was already fulfilled to me, as it 
respects tears of sorrow. I have no tears to shed now, but 
those of love, and joy, and thankfulness." 

At one time he was heard to break forth in the follow- 
ing soliloquy : " What an assemblage of motives to holiness 
does the Gospel present. I am a Christian — what then? 
Why, I am a redeemed sinner — a pardoned rebel — all 
through grace, and by the most wonderful means which 
infinite wisdom could devise. I am a Christian — what 
then ? Why, I am a temple of God, and surely I ought to 
be pure and holy. I am a Christian — what then? I am 
a child of God, and ought to be filled with filial love, rev- 
erence, joy, and gratitude. I am a Christian — what then ? 
Why, I am a disciple of Christ, and must imitate him who 
was meek and lowly in heart, and pleased not himself. I 
am a Christian — what then ? Why, I am an heir of heav- 
en, and hastening on to the abodes of the blessed, to join 
the full choir of glorified ones, in singing the song of Moses 
and the Lamb ; and surely I ought to learn that song on 
earth." 

To Mrs. Payson, who, while ministering to him, had ob- 
served, " Your head feels hot, and seems to be distended," 
he replied, " It seems as if the soul disdained such a nar- 
row prison, and was determined to break through with an 
angel's energy, and I trust with no small portion of an 
angel's feeling, until it mounts on high." 

Ao-ain, " It seems as if my soul liad found a pair of 
new wings, and was so eager to try them, that, in her flut- 
tering, she would rend the fine net- work of the body to 
pieces." 



8 



LAST DAYS OF REV. DR. PAYSON. 



At another time, " My dear, I should think it might 
encourao-e and strengthen you, under whatever trials you 
may bewailed to endure, to remember me. 0, you must 
believe that it will be great peace at last." 

At another time, he said to her, " After I am gone you 
will find many little streams of beneficence pouring in upon 
you, and you will perhaps say, ' I wish my dear husband 
were here to know this.' My dear, you may think that 
I do know it by anticipation, and praise God for it now." 

" Hitherto I have viewed God as a fixed star, bright 
indeed, but often intercepted by clouds ; but now he is 
comintr nearer and nearer, and spreads into a Sun so vast 
and g-Torious, that the sight is too dazzling for flesh and 
blood to sustain." I see clearly that all these same glori- 
ous and dazzling perfections, which now only serve to kin- 
dle my affections into a flame, and to melt down my soul 
into the same blessed image, would burn and scorch me like 
a consuming fire, if I were an impenitent sinner." 

On Sabbath, October 21, his last agony commenced. 
Even now, he greeted those who approached his bedside 
with a sweet smile. Once he exclaimed, " Peace ! peace ! 
Victory ! victory !" He looked on his wife and children, 
and said, almost in the words of dying Joseph to his breth- 
ren — words which he had before spoken of as having a 
peculiar sweetness, and which he now wished to recall to 
her mind : " I am going, but God will surely be with you." 
A little before he died, in reply to an inquiry from Mrs. 
Payson, he was enabled, with extreme difficulty, to articu- 
late the words, "Faith and patience hold out." 

His ruling passion was strong in death. His love for 
preaching was as invincible as that of the miser for gold, 
wlio dies grasping his treasure. Dr. Payson directed a 
label to be attached to his breast, on which should be writ- 
ten, " Remcmher the words lohich I spake unto you lohile I 
was yet present with yoit ;" that they might be read by all 
who came to look at his corpse, and by which he, being 
dead, still spoke. 



rUBLISUED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



IVo. 33S. 

"MY SPIRIT 

SHALL NOT ALWAYS STRIVE." 



There is a period in the life of man, to which if he Hve 
in a state of perverseness and impenitence, his cup of iniqui- 
ty "vvill be full ; and to him " there remaineth no more sac- 
rifice for sin, but a fearful looking for of judgment and fiery 
indignation." There is some one of a series of rebellious 
acts, which, when committed, constitutes a point beyond 
which no ray of mercy will ever reach him. 

So perverse and so sinful is the heart of man, that, left 
to himself, perdition Avill ensue. So bent is he on trans- 
gression, so alienated from God and holiness, that unless 
God induces him, by the aid of his Spirit, to forsake and 
repent of sin, he will persist in iniquity, and perish. That 
soul from whom the Spirit has taken his final flight, is lost. 

This truth is taught explicitly in the word of God. *' My 
Spirit shall not always strive with man." "My people 
would not hearken to my voice, so I gave them up unto 
their own hearts' lusts ; and they walked in their own coun- 
sels." " Though they cry unto me, I will not hearken unto 
tliem." " Then God turned, and gave them up to worship 
the host of heaven." "For this cause God gave them up 
unto vile affections." " For this cause God shall send them 
strong delusion, that they should believe a lie ; that they all 
might be damned who believe not the truth, but have pleas- 
ure in unrighteousness." " Ephraim is joined to his idols ; 
let him alone." " They rebelled, and vexed the Holy Spirit ; 
therefore he was turned to be their enemy, and fought 
against them." 

Thus the word of the Lord establishes the truth, that 
there is a period someivhere in the progress of man through 
this world, to which if he live in rebellion against his Maker, 
God's forbearance and mercy will be extended to him no 
longer ; beyond which the Spirit of the Lord is " turned 
to be his enemy, and fights against him ;" beyond which his 
damnation is sealed. 

The sinner knows not at any moment, whether he have 
already passed tlie line which separates the land of hope from 

VOL. IX. '-^l* 



2 "MY SPIRIT SHALL NOT ALWAYS STRIVE." 

the land of despair ; Avhether it lies far in the region of the 
future, or whether he stand on its verge. God has fixed this 
line, but to none other has he revealed where it lies. The 
impenitent transgressor goes onward in hfe at the hazard, and 
under the imminent peril, at each step, of passing the bounds 
of the regions of hope, and barring on himself eternally the 
doors of the kingdom of heaven. The next moral act, for 
aufht that is revealed, may be the act which fills to over- 
flowing the cup of his iniquity. A vessel nearly filled may 
run over by adding another dmp. Though the sin may not 
be of so deep a dye as a series of others of w^hich he has 
been guilty, yet this, added to the long catalogue of his 
former crimes, may close his probation. This, as the last 
crowning act of rebellion, may seal his doom. 

A benevolent father may for ever disinherit his son for 
some seemingly venial act of transgression. This act is the 
occasion, not the cause of his disinheritance. A long series 
of rebellious acts may have evinced a spirit of irreconcilable 
aversion and hostility to the parent. Repeated persuasions 
and reproof have been tried, but he still continues in his 
wayward course. Repeated acts of disobedience enhance 
his guilt. The father now determines to execute his threat- 
ening on occasion of the next transgression. The son per- 
sists ; he commits an act, not, perhaps, as glaringly vicious 
as some which have preceded it, but still evincing a spirit 
of insubordination. The father fulfils his threatening, and 
disinherits him for ever. 

So God, on the occasion of some seemingly venial sin — 
but be it remembered, no sin is small — may determine to 
dry up the fountain of his mercy ; when the sinner cries, 
not to hearken; to "laugh at his calamity, and mock when 
his fear cometh." Nay, refusal on the part of the sinner to 
comply now with the call of mercy, and yield his heart to 
God, may be the act, which, when connected with the hein- 
ous sins already noted in the great book of remembrance, 
Jehovah determines to make the occasion of his Spirit's 
final flight, and of the sealed perdition of the soul. 

Go, stand by the death-bed of the aged, obdurate sin- 
ner ; watch iiis restless and impure spirit, which is about to 
be yielded into the hands of Him who gave it. He writhes. 
It IS true, under bodily torture, but this bears no contrast 
with the inward fire. Despair is depicted in his countenance. 



"MY SPIRIT SHALL NOT ALVVAVS STRIVE." 3 

He alternately supplicates and blasphemes his Maker. He 
already experiences the gnawings of " the worm tiiat dieth 
not," and of " the fire that is not quenched." His doom is 
sealed. But luhen^ Perhaps not in his dying hour. In the 
mind of God, it may be, his present despair and future tor- 
ments are connected with some distant scene in the past, 
where, as he was seated under the droppings of the sanc- 
tuary, listened to the proclamation of the Gospel, heard 
the claims of God in Christ enforced, thought of duty and 
the yielding of his heart — he deferred obedience to the Spir- 
it's dictates to a more convenient season ; and the heavenly 
messenger, thus grieved and mocked, took his final flight. 

Reader, the brevity and uncertainty of life are not the 
only inducements to immediate repentance. 

True, this life is " a vapor, that appeareth for a little time, 
and then vanisheth away." It is as " the flower of the grass, 
which, before the burning heat of the sun, witheretli." It is 
indeed, when most protracted, but a short period to employ 
in winning a crown of glory. Its uncertainty, too — for who 
knoweth he shall see the morrow ? — is forcibly presented 
in the Scriptures, to wean from sin and draw to duty now. 
But with all these warnings sounding in his ears, under the 
delusions of sin, man practically views this world as his eter- 
nal home. He feels and rejoices in his present health and 
vigor, and thinks not that his body will soon die. 

Yet mark, impenitent fellow-man, Ood's grace is sove- 
reign. Though your life be protracted to the end of the 
world ; though you Avere assured by God you should not 
die until "the heavens shall pass away with a great noise, 
and the elements shall melt with fervent heat," it becomes 
you not to defer repentance to a future day. 

The inspired truth, " Now is the accepted time, behold, 
71010 is the day of salvation," receives not all its solemnity 
and force from the brevity and uncertainty of life. It has 
another and more fearful import. " My Spirit shall not al- 
ways strive wdth man." The Holy Spirit may "turn to be 
thine enemy, and fight against thee." The mandate may 
go forth, " He is joined to his idols ; let him alone." Then, 
like the barren fig-tree, you will be cut down, while yet you 
stand. In a world of hope, you will be in despair ; in the 
midst of life, you will be in death ; on this side the grave, 
you will yet be in hell. 



4 "MV sriRIT SHALL NOT ALWAYS STRIVE." 

Suffer me, then, affectionately, but honestly, to remind 
vou that your state is fearfully critical and dangerous. 
Snares are beneath your feet. While remaining in impeni- 
tence, you go onward, not knowing but the next stej) your 
damnation will be certain — irretrievable. Fellow-man, stay 
vour feet. Take not the fatal step. It may be, you are on 
the verge of that hne, beyond w^hich all is darkness, de- 
spair, and death. The pressing calls of God, by his prov- 
idence, his word, and his preached Gospel, to repent, you 
have rejected. When aroused to the consideration of duty, 
vou have heedlessly postponed its claims, and relapsed into 
iistlessness and sin. Days speed away ; Sabbath succeeds 
Sabbath ; year after year is numbered with the past — and 
you are still the enemy of God. The time luill come, if you 
persist, when, by some act of transgression, you will eter- 
nally mar the prospects of your salvation. May not the 
2)resent be that critical moment, and your next act, the act 
which wuU destroy your soul ? May not the act be your 
neglecting now the offer of mercy ? 

I shrink from the possibility of being made the instru- 
ment of your ruin ; but this very warning, rejected, may 
seal your doom. Oh, I beseech you, in Christ's stead, suf- 
fer it not to pass unimproved, adding despair to doubt, and 
endless death to death. 

The message is, " God in Christ Jesus is reconciling the 
world unto himself." The command has gone forth from 
God to all men everywhere, " Repent." The command to 
thee, fellow-sinner, is, '' Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ," 
and the promise is, " Thou shalt be saved." But the fear- 
ful alternative made known by God, immutably true, is, " If 
thou believest not, thou shalt be damned." Embrace the 
offer of salvation now, lest it prove your last opportunity — 
lest God lift his hand and swear, " You shall not enter into 
my rest." After his irrevocable word is passed, your awful 
doom may indeed excite the compassion of God ; he may 
lament over you, as over Jerusalem, " that thou hadst 
known, even thou, in this thy day, the things that belong to 
thy peace ;" yet it will be no less certain, ''they are hid from 
thine eyes." Your doom will then be sealed. Your soul 
lost — lost for eternity. 

PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



ivo. sue. 
CHILDREN 



EDUCATED EOR CHRIST. 



BY REV. EDWARD W. HOOKER, D. D, 



The Churcli of the Lord Jesus Christ was instituted in 
this sinful world to seek its conversion. It was said to her, 
eighteen hundred years ago, " preach the Gospel to every 
creature." Her time, talents, and resources, have all been 
justly owed to her Lord, for this purpose. Yet, " the 
whole world lieth in wickedness." Few, comparatively, 
have heard "the name of Jesus ;" ''that there is any Holy 
Ghost ;" or that there is a God that ruleth in the earth. 

In this affecting moral condition of the world, the ques- 
tions are to be solemnly considered by the friends of Christ, 
*' Have we not something more to do ? Is there not some 
great duty which we have overlooked ; some covenant 
which we have made with our Lord, yet unfulfiUed ?" And 
an answer will be found, if we look upon the children of 
Christian parents, who have professed to dedicate their all 
to God, but, to a great extent, have neglected to educate 
their qfsjjrin^ for the express piuyose of serving Christ in 
the advancement of his kingdom. Said a Christian mother, 
" I fear that many of us think that parental duty is limited 
to labors for the salvation of our children ; that we have 
prayed for them and instructed them only that they may be 
saved. Infinitely important, indeed, it is, that they should 
be saved. But if ardent desires for the glory of our Re- 
deemer and the salvation of souls glowed in our hearts hke 
an inextinguishable flame, our most earnest prayers, from 
their very' birth, would be, that they might not only be 
saved themselves, but be instrumental in saving others.'" 



2 CHILDREN TO BE EDUCATED FOR CHRIST. 

So far as the service of Christ has been contemplated, it 
appears to have been regarded as consisting in becoming a 
Chiistian ; professing rehgron ; taking care of one's own soul ; 
maintaining a reputable standing in the church; wishing w^ell 
to the cause of Christ; giving as much as is convenient for 
its advancement ; and, finally, taking a pious leave of the 
world to go and be happy in heaven. Thus "one genera- 
tion passeth away, and another cometh," to live and die in 
the same manner. And truly the earth might " abide for 
ever," and the mass of its population still lie in ruin, should 
all Christians continue to hvc thus. 

There is need, then, of an appeal to Christian parents, 
in \iew of the present condition of the world. You give 
your prayers and a portion of your money. But, as said 
the Christian already quoted, "What affectionate parent 
does not love his children more than his money ; and why 
should not these living treasures be given to Christ ?" This 
"seeking our own, not the things which are Christ's," must 
cease, if the world is ever to be converted. We must act, 
and teach our children to act more faithfully, accordinof to 
that Scripture, " He died for all, that they which live should 
not henceforth live luito themselves, hut unto Him which died 
for them, and rose again.'" 

Let us be understood. We do not say, dedicate your 
children to the cause of missions exclusivehj, or to any field 
of benevolence. You must leave their assignment to " the 
Lord of the harvest." He will appoint them to stations, 
public or private ; to spheres of extended or limited influ- 
ence, as shall "seem good in his sight." Your duty is to 
do all which is comprehended in the injunction, " Bring up 
your children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord;'' 
assured that the time will come when it will be said to you 
by the voice of Providence, respecting each, "The Lord 
liath need of him ;" and he will be led to that station in 
which tiie Lord will be pleased to bless him. And whether 
It prove a retired and lowly, or a public and eminent one, 
be assured of this, he will find work enough assigned him, 
and responsibilities enough laid upon him, to keep him at 



CHILDREN TO BE EDUCATED FOR CHRIST. 3 

the footstool, seeking grace to strengthen him, and to re- 
quire the anxious and dihgent employment of all his powers 
while life shall last. 

It is, then, an interesting inquiry. Christian parents, 
" What QUALIFICATIONS 2vill hcst prepare our children to he 
efficient servants of Christ?"" There are many — pertaining 
to the heart, the mind, and the physical constitution. 

First of all, piety. They must fervently love Christ and 
his kingdom ; heartily consecrate themselves to his service, 
and be ready for any self-denial, sacrifice, or work to which 
he may call. JEminent piety it must be, ''counting all 
things but loss for Christ." 

Said one, now the wife of an American missionary, " To 
make and receive visits, exchange friendly salutations, at- 
tend to one's wardrobe, cultivate a garden, read good and 
entertaining books, and even attend religious meetings for 
one's own enjoyment — all this does not satisfy me. I want 
to be where every arrangement will have unreserved and 
constant reference to eternity." 

A piety which thus glows and prays to live, labor, and 
suffer for Christ, is the first and grand qualification to be 
sought in your child. It is necessary, to act efficiently for 
Christ anywhere, at home or abroad, in an elevated or a 
lowly sphere. The Lord Jesus has no work adapted to 
Chiistians who live at the ''poor dying rate" with which 
so many are content. It is all work for them that, are 
"strong in the grace which is in Christ Jesus," and willing 
and determined to be "faithful, even unto death." 

2. Intellectual qualifications. It is a great mistake of 
some, that moderate qualifications will suffice for " the work 
of Christ." Shall Christians be satisfied with these, in the 
business of the Redeemer's kingdom, when the men of the 
world are not, in their concerns ? Be cautious of pervert- 
ino- dependence on divine aid, by trusting to warmth of heart 
to compensate for lack of knowledge. The injunction, 
"Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy mind," 
apphes to the service, as well as love of him. Your child 
will need a well-balanced and cultivated mind, as much as 



4 CHILDREN TO BE EDUCATED FOR CHRIST. 

a pious heart. Let his desires to do good never be frus- 
trated through your neglect of his intellectual education. 
We are not saying, send all your sons to college, and your 
daughters to female seminaries ; but prepare them to deal 
■with minds under the dominion of sin anywhere, having 
intellectual qualifications not to be despised. 

3. Qualifications pertaining to the j^hi/sical constitution. 
The interests of religion have suffered enough through the 
breaking down of constitutions, and the premature deaths 
of promising young men. Do not dedicate a feeble, sickly 
son to the ministry, because he is not sufficiently robust for 
some secular employment or profession. No men more 
need iron constitutions than ministers and missionaries. " If 
ye offer the lame and the sick for sacrifice, is it not evil ? 
Offer it now to thy governor, will he be pleased with thee, 
or accept thy person ?" You have a daughter whom Prov- 
idence may call to the self-denials of a missionary life. Do 
not nurse her in the lap of enervating indulgence, and allow 
her to follow habits and fashions injurious to health, and to 
become a " tender and delicate woman, that will not adven- 
ture to set the sole of her foot upon the ground, for very 
delicateness and tenderness ;" and who will be at the sport 
of a morbid sensibility, or a disordered nervous tempera- 
ment. Will you be satisfied with such an offering to the 
King of Sion ? Will it be kindness to her, Avho may be 
called to suffer much, and will want all the capacity for 
endurance, as well as action, which can be acquired in a 
most thorough physical education? No: dedicate "to 
Christ and the church" j-our ''young men that are strong," 
and your daughters prepared to be companions for such in 
labors and sufferings for Christ. 

Thus far of qualifications. We come now to speak more 
particularly of the duties of parents in training sons and 
daugliters for the service of Christ. 

First : prcnj inuch, respecting your great work. " Who 
is sufficient for these things ?" well may you say. But 
says God, " my grace is sufficient for thee." Keep near the 
tlirone of grace, with this great subject weighing upon 



CHILDREN TO BE EDUCATED FOR CHRIST. 5 

your spirit. Half your work is to be done in your closet. 
If you fail there, you will fail in all you do out of it. You 
must have wisdom from above in training- servants for the 
Most High. Commune with God respecting the particu- 
lar case of each of your children. While you do this, you 
will obtain views of duty which human wisdom never can 
attain, and feel motives which will be nowhere else rightly 
appreciated. In the final day, there will, doubtless, be 
disclosures of transactions of Christian parents with God, 
respecting their children, which will delightfully explain the 
secret of their devotedness and usefulness. There will then 
be known more than can be now, respecting the prayers of 
mothers especially. The mother of Mills had some pecu- 
liar exercises in her closet, respecting him, which help to 
account for his remarkable usefulness. The interesting fact 
is stated in one of our religious journals, that " of one hun- 
dred and twenty students in one of our theological semina- 
ries, more than one hundred had been borne by a mother's 
prayers, and directed by a mother's counsels, to the Sav- 
iour." See what prayer can do. *'Be instant in prayer." 
2. Cultivate a tender sense of 2^cirental accountahleness. 
God holds you accountable for the character of your chil- 
dren, so far as fidelity in the use of means is concerned. 
You are to " give account in the day of judgment for what 
you do, or neglect to do, for the right formation of your 
children's characters. You may so educate them, that, by 
the sanctifying grace of God, they will be the instruments 
of salvation to hundreds, yea, thousands ; and through your 
neglect of them, hundreds, thousands may be lost, and 
their blood be required at your hands. You cannot divest 
yourself of this responsibility. You must act under it, and 
meet it "in the judgment." Remember this with godly 
fear, and yet " encourage yourself in the Lord." If faithful 
in the closet, and in doing what you there acknowledge 
your duty, you will find sustaining grace. And the thought 
will be delightful, as well as solemn, " I am permitted to 
train these immortals to glorify God in the salvation of 
souls." 

VOL. IX. ''^ij 



6 CHILDREN TO BE EDUCATED FOR CHRIST. 

3. Have a devoted sjnrit yourself. Your soul must be 
in health, and prosper; must burn with love to Christ and 
his kingdom; and all your instructions be enforced by a 
godly example, if you would lead your children to live de- 
votedly. The father of a large family, most of them pious, 
was asked, "What means have you employed with your 
children?" "I have endeavored so to live," said he, "as 
to show them that it was my own grand purpose to go to 
heaven, and to take them along with me." 

4. Give religious instruction early. Watch opportuni- 
ties for this, in every stage of childhood. Early impres- 
sions will last through life, when later ones fade away. 
Said an American missionary, " I recollect particularly, that 
once my mother came and stood by me as I sat in the door, 
and tenderly talked to me of God and my soul's concerns ; 
and her tears dropped upon my head. That made me a 
missionary." Cecil says, " I had a pious mother, who 
dropped things in my way. I could never rid myself of 
them. I was a professed infidel, but then I liked to be an 
infidel in company rather than alone. I was wretched by 
myself. Parental influence thus cleaves to a man ; it har- 
asses him ; it throws itself continually in his way." John 
Newton never could divest himself of the impressions of his 
mother's instructions. 

5. Seek the earhj conversion of your children. Regard 
every day of their continuance out of Christ as an increase 
of their danger and guilt. " A mother who had brought up 
a large family, all of whom had become hopefully pious, 
was asked what means she had used for their conver- 
sion. She replied, ' I have felt that, if not converted before 
seven or eight years of age, they would probably be lost ; 
and when they have approached that age, have been in 
agony lest they should pass it impenitent ; and have gone 
to the Lord with my anguish. He has not turned away my 
prayers nor his mercy from me.' " Pray for this : " Arise, 
cry out in tlie night ; in the beginning of the watches pour 
out thine heart like water before the face of the Lord ; lift 
up thy liands towards him, for the life of thy young chil- 



CHILDREN TO BE EDUCATED FOR CHRIST. 7 

dren." Hope for the early bestowment of divine grace 
from such promises as tliis: "I will pour my Spirit upon 
thy seed, and my blessing upon thine offspring ; and thev 
shall spring up as among the grass, and as rivers by the 
water-courses. One shall say, I am the Lord's ; and an- 
other shall call himself by the name of Jacob ; and another 
shalt subscribe "with his hand, and shall surname himself 
by the name of Israel." The history of some families is a 
delightful fulfilment of this promise. Young hearts are the 
best in which to lay, deep and broad, the foundations of 
usefulness. There is no hope that your child will do any 
thing for Christ till you can see him at the foot of the cross, 
repenting, believing, devoting himself. 

It seems to be supposed by some, that religion cannot 
enter a child's mind ; that it demands maturity of years 
to "repent and believe the Gospel." A Christian child, 
therefore, seems often to be regarded as a prodigy ; and 
grace in a young soul as a dispensation of divine mercy too 
unusual to be expected in the use of common means. 
"Parents," said a mother, "labor and pray i^^ospectivchj 
for the conversion of their children." We have seen par- 
ents weeping over deceased children, of four, five, six, 
seven years, who seemed to feel no solicitude whether they 
had died in a safe spiritual state, nor self-reproach for neg- 
lect to labor for their conversion. It is an interesting fact, and 
a serious one in its bearing upon parental neglect, that chil- 
dren under the age of four years have been known to feel 
deep convictions of sin against God, and of their ruined 
state ; and to sorrow for sin, believe on Christ, fix their 
affections on God, and to exhibit all the evidences of grace 
seen in persons of adult years. The late Mrs. Huntington, 
writing to her son, says her biographer, " speaks of having a 
distinct remembrance of a solemn consultation in her mind, 
when about three years old, whether it was best to be a Chris- 
tian then or not, and of having come to the decision that it 
was not." The biographies of Jane way, and numerous 
others, forbid the idea that religion in a young heart is a 
miracle, and show that parents have reason to be anxious 



8 CHILDREN TO BE EDUCATED FOR CHRIST. 

lest tlieir young children die without hope, as well as to be 
encouraged to seek their early conversion. 

We should be cautious of unreasonable distrust of ap- 
parent conversions of children. Watch over the little dis- 
ciple affectionately, faithfully. His tender years plead for 
more careful and tender protection. Give him not occasion 
to say, " I have been neglected, because supposed too young 
to be a Christian." True, parents and pastors have been 
often disappointed in children seemingly converted. But 
the day of judgment may reveal that there have been more 
cases of undetected deception and hypocrisy in adults, than 
disappointments respecting children supposed to be pious. 
Childhood is more guileless than manhood ; sooner, per- 
haps always, throws off the mask, if it be but the mask of 
religion ; and is again open to conviction — perhaps becomes 
converted. Manhood, more cautious in false profession, 
wears the mask, shuts out conviction, cries, " peace and 
safety," and goes on decently, solemnly, formally, down to 
hell. 

Desire the early conversion of your children, that they 
may have the longest j^ossible time in this world to serve 
Christ. If "the dew of our youth" be devoted to God, 
advancing years are sure to be marked with proportionate 
maturity of Christian character and fitness for more efficient 
labors for Christ. 

G. Maintain familiar Christian intercourse with your 
children. Converse with them as freely and affectionately 
on religious subjects as on others. If you are a warm- 
hearted and prosperous Christian, you will do this naturally 
and easily. Let religious intimacy be interwoven with your 
whole family habits. You will thus know how to counsel, 
caution, reprove, encourage ; what advances they make ; 
what the " reason of the hope that is in them ;" for what 
particular department of service for Christ they are fitted. 
And if they die early, or before you, then you will have the 
consolation of having watched and known the progress of 
tlieir preparation to " depart and be with Christ." 

v. Place and keep before the mind of your child, as the 



CHILDREN TO BE EDLCATED FOR CHRIST. 9 

great object for ivhkh he should live, the glory of God, and 
the salvation of men. We do much to give direction to the 
mind, and form the character of the man, by phicing an 
object, for Hfe, before him. Men of the world know and 
act on this principle. So should the Christian. The object 
above-named is the only one worthy of an immortal and 
renewed soul, and prepares the way for the noblest eleva- 
tion of character : it will raise him above livino- to himself, 
and constrain him to fidelity in his Lord's service. Teach 
him to lay at the foot of the cross, attainments, eminence, 
influence, honor, wealth — all things; and to live in the 
desire, "Father, glorify thy name." 

8. Choose instructors for your children with great care. 
Know to whose influence you commit the son or daughter 
of your vows. You have a great and sacred object to ac- 
complish. The teachers of your children must be such as 
will aid you in that object. Correct moral character in a 
teacher is not enough. This is often allied with most dan- 
gerous religious opinions. Your child should be placed 
under the care of a self-dedicated teacher, who will feel 
in relation to his charge, " I am to aid this parent in train- 
ing a servant for Christ." In your choice of a school, or 
seminary of learning, never be governed merely by its rep- 
utation as literary, fashionable, popular ; irrespective of the 
possibility that its atmosphere may have no vitality from 
decided religious influence — may even be poisoned by er- 
roneous religious views in the instructors. Respecting 
sending a daughter to a Catholic convent for education, 
said a judicious pastor to a parishioner, "If you do not 
wish your daughter to be burned, you must not put her 
into the fire." A widow was oflfered the education of one 
of her sons at a university where prevailed the influence of 
Unitarianism. She declined the off"er, trusting in God to 
enable her to accomphsh it in a safer situation. Her firm- 
ness and faith were rewarded with success. A young lady 
was placed under the care of a teacher Avho was not pious. 
When her mind was deeply interested and anxious on re- 
ligious subjects, the idea, " What will my teacher think of 
VOL. IX, 25* 



10 CHILDREN TO BE EDUCATED FOR CHRIST. 

me," and the dread of her indifference, perhaps contempt, 
influenced her decision, and she grieved away the Spirit of 
God. Christian parent, your prayers, your best efforts may 
all be frustrated by the influence of a teacher who has no 
religion. 

9. Be cautious of defeating your own efforts for the spir- 
itual welfare of your children. Neglect of some essential 
duty, though you may perform many others, will do this. 
Prayer without instruction will not do; nor instruction 
without a right example ; nor prayer in the family without 
earnest wrestlings in the closet ; nor all these together, with- 
out watching over them, to keep them out of temptation. 
Be afraid of indulging them in vain amusements. A mother 
once went to a meeting of her female friends, and asked 
their supplications for her daughter, whom it appeared she 
had permitted, at that very time, to attend a dancing-par- 
ty; and justified herself in the rashness and inconsistency 
of the permission, by reference to her own early habits of 
seeking amusements. If parents will permit their children 
to run directly into " the snare of the devil," let them, at 
least, not mock God by entreating Christians to pray that 
he will take care of them there. If they do, let them not 
wonder if their children live "the servants of sin," and die 
the "vessels of wrath." 

Guard yourself against setting them the example oi fit- 
fulness in religion : now, all fervor and bustle ; then, lan- 
guid, having scarce the breath of spiritual life. If you 
would have your children serve Christ in uniform activity, 
do so yourself. Be afraid of that periodical religion, which 
all at once breaks out from the midst of worldliness and 
unfaithfulness, and in which feeling shows itself like " a 
deceitful brook." The deepest piety is like the deep, full 
river ; noiseless, fed by living springs ; never disappointing ; 
always flowing, fertilizing, beautifying. Be of that humble, 
steadfast, heartfelt, industrious, active cast of Christian 
character, by which your children shall see that the service 
of Christ is the great business of life, and be constrained to 
enter into it "with all their hearts." 



CHILDREN TO BE EDUCATED FOR CHRIST. H 

10. Be cautious of countenancing your children in living 
"after the manner of this world ;'* in seeking its honors, en- 
tering into its ambitious strifes, its secularizing habits and 
fashions. The children of pious parents must not be found 
among the votaries of fashion ; emulating their disphi}^ and 
useless accomphshraents. " How is Christ thus robbed of 
his own !" said a Christian parent. " I have observed many- 
instances of parents, exemplary, faithful, and judicious 
with their children, till perhaps fifteen years old ; and then 
the desire to have them associate with distinguished people, 
and the dread of having them singular, would cause them 
to turn right about and dress them like worldly people, and 
even court their intimacy for them." And parents have 
smarted severely under the rod of divine chastisement, 
been mortified, yea, had their hearts broken for such sins, 
in their disastrous consequences to the characters of their 
children. 

11. Be cautious what views you foster in your children 
respecting property. The love of property, in families 
called Christian, is one of the greatest hinderances to the 
spread of the Gospel. The systems of Christian benevo- 
lence are all embarrassed, every year, from this cause. Par- 
ents set their children the example of " making haste to be 
rich ;" as though this wei'e all for which God made them. 
They give a pittance to the cause of Christ. And sons and 
daughters follow in the same course; even after having 
professed to know the way of holiness, and said, " We are 
not our own." Facts might be mentioned by hundreds, 
which would make any true-hearted Christian blush for the 
church of God. Teach your children to remember what 
God has said : ''The silver is mine, and the gold is mine." 
Remind them that you and they are stewards, going to give 
up your account. Treat the acquirement of property as of 
importance only that you may do good, and honor Christ. 
Let not your children expect you to make them heirs to 
large possessions. Let them see you annually giving, "as 
God has prospered you," to all the great objects of Chiis- 
tian benevolence. They will follow your example when 



22 CHILDREN TO BE EDUCATED FOR CHRIST. 

you have gone to your reward. To leave your children the 
inheritance of your own devoted spirit and benevolent habits, 
will be infinitely more desirable than to bequeath to them 
"thousands of gold and silver." Such examples we have 
seen. When every Christian parent thus causes his light 
to shine, and trains his children to do the same, the millen- 
nium will come on apace. 

As an aid to this, every parent should teach his family 
econonuj, as a matter of religious principle. Early gain over 
their consciences to the side of a benevolent, spirited econ- 
omy. Teach them that " it is more blessed to give than to 
receive ;" to write " holiness to the Lord " upon their pock- 
et-money, instead of spending it for useless or hurtful in- 
dulgences ; to study simplicity and economy in dress, fur- 
niture, style of living ; and to regard all useless expenditure 
of money as sin against God. 

12. Be cautious of frustrating your efforts for the spir- 
itual good of your children, hy wrong habits in your family. 
Levity in conversation ; dull and hasty formality in family 
worship ; worldly conversation on the Sabbath ; censorious 
remarks, we fear, keep w^iole families of children in the 
neglect of religion. There is a heavenly cheerfulness and 
sweetness in some Christians, which declares to their fami- 
lies that religion is a blessed, as well as serious reality ; and 
gives them an influence and a power to win them to the 
service of Christ inestimable. Cultivate this. Let "the 
love of God, shed abroad in your hearts by the Holy Ghost," 
continually prove to your children that religion is the source 
of the truest enjoyment, of the richest blessings. 

13. ]f you would have your children obedient servants 
of Christ, you must govern them ivell. Subordination is 
one grand law of his kingdom. Implicit obedience to your 
authority will well accord with the submission your child 
must render to Christ. How must the habit of insubordi- 
nation and self-will increase the sorrows of his Christian 
conflict ; render him often unamiable and uncomfortable in 
his social and domestic relations ; and in the church an un- 
manageable member, or an unlovely minister ; or, if in the 



CHILDREN TO BE EDUCATED FOR CHRIST. 13 

missionary work, an occasion of trials, frequent and bitter, 
to all his associates. Said a minister, respecting a departed 
member of bis church, for whom he hoped the best he 
could, " he was one of the stubhornest oaks that ever grew 
upon Mount Zion." 

A child well-governed, when he becomes a Christian, 
is ready to " serve the Lord Jesus Christ, with all humility 
of mind," in any work to which he is called ; and will work 
kindly, harmoniously, and efficiently with others. He en- 
ters his Lord's field, saying, " Lo, I come to do thy will, O 
my God." He will have that heavenly spirit, "the meek- 
ness and gentleness of Christ," and as he goes forward from 
duty to duty, will be able to say with David, " My soul is 
as a weaned child :" " I delight to do thy will, my God !" 
And with such a spirit, he will find precious satisfaction in 
a life of successful labor for his Lord -on earth, and "in 
hope of the glory of God." 

That, by a right government, your children may be fit- 
ted to serve Christ, study the inanner in which a holy God 
governs. His is the government of a Father ; persuasive 
without weakness ; in love and mercy, and yet in accord- 
ance with justice ; patient and forbearing, yet strict in the 
rebuke and punishment of offences. He loves his children, 
but chastens them, for their profit ; employs encourage- 
ments to obedience ; but in his determination to be obeyed, 
he is firm as his own everlasting throne. He gives his 
children every reason to fear ofi:ending him ; still he assures 
them, that to love and serve him shall be to them the begin- 
ning of heaven on earth. 

We have incidentally spoken of the interest of mothers 
in this subject. Maternal duty and influence, in truth, lie 
at the foundation of the whole work of educating children 
for the service of Christ. A Christian mother may more 
richly bless the world, through her children, than many 
who have sat on thrones. Mothers, divine Providence 
places your children under your peculiar care, at that 
period of life when first and eternal impressions will be 
made. Let your influence be "sanctified by the word of 



14 CHILDREN TO BE EDUCATED FOR CHRIST. 

God and prayer;" and consecrated to the high object of 
educating sons and daughters for "the work of Christ." 

Brethren in the sacred office of the ministry — 
Have we done what we could, or estimated our responsi- 
bihties, relative to this subject, as we ought? Have our 
labors been conducted with sufficient reference to our 
younger hearers, and their preparation to serve " the Lord 
of the harvest ?" A minister should acquaint himself Avitli 
the children of his charge, and know what their parents are 
doing for their good, and their preparation to s^rve the 
Lord Jesus Christ. We must act steadily and efficiently 
on the minds of parents ; preach to them ; converse with 
them ; prompt their consciences respecting their duties. 
We should sit down Avith them in the retirement of their 
homes, and ask them such questions as these : " What are 
your views of your duty to God respecting your children ? 
What are your expectations relative to their future useful- 
ness to the kingdom of God on earth ? Are you fulfilling 
your duty with your eyes on the judgment-seat of Christ ? 
What means do you employ that you may realize your ex- 
pectations'? Do you wish to see the glory of God, and the 
conversion of this lost world, aided by ' the children God 
has graciously given you?' " Such inquiries, made in the 
affectionate seriousness of watchmen for souls, will come 
home to hearts in which there is grace ; will awaken to 
thouglitfulness, and quicken to activity. We shall assist 
pai-ents to see how they and their families stand related to 
God, and to this revolted world. And if we would pro- 
mote their personal prosperity in the divine life, there is no 
way in which, better than in this, we can stimulate them to 
their high and solemn duties. 

Christian Parents — Our children have too lonor been 

o 

educated without that direct and single reference to the 
glory of Christ, and the good of this fallen world, which 
becomes us. Their dedication to the work of Christ, too, 
has been exceedingly imperfect. For this reason, among 
others, the work of evano-elizino- the world has gone on 
slowly. To address you in the language of a Christian par- 



CHILDREN TO BE EDUCATED FOR CHRIST. 15 

6nt, wliose feelings are deeply interested in this subject— 
"There is much said, and justly, of the duty of Christians 
to hold their property consecrated to Christ ; and it is often 
remarked, that till they act upon higher principles, the 
world cannot be converted." It is true ; but our delin- 
quency here is not the basis of our unfaithfulness. It is to 
be feared that many who feel their obligations respecting 
their property, forget that they are answerable to Christ, 
to the church, and to the heathen, for their children. Thou- 
sands of gold and silver are wanted to carry on the work 
of evangelizing the world ; but a thousand sanctified minds 
will do more than millions of money. And, when the chil- 
dren of pious parents shall, with the spirit of true Chris- 
tians, give themselves for the saving of the world, there will 
be no more any- "dark places, full of the habitations of 
cruelty." 

'' Has a greater duty ever rested on men than that which 
binds them to educate their children for the benefit of the 
world ? Were this our constant, prominent desire, it would 
give definiteness to our instructions and prayers ; we should 
Avatch against every habit or influence which would hinder 
the accomplishment of our wishes. Our children would 
be taught self-government, self-denial, industry, and effort. 
We should not be guilty of such a miserable wavering 
between Christ and the world. Every parent would know 
for what he was training his children. Every child would 
know for what he was living. His conscience would feel 
the pressure of duty. He could not be faithless to the ob- 
ject set before him without violating his conscience. Would 
not such education be owned and blessed of the Spirit of 
God, and our children be converted early? Then their 
powers would all be given to God." 

Christian parents, " whatsoever our hand findeth to do, 
let us do it with our might." The pupilage of our children 
is passing away on the swift wings of time. Let us enter 
into the spirit of the first propagators of Christianity, and 
take our children along with us in the labors of love. Let 
our aim be at higher attainments in piety. "The feeble" 



16 CHILDREN TO BE EDUCATED FOR CHRIST. 

should become " as David ; and David as the Son of God." 
It must cease to be, that a few men and women only, in a 
century, shall appear, with the spirit of Schwartz, Buchan- 
an, Brainerd, Marty n ; and of Susanna Anthony, Isabella 
Graham, and Harriet Newell. There ought to be Chris- 
tians of their standard in every church. Yea, why should 
not every church be composed of such ; so that the places 
of their abode should become "too strait for them;" and 
they, with " the love of Christ constraining them, go forth, 
in the untiring spirit of Christian enterprise, over the whole 
face of the earth ? With such pillars and " polished stones," 
the temple of the Lord would indeed be beautiful. Blessed 
with such supporters of the cause of Christ at home, the 
church will be strong for her Lord's work. Blessed with 
such messengers of salvation to the heathen, the work of 
evangelizing the nations will go rapidly on. As they go 
forth and proclaim the Saviour's love, there will break forth 
from all " the dark places" the cry, "How beautiful upon 
the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth good tid- 
ings, that publisheth peace ; that bringeth good tidings of 
good, that publisheth salvation ; that saith unto Zion, Thy 
God reign eth .^" 



i¥o. 3S7, 

THE 



¥ORLD TO COME. 



And is there a world to come ? Who believes it ? 
See that ricli man, reposing in ease, surrounded with splen- 
dor, sated with abundance, and hving only to himself — does 
he believe it ? 

See that poor man, pining in want, murmuring at his 
lot, and envious of the rich — does he believe it ? 

That man of pleasure, busy only in contriving new 
means of ministering to his passions and appetites — does 
he believe it ? 

The thoughtless multitudes that gaily pass along our 
streets, heedless of death and judgment — do they believe it ? 

Yet there is a world to come. Conscience gives warning 
of it ; the eager craving, the fond anticipations of a mind 
that can never be satisfied with earthly good, foretell it ; 
above all, the Bible, the sure word of inspiration, clearly 
reveals it. Yes, there is a world to come. It is coming 
rapidly. It will soon be here ; and you, my reader, and I 
shall very soon have exchanged our dwellmg here for a 
habitation in that world to come. 

What kind of a world is it ? Very unlike this world. 

This world is transient: "the fashion of it passeth 
away." The dearest objects on which our hearts fasten, 
perish. Riches, honors, pleasures, friends, are all mortal. 
The very " heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and 
the elements shall melt with fervent heat; the earth also, 
and the things that are therein, shall be burned up." But 
the world to come is eternal. Its inhabitants, its scenes, its 
destinies, all will last for ever. Days, months, and years 
are lost in the boundless duration of eternity. 

This world is changing. Scarcely any thing remains 
the same to-day that it was yesterday. Circumstances 
VOL. IX. 26 



2 THE WORLD TO COME. 

change — reducing the prosperous to adversity ; raising the 
poor and wretched to competence and joy ; sickness and 
health alternate!}^ succeed each other ; characters are 
changed — the virtuous and moral become profligate, and 
there is hope that the vicious may be reclaimed. But in 
the world to come all is unchanging. Its pleasures and 
its pains, its sorrows and its joys, and the conditions of its 
inhabitants, will be the same for ever. Character also will 
be fixed. " He that is holy," will be " holy still ; and he that 
is filthy," will be ''filthy still." 

That world is the world of retribution — this is the scene 
of lyrohation. God does not visit sin in this world with its 
immediate punishment ; but " is long-suff'ering to us- ward, 
not willing that any should perish, but that all should come 
to repentance." He has provided an atonement. He sends 
his word, and ministers, and Spirit, to awaken sinners, and 
induce them to receive his grace. He sets before them life 
and death ; commands them to choose life ; and " whoso- 
ever will " may " take of the water of life freely." But O 
how diff'erent will it be in the world to come. There he 
will bestow the rewards or inflict the woes for which men 
have been prepared in this world. Some will be raised to 
seats of honor, and glory, and blessedness, "at his right 
hand," where is "fulness of joy," and where are "pleas- 
ures for evermore." Others will "depart accursed into 
everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels ;" 
" where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not quench- 
ed," and where are " weeping and gnashing of teeth." 

Tiie world to come is perfect. Every thing here is im- 
perfect. The best are, in many respects, imperfect, and the 
worst have some good traits of character, at least as it 
respects their fellow-men and their condition here. The 
purest happiness here has some alloy, and the deepest woe 
some mitigating circumstances. But there, every thing will 
be fixed, settled, perfect. The heavenly city will be fur- 
nished and fitted in the most perfect manner to make its 
inhabitants happy. The world of woe will be perfectly 



THE WORLD TO COiME. 3 

fitted to express the awful wrath of God against sin. The 
spirits of the just will be made perfect, in character and in 
bliss. Not a pain, not a sorrow, not a want, not a sin will 
be found among all the hosts of heaven. And in the pit of 
darkness not a joy will thrill the bosom, not a hope cheer 
the heart. It will be " the blackness of darkness for ever." 

My friend, are you prepared for the world to come ? 

Not if your heart is placed supremely on this world. 
The two worlds are so unlike, that he who loves this world 
will find no corresponding object of affection in that which 
is to come. Place him in the midst of heaven, and he would 
be completely miserable ; for he would not find in all its 
glories an object that he could love, or that could minister 
delight : all his sources of happiness are gone for ever, and 
there is nothing to supply their place. 

You are not prepared, if living in the habitual commis- 
sion of sin. Not prepared, certainly, for the pure society 
and holy employments of heaven ; for " without holiness 
no man shall see the Lord." Nothing can enter the holy city 
*' that defileth or worketh abomination, or maketh a lif." 

You are not prepared unless you have experienced a 
great change — a change which is called in the Scriptures 
being "born again;" "created anew in Christ Je?us;" 
having " passed from death unto life." If you have experi- 
enced this change, you Imve repented of your sins, humbly 
mourning over them, confessing them to God, and forsaking 
them. You have believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, re- 
nouncing all dependence upon your own righteousness, and 
trusting in him alone for salvation. What then is your 
condition? What says conscience? If it decides against 
you, your situation is dangerous beyond conception. Witli 
all the guilt of a life of wickedness resting upon you, and 
the law of God denouncing on you its curses, should you 
now enter the world to come, how wretched, how hopeless 
would be your doom. Let me urge you immediately to 
set about preparation — yes, immediately, for you have no 
time to lose. " This night thy soul may be required of thee." 



4 THE WORLD TO COME. 

Do you ask what is to be done? Give up this world 
as the object of your love. It is impossible for you to be 
saved, so long as you cleave to this world as your portion. 
" Ye cannot serve God and mammon." If you cannot give 
up the world ; if its honors, or riches, or pleasures have 
such a hold upon you that you cannot renounce them for 
Christ, then settle it in 3'our mind that, continuing as you 
are, your damnation is sure. Renounce your sins. " Let 
the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his 
thoucrhts ; and let him return unto the Lord, and he will 
liave mercy upon him, and to our God, for he will abun- 
dantly pardon." Go, then, humbly and penitently confess 
your sins to God, and, in the name of Christ, ask his for- 
giveness. Trust no longer in yourself; but by a living 
faith commit your guilty soul to the Saviour, to be washed 
and purified through his all-cleansing blood. Resolve at 
once, in dependence upon the Holy Spirit, that henceforth 
you will live to God ; that you will make his glory the end, 
and his will the rule of all your future life. 

Are these "hard sayings?" You will not think so when 
you shall have entered the world to come. You will then 
see that these were the most reasonable and easy terms that 
God could give, and the only ones consistent either with his 
own honor or your happiness. They 7)iust be complied ivith, 
or you are lost for ever. They never can be given up, or 
relaxed. God will not change. You must change, or die. 

My dear reader, why should you hesitate a moment I 
You have every thing to gain by complying — every thing 
to lose by refusing. Why will you die ? Your soul is pre- 
cious. Remember, it is a choice between eternal happiness 
and eternal woe. Can you hesitate ? O decide for God 
and heaven ; decide noiv, and for ever. The God of infinite 
mercy help you to fix the purpose ; accept the consecra- 
tion ; and make you eternally blessed. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCFRTY. 



I¥o. 328. 



THE 



CHRISTIAN TRAVELLER 



AN AUTHENTIC NARRATIVE. 




Having tarried a few days in a beautiful villaofe of the 
West, I embarked in a vessel which was crossing one of the 
p-reat lakes. Three other individuals had taken passage, 
and night coming on found us waiting for a breeze. 

About nine o'clock, as the sails were hoisted, another 
passenger came on board. When we had cleared the har- 
bor he entered the cabin, and seemed to suppose that he was 
alone ' for we had all retired to our berths. The lamp was 
burning dimly on the table, but it afibrded suthcient light 
for me to discover that he was young. Seating himself be- 
side it, he drew a book from his pocket and read a few min- 
utes. Suddenly, from on deck, was heard the voice of the 
VOL. IX. 2(3* 



2 THE CHRIi^TIAN TRAVELLER. 

captain uttering oaths, terrific beyond description. The 
youth arose, laid his book in the chair, and kneehufj beside 
it, in a low whisper engaged in prayer. I listened atten- 
tively, and though his soul seemed to burn within him, I 
could gather only an occasional word, or part of a sentence, 
such as, "mercy," " dying heathen," "sinners," etc. Pres- 
ently he seemed in an agony of spirit for these swearers, and 
could scarcely suppress his voice while pleading with God 
to have mercy on them. My soul was stirred within me. 
There M'as a sacredness in this place, and I was self-con- 
demned, knoAving that I also professed the name of Jesus, 
and had retired with my fellow-passengers to rest, not hav- 
ing spoken of God or committed myself to his care. 

Early in the morning I was waked by a loud voice at 
the door of the companion-way : " Here, whose Tracts are 
these?" followed by other voices in threats and impreca- 
tions against Tract distributers, Bethels, Temperance Soci- 
eties, etc. 

I thought of the young stranger, and feai-ed they would 
execute their threats upon him ; but he calmly said, " Those 
Tracts, sir, are mine. I have but few, as you see, but they 
are very good, and you may take one, if you wish. I 
brought tliem on board to distribute, but you were all too 
busy last night." The sailor smiled, and walked away, 
making no reply. 

We were soon called to breakfast with the captain and 
mate. When we were seated at the table, " Captain," said 
our young companion, " as the Lord supplies all our wants, 
if neither you nor the passengers object, I would like to ask 
his blessing on our repast." 

"If you please," replied the captain, with apparent 
good-Avill. In a few minutes the cook was on deck, and 
informed the sailors, who were instantly in an uproar, and 
tlieir mouths filled with curses. The captain attempted to 
apologize for the profanity of his men, saying, "it was per- 
fectly common among sailors, and they meant no harm by it." 

*' Witii your leave, captain," said the young stranger, 
" I think we can put an end to it." 

Himself a swearer, and having just apologized for his 
men, the cjiptain was puzzled for an answer; but after 
a little hesitation replied, '' I might as well attempt to sail 
against a head-wind, ns to think of such a thing." 



THE CHRISTIAN TRAVELLER. 3 

" But I meant all I said," added the young man. 

*' Well, if you think it possible, you may try it," said 
the captain. 

As soon as breakfast was over, the oldest and most 
profane of the sailors seated himself on the quarter-deck 
to smoke his pipe. The young man entered into conversa- 
tion with him, and soon drew from him a history of the ad- 
ventures of his life. From his boyhood he had followed 
the ocean. He had been tossed on the billows in many a 
tempest ; had visited several missionary stations in different 
parts of the world, and gave his testimony to the good 
effects of missionary efforts among the natives of the Sand- 
wich Islands. Proud of his nautical skill, he at length 
boasted that he could do any thing that could be done by 
a sailor. 

" I doubt it," said the young man. 

" I can," answered the hardy tar, " and will not be out 
done, my word for it." 

" Well, when a sailor passes his word he ought to be 
believed. I know a sailor who resolved that he would stop 
swearing, and did so." 

"Ah," said the old sailor, "you've anchored me; I'm 
fast- — but I can do it." 

"I know you can," said the young man, "and I hope 
you will anchor all your shipmates' oaths with yours." 

Not a word of profanity was afterwards heard on board 
the vessel. During the day, as opportunity presented it- 
self, he conversed with each sailor singly on the subject of 
his soul's salvation, and gained the hearts of all. 

By this time I was much interested in the young stran- 
ger, and determined to know more of him. There was 
nothing prepossessing in his appearance: his dress was 
plain, his manners unassuming; but his influence had, by 
the blessing of God, in a few short hours, greatly changed 
the aspect of our crew. The tiger seemed softened to a 
lamb, and peace and quiet had succeeded confusion and 
blasphemy. . 

After supper he requested of the captam the privilege 
of attending worship in the cabin. His wishes were com- 
plied with, and soon all on board, except the man at the 
helm, were assembled. The captain brought out a Bible, 
which he said was given him in early life by his father, with 



4 THE CHRISTIAN TRAVELLER. 

a request that he would never part with it. We hstened 
as our friend read Matthew's account of Christ's crucifixion 
and resurrection; and then looking round upon us, he said, 
"He is risen — yes, Jesus lives, let us worship him." 

It was a melting scene. Knees that seldom bowed be- 
fore, now knelt at the altar of prayer, while the solemnities 
of eternity seemed hanging over us. After prayer, we went 
on deck and sang a hymn. It was a happy place, a Jloat- 
ing Bethel. Instead of confusion and wrath, there was sweet 
peace and solemnity. We ceased just as the setting sun 
was flinging upon us his last cheering rays. 

" Look yonder," he exclaimed. " You who have been 
nursed in the storm and cradled in the tempest, look at the 
setting sun, and learn a lesson that will make you happy 
when it shall set to rise no more. As rose that sun this 
morning to afford us light and comfort, so has the Son of 
God arisen to secure salvation to all who accept and love 
him ; and as that sun withdraws its beams, and we are veiled 
in darkness for a season, so will the Sun of righteousness 
withdraw his offers of mercy from all who continue to neg- 
lect them. But remember, that season is one that never 
ends — one dark, perpetual night." 

The captain, deeply affected, went into the cabin, lit his 
lamp, took his Bible, and was engaged in reading till we 
had retired to rest. 

In the morning, as soon as we w^ere seated at the 
breakfast-table, the captain invited our friend to ask a 
blessing. "There, gentlemen," said he, "this is the first 
time I ever made such a request ; and never, till this young 
man came on board, have I been asked for the privilege 
of holding prayers, though I have a thousand times ex- 
pected it, both on the ocean and the lake ; and have as 
often, on being disappointed, cursed religion in my heart, 
and believed that it was all delusion. Now I see the in- 
fluence of the Bible, and though I make no claims to religion 
myself, I respect it, for my parents were Christians ; and 
though I have never followed their counsels, I cannot for- 
get them." 

After this, for three days, we regularly attended family 
worship, and had much interesting conversation on various 
subjects ; for there was nothing in the religion of the young 
stranger to repress the cheerfulness of social intercourse. 



THE CHRISTIAN TRAVELLER. 5 

From his familiarity with the Bible, his readiness in illus- 
trating its truths and presenting its motives, and from his 
fearless, but judicious and persevering steps, we concluded 
that he was a minister of the Gospel. From all he saw he 
gathered laurels to cast at his Master's feet, and in all his 
movements aimed to show that eternity was not to be trifled 
with. A few hours before we arrived in port, we ascer- 
tained that he was a mechanic. 

Before we reached the wharf the captain came forward, 
and with much feeling bade him farewell ; declared that he 
was resolved to live as he had done no longer — his wife, he 
said, was a Christian, and he meant to go and live with her; 
and added, " I have had ministers as passengers on my ves- 
sel Sabbath-days and week-days, but never before have I 
been reminded of the family altar where my departed 
parents knelt." As we left the vessel, every countenance 
showed that our friend had, by his decided, yet mild and 
Christian faithfulness, won the gratitude of many, and the 
esteem of all. 

We soon found ourselves in a canal-boat, where were 
about thirty passengers of various ages and characters ; and 
my curiosity was not a little excited to learn how my com- 
panion would proceed among them. The afternoon had 
nearly passed away, and he had conversed with no one but 
myself. At length he inquired of the captain if he were 
willing to have prayers on board. 

*' I have no objection," said he, " if the passengers have 
not ; but / shan't attend." 

At an early hour the passengers were invited into the 
cabin, and in a few minutes the captain was seated among 
them. After reading a short portion of Scripture, our friend 
made a few appropriate remarks, and earnestly commended 
us to God. 

As soon as he rose from prayer, a gentleman whose head 
was whitening for the grave, said, " Sir, I should like to 
converse with you. I profess to be a Deist. I once pro- 
fessed religion, but now I believe it is all delusion." 

" Sir," said the young man, " I respect age, and will 

listen to you ; and as you proceed, may, perhaps, ask a few 

questions ; but I cannot debate, I can only say that I must 

love Jesus Christ. He died to save me, and I am a great 

_ sinner." 



g THE CHRISTIAN TRAVELLER. 

*' I do not deny that men are sinners," said the old man, 
*' but I don't beheve in Christ." 

"Will you, then, tell us how sinners can be saved in 
some other way, and God's law be honored ?" 

We waited in vain for a reply, when my friend proceed- 
ed : " Not many years since, I was an infidel, because I did 
not love the truth, and was unwilling to examine it. Now 
1 see my error ; and the more I study the Bible, the firmer 
is my conviction of its truth, and that there is no way of 
salvation but through a crucified Redeemer." 

As the passengers sat engaged in conversation, one of 
them at length turned to our young friend, and related the 
circumstances of a murder recently perpetrated by a man in 
the neighborhood while in a fit of intoxication. To this all 
paid the strictest attention. The captain joined them to 
hear the story, the conclusion of which afforded an oppor- 
tunity for the stranger to begin his work. He was the fear- 
less advocate of Temperance as well as religion, and here 
gained some friends to this cause. 

"But," said he at length, "though alcohol occasions an 
immense amount of crime and misery in our world, I recol- 
lect one instance of murder with which it had no connec- 
tion." . He then related, as nearly as I can remember, the 
following story. 

" In a populous city at the East was a man who seemed 
to live only for the good of others. He daily exhibited the 
most perfect benevolence towards his fellow-men ; sought 
out the poor and needy, and relieved their wants ; sympa- 
thized with and comforted the sick and the afflicted ; and 
though he was rich, his unsparing beneficence reduced him 
to poverty. He deserved the esteem of all, yet he had en- 
emies. He took no part in politics, yet many feared that 
his generosity was a cloak of ambition, and tliat he was 
making friends in order to secure to himself the reins of 
government. Others feared that his religious sentiments, 
connected with his consistent life, would expose their hy- 
l)0crisy. At length a mock trial was held by an infuriated 
mob, and he was condemned and put to death." 

^^" Where was that?" "When was it?" "Who was 
it ?" was heard from several voices. 

" It was in the city of Jerusalem, and the person was 
none other than the Lord Jesus Christ. By his enemies 



THE CHRISTIAN TRAVELLER. 7 

he was hung upon the cross, and for us guilty sinners he 
died." 

Every eye was fixed upon the young man, and a solemn 
awe rested on every countenance. He opened a Bible which 
lay upon the table, and read the account of Christ's con- 
demnation and death : the captain nodded to him as a sig- 
nal for praj'er, and we all again fell on our knees, while he 
wept over the condition of sinners, and, for the sake of 
Christ, besought God's mercy upon them. Here again was 
a floating Bethel. 

In the morning the stranger was not forgotten, and he 
evidently did not forget that there were immortal souls 
around him, hastening with him to the bar of God. During 
the day he conversed separately with each individual, except 
an elderly gentleman who had followed him from seat to 
seat, and showed much uneasiness of mind ; the realities 
of eternity were set before us, and the Holy Spirit seemed 
to be striving with many hearts. 

As the mantle of evening was drawing around us, our 
friend requested an interview with the aged man. 

"Yes, yes," said he, "I have been wishing all day to 
see you, but you were talking with others." 

He acknowledged that he had tried to be a Universalist ; 
and though he could not rest in that belief, he never, until 
the previous evening, saw his lost condition. " And now," 
said he, " I want you to tell me what I shall do." 

The young man raised his eyes to heaven, as if implor- 
ing the Spirit's influences, and then briefly explained the 
nature and reasonableness of repentance and faith, accom- 
panied by a few striking illustrations, in proof of the justice 
of God in condemning, and his mercy in pardoning sinners. 

The old man saw the plan of redemption so clearly, that 
he burst into tears, and exclaimed, " 0, my soul, my soul. 
How have I sinned against God. I see it — I feel it — yes, 
I have sinned all my days." 

"But Jesus died to save sinners," replied the young 
man ; " will you, my friend, give him your heart?" 

" yes, yes, if I had a thousand hearts he should have 
them all," was the answer. 

The young man turned away and wept. For some 
minutes silence Avas broken only by the deep sighs of the 
iged penitent. There was something, in an hour like this, 



g THE CHRISTIAN TRAVELLER. 

awfully solemn. Heaven was rejoicing, I doubt not, over 
a returning prodigal. As he stood alone and wept, he re- 
iterated again and again, " Yes, I will serve God, I will, I 
will." After a time his feelings became more calm, and 
lifting his eyes tow^ards heaven, with both hands raised, he 
broke out in singing, 

" There shall I bathe my weary soul 
In seas of heavenly rest, 
And not a wave of trouble roll 
Across my peaceful breast." 

And then again he wept, and said, " Yes, Jesus, precious 
Saviour." 

The time had come for our young friend to leave us. 
By his zeal in his Mastei"'s service he had stolen our hearts, 
and each pressed forward to express their friendship in an 
affectionate farewell. 

Such was the influence of one individual, wiiose unwa- 
vering purpose it w^as to live for God. He felt for dying 
sinners, and relying on the influences of the Holy Spirit for 
success, labored for the salvation of souls around him. Will 
not the reader solemnly resolve, in God's strength, that 
henceforth, ivhcther at home or abroad, he will make the 
glory of Christ, in the salvation of men, the one object of 
his life? When Christians universally shall do this, we may 
expect soon to hear the song of Zion float on every breeze, 
"Hallelujah." "The kingdoms of this world are become 
the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



j¥o. 339, 

¥HAT MUST I 1)0? 



BY REV. WILLIAM NEVINS, D. D 



" What must I do to be saved ?" The reader will 
find this question in Acts 16 : 30. A man subject to like 
passions as we are, is there reported to have asked it. An 
answer was immediately returned to the question by those 
who w^ere the best qualified to give it. It was forthwith 
acted 00 by him who asked it, and he was saved. Innu- 
merable others have made the same inquiry, have acted in 
compliance with the same answer, and have themselves 
been saved. ''And yet there is room." The propitiation 
is not exhausted. The intercession has not ceased. The 
Holy Spirit has not fulfilled the whole of his commission, 
and returned to heaven. And his office is the same as when 
he first undertook it : to convince the world of sin, and to 
take of the things of Christ and show^ them unto men. There 
is hope for thee, fellows-sinner. Thou hast encouragement 
to inquire and to act. 

Here is a question ; and it has well been called " the 
GREAT QUESTION." There are many questions which men 
concern themselves to ask. " What shall I eat ?" asks one. 
"What shall I drink?" inquires another; and there be 
many that say, '' Who will show us any good ?" But these 
are not great'questions ; much less is any one of them the 
great question. The great question concerns the soul, thy 
immortal nature, and inquires respecting a provision for it, 
in \'iew of what it is, and has done, and is to meet at the 
judgment, on its way thither, and far and for ever beyond 
it. °It asks what is to be done in consideration of its de- 
pravity, its guilt, its responsibility, its trials here, and its 
destiny for the world to come. This is the great question. 
In comparison with others, not only is it the greatest ques- 
tion, but other questions have no magnitude. It is the great 
question. 

It is a question of universal concern. Its miportance is 
as jreneral as it is great. Every man has equal occasion to 
ask it. Everv man needs to be saved. " All have smned 
vol.. IX. -'* 



2 WHAT MUST I DO ? 

and come short of the glory of God. There is none that 
doeth good, no, not one. Judgment has come upon all men 
to condemnation. The heart is deceitful above all things, 
and desperately ^vicked. The carnal mind is enmity against 
God. The whole world heth in wickedness." Does not 
every man need to be saved ? No man needs any thing so 
much as to be saved. No man needs any thing in com- 
parison with it. All else is nothing. This alone is every 
thing. It is the desideratum of the race — not merely need- 
ful, most needful, but the ''one thing needful." 

This question should be the first, as it is the great ques- 
tion. No man can ask it too early. The inquiry, " What 
must I do to be saved ?" ivas never, never can be prema- 
ture; As soon as one can understand its import, there is 
necessity to ask it. Even children ought to make the in- 
quiry, for they are sinners ; and to be a sinner is to be lost. 
We want salvation now more than we Avant any thing else. 
We want it if we live. We want it if we die. Childhood, 
youth, manhood, old age — every season and stage of life 
wants it. And every condition of life wants it. Prosperity 
wants it. Adversity wants it. To-day we need it, both 
for to-day's exigencies, and because to us there may be no 
to-morrow. If we do not ask the question early, we may 
never have opportunity to ask it, or we may ask it in vain. 
Such is human life, that the most important inquiry ought 
to be made first, and the most important work first done. 
Now this is not merely the most important, but the only 
work of any importance, in case of being overtaken by death. 
You may leave other things undone, and dying feel no 
regret ; l3ut dying, and leaving this undone, though every 
thing else may have been done, you can feel no complacency 
in looking back, and nothing but despair in looking forward. 
Wherefore it should be with every one the first question. 
He is mad who defers asking it, under any circumstances, 
however engrossing ; or for any period, however brief the 
period may be. '' ^qq^l first the kingdom of God and his 
righteousness. To-day if ye will hear his voice, harden not 
your liearts. Behold, now is the day of salvation." 

^ Some have asked this question,* and have acted appro- 
priately on the answer to it. They have done what was 
necessary to be done, and now each asks, " Lord, what wilt 
thou liave me t-> do" farther ? 



WHAT MUST I DO ? 3 

Others, having asked it, and obtained tlie answer, are 
hesitating. They know what they must do, but they have 
not done it. The Holy Spirit has convinced them of sin, 
but there his work has stopped. Why has he not gone on ? 
There must be some counteraction. This is a critical con- 
dition. "My Spirit shall not always strive with man." It 
is unreasonable. " How long halt ye between two opinions ?" 
It is dangerous. Death may intervene. The Spirit may 
depart. We are not saved by asking the question, but by 
acting conformably to the answer. It is also an unneces- 
sary state to be in. There is no need of lingering there. 
The case of the jailer proves this. Neither is there any 
advantage in it. Your doing what is required is not pro- 
moted by delaying to do it, but rather impeded. There is 
no getting ready to do it : certainly, no long preparation 
necessary. The jailer's case proves this. Reader, are you 
hesitatino; ? Hesitate no lono;er, but do what Paul and Silas 
said : " Believe in Christ." 

Some, having been concerned for their salvation, have 
asked the question ; and having heard the answer, have de- 
clined doing the thing, as not liking what is to be done. 
And they have relapsed into carelessness ; or are vainly 
imagining to find a substitute which will be accepted ; or 
they have concluded to defer the thing, in the hope that it 
will be more easily done hereafter, though they know at the 
same time that it Avill not be, and it is not difficult to con- 
vince them that it cannot become more easy, but must daily 
become less so. Some have never asked the question ; or 
have asked it only in a spirit of curiosity, without any inten- 
tion of doing, though desirous to know Avhat is to be done. 
Some, again, are so taken up with other questions, such as, 
" What "shall we eat ? Who will show us any good ?" that 
they plead they have no time for the great question. 

Some think they must be a long time asking it before 
they proceed any farther. Why ? Is the answer long de- 
ferred ? Why ask a question a second time, when, on tlie 
first asking, it has been satisfactorily answered ? 

Some ask the question seriously, and witli a degree of 
concern, but the judgment is convinced rather than the 
heart affected. They helieve that they are lost, and need 
salvation, but they do not feel it. Their conviction requires 
to be more thorough, more deep, more of the heart. Con- 



4 WHAT MUST 1 D01 

scious that they are sinners, they infer that they are lost ; but 
they have not such a vie^v of the evil of sin, and of the extent 
of their own depravity, as to acknowledge the entire justice 
of their condemnation, and to seize with avidity on a scheme 
of salvation by the merest grace. Yet even these I would 
not advise to wait for deeper conviction. That may come 
afterw^ards. They may never know the depth of the disease 
till the cure has been commenced. "To the cross — to the 
cross," I w^ould say to these, go, as well for deeper convic- 
tion as for salvation. There, looking on that, you shall learn 
not only what a Saviour you have, but what a sinner you are. 

But I proceed to the import of the question. The end 
proposed in it is salvation. The inquirer w^ould know 
what he must do to he saved. And what is it to be saved ? 
It is to be delivered from sin and from suffering ; to be made 
holy and happy ; to be recovered from the condemnation 
and corruption brought upon the soul by transgi-ession ; to 
be restored to the favor and image of God. It includes 
being pardoned, justified, adopted and made an heir of God, 
as well as being renewed and sanctified. Salvation com- 
prehends both grace and glory. It commences in time ; it 
is continued through eternity. Peace that passeth under- 
standing, hope that maketh not ashamed, joy unspeakable 
and full of glory, and everlasting consolation, belong to this 
salvation. These begin to be realized here ; and beyond 
the grave, a crow^n unfading, a throne exalted, a kingdom 
that cannot be moved, and an inheritance incorruptible and 
undefiled, are reserved for the happy and glorified subject 
of this salvation. He shall want no more, suffer, fear, weep, 
sin, die no more — no more for ever. And the positive good 
that God has prepared for him, sense cannot discern, and 
imagination cannot conceive. It is an " exceeding and eter- 
nal weight of glory." 

Now, the sinner asks what he must do in order to gain 
this salvation. Not to merit it, nor to earn it. That the 
awakened sinner knows he cannot do. But to have it — to 
come into possession of it. Nothing which he is capable of 
doing would avail to this, had not others undertaken and 
done for him. Before I tell him w^hat he must do to be 
saved, let me tell him what others have done that he might 
be saved. 



WHAT Ml ST I DO 1 5 

** God SO loved the world that he gave his only-begot- 
ten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, 
but have everlasting life." This Son, whom his Father 
spared not though he was his only-begotten and well-be- 
loved, the Lo7-d Jesus, though rich, became poor for our 
sakes ; took upon him the form of a servant ; humbled him- 
self, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the 
cross. Yes, for us he condescended, and came down ; lived 
in earthly circumstances ; moved in human society ; was 
subject to all our ills ; was insulted and despised ; wanted, 
wept, bled, and died. This is what he did for our sakes, 
and in our stead. It was the hardest of doing. It was suf- 
fering. For the same object he is doinr/ now in heaven ; 
and for this God in providence is ever doing ; and the Holy 
Spirit is doing within us ; and angels are waiting to do ; 
and men are doing — ministers preaching, and Christians 
praying. 

In the midst of all this doing for him, the sinner asks 
what he must do for himself. " What must / do to be 
saved?" And it is true, he must do something, after all 
that has been done by others, or never be saved. He must 
act. His cooperation is indispensable. He cannot be the 
subject of salvation without being an agent in it. That about 
which he inquires is not merely permitted, but required. 
It is not what he may do, but what he must do — not what 
he ought to do, or had better do, but Avhat it is indispensable 
he should do. Salvation includes a work done for us, in 
us, and hy us. The question is about this last ; which is as 
essential in its place as was the death of Christ in its place, 
or as is the influence of the Holy Spirit. I would have this 
truth grounded and settled in your mind. Every sinner 
must do in order to be saved. His salvation can no more 
be without his action, than it could be without the action of 
God. Not doing destroys, but it does not save. Men may 
perish by omission, but to their salvation action is necessa- 
ry. '' He that believeth shall be saved. Except ye repent, 
ye shall all likewise perish. Strive to enter in at the strait 
gate." 

But tvhat is it ? He asks tvhat he must do to be saved. 
I will answer. And here let me pass to the method of di- 
rect address, for it is your case, my fellow-sinner, for which 
I am going to prescribe. What you must do has imme- 

VOL. IX. ^' 



g WHAT MUST I DO 1 

diate respect to the Lord Jesus Christ. It is not any exer- 
cise of which sin is the object, that saves the soul. Our 
sins have ruined us. It is no looking at them that can save 
us. Neither are we saved by any exercise of which God, 
absolutely considered, is the object. The words whereby 
we may be saved are about Jesus. He is the object of tlie 
saving act. "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou 
shalt be saved." 

But you ask, and very properly, " Who is Christ ? How 
stands he connected with my salvation ? Why am I direct- 
ed to him ?" That the act may be intelligently done, it is 
necessary these questions should be satisfactorily answered. 
Faith presupposes knowledge. I reply, that Christ is God, 
and that he became man, and so was '' God manifest in the 
flesh ;" was made under the law for sinners, in which capac- 
ity he obeyed for them the precept they broke, and suffered 
for them the penalty they had incurred — and as he was 
delivered for their offences, so he rose again for their justi- 
fication, and ascended to heaven, where he ever liveth to 
make intercession. Now, in him, in consequence of this 
undertaking, work, and passion, there is salvation. There 
is redemption through lus blood. It cleanses from all sin. 
He is the end of the law for righteousness to every one 
that believeth ; so that God can be just, and yet justify such ; 
for by his obedience they are made righteous. " Neither 
is there salvation in any other." You see, then, why you 
are directed to him. 

Now, here is the object. Observe, it is with him you 
have to do — with him immediately. You need no daysman 
between you and the Mediator. We come to God hy him — 
but to Christ without any medium. And it is only one 
thing you are directed to do with respect to him. It is to 
believe on him. It is true, the exercise is sometimes ex- 
pressed by other terms, and it is also true that believing 
includes or draws after it other exercises. It implies confi- 
dence. It works by love. It is the principle of all evan- 
gelical obedience ; and the eye that looks to Jesus, believ- 
ing, is always moistened with "the tears of ingenuous repent- 
ance for all sin. But it is faith that saves the soul — or 
rather, that brings the soul to Christ, that he may save it. 

The connection between believing and being saved is 
certain and infallible. Believe, and thou shalt be saved. 



WHAT MUST I DO ? 7 

There is no peradventure here. Thou shalt be saved. De- 
pend upon it. Doubt it not. Thou shalt be saved — and 
that, vsrhoever you be, whatever your age, how many soever 
and great your sins, thou shalt be saved. Yes, thou. 
*' Him that cometh to me, I will in nowise cast out." Only 
believe. If all the sins of all men met on you, yet, believ- 
ing, you should be saved from them all. 

Bvit what is it to believe ? It is to give credit to the 
testimony of God. This supposes that you understand it — 
that you give credit to it as his, and /or his saTce — and that 
you feel and act suitably to it. To believe a command, is to 
obey it. To believe a threatening, is to be aAved by it. To 
believe an adtnonition, is to take heed to what it recom- 
mends. To believe a 2>romise, is to rely on it, and plead it ; 
and to give credit to an invitation, is to comply with the 
terms of it. 

But what, in particular, is believing in Christ ? It is to 
give credit to what is testified of him as a Saviour ; and to 
exercise implicit, imbounded confidence in him as such. It 
is to receive him — to look to him — to commit the soul to 
him ; and this not merely that he may be its Priest, but 
also its King and Lord, its Master and Teacher too. Is 
Christ divided, that one can receive him in one of his offices 
and not in all ? Does he say, "Come unto me ?" in the 
same breath he adds, " Take my yoke upon you, and learn 
of me." It is all one invitation ; and in the compliance the 
parts cannot be separated. 

But do you ask hoiv you are to believe? Faith is a 
moral exercise. " With the heart man belie veth unto right- 
eousness." Do you ask how you may know if you have 
believed ? " By their fruits ye shall know them." Faith 
works by love. The heart is purified by faith. And "this 
is the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith." 
These are among its achievements. It is a holy and heroic 
principle. Read a record of its exploits in Hebrews 11. 

Now your question is answered. Act upon it. I have 
done my part. Do you yours. Practise upon your know- 
ledge. If you know this thing, happy are you if you do it. 
Believe, since that is the thing you must do. Believe on 
Christ, and be saved. Believe without delay. It is a pres- 
ent duty. Believe, while it is your privilege. To-day. 
Now. 



8 WHAT MUiST I DO ? 

Not believing, you remain not saved ; and " how shall 
we escape, if we neglect so great salvation ?'* Not saved — 
and soon the harvest will be past, the summer ended, and 
you not saved — not saved, and never to be saved. sinner, 
act immediately and with thy might. Be instant. Be in 
earnest. The Saviour looks towards thee. He calls to thee. 
He comes after thee. His arms are extended ; his heart is 
open. By the love that was stronger than death, he pleads 
with thee to let him save thee. 

But perhaps you say, " I hear all this, and I approve it, 
and I do make the attempt to believe. But it is all in vain. 
I experience no relief, no change." Renew the attempt. 
There is no alternative. There is no second thing you are 
to be directed to do, in case the first does not succeed. 

"■ But may I not pray, and read my Bible, and break off 
my evil habits, and attend on the means of grace ?" Most 
assuredly you may ; and if you are in earnest you will do 
it, whoever says nay. Salvation includes a work for you. 
Read about it. Think about it. Hear about it — the incar- 
nation, the agony, the crucifixion, the resurrection, the in- 
tercession. Be grateful for it. It includes also a work in 
you, done by another. For that pray. Ask the Holy 
Spirit to do it in you. But do not on that account neglect 
the work that is to be done hy you. And remember that 
that which is to be done by you, is more than reading about 
the work of Christ, and praying for the work of the Spirit. 
Propitiation was the work of Christ. Regeneration is the 
work of the Spirit. To repent and believe is thine. " Study 
to do thy oivn business." And then thou shalt not only 
have to praise Christ for having done his work, but thou 
shalt bless the Spirit too for having accomplished his. And 
to the divine Trinity, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, shall 
be due, and shall be rendered by thee, the glad subject of 
the salvation, and by the general assembly of the redeemed, 
and by the whole fraternity of angels, the praise, all the 
praise, and the praise for ever, that thou art saved. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



Mo. S30. 

INFIDEL OBJECTIOIS. 



FROM ABBOTT'S MAGAZINE. 

Unwearied efforts are made at the present day to un- 
dermine the Christian faith of the young and the thought- 
less. Infidel tracts are extensively circulated, and societies 
formed, that the institutions and the restraints of Christian- 
ity may be swept from the land. But there never yet has 
been an argument adduced against Christianity, which has 
not been triumphantly refuted. Notwithstanding the efforts 
which have been made by unbehevers in all ages of the 
church, Christianity has been advancing with a steady and 
ever-increasing power. It has triumphed over all former 
opposition. Voltaire boasted that he could overthrow it. 
And if there ever was a man who could have shaken Chris- 
tianity to its foundation, Voltaire was the man. He was 
the idol of his nation. The theatres of Paris, and every 
literary circle in the empire, resounded with his praises. 
Whatever he wrote was at once communicated to millions 
of minds. He was possessed of a memory almost miracu- 
lous in its powers of retention. His command of language 
was perfect. His powers of sarcasm unrivalled. The pecu- 
liar circumstances of the times were remarkably favorable to 
his enterprise. He summoned all his powers for the work. 

Voltaire is now dead. He has gone to judgment. Chris- 
tianity still lives and thrives with ever-increasing vigor. 
Every day tells us of her triumphs ; every hour proclaims 
her victories. The sarcasm of Voltaire, the sneers of Gib- 
bon, the sophistry of Hume, were alike unavailing. Chris- 
tianity still hves, and is extending from sea to sea, and from 
shore to shore. Modern infidels are retailing, at second- 



2 INFIDEL OBJECTIONS. 

hand, the objections which have already been refuted, and 
which have proved powerless. We have no fears for Chris- 
tianity. Her omnipotence is proved. The only thing to be 
feared from the efforts of infidels at the present day is, that 
they may blast the hopes of many families, and bring down 
the gray hairs of many parents in sorrow to the grave. 
They may succeed in undermining the foundations of virtue 
in the bosoms of not a few of the young and the thought- 
less ; leading them to cast off the fear of God and to restrain 
prayer, and thus to come to all the horrors of the infidel's 
death-bed, and to grope through the gloom of eternity un- 
done for ever. It is for them that we write, that they may 
be guarded against the seductions of vice, and against the 
sophistry of those who would betray them. . 

Again we say, we have no fears for Christianity. From 
a lowly origin it has risen to greatness, and has spread over 
a large portion of the globe. Wherever it has appeared, it 
has been the dispenser of the choicest blessings. Every 
Aveapon that has been hfted against it has proved of no 
avail. Where can you find infidels more powerful than 
Hume and Gibbon and Bolingbroke, Rousseau and Vol- 
taire ? Where can you find persecution more violent and 
bloody than that of Nero or Domitian ? If Christianity 
could have been overthrown, it would have been done long 
before now. But the lash of the satirist, the sophistry of 
the philosopher, and the sword of the persecutor have been 
alike ineftectual. In defiance of all opposition, religion has 
been steadily advancing, and her progress is now more rapid 
than it ever has been before. If what we write may be 
instrumental in saving any young man from the downward 
path of sin and woe, our object will be accomplished, and 
our reward Avill be great. 

The Old Testament is the great storehouse of infidel 
objections. Most persons are less acquainted with the Old 
Testament than with the New, and are therefore less pre- 



INFIDEL OBJECTIONS. 3 

pared to contradict bold assertions, or to detect incorrect 
statements and sophistical reasonings. We shall now an- 
swer a few of the most plausible objections which are urged 
against the divine authority of the Bible. Commencing 
with the first chapter of Genesis, we shall take the objec- 
tions in the oi^der in which they arise, and shall endeavor to 
present the arguments of the infidel in all their strength, 
assured that Christianity has nothing to fear from the most 
determined attacks of her foes. 

Objection 1. Of the history of the creation, it is said 
by Palmer, " One thing is remarkable in the account : that 
there were three days and three nights before the creation 
of the sun, which is the sole cause of day and night. Tliis 
proves that Moses, or whoever wrote the first chapter of 
Genesis, was neither a e-ood world-maker nor a cfood as- 
tronomer." 

Answer. This objection infidels have urged for many 
centuries. But, unfortunately for them, the light of modern 
science has disclosed that the sun is not a great globe of fire, 
as they have supposed. Dr. Herschel's telescope has com- 
pletely annihilated their argument. It has shown, to the 
satisfaction of every scientific man, that the sun is a solid 
globe, similar to the earth and other planets, and that the 
splendor which it emits comes from a region of luminous 
clouds with which it is enveloped. Thus modern philoso- 
phy has shown that the Mosaic account is minutely and even 
scientifically accurate. The matter of light is a substance 
altocrether distinct from the sun. It Avas called into exist- 
ence the first day of the creation. On the fourth day the 
sun assumed his station as the great light -hearer. This is 
the precise word which Moses uses. 

This objection is thus blown to the winds. And yet, 
founded as it is in ignorance, it still holds sway over the 
minds of the ignorant. It happens that Moses was the 
aood astronomer, and that Palmer and his coadjutors were 



4 INFIDEL OBJECTIONS 

the dupes of objections founded on ignorance. It happens 
that Moses, in the very infancy of science, and before the 
powers of the telescope Avere known, had attained a degree 
of accuracy in astronomical statements which surpassed the 
knowledge of those who are enjoying all the light of the 
nineteenth century. It is the recent perfection of science 
which has proved the scientific accuracy of the Mosaic ac- 
count. How tremendousl)^ then, is the objection rolled 
back upon the objector. And if he be susceptible of shame, 
how must he be confounded, to learn, that with all his boast- 
ing he has been urging the argument of ignorance and folly. 
And if he will allow himself to think, how must he be per- 
plexed to account for the fact, that Moses, without the ad- 
vantage of modern science, and without the perfection of 
modern art, was so far in advance of the learned men who 
have lived even within half a centUry of the present day. 

Sir Isaac Newton, whose mind was as familiar with suns 
and stars as with household things, would have laughed to 
scorn the man who should adduce such an argument against 
revelation ; and yet it is still circulated, by the ignorant and 
the designing, to build up the cause of infidelity. 

There is no geologist of more distinguished reputation 
than Cuvier. He says the Mosaic account of the creation 
of the world, " considered in a purely scientific view, is ex- 
tremely remarkable, inasmuch as the order which it assigns 
to the different epochs of creation, is precisely the same as 
that which has been deduced from geological observations." 

Where did Moses obtain this knowledge ? Did he bor- 
row it from the Egyptians ? They were not acquainted 
with the science of geology. It is the laborious research 
of many centuries which has enabled learned men to come 
scientifically to those conclusions which Moses has stated 
with so much simplicity in the first chapter of Genesis. 
Again we ask, how are we to account for the fact, that, 
thousands of years ago, the leader of a half-civilized nation 



INFIDEL OBJECTIONS. 5 

had attained a degree of knowledge about the structure of 
the world, wiiich is now only discovered by the observation 
of centuries and the intense study of the most gifted minds ? 
The man who can account for this on common principles, 
must be credulous indeed. 

The Christian has a very simple and satisfactory answer. 
" He who made the world, could reveal to Moses how it 
was made. It is a fact of deep interest, that ' science, when 
matured by a series of careful observations and legitimate 
induction, teaches us precisely what Moses had taught more 
than three thousand years ago.' " 

Objection 2. " It is said in the Bible that Moses wrote 
the first five books of the Old Testament ; but it is impossi- 
ble that he could have written them, for in his day the art 
of writing was not known." This is a bold assertion, and 
if true, a very formidable one. Let us inquire into its truth. 

Answer. Not long since, the French army invaded 
Egypt. A corps of scientific men, under the patronage of 
the French government, accompanied this army, to examine 
the hieroglyphics, and to explore the far-famed antiquities 
of this land. They found, in the pyramids — the sepulchral 
chambers of Egypt's embalmed kings — many manuscripts 
written in the time of Moses, and one in particular loh'ich 
was written two centuries before his day. These manuscripts 
were found with the mummies and funeral relics which were 
deposited in the tombs of the pyramids. They were read, 
and their contents published to the world. 

And yet infidels have been asserting for centuries, that 
Moses could not have written the Pentateuch, because peo- 
ple did not know how to write then. This matter-of-fact 
discovery of the French philosophers has for ever removed 
the argument from the mouths of intelligent men, but it is 
still bandied about, to do its work among the ignorant. 

Objection 3. " ITie creation of the world, according 
to the account of Moses, took place but about six thousand 

VOL. IX. '^^ 



Q IXFIDEL OBJECTIONS. 

years ago. But the science of geology afifords abundance 
of evidence that this world must have existed millions of 
ages.'' 

Answer. The first chapter of Genesis, in its details, is 
not an account of the original creation of the globe, but of 
its adaptation to its present purposes, and of the introduc- 
tion of man upon its surface. " In the beginning God cre- 
ated the heavens and the earth." When was " the begin- 
ning .^" Does Moses say it was but six thousand years ago ? 
No such thing. Moses says not one word upon the subject. 
For aught we are told, it may have been millions of ages. 

" And the earth was without form, and void ; and dark- 
ness was upon the face of the deep." How long had the 
earth remained this shapeless mass of inorganic matter? 
The Bible does not inform us. For aught we can tell, it 
may have been through the long lapse of many ages. Mo- 
ses simply informs us that the earth had been created " in 
the beginning," and was in this situation when God said, 
"Let there be light." 

But here again science appears in attestation of the truth 
of Scripture. By a process of investigation of petrified 
bones and organic remains, which it is not necessary here 
to endeavor to explain, the most eminent geologists are sat- 
isfied that the human race cannot have existed on this globe 
for a longer period than that asserted by Moses. Thus 
science, instead of contradictino^ the Mosaic account, oives 
whatever influence she has in its favor. 

Objection 4, " Modern astronomy teaches us, that the 
world upon which we live is but one among unnumbered 
millions. As far as the eye of the telescope can penetrate 
into the regions of infinite space, we find suns and systems 
strewed with a profusion which no combination of numbers 
can express. Tins world is one of the most insignificant of 
them all, and, compared with the rest, is but as a sand upon 
the shore of the ocean, or as a single leaf amid the countless 



LNFIDEL OBJECTIONS. 7 

myriads of the forest. It is, therefore, ridiculous to sup- 
pose that this insignificant world, with its puny inhabitants, 
should attract so much of the attention of God as is repre- 
sented in the Bible." 

Answer. This argument implies, first, the assertion 
that Christianity is intended for the exclusive benefit of this 
world. We cannot reply to this assertion better than in 
the eloquent language of Chalmers. 

" How does the infidel know that Christianity is set up 
for the single benefit of this earth and its inhabitants ? How 
is he able to tell us that the person and the religion of Je- 
sus are unknown in other worlds ? We challenge him to 
the proof of this said positive announcement. He may 
make his argument out of an assertion which he has no 
means whatever of verifying ; an assertion, the truth or the 
falsehood of which can only be gathered out of some super- 
natural message, for it lies completely beyond the range of 
human observation. For any thing he can tell, sin has 
found its way into these other worlds. For any thing he 
can tell, many a visit has been made to each of them, on 
the subject of our common Christianity, by commissioned 
messengers from the throne of the Eternal. For any thing 
he can tell, the redemption proclaimed to us, is not one sol- 
itary instance, or not the whole of that redemption which is 
by the Son of God, but only our part in a plan of mercy 
equal in magnificence to all that astronomy has brought 
within the range of human contemplation." 

But the Christian can go farther than this. In the Bible 
he finds positive evidence that the plan of redemption is not 
confined, in its moral effects, to this world alone. The in- 
habitants of other worlds look with interest upon the scenes 
which are occurring here. And in these scenes they wit- 
ness such a display of the Creator's love as constitutes one 
of the high songs of eternity. 

The Christian can go farther still. Even admitting the 



3 INFIDEL OBJECTIONS. 

infidel's bare and proofless assertion, that Christianity was 
intended for this world alone, his argument remains still to 
be defended. 

He says, "Since astronomy has unfolded to us such a 
number of worlds, it is not likely that God would pay so 
much attention to this one world, and set up such wonder- 
ful provisions for its benefit as are announced to us in the 
Christian revelation." 

And is this the character of the infidel's God ? Is he 
so exhausted with his many cares, that he cannot attend to 
the wants of the creatures he has made ? Is he such a 
languid, powerless being, that he has called worlds into 
existence which he has no time to take care of? Is the 
God whom the infidel professes to worship, so overwhelmed 
with business and perplexed with cares, that he cannot be 
the guide and protector of his frail children ? 

Such is not the God of the Christian. The God we 
worship is not like feeble man. He rules over an empire, 
vast in extent, beyond the conceptions of any finite mind. 
Infinity is filled with rolling worlds, over which his bound- 
less monarchy extends. And yet there is no minuteness 
which can escape his observant eye. Again, to quote the 
language of Dr. Chalmers, " In a word, I am told by the 
telescope, that the Alnaighty is now at work in regions more 
distant than geometry has ever measured, and among worlds 
more manifold than numbers have ever reached. But by 
the microscope I am also told, that with a mind to compre- 
hend the whole in the vast compass of its generality, he has 
also a mind to concentrate a close and a separate attention 
on each and all of its particulars ; and that the same God 
who sends forth an upholding influence among the orbs and 
the movements of astronomy, can fill the recesses of every 
single atom with the intimacy of his presence, and travels 
in all the greatness of his unimpaired attributes, upon every 
spot and corner of the universe he has formed. Does it not 



INFIDEL OBJECTIONS. 9 

add much to the perfection of the benevolence of God, that 
while it is expatiating over the vast field of created tilings, 
there is not one portion of the field overlooked by it ; that 
while it scatters blessings over the whole of an infinite range, 
it causes them to descend in a shower of plenty on every 
separate habitation ; that while his arm is underneath and 
round about all worlds, he enters within the precincts of 
every one of them, and gives a care and a tenderness to 
each individual of their teeming population?" 

What low and degraded views the infidel must have of 
the character of God. The God he worships is a powerless 
being, so distracted with care that he cannot attend to his 
children's wants. 

Objection 5. '*It can be proved by mathematical cal- 
culation, that there is not water enough in the world for a 
general deluge ; and therefore the account which is given 
in the Bible of such a deluge, is a fable, and the book which 
contains such fables, is not worthy of any credit." 

Answer. 1. It is difficult to knov/ how to reply to a 
man who has such a crooked mind as to think that he who 
made all worlds, and holds the ocean in his hand, is unable 
to roll a flood of waters over this little globe. The God of 
the Deist must be impotent indeed, if he cannot make a 
flood of any dimensions to suit his purposes. The God of 
the Christian is all-powerful, there is nothing which he 
cannot do. 

2. But even this frivolous assertion is not to be assented 
to as true. Nearly three-fourths of the whole surface of 
the globe are now covered with water, and it is not so easy 
to prove that the comparatively small portion of land may 
not sink and be inundated by the deep. Bold assertions are 
not arguments. 

3. The fact of a deluge is almost universally asserted 
by geologists. The present appearance of the rocks and 
mountains and caverns of the earth, irresistibly proves that 

VOL. IX. 28* 



10 INFIDEL OBJECTIONS. 

it must have been at some former period covered with water. 
This is now admitted by every distinguished geologist, 
whether he be friend or foe to the Christian cause. The 
wreck and ruin everywhere visible upon the surface of our 
planet, have satisfied every careful observer, that wild floods 
and rushing torrents have swept over the globe. Thus does 
science give her testimony to the truth of revelation. Skel- 
etons of whales have been found upon the sides of high 
mountains far from the ocean. The remains of animals, 
which can live only in the torrid zone, are found far away 
in the frigid regions of the north, showing that they must 
have been borne there by the mighty rush of waters. Im- 
mense forests are found many feet beneath the surface of 
the earth, indisputably proving that the action of the water 
must have washed them down and covered them with earth. 
And there are evidences still more striking in the position 
of the various strata of which this earth is composed. The 
fact that there has been a deluge is written in living char- 
acters upon the face of nature. Blot out the record from 
the Bible, and still the evidence remains indisputable. 

Objection 6. "Noah's ark, as described in the Bible, 
was not large enough to contain one-half of the animals for 
which it was intended." 

Answer. By an accurate measurement, taken from the 
proportions given by Moses, it is ascertained that the ark 
was about as large as eighteen of the largest ships of the 
present day. The distinct species of four-footed animals, 
known, amount to but about two hundred and fifty. These 
eighteen ships Avill carry twenty thousand men, with eigh- 
teen hundred pieces of cannon, and provisions for six months. 
Who then can for a moment doubt that the ark, built not 
for speed nor for beauty, but merely for buoyancy and 
strength, would afford accommodations for these two hun- 
dred and fifty pairs of quadrupeds, with the specified num- 
ber of birds and insects, and eight human beings, with pro- 



INFIDEL OBJECTIONS. 



11 



visions for a year ? It seems almost like tritiing to answer 
such arguments, and yet deists are scattering them about 
among tlie ignorant and the credulous as powerful objec- 
tions to the credibility of the Scriptures. The fact is, as 
stated by Bishop Wilkins, *' that of the two, it is more 
difficult to assign a number and bulk of necessary things to 
answer to the capacity of the ark, than to find sufficient 
room for the several species of animals, and their food, 
already known to have been there." 

There is one very interesting fact in this connection, de- 
serving of notice. " It can be proved to demonstration, that 
the proportion of the length to the breadth, and of both to 
the height, in Noah's ark, is exactly that which renders any 
substance most buoyant and the most perfectly secure even 
in a storm." Now it is a question really deserving of 
thought, how did Noah obtain such skill in architectural 
dimensions ? It has been the result of long experience and 
careful observation, by which architects of the present day 
have obtained this knowledge. It did not come to. them 
intuitively. Hoav then did it happen that Noah, far back 
in the infancy of the world, was so accomplished a ship- 
builder? It is not an easy question for the deist to 
answer. 

Objection 7. " The Israelites were ordered to wage 
exterminating war against the Canaanites. They were to 
show no mercy, they were to feel no compassion. Neither 
helpless age nor innocent infancy were to be spared. Men, 
women, and children were to be exterminated by indiscrim- 
inate massacre. Is it possible to believe that God would 
issue such a command — that he would commission one na- 
tion to carry fire and blood to the habitations of another?" 

Answer. 1. May not God use any instruments he 
pleases in the execution of his judgments ? God poured an 
ocean of burning lava on Herculaneum and Pompeii. He 
spared neither age nor infancy, neither mother nor babe. 



•[2 INFIDEL OBJECTIONS. 

All were overwhelmed in indiscriminate destruction. He 
shook the foundations of the earth, and opened one wide 
grave, in which was swallowed Lisbon, with her thousands 
of inhabitants. He sends pestilence and famine to desolate 
a city and a nation. Neither women nor children are spared. 
For hours and days they cry in the protracted agony of 
incurable disease. And are the horrors of war more fear- 
ful ? May not God with as much propriety deliver up an 
abandoned city to the horrors of war, as to the ocean of 
liquid lire, or the earthquake, or the all-devouring famine, 
or the dreadful plague ? They who urge this objection, 
seem to be perfectly unconscious that it is just as powerful 
against the God of nature as against the God of revelation. 
In point of fact, God is continually sending judgments which 
spare neither age nor sex, neither female helplessness nor 
unoffending infancy, 

2. It is represented in the Bible, that on a certain occa- 
sion God found it to be necessary to check the pride and 
presumption of the Israelites by sending upon them de- 
served punishment. A judgment was to be sent sufficiently 
appalling to produce an impression upon their obdurate 
hearts. The choice was therefore offered to David, between 
seven years of famine, three months of exposure to conquer- 
ing enemies, and three days of pestilence. Now, is the send- 
ing of the horrors of war a greater impeachment of the 
divine justice, than sending the famine or the pestilence ? 
The deist says, God may send the famine — he may send 
the pestilence — but he must not send the sword. How 
perfectly childish such a distinction ! And what arrogant 
presumption, for a man to sit in judgment upon the instru- 
ments which God may use in the execution of his will! 

3. Is it asked, why did God desire the extermination of 
the Canaanites? We reply, why did he desire the de- 
struction of Ilerculaneum and Pompeii ? Why does he 
roll the cloud of pestilence over Barbary and Turkey ? Why 



INFIDEL OBJECTIONS. I3 

does he suffer a third part of the human race annually to 
die in infancy ? This asking of questions is easy work, and 
when the deist has answered one half of those which are 
continually arising before the thinking mind, he may begin 
to expect that perhaps the human mind will eventually be 
able to answer all. Even if we could see no reason why 
God should desire the extermination of the Canaanites, the 
occurrence would be burdened with no greater difficulties 
than everywhere meet us as we look upon the universally 
admitted acts, of God. 

4. But we can see a reason why God should desire the 
destruction of the Canaanites. They were abandoned to 
the most polluting idolatry. They were celebrating their 
degrading rites, with deeds of impurity and crime of the 
most revolting character. Will the deist say that it was 
criminal for God to exterminate such a race ? Will he say 
that it was expedient to expose the Israelites to the tempta- 
tion of their sensual rites, or to the attacks of such a savage 
race ? He must indeed be sorely pressed for an answer, to 
assert this. If God had swallowed them up by an earth- 
quake, or rolled the waves of the Mediterranean over their 
habitations, or rained upon them the fires of heaven, de- 
stroying age and infancy together, all objection would be 
silenced. It seems, then, the only difficulty is, that God 
should have made use of the instrumentality of man in exe- 
cuting his judgments. 

5. Why, then, the infidel asks, admitting that it was 
right that they should be exterminated, was it not done in 
some other way? Why not send pestilence or famine, 
rather than excite the passions of man, and deliver them 
over to the fury of the sword ? Even here God has so 
unfolded to us the circumstances, as to furnish us with a 
conclusive answer. 

The great object God had in view, in his dealings with 
the children of Israel, was to preserve them from the sin 



24 INFIDEL OBJECTIONS. 

of idolatry, and to confirm them in the true religion. This 
object is to be seen in many of the otherwise unmeaning 
ceremonies of the Mosaic law. Now, what could produce 
upon the mind of the Jew such a deep conviction of God's 
utter abhorrence of idolatry, as to be himself the commis- 
sioned executor of the divine judgment ? God did not send 
the pestilence, or the famine, or the flood. They would 
have produced but a comparatively trifling impression. He 
said to the Israelites, " Go, and exterminate that abandoned 
nation. Spare neither age nor sex. Purify the earth from 
the polluted race of idolaters with which it is now de- 
formed." Can the ingenuity of man devise a measure more 
effectually calculated to produce the impression desired? 
Think you that the Israelite, as he passed through these 
awful scenes of fiery judgment, did not feel more deeply 
than he ever felt before, the danger of incurring the dis- 
pleasure of God ? As he saw the armies of God prosecut- 
ing their work of extermination from village to village, de- 
stroying root and branch, and every vestige of idolatry, think 
you, he could easily be guilty of the same sin, and expose 
himself to the same awful judgment ? The very measure 
adopted, bears the impress of the hand of that God who is 
wise in council, and fearful in judgment. In fact, no one 
can look at the measure, in all its bearings, without seeing 
that it was dictated by infinite wisdom. 

The objection of the deist then is simply this, either, 

1. God has no right to exterminate an abandoned na- 
tion in any way, either by flood, or pestilence, or famine, 
or sword. Or, 

2. He has no right to exterminate them in that way 
which will produce the deepest impression of the enormity 
of sin upon the minds of those that remain. 

The man who will attempt to defend either of these po- 
sitions, is beyond the reach of argument. The man who 
has sufficient candor to admit that neither of them is defen- 



INFIDEL OBJECTIONS. 15 

sible, must also admit that this much- vaunted objection of 
the deist is completely overthrown. 

Will any one say, that if God can wage exterminating 
war with his enemies, and deliver them over to the sword, 
man may do the same, and, uncommissioned of God, take 
the sword into his hand ? 

And is it so? May man do what God does? God 
sends disease, and takes away my neighbor's life. May I 
therefore poison my neighbor ? God sends the lightning 
and burns my neighbor's dwelling. May I therefore kindle 
the flame of midnight conflagration ? These are the frivo- 
lous cavils that the deists of the present day are putting 
forth as arguments which demand refutation. And they 
are received as arguments only by the giddy who are wed- 
ded to worldly pleasure, by the ignorant who are sunk in 
degraded sin, and the unreflecting who are in chase of the 
honors and opulence of the world. 

Our rulers have authority from God under certain cir- 
cumstances to take away .life, and leave a family in a situa- 
tion worse than death. They are thus, as Moses was, the 
executors of the divine will, and are they therefore murder- 
ers ? Does it impeach the divine goodness? Why, then, 
was Moses a murderer ? Why did his conduct impeach the 
divine goodness ? 

The destruction of the Canaanites showed the Jews how 
powerless were the gods on whom the heathen relied, and 
impressed upon their minds the power of Jehovah, the God 
of Israel. 

Objection 8. " David w^as a murderer and an adulterer. 
The catalogue of human crimes can hardly afford one of 
greater atrocity than his conduct in the aff"air of Uriah ; and 
yet he is represented in the Bible as a man after God's own 
heart." 

Answer. 1. The Bible condemns his sin as severely as 
it can be condemned by any one. The plain truth is stated, 



JQ INFIDEL OBJECTIONS. 

that David was guilty of such a crime, and it is spoken of 
in terms of the most unmeasured abhorrence. God sent a 
prophet to David with a special message of condemnation. 
He punished David for the crime with great severity. " Be- 
cause," said the prophet, "by this deed thou hast given 
great occasion to the enemies of the Lord to blaspheme." 
1. Your beloved child shall die. 2. For the remainder of 
life you shall not have one moment of domestic peace, but 
shall suffer as severely as man can suffer from domestic 
sorrows. 3. You shall have no more peace upon the throne. 
Bereaved of your child, and harassed for the remainder of 
your days with domestic discord and political disasters, you 
shall drag out a melancholy existence. 

This was the sentence God sent the prophet to pass 
upon David ; and this is the occurrence the deist quotes to 
prove that the God of the Bible countenances sin. Is this 
palliating sin ? Is this passing it by as a slight occurrence ? 

What is the objection of the deist ? It is, that notwith- 
standing this sin, God regarded David with approbation. 

And what is the answer ? It is, that God regarded his 
sin with the utmost abhorrence, and that for it David suf- 
fered to the very last hour of his life. He did not in this 
respect regard David with approbation. He was approved 
only for those things in which he did justly, and loved 
mercy, and walked humbly with God. 

Even David himself does not attempt to palliate the sin. 
He acknowledges the righteousness of God's judgment. 
He condemns himself in language of the most abject hu- 
mility and the deepest penitence. Read the fifty-first 
Psalm, which he wrote in reference to this transaction. 
How heartrending his penitence. How is he overwhelmed 
with self-loathing and self-abhorrence. " Have mercy upon 
me, God," he cries. " Wash me thoroughly from mine 
iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin. For I acknowledge 
my transgression, and my sin is ever before me. Behold, 



INFIDEL OBJECTIONS. 17 

I was shapen in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive 
me. Hide thy face from my sins, and blot out all mine 
iniquities. Create in me a clean heart, God ; and renew 
a right spirit within me. Cast me not away from thy pres- 
ence, and take not thy Holy Spirit from me." These were 
the confessions which David made ; the feelings with which 
he was oppressed. And yet, strange to tell — almost in- 
credible to believe, this is the transaction which the deist 
quotes to prove that the God of the Bible encourages 
adultery and murder. 

Why did the writers of the Bible record this sin of 
David ? They must have been very honest men, to give 
such an impartial statement of the vices as well as the 
virtues of those whose lives they describe. The historian 
surely knew, for he declares, " that the deed would give 
great occasion to the enemies of the Lord to blaspheme." 
Why then did he place this deed upon record, to be handed 
down through all coming time, to furnish occasion of scorn 
to the enemies of religion ? The historian might have been 
silent upon this point. He might have recorded only the 
virtues of David. But without one word of palliation or 
extenuation, he records this sin in all its atrocity. And 
these are the writers who, the deist thinks, are trying to 
impose upon the world : men who are so honest that 
they state the whole truth, without asking whether it 
will strengthen the believer, or furnish arguments to the 
infidel. 

This affair of David, taken in all its circumstances, is a 
strong evidence of the truth of religion. 

1. It shows the inflexible impartiality of the sacred 
writers. 

2. It shows God's utter abhorrence of David's sin, and 
the awful judgments with which he visits sin. 

3. It shows the nature of genuine repentance, with all 
its heart-rending agony, and the consolation which rehgion 

VOL. IX. 29 



jQ INFIDEL OBJECTIONS. 

can afford to the penitent soul, burdened with the con- 
sciousness and enduring the awful consequences of guilt. 

Objection 9. " The prayers of David are dictated by 
a spirit of most bitter revenge. Instead of forgiving his 
enemies, and praying that God would bless them, he im- 
precates vengeance upon their heads, and even pronounces 
a benediction upon those who shall dash their children 
against the stones. And yet it is said in the Bible that 
these prayers are dictated by the Holy Spirit." 

Answ^er. " Suppose there is a horrid murder com- 
mitted in our neighborhood. The axe and the knife of 
robbers have covered the floor of our friend's dwelling with 
the mangled corpses of the family. The Christian, appalled 
by the liorrid spectacle, in the fervor of his morning prayer, 
says, God, bring these guilty men to justice ; let them 
not escape ; let swift retribution overtake them ; let them 
suffer the just punishment for their crime, that the honor 
of our laws may be preserved, and that terror may fill the 
hearts of the wicked." 

While thus praying, the infidel cries out, " What a re- 
vengeful w^retch this man must be. Instead of praying 
that these murderers may escape, and be prospered, he 
prays that the unhappy men may be caught and hung ; and 
yet the man pretends that he is a Christian." 

And does the infidel really think that David, the king of 
Israel, ought not to pray that the laws should be honored, 
that the community should be protected, that the violators 
of law should be punished ? Does he really think that it 
is wicked to pra}^ that those who are scattering firebrands, 
arrows, and death through the community, may be shut up 
in prison ; may be punished wdth all the rigor which whole- 
some laws enjoin ? If he does think so, he must think that 
all law is malignity, and all penalty revenge. Perhaps he 
does think so : for he most pertinaciously asserts that God 
must be cruel to threaten transgressors with punishment — ■ 



INFIDEL OBJECTIONS. 19 

that is, to make laws ; and that he must be mahijfnant and 
revengeful to execute the penalty — that is, to shut up the 
wicked in the prison of hell. No wonder he is unwilling 
honestly to sit down to the study of the Bible. If he conies 
to the light, he will see the truth, and his deeds will be 
reproved. 

Such are some of the most plausible and most popular 
of the arguments^' urged by infidels at the present day. 
And there are not a few who are persuaded by such argu- 
ments to renounce the hopes and consolations and restraints 
of Christianity. I cannot find it in my heart to speak of 
such in any other spirit than that of sorrow. They are 
depriving themselves of that which magnifies every earthly 
joy, and alleviates every earthly sorrow ; which promotes 
peace on earth, and good-will among men ; which sustains 
in sickness, and gives triumph in the hour of death. Yes, 
we mourn for the unhappy infidel. 



LAST WORDS OF THE BELIEVER AND OF THE 
UNBELIEVER. 

PAYSOX. - NEW^POUT. 

'* And now God is in this " That there is a God I 
room. I see him ; and how knoio, because I continually 
unspeakably lovely and glo- fell the efl:ects of his wrath ; 
rious does he appear, worthy that there is a hell, I am 
of ten thousand hearts, if we equally certain, having re- 
had them. He is here, and ceived an earnest of my in- 

* The objection that "the prophecies of the Bible are so 
obscure that their fulfilment can furnish no evidence in favor of 
Christianity," is so fully met in " Keith on Prophecy," published 
by the American Tract Society, that nothing further need be urged 
in this short Tract. The present state of the .Tews, compared 
with the predictions by Moses, is alone a standing and unanswer- 
able testimony. See " Striking Fulfilment of Prophecy," Tract 
No. 310. 



20 



INFIDEL OBJECTIONS. 



hears me pleading with the 
creatures he has made, whom 
he preserves and loads with 
blessings, to love him," 

" The celestial city is full 
in my view. Its glories beam 
upon me, its breezes fan me, 
its odors are wafted to me, its 
sounds strike upon my ears, 
and its spirit is breathed into 
my heart. Nothing separates 
me from it but the river of 
death, which now appears 
but as an insignificant rill, 
that may be crossed at a 
single step whenever God 
shall give permission." 

" The Sun of righteousness 
has been gradually drawing 
nearer and nearer, appearing 
larger and larger as he apr 
proached, and now he fills the 
whole hemisphere, pouring 
forth a flood of glory, in which 
I seem to float like an insect 
in the beams of the sun ; ex- 
ulting, yet almost trembling, 
while I gaze on this excessive 
brightness, and wondering 
with unutterable wonder, 
why God should deign thus 
to shine upon a sinful worm." 



heritance there already in 
my breast. That there is a 
natural conscience, I now 
feel with horror and amaze- 
ment, being continually up- 
braided by it with my impi- 
eties and with all my sins 
brought to my remem- 
brance." 

"My happiness is at an 
end ; and as for my rest to- 
night, thus I spend the little 
remainder of my miserable 
moments. All the ease I ex- 
pect, will be wishing for the 
day, as in the daytime I 
wish for the night, with a 
fearful expectation of my dis- 
solution, and the account I 
must make upon it." 

" How heavily my minutes 
move on. When will be the 
last breath, the last pulse 
that shall beat my spirit out 
of this decayed mansion into 
the desired regions of death 
and hell ? Oh, I find that it 
is just at hand; and what 
shall I say now ? Am not I 
afraid again to die ? Ah, the 
forlorn hopes of him that has 
not God to go to. Nothing 
to fly to for peace and 
comfort." 



PARENTAL EIAMPLES. 



FROM ABBOTT'S iMAGAZINE. 



The Avise man consults the records of experience ; and 
the parent, sohcitous for the welfare of his children, is de- 
sirous of knowing what are the methods adopted by other 
parents, that have been crowned with favorable results. 

We may go back to the sacred record and the earliest 
time, and lind in Abraham a noble example of fidelity and 
success in domestic religious instruction. " For I know 
him," says Jehovah, "that he will command his children 
and his household after him, and they shall keep the way 
of the Lord, to do justice and judgment." Here we have 
a divinely approved instance of the employment of solici- 
tude, effort, and authority in the religious training of chil- 
dren and dependents. 

The mother of Augiistiae presents an instructive case 
of perseverance in prayer for the conversion of a son. 
Augustine was an eminent divine, who died at Hippo, in 
Africa, in A. D. 480. Until he was thirty years of age 
he was sceptical and immoral ; yet his mother, the devoted 
Monica, cherished an unshaken belief that he would become 
a Christian ; and this expectation gave ardor and importu- 
nity to her prayers in his behalf. "For nine years," he 
says, " while I was rolling in the filth of sin, often attempt- 
ing to rise, and still sinking deeper, did she, in vigorous 
hope, persist in incessant prayer." In connection with her 
prayers to God, she frequently and affectionately admonish- 
ed him, and with weeping, entreated him to abandon his 
sins and devote himself to God. These tears made a deep 
impression on his heart. She went to a certain bishop in 
her agony, to get him to help her by his friendly counsels 
to her son. He put her off, and advised her to leave her 
]on to his own course and the providence of God. But no : 

VOL. IX. --•' 



2 PARENTAL EXAMPLES. 

she persisted in her request with floods of tears ; whereupon 
the bishop, a Httle disturbed by her importunity, said, 
" Begone, good woman, it is not possible that the child of 
such tears should perish." 

Bishop Hall, who flourished in the first half of the seven- 
teenth century, a man of strong intellect, and of eminent 
piety and usefulness, thus briefly describes the course and 
fidehty of his mother : " How often have I blessed the 
memory of those divine passages which I have heard from 
her mouth ! What day did she pass, without being much 
engaged in private devotion ! Never have any lips read to 
me such feeling lectures of piety." 

Almost every body has read some of the writings of 
Richard Baxter. They have doubtless been instrumental 
in conducting a great multitude of souls to the cross and to 
heaven. It was his father's faithful conversation with him 
respecting the life to come, in connection with his holy ex- 
ample in his family, and his meekness under reproach, that 
first awakened Baxter to serious consideration, and led him 
in early life to choose the service of God. 

The Rev. John Flavel died in 1601. His works still 
live, rich in thought, luminous in instruction, deep in the 
spirit of piety, and will long continue to live, to guide and 
bless the world. He says, " I bless God for a religious, 
tender father, who often poured out his soul to God for me ; 
and this stock of prayers I esteem above the fairest inheri- 
tance on earth." 

The name of John Newton is precious to the memory 
of every Christian, so lovely was his character, so holy 
and useful his life. His pious mother devoted him, from 
his birth, to the ministry. He says, " She made it the chief 
business and pleasure of her life, to instruct me and bring 
me up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord." In his 
narrative he says again, " that his mother stored his mem- 
ory with whole chapters, and smaller portions of scripture, 
catechisms, hymns, and poems, and often commended him 
with many prayers and tears to God." His mother died 



PARENTAL EXAMPLES. 3 

before he was seven years old. But these teachings, prayers, 
and tears were not forgotten by the wicked and wayward 
young man ; they were remembered, and at length employ- 
ed by the Spirit to lead him back to God. 

Richard Cecily who died in 1810, was an eminent and 
useful minister of the Gospel. In early life he was inclined 
to infidelity and profligacy. But he was the child of many 
tears, admonitions, and prayers. He says, " I had a pious 
mother, who dropped things in my way. I never could rid 
myself of them." Again he says, "My mother would talk 
to me, and weep as she talked. I flung out of the house 
with an oath, but wept too, when I got into the street." 
The teaching of her conduct confirmed the teaching of her 
lips, gave it authority and eflicacy. He saw that his mother 
had something to sustain her, which he had not. "I shall 
never forget," he says, ''standing by the bed of my sick 
mother. 'Are not you afraid to die?' I asked her. 'No.' 
* No ! Why does the uncertainty of another state give you 
no concern?' 'Because God has said to me, "Fear not: 
when thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee ; 
and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee." ' The 
remembrance of this scene has oftentimes since drawn an 
ardent prayer from me, that I might die the death of the 
righteous." The mother conquered; her son became a 
Chiistian. 

Mr. Cecil was skilful and successful in training his own 
children. It was his practice to encourage even the small- 
est indications of virtue or piety, and try to allure and draw 
them on in the paths of wisdom. He labored especially to 
train them to industry and eff"ort. He would say, "Do 
SOMETHING — have a profession — be eminent in it. " In- 
stead of set formality, he seized upon opportunities as they 
were furnished by daily incidents, public facts, or by their 
own inquiries, to convey religious sentiments and impres- 
sions to their minds. The well-known method he took to 
teach his little daughter faith, may be taken as an example 
of his manner and success. He did not allow his children 



4 PARENTAL EXAMPLES. 

to mix much in general society ; saying, wlien censured for 
it, that purity of character is to be preferred to accomphsh- 
ments. 

Rev. Thomas Scott records this emphatic testimony re- 
specting his general course with his family : V The grand se- 
cret of my success appears to have been this, that I always 
sought, for my children as well as for myself, in the first 
PLACE, the Jcingdom of God and his righteousness.'" In his 
view, this would extend not only to the instruction directly 
given, and the prayers offered on behalf of his family, but 
to his whole conduct respecting them ; to the spirit and 
behavior habitually exhibited before them; to the value 
practically and evidently set upon eternal, in preference to 
temporal things ; and very particularly to the disposal of 
them in life — the places of instruction to which they should 
be sent, the families they should visit, the connections 
which should be formed, and the openings which should be 
embraced or rejected for them. 

Mr. Scott remarks, " that he had not attempted a great 
deal in the way of talking directly to his children, and 
drawing them forth to talk upon religious subjects ; but 
much indirectly, by explaining the Scriptures, and by con- 
versation in the family, especially by the improvement of 
passing events, of occurrences relating to their own conduct 
and that of others, as the occasions of religious remark — 
teachins: them to take a religjious and Christian view of 
whatever took place." 

Rev. Lecjh Richmond is a very pleasing example of 
devotedness and success in the training of children. " He 
made home the school and the sanctuary." His first 
object was to make home the happiest place to his children ; 
to render them independent of foreign alliances in their 
pursuits and friendships, and so to interest them in domestic 
enjoyments, that there should be no restlessness and longing 
to wander abroad in search of pleasure and employment. 
Mr. Richmond's system was, throughout, one of severe ex- 
clusion from all external influences. His arranorements and 



PARENTAL EXAMPLES. 5 

method for the rehgious impression and guidance of his 
children were somewhat peculiar. " He provided each child 
with a separate sleeping-room, thus securing a comfortable 
place of retirement and devotion. These little sanctuaries 
were always accessible to himself ; he often visited them to 
leave a note on the table ; for Avhile at home, as well as 
Avhen abroad, he kept up a correspondence with his family, 
which he used to call his Home Mission ; and to these notes 
he requested a reply." Mr. Richmond was accustomed " to 
read with his children in his study at as early an hour as 
six o'clock in the morning, and as occasions arose, prayed 
with them in succession." 

Rev. Robert Hall, though he had no particular plan of 
training and discipline with his children, seems to have been 
deeply solicitous for their spiritual welfare. This solicitude 
manifested itself in one very interesting and impressive 
practice. "When any of his children," says his biographer, 
" were about to quit home for a short time, it M^as his prac- 
tice to summon them into his study, exhort them, and pray 
with them." One of his dauo-hters, on writino- to a friend 
after his death, says, " Well I remember that when I was 
a child, on leaving home for a few days, or on going to 
school, he would call me into his study, give me the tender- 
est advice, make me kneel down by him at the same chair, 
and then, both bathed in tears, would he fervently suppli- 
cate the divine protection for me." Their minds were also 
often deeply impressed by hearing him, as they passed his 
study-door, commendmg them by name, with the utmost 
fervency, to God, and entreating those blessings for each, 
which in his judgment each most needed. 

Not to add the examples of others, these facts present 
a few important practical hints. 

1. We are reminded of the poiuer of the mother. By 
her lessons to her little one in her lap, she may fix a grasp 
upon him which he will never be able to displace. She 
may entwine cords of truth and affection about his spirit 
which he will never succeed in sundering. They will re- 



6 PARENTAL EXAMPLES. 

main, and keep him in all his wanderings, and probably 
draw him at length, by a gentle constraint, to the feet of 
Jesus. When this is done, the power of the mother will 
extend ; it terminates not upon her child, but through him 
operates widely and beneficently upon the world. She 
may educate the preacher, who will be the instrument of 
turning thousands to righteousness. She may implant the 
principles and instil the spirit which will afterwards form 
and inspire the devoted missionary of the cross. 

2. We are reminded of another general truth — though 
a common one, yet important, imperishable — namely. That 
jjrayer is the basis of all success in training children for 
God's kingdom and service. The Scriptures everywhere 
attach preeminent importance to prayer, on the ground 
that Paul may plants Apollos water, but God gives the 
increase. All precedent shows the indisp^nsableness and 
efficacy of prayer. Those parents who neglect it are apt 
to fail in their anxieties and exertions for their offspring ; 
whilst those who avail themselves of this privilege, and ap- 
proach the throne with special intercedings, are generally 
successful. Let the parent pray for his children ; let him 
distinguish them in the family devotions. Let them be 
taken mdividually to the private room, by the father or the 
mother, and there singly and alone be prayed for, accord- 
ing as their respective ages, circumstances, and habits re- 
quire. Parents should have special seasons of prayer for the 

conversion of their children. An aged minister in M , 

all of whose children are now hopefully pious, invariably 
observed their respective birthdays as seasons of fasting 
and prayer in their behalf. Wherever he might be on the 
occurrence of these days, they were held sacred to devotion. 
Another who has been permitted to rejoice over the return 
of most of his children to God, has long observed every 
Tuesday evening as a season of prayer for their conversion. 

3. Instruction must be associated with prayer. Some 
parents have long and most earnestly prayed that their 
children might be saved, and have wondered why their 



PARENTAL EXAMPLES. 7 

prayers have not been answered. But the fact is, they have 
not been faithful in teaching them. They have not con- 
versed with them closely, and warned them affectionately 
of their guilt and danger. As to the mode of instruction, 
successful precedents seem to declare these two things : 

(1.) That the teaching should not always be formal, 
given on set and periodical occasions, with a staid and for- 
bidding gravity, but should be interwoven with all the oc- 
currences of life. Brief opportunities furnished by passing 
events, wisely and pleasantly improved, do not weary, but 
refresh the mind of the child, and show him that religion 
has to do with all the business and pleasures of life. 

(2.) That in addition to this informal sprinkling of relig- 
ious precept and influence upon the mind, there should be, 
at proper intervals, something special, out of the ordinary 
course, in order to draw the attention more closely and for 
a longer time to the claims of God and the interests of the 
soul. 

4. We are reminded that the necessity of right example 
on the part of parents is absolute. Without it, all praying 
and teaching may be in vain. Children are very early and 
shrewd observers of conduct. They soon know what is 
right and wrong, and they will be more influenced by what 
is done than by what is said. If there be inconsistency in 
the life of a parent, if his spirit is rough and his passions 
uncontrolled, the precepts given to the child will have but 
little eftect. But if the conduct of the parent be according 
to the Gospel, if there be seen a holy temper, benevolent 
aff"ections, submission to God, support in trials, in sickness, 
and in death, the child will be impressed by it, and feel 
that the faith and the hope which so guide and sustain a 
beloved parent, are from heaven, and inestimably precious. 

5. We see in some of the cases adduced, that sympathy, 
feeling, affection, are powerful weapons in the hand of a 
parent ; no others so powerful for breaking and subduing 
the heart. The voice of all experience is, let every thing 
be done kindly, with a warm and tender spirit. Let reproof 
and correction be administered kindly, with no symptom 



3 PARENTAL EXAMPLES. 

of anger or revenge. Let the child discover that it is very 
painful to the parent to inflict chastisement ; let the rod 
be used with tears and prayer. If the child perceives that 
the parent's heart is grieved and afliicted when he has done 
wrong, his own heart will very likely be visited with com- 
punction for what he has done. 

6. Combined with this sympathy and tenderness, it is 
necessary that there be, on the part of the parent, uniform 
decision and firmness. All our facts and precedents concur 
in this. Parents must secure obedience. The whole char- 
acter for time and eternity depends very much upon the 
habits of submission or rebellion which are early formed in 
the family circle. Parents should be united in insisting 
upon and enforcing subjection to the authority of each other. 
If they are not, the consequences may be disastrous. A 
mother was accustomed to take the part of her son when 
her husband undertook to correct him. That mother has 
lived to see that son brouorht into her dwellinoj from the 
gallows, a blackened corpse. 

Y. There is another precept somewhat connected with 
the preceding, which all precedent concurs in enjoining, 
namely, That the parent regard truth most scrupulously in 
all his intercourse with his children. Let every promise be 
performed, and every threatening be executed. 

8. We add but one other item — the principle that pre- 
vention is better than cure is of great moment in the educa- 
tion of children. A respectable lady, just before her death, 
in fits of derangement was heard to sing worthless and 
indecent songs. In her lucid hours she was reminded of it. 
"Those songs," said she, ''were taught me when I was 
not four years old. If you have any thing to do with the 
education of children," she added, " I beseech you be sure 
and keep their minds uncontaminated with evil." The moth- 
er of seven children, all of whom are pious, and three of 
them Missionaries to the heathen, says, " I always made it 
a great principle to defend my children from contact with 
all sources of iniquity and moral injury." 



IVo. 333. 

CONVERSION OF RAMA CHUNDRA, 

A HINDOO NATIVE PREACHER IN ORISSA. 



Written by himself, and translated and condensed by Rev. Amos Sutton. 

The father of Rama Chundra was a Mahratta chief, and ■ 
governor of the fort in Cuttack. Gold, jewels, elephants, 
horses, implements of war — all kinds of wealth he had in 
abundance. The governors of the thirty-four forts in the 
district of Orissa were all subject to him. When his son 
was five years of age, the English conquered Orissa, and 
the father fled to Boyerpoor, where, after seven years, he 
died. At about eighteen, Rama was married, and supported 
his family by farming the village of Boyerpoor. He says, 

''At this time my religion consisted in ignorantly repeat- 
ing the name of my idol on my sacred necklace. I assumed 
the sacred thread of the military class. I received the sa- 
cred incantation, or mysterious sentence, from my spiritual 
guide, and the distinguishing mark of my sect. I wor- 
shipped the toolsee-tree for my god, and on my mala re- 
peated the name of Hurree Ram Krishnoo. The family 
idols and many others I now worshipped with great regu- 
larity and zeal, procuring off"erings and sacrifices to present 
to them. I moreover performed pilgrimages, cultivated 
abstraction of thought, repeated the names of the gods, 
offered clarified butter to Ague, the god of fire, attended 
to the ancestorial shradda, served the Brahmins and other 
devotees, heard the shastres daily, and desired very earnestly 
to discover the true knowledge of the gods, and the right ivay 
to ivorshlp them. I connected myself with the holy devo- 
tees of the mountains, and with them ate intoxicating drugs — 
and by playing on many instruments of music, to the tunes 
of impure songs, I became intoxicated with delusive joys. 

" When I was about twenty-seven, the Padre Sahibs 
(missionaries) came into the country and distributed the 
Holy Book. We obtained the Testament, the ten command- 
ments, and the Tract 'Jewel Mine of Salvation.' Sabbath 
after Sabbath we came together in the evening, and sat 
down and read these books, and united in singing holy songs. 

VOL. IX. no 



2 CONVERSION OF RAMA CHUNDRA. 

" As I read and conversed with the Sahibs, I had in ni}^ 
mind a sense of indescribable guilt. At the same time my 
soul despised the things which are worshipped in this coun- 
tr3\ Yea, beginning at Juggernaut, whatever idols are 
w^orshipped, I despised them all. 

" One mind said, ' These things man has formed ; the}-- 
are not God !' In order to try their divinity, I threw un- 
clean things upon them ; upon some I trod, some I threw 
away, some I burned, and some I broke in pieces. The 
moon, and sun, and water, and fire worship, as well as the 
worship of Brahmins, and devotees, and holy places, I for- 
sook. My mind also turned away from the sacred books 
of this country. To this mind my other mind said, ' What, 
are you turned against these ? To a certainty you will die 
and fall into hell. No person will endure you, for your 
forefathers all worshipped these. Against these have you 
sinned, and you cannot possibly live.' Hence, my mind be- 
came oppressed with sorrow, and I was buried in a sea of 
distress. I had no desire for food, and no certainty of life. 
My soul exclaimed, 'Ah ! Ah !' and I wept. 

" I got a little better, and as I lay in my house, I thought 
in my soul, 'Who can tell but that merciful God who made 
all things will save me V But again the other mind said, 
* That God will never save you, for he hates sin, and does 
not hear the words of sinners. This body is full of evil 
desires and base propensities ;' and in the twinkling of an 
eye I w^as filled full of evil thoughts. I read the Holy 
Book, and other books that are excellent, but my mind would 
not obey. One mind said, ' I will commit sin ;' another said, 
' I will hope in God, and do his will.' Thus in my body 
did two minds war, and I could not steadily preserve my 
resolution. My heart was distracted. ' that I had never 
been born,' I cried ; ' or why died I not in my mother's 
Avomb ? or why grew I up in the Avorld ? or why read I the 
Scriptures ? Had I died in ignorance I had not had guilt !' 

"Then again my mind said, 'They against whom you 
liave sinned can forgive your transgression,' and I thought 
I Avould once more worsliip the gods. But against this my 
heart rose up, for I saw that these gods themselves are sin- 
ners, and I could not be saved from sin by worshipping 
them. ' What,' said I, ' can a sinner save a sinner ? What, 
can a blind man lead a blind ? What, trustina,- in that which 



CONVERSION OF RAMA CHUNDRA. 3 

is false, can I obtain truth ?' So I was hopeless of being 
delivered by them. 

" Just at this time I resolved to read the Gospel of Jesus 
Christ, or good news, away from home. My soul labored 
hard in this, and said, ' By trusting in this Saviour thou 
mayest be delivered.' I then had some conversation with 
Gunga Dhor, [the first Hindoo convert ia Orissa,] He was 
going to Cuttack to be baptized. I said, ' Stay yet a little 
Avhiie and I will accompany you ; for truly this is the true 
Lord ; we will together devote ourselves to this Lord.' 'No,' 
he said, 'I am determined to go and be baptized. You can 
make your mind steady, and then follow me.' 

" Soon after this I went to the house of a deceased 
brother in Deckhanall. His sister and other relations said 
to me, ' Come, brother, and marry the wife of your brother, 
and you shall have this house, and these bullocks, and this 
money, and all these goods.' I said, 'In all these there is 
no use ; for riches, money, kingdoms, will last but a short 
time, and in eternity they will not save me.' 

" After the baptism of Gunga my friends became very 
violent against him and the Sahibs, and forbade my reading 
their books. But in my apartments secretly I spent much 
time in comparing the Gospel and Tracts with the books 
esteemed excellent and divine in this country. One day as 
I was bathing — it was Lord's day — I tore off my small 
necklace [the badge of his cast] and said, '0 soul, art 
thou not from this day baptized into Christ Jesus?' From 
this day in secret, closing the door of my apartment, I pray- 
ed unto the Lord, saying, ' Thou God of heaven and earth, 
I Avill bless thy name a thousand times ; for Avhereas I was 
in the valley of death, thou hast opened to me the path 
of life. I was overwhelmed in guilt, but thou hast made 
known a way of holiness in our Lord Jesus Christ. Taking 
his name I confess my guilt, and do thou forgive all mine 
iniquities. Thy Holy Spirit giving, sanctify my soul.' " [He 
then describes, in a long poem, his lost condition, and the 
person and work of Jesus Christ.] 

" I soon resolved to be baptized, and accompanied Gunga 
Dhor as he went out to preach the Gospel. One day I called 
my wife and family, and said, ' To-day is Saturday, and to- 
morrow is the Lord's day. I will arise and go to Cuttack, 
and be baptized in the name of the Lord.' Hearing this they 



4 CONVERSION! OF RAMA CHUNDRA. 

began to weep, and cried out, ' Ah ! Ah !' and were filled 
with distress. Many people of the village came together 
to dissuade me, but I could not regard their words. So I 
left my house. - As, when a corpse is carried out to be buried, 
the people follow weeping and wailing, so did they all follow 
me. Sudanunda my son threw himself down at my feet 
many times, and .would not release me, saying, 'Indeed, 
father, if you will go to Cuttack, then tying a rope round my 
neck, I will hang myself, or plunging in water, I will die.' 
I said, ' If you will destroy yourself, what can I do ? I must 
go to Cuttack and profess the Lord. Henceforth I am dead 
to these people, and dead towards thee, and towards all. 
But if thou wilt be the Lord's, then I will be thine.' Thus 
speaking, I repeated to them the following lines : 

" ' My father and my mother who ? and who my wife and cliild ? 
Illusions strong- surround me here in this deceitful Avild. 
Follow, my soul, the certain light which Jesus to thee gives ; 
The soul that firmly follows him, with him for ever lives.' " 

[He then took a faithful but affectionate leave of his 
family, and was baptized. He subsequently endured much 
persecution and loss of his property. He concludes his 
narrative by saying,] 

" Thus has the Lord changed my heart, and gathering 
me out of the world, has brought me into his fold. That 
I may remain in that fold faithful unto the end, in your times 
of daily prayer, pray daily for me to God. 

"After my baptism I removed to Cuttack, and lived in 
my old house. Then my wife turned to the Lord ; and we 
are united in one heart, and with our children daily live 
praising God. all my brethren and sisters in the Lord, 
to you all Rama Chundra sends thousand, thousand loving 
salutations y 

Christian Reader, have you embraced that Saviour 
whom Rama Chundra found so precious ? 

Are you doing all you can to send his Gospel to other 
lost and perishing heathen? 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



i\o. »3», 

LOVEST THOU ME? 



Consider tlie Inquirer. He is tlie Lord Jesus Christ. 
He is now on the eternal throne. Angels and archano-els 
veil their faces before him, and cast their crowns at his 
feet. The sweetest incense which sanctified minds can 
offer goes up before him. The swiftest wings are spread 
to execute his pleasure. All power is his. All destiny 
hangs upon his will. But his relation to you — how pecu- 
liar and affecting ! He became poor for you. He bore 
contempt for you — suffered agonizing pains of body and 
mind for you — died for you — rose again for you — lives to 
intercede for you ; and so is your only Deliverer from that 
scene of everlasting suffering which is the penalty of the 
law you have broken. His friendship for you has been 
written in his blood, and sealed by his death ; and as your 
friend " above all others," he now asks you this question, 
" Lovest thou me?" Reader, this is a personal appeal. 
What is your reply ? 

" I have been trained from my youth to respect the 
Saviour. I believe the whole Scripture revelation concern- 
ing him. I have wept over the touching incidents of his 
life, and the affecting tragedy of his death." 

But mark the question : " Lovest thou me?" 

" My moral character is beyond reproach. I violate none 
of my fellow-creatures' rights. I can fearlessly say I am just, 
kind, true, temperate. I challenge investigation of my char- 
acter." 

Yet consider well the inquiry : "Lovest thou me ?" 

" I have had serious and anxious thoughts concerning 
eternal things. I have heard conscience and trembled. 
Sermons have troubled me. Providences have alarmed 
me. Few have had more solemn reflections than myself." 

Still, "Lovest thou me?" 

" I have wept as a sense of guilt and danger has come 
over my soul. Freely have my tears flowed as I have re- 
viewed life, and thought of death and eternity." 

But ponder well the question : "Lovest thou me ?" 

" I have prayed often. Pressing appeals of divine truth, 
affecting providences, the presence of danger, and the warn- 
ings of conscience have urged prayer, and I have not refused." 

^'VOL. IX. 30* 



2 LOVEST THOU ME1 

But yet, " Lovest thou me ?" 

" I have made earnest and firm purposes of a rehgious 
life. So dangerous has appeared my course of sin, so rea- 
sonable the path of piety, so affecting the spectacle of others 
entering that path, that I, too, have solemnly resolved." 
• Nevertheless, ''Lovest thou me?" 

" I have been an unfailing supporter of religious insti- 
tutions, an attendant on the house of God, a friend of the 
Christian ministry and the holy Sabbath, and have not 
refused my aid in sending gospel privileges to my country- 
men and the heathen." 

But the question is, " Lovest thou me ?" 

"I am a member of the Christian church, having sub- 
scribed with mine own hand unto the Lord. I honor the 
ordinances of his house. No impeachment has ever been 
made of my Christian character, and in pleasing anticipa- 
tion I hope for everlasting life." 

After all, " Lovest thou me ?" 

Weigh well the import of this question. Do you not 
see its aim ? It admits any one, and every one of the things 
you have mentioned, yet presses on in pursuit of still an- 
other object. It denies nothing that is valuable in all your 
claims, but it reaches beyond them all. See you not that 
it touches not one merely outward circumstance of your life, 
nor one of the merely natural properties of your mind. It 
is not an inquiry about the vigor of your intellect, the cor- 
rectness of your social feelings, or the strength of your sym- 
pathies. Your lips may have honored Christ, and perhaps 
your pen. Gross reproach may not have stained your Chris- 
tian profession. But the inquiry is deeper than all this. 
The heart, the heart; how do you in heart treat Jesus 
Christ ? The most splendid external virtues may gild your 
character ; but the gloom, the darkness, the moral death, 
if you love not our Lord Jesus Christ ! 

The TENDERNESS of the appeal : look at that. It was no 
harsh and unfeeling rebuke as it met the fallen Peter's ears : 
it was searching and solemn, so that tears of grief were 
started by it ; but more tender language could not have 
fallen from the lips of infinite love. And it brings no harsh 
accusation against you ; it mentions nothing wrong that you 
have ever done. The foulest sins may have stained your 
Hfe, so that your Redeemer might have sent his rebuke on 



I.OVEST THOU ME 7 3 

the wing of the hghtning, or in the bursting thunder's voice. 
But no. Here is rebuke ; but not so uttered. You cannot 
conceive in what form you could be reproved for sin, more 
tender and melting to the soul than this. 

Can you say it is an unreasonable appeal ? Were it 
irrelevant to your character, or insignificant in consequence, 
it might be so. But it is relevant to your case. It is so, 
if you can answer it affirmatively, for it is suited to turn 
your thoughts towards the sweetest theme upon which they 
can ever dwell. But if you must give a negative reply, 
then surely the question is one of fearful interest to you. 
That denial throws light upon your character, and character 
determines the great question of eternal destiny. 

Consider, therefore, the IxMportance of the point the 
question would lead you to ascertain. It would put you in 
possession of a fact of more consequence to you than any 
other in the universe. That fact is your own moral stand- 
ing in the sight of your Saviour and Judge. It respects 
the great point, whether there is between you and him that 
harmony of feeling and character which will qualify you for 
the summons to meet him ; an event the next hour may 
realize. An honest answer to this question, obtained by 
solemn inquiry in the light of divine truth, may be of more 
importance to you than power to fathom all the depths of 
human knowledge. 

And does not the benevolence of the great Inquirer 
beam upon you in the question now urged ? He trims his 
sail in peril, that does it, fearless and rash, amid the shoals 
and bi-eakers of an unknown coast. And is not his a voice 
of kindness, who, knowing the incautious mariner's exposure, 
urges a keener scrutiny of surrounding danger ? You, reader, 
are on the dark and perilous sea of life. Here is the heav- 
enly Pilot's voice. It urges your scrutiny of that great 
source of all dangers, your desperately deceitful heart. It 
bids you examine it, that you may thus know your peril or 
your safety. It is therefore a voice of mercy, and is now 
uttered in your ears only that it may guide you to the 
haven of eternal rest. 

Perhaps the Inquirer now addresses one who can, in 
humble sinceritv, exclaim, "Lord, thou knowest that I love 
thee." Let, then, your daily sweet communion with the 
Saviour answer it thus ; and your watchful and persevering 



4 LOVEST TIlUi: ME ? 

effort to be more entirely conformed to his image ; and your 
affectionate obedience to all his holy will ; and your labor 
to life's end, that all within your influence may be enabled 
to give the same answer. 

But you, perhaps, cannot give an affirmation. The aver- 
sion of your heart,. the sinfulness of your life, the entire con- 
secration of your affections to other objects, the neglect of 
Christ in all the plans of life — all this shows you can give no 
other than a negative reply. And solemnly consider how 
much such a reply means. " I do not love infinite moral 
excellence. I do not love one whom all the good in the uni- 
verse delight to honor. I do not love one who submitted to 
the deepest humiliation possible to any being, on my personal 
account. I do not love one who endured the most exquisite 
bodily and mental sufferings to save me from the eternal en- 
durance of both, if I will trust in Him. I do not love one, 
who, though he has the power and right of inflicting instant 
perdition, yet, instead of it, freely offers me pardon and 
eternal life, and that on the easiest terms, consistent with 
the safety of the divine government and my own best hap- 
piness. I do not love the Being who has provided happiness 
for mankind, the most sweet and satisfying the rational mind 
can desire, and in degree meeting, to the full, all the ever- 
enlarging capacities of an immortal soul. I do not love one, 
who, though I have treated all this kindness of his with the 
most base and hard-hearted ingratitude, has not for a single 
hour of life suffered his faithfulness to fail, and who, I doubt 
not, is as ready as ever, even after ten thousand provoca- 
tions, to fulfil his promise of mercy to me, if a true penitent. 
But notwithstanding all, I love him not." 

Impenitent reader, look on this picture, true to the life, 
respecting your own case. Such treatment of such a Friend, 
how long shall it continue ? Shall it not now cease as you 
finish this Tract ? He is near you, witnessing the result of 
this appeal. Let him now witness the broken heart, the 
soul's deep abhorrence of past guilt — its grateful joy in all 
the riches of his mere}' — its entire, cordial consecration to 
him. And let him now hear from lips that speak the deep 
and solemn sincerity of the soul, "Lord, thou knoAvest all 
things; thou knowest that I love thee." 

PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



]Vo. 334. 

DON'T BREAK THE SABBATH. 



BY REV. WILLIAM NEVINS, D. D. 



Some people consider that this caution is quite unneces- 
sary ; that we have no Sabbath now which we are under 
any particular obligation to keep, and therefore no Sab- 
bath to break ; that it is a privilege of the new dispensa- 
tion over the old, that it has no day of rest, but now they 
are all working-days ; that the Sabbath was a Jewish in- 
stitution, and is done away. 

It is very true, that the Sabbath is done away in the 
jivactice of many, but I know of no lyrecejpi doing it away. 
The subject may have done it away, but the Lawgiver has 
not. Now, I very much question the right of the subject 
to do away a law. I can show any one, who wishes to see 
it, the enactment of the law of the Sabbath. I can tell him 
lohen it was enacted, under what circumstances, and in what 
language. But can any one point me to the repeal of the 
law '? When was it repealed ? Where is the account of it? 

If a law is enacted, and is not repealed, it of course 
continues in force, unless it expires by its own limitation, or 
there is something in the reason of the law which restricts 
its obligation to a limited period. Can this be said of the 
law of the Sabbath ? Does it expire by its own limitation ? 
Or is the reason of the law^ applicable to only one nation, or 
one age of the world ? Hear the reason : " For in six days 
the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in 
them is, and rested the seventh day ; wherefore the Lord 
blessed the Sabbath-day, and hallowed it." If this was a 
reason why the Jewish people should keep a seventh part 
of their time holy, is it not equally a reason wliy every 
Gentile nation should also ? Are not all mankind equally 
interested in the creation of the world ? Do not all alike 



2 DON'T BREAK THE SABBATH. 

need a memorial of it ? Or, if that was a reason why the 
Sabbath should be in force 4,000 years, is it not equally a 
reason why it should be in force 6,000 years? Should the 
creation of the world be forgotten, and cease to be com- 
memorated, at the end of 4,000 years ? It is strange that 
since the reason of the Sabbath is not exclusively Jewish, 
the oUigation of it should be supposed to be. It seems 
surprising that God should derive the reason of a particu- 
lar law from a general event — an event in which the whole 
race are equally interested, and which it is equally impor- 
tant all should remember. 

I am aware that another reason is given, Deuteronomy 
5 : 15, why the Jews should observe the Sabbath, which 
does not apply to all people. But that does not nullify the 
force of the first and main reason. It was, manifestly, a 
secondary and subordinate reason ; and if one looks at the 
passage, he will find that it was rather a reason for a par- 
ticular requirement in the law, than the general ground of 
it. It was a reason why servants, as well as others, should 
be allowed to rest on that day. 

The Sabbath is also spoken of as a sign between God 
and his chosen people ; but this was only putting a general 
law to a particular use ; just as in the case of the rainbow, 
God used a natural phenomenon as a token of a particular 
covenant. 

But why need we spend time in showing that the Sab- 
bath was not exclusively a Jewish institution ? Our Saviour, 
it seems to me, settles that point. He says, " The Son of 
man is Lord also of the Sabbath.'' Now, he would not be 
tlie Lord of it, if there was to be no Sabbath under his 
dispensation, unless some one will say that he was the Lord 
of it just to do it away, in opposition to his own declaration 
that he came not to destroy any part of the law ; and in 
defect of any precept repealing it ; and in contrariety to his 
own practice, which was a strict observance of it. What 
did the Lord of the Sabbath do or allow on that day, which 
the most scrupulous Sabbath keeper can object to? Oh, 



DON'T BREAK THE SABBATH. 3 

that men, who plead the example and declarations of the 
Lord of the Sabbath for a relaxation of that law, would 
keep it as he did. He healed on the Sabbath : he did that 
work of mercy. It is true the Jews were angry with him 
for it, but did any Christian ever complain of such work as 
that being done on the Sabbath ? So, also, he justified his 
disciples in taking measures to satisfy their hunger on the 
Sabbath. He justified affording relief to suffering animals 
on the Sabbath. This is the extent of his permissions and 
performances. But see how men can reason when they 
have a favorite point to carry : because our Saviour per- 
formed and authorized w^orks of mercy on the Sabbath, 
they conclude that they may do any works whatever. Be- 
cause he healed, they may visit or travel. Because he 
pronounces it lawful to do well on the Sabbath, they infer 
that they may do any thing they please. Because they may 
lift a poor animal out of a pit, therefore they may use the 
same, or other animals, in journeys of business, or excur- 
sions of pleasure. Does any one suppose this is good 
reasoning ? 

There is another remark of Christ w^iich, it seems to 
me, decides, beyond all question, that the Sabbath was not 
exclusively a Jewish institution. He says, " The Sabbath 
was made for man," employing the most unrestricted and 
universal term he could select. It was made, not for this 
or that man — the Jewish man, the man of past centuries — 
but for 7nan in all his universality and perpetuity — in all his 
generations and dispersions. It is a law for the whole race, 
and for all time ; an institution adapted to human nature, 
and intended for the human family. The Sabbath was 
made for man. I stand upon this passage, and proclaim 
the institution universal and perpetual, and challenge con- 
futation. It belongs as much to the American of the 19th 
century, as it did to the Jew before the Christian era. 

This is the interpretation I put on the Saviour's decla- 
ration, " The Sabbath was made for man." It moreover 
corrects an error into which some fall, of supposing that 



4 DON'T BREAK THE SABBATH. 

the Sabbath was made for God^ in contradistinction to the 
other days which were made for man. Now, the whole 
seven were made for man — six for labor, and one for rest. 
All were made for him, tliough to be used by him for dif- 
ferent purposes. All were designed to be for his advan- 
tage. No one of them was intended to be a tax on him, or 
an onerous tribute exacted from him. Should man com- 
plain that God allows and appoints him one day of rest, as 
well as six of labor ? Is not rest after toil a merciful ap- 
pointment ? Is it not a privilege ? I have sometimes 
thought what an ado would have been made about it, had 
there been a precept in the New Testament repealing the 
law of the Sabbath — a statute taking away from man his 
day of rest. What a handle would have been made of it. 
Now men regard thp Sabbath as a sort of exaction — a task ; 
and they complain that it is in force. But take it from 
them, and they would presently discover it to be a privi- 
lege, and would complain that it was not in force. It was 
never intended to be a mere dutij, but mainly a privilege. 
It was made for man, not against him ; and it was com- 
manded, rather than simply recommended, perhaps because 
God saw its utility to be so great that it was meet its ob- 
servance should be made a matter of binding obligation. 
It is a merciful arrangement, that converts privileges into 
duties, and makes that imperative on us which is seen to be 
highly beneficial to us. The Sabbath was made for man as 
truly as the Saviour was provided for man ; and no Chris- 
tian would break the Sabbath — any Sabbath, or any part 
of any Sabbath, by any Avork not called for by rigorous 
necessity or imploring mercy — but would do all his work, 
of every kind, in the six days, and would keep the whole of 
every Sabbath holy, if he knew or considered what he was 
about. They know not what they do, who, by toil, or travel, 
or pleasure, disturb the day of rest. They violate a law of 
love ; they not only disregard a duty, but forego a privi- 
lege. They injure themselves ; depriving themselves of the 
whole, or a part, of that which a wise and benevolent God, 



DON'T hri:ak Tin: sahh ath. 5 

knowing tlieir wants and caring for tlieir luippinoss, merci- 
fully made for them. Tt can never be expedient for them 
so to do. 

I am aware that some persons are not entirely satisfied 
when we show them that there is no repeal of the hiw of 
the Sabbath in the New Testament. They would have had 
it reenacted : they wonder why it was not. But do laws 
require to be reenacted in order to remain in force ? Who 
ever heard of such a thing as reenacting unrepealed laws ? 
Do human legislatures so ? and should the divine Lawgiver 
resort to that novelty, that trifling ? 

I do not at all like some of the consequences which 
follow from the doctrine that the Sabbath is done away. 
Then we have but nine commandments left us : only nine 
of the ten written by the finger of God on the tables of 
stone are in force. We do as bad as some others ; they 
erase the second, and we the fourth. Now, the second was 
not reenacted by Christ any more than was the fourth ; he 
left them all just as he found them. 

Another consequence of this doctrine is, that we liave 
no day now which is a memorial of the great works of God. 
There used to be a day to remind men of the work of crea- 
tion ; but, according to this doctrine, there is none now. 
It lasted only 4,000 years — and there used to be a day 
called by St. John " the Lord's day,'' which was considered 
by Christians as a memorial of the new creation — of re- 
demption ; but even that some will not leave us. Tliere is 
no pledge of heaven now, according to them. The Jews 
had one ; but we, in this respect, are worse off than tliey, 
though our dispensation is regarded as far surpassing tlieirs 
in privileges. We have no portion of time that is a me- 
mento and pledge of the everlasting rest. We have a rest ; 
'' there remaineth a rest to the people of (iod ;" but wc 
have no pledge, no earnest of it. Yes, we have a rest ; and 
in speaking of it the Apostle uses not the word kataixiusis, 
which expresses simply a rest, but sahhatismos, whicli des- 
ignates a rest of the nature of a Sabbatli. A mhhotismo^ 

VOL. IX. '^1 



6 DON'T BREAK THE SABBATH. 

(an eternal Sabbath of rest) we have, but no Sahhaton, 
(Sabbath.) What Christian will admit this ? Reader, it 
must be that we have a Sabbath — a consecrated seventh of 
time. Yes, we have a Sabbath : the ten commandments 
are all obligatory. We have a memorial of the creation of 
God, and a pledge of the heavenly rest. There is some- 
thing to break, and the caution with which this Tract com- 
mences is not superfluous. 

But why was the day changed ? AVhy was that liber- 
ty taken Avith the Sabbath ? If that might be taken, why 
not another, and still another ? But would you annihilate 
the Sabbath because the day of celebrating it is changed ? 
The change is not material ; the substance of the law is 
retained ; only a circumstance of it is altered. Now, does 
a change in a mere circumstance of a law authorize a taking 
away of the entire substance of it ? The Sabbath is still a 
seventh portion of our time. The week is no longer, and 
the day is as long, and it comes as the other did, a day of 
rest after six days of labor. Where is the very great change ? 
It is true, we call our Sabbath the first day of the week, 
but it is the seventh with reference to the preceding six of 
labor. ■ If any think it ought to go one day back, and that 
we should keep Saturday instead of Sunday, yet let them 
not therefore remember no day to keep it holy. We hal- 
low the first day of the week, because the apostles observed 
that day, and doubtless it was by the authority of their 
divine Master, who being the Lord of the Sabbath, had, of 
course, a right to change the day on which it should be kept, 
and to call it after himself, " the Lord's day." If we have 
no recorded precept, directing us to keep our Sabbath on the 
first day of the week, yet we have, what is as satisfactory, 
the practice of men, who, in matters of religion, acted never 
without divine direction. 

So, then, we have a Sabbath, or Lord's day, call it as 
you will — a seventh portion of time distinguished by divine 
authority from the other parts of time. 



DON'T BREAK THE SABBATH. 7 

But HOW ARE WE TO SPEND tliis seveiitli portioii of time? 
How are we to distinguisli by our practice the day which 
the Lord has distinguished by his blessing ? That it is to 
be distinguished in some way, by us, will not be doubted. 
But how ? Have we any rule to direct us how to observe 
it ? It would seem as if we ought to have one. But we 
have none, unless the fourth commandment is that rule ; and 
if the fourth commandment is still obligatory, it must, since 
it relates to the manner of observing a day, be designed to 
instruct how we are to keep our Sabbath, or Lord's day. 
The inference is irresistible. 

Well, what does that precept of the decalogue com- 
mand ? It begins by enjoining that the day be rememhered 
to he kept holy. "■ Remember the Sabbath-day to keep it 
holy." It is not merely to be remembered in the sense of 
being recognized as it comes along in course, just as Satur- 
day or Monday is remembered ; nor is it to be remembered 
merely as a day to be spent differently from the other days. 
Few fail of remembering it so far as in some manner to dis- 
tinguish it from the other days of the week. But they do 
not remember it to hallow it — to keep it holy. Its return 
is recognized by them, but not its sacredness. They cease 
from one sort of work only to do another. They do not 
work in the shop or on the farm, but they are employed in 
just as worldly a manner as on the other days. They do 
not keep the Sabbath any more holy than any other da}^ 
though they do differently on that day from what they do 
on others. It is just as secular a day with them as any 
other, only the manner of their worldliness is different. 

Every one knows, without the necessity of being in- 
formed, what it is for a day to be kept holy ; to be hal- 
lowed ; to be regarded and used as sacred. When it is said 
that a day is to be sanctified, or kept holy, common sense 
teaches how its hours should be spent, and what things 
should, and what should not, be done on it. The keeping 
a day holy manifestly implies that on it we refrain from 
every thing of a secular or worldly nature, which either 



g DON'T BREAK THE SABBATH. 

necessity does not require or mercy dictate. Those secular 
things, which necessity does require or mercy call for, do, 
by that very fact, become invested with a sacredness which 
renders them quite in keeping with the day. To do any 
other secular thing on the Sabbath, every one must see to 
be inconsistent with keeping it holy. It is, so far as the 
doing of those things is concerned, to use it as any other 
day ; and to use the Lord's day as any other day, is surely 
not to keep it holy, for then all the days of the week would 
be kept holy. 

No one who sincerely desires to know and do his duty, 
can be at any loss how to act on the Sabbath. It is easy to 
discriminate between sacred things and things secular. How 
promptly the mind decides that travelling on the Sabbath 
is not keeping it holy ; and visiting, and reading worldly 
books, or secular newspapers, and conversing on every-day 
topics. This is no hallowing of the Sabbath, every one 
sees. What more secular things can one do on Monday ? 
What is more purely secular than travelling and visiting — 
the things which men of business and people of fashion are 
most apt to do on the Sabbath ? Is ploughing or sowing 
more so ? The latter are, perhaps, more laborious, but they 
are not more worldly — they are not more anti- sabbatical. 

Therefore, if God had only commanded the day to be 
kept holy, no honest mind could have been at a loss to dis- 
cover its duty. But he has been more explicit. The law 
proceeds to something more particular, and designed to be 
explanatory of the general direction to keep the day holy. 
" Six days shall thou labor." It may seem strange, that in 
a law regulating the observance of the Sabbath, an injunc- 
tion should be introduced directing how the six days are to 
be employed. But the wonder ceases with the next clause, 
" and do all thy work." It is not so much with a view to 
enjoin labor on those days that this is introduced, as to direct 
us to confine our labor to them. Now this is very plain. 
On the six days which precede the Sabbath, we are to labor 
so as to do in them all our work, leaving none of it to be 



DON'T BRKAK THE SABBATH. 9 

done on the seventh — no, not any of it. All thy work — not 
all, except a few small jobs to be done early on the Sabbath 
morning, or in the evening of the day — all thy work is to 
be done in the six days. A work begun on Saturday may not 
be finished on the Sabbath, neither preparation made for a 
work to be done on Monday. A journey may not be termi- 
nated on the morning, nor commenced on the evening of the 
Sabbath. That is doing a part of your work on the Sabbath. 

The law proceeds : " but the seventh is the Sabbath of 
the Lord thy God." Sabbath means rest. The seventh is 
the rest of the Lord, and therefore should be ours. He did 
all his work on the six days ; so should we. His work ran 
not over into the Sabbath ; ours should not. 

" In it thou shalt not do amj work/' How explicit. 
Not o,ny work is to be done on the Sabbath. But what is 
2vork ? Some shelter themselves under that word. They 
understand it to mean hard labor, toil, such as brings sweat 
upon the brow ; the work of the farmer, the mechanic, or 
the day-laborer. But was the law made merely for these ? 
Some never work in the sense of labor ; are they not to rest 
from any thing ? May they do on the Sabbath as on other 
days ? Do they keep the other days holy ? Are building, 
sowing, selling, manufacturing, the only kind of things to be 
rested from? Are not all the secular things which the 
wealthy and fashionable do on the other days, equally to be 
abstained from on the Sabbath ? Work means whatever of 
a secular nature may employ our mind or hands ; and this 
is to be rested from on the Sabbath. 

So, then, we see what ivorh is, and that we are not to 
do amj of it on the Sabbath — no, not on any part of the 
Sabbath, for the Sabbath includes all its parts. It was a 
day that the Lord blessed and hallowed ; a lohole day — a 
day of equal length with the other days. He commanded 
us to remember the Sabbath-f?ay to keep it holy : not the 
Sabbath after sunrise, nor the Sabbath forenoon ; not two 
or three hours of the Sabbath, nor twelve, but the whole 
twenty-four. The Sabbath is as complete a day, and as 

VOL. IX. 31* 



10 DON'T BREAK THE SABBATH. 

long a day, as any other. It has a morning and an evening 
as well as the rest ; nor is its morning all one with Satur- 
day, and its evening with Monday. Pray, how should one 
part of the Sabbath be entitled to more religious respect 
than another part ? and how is any part entitled to such 
respect, if every part is not ? If the whole of the Sabbath 
was not hallowed, none of it was. 

And need I say that the whole of every Sabbath was hal- 
lowed by God, so that not any work may be done on any 
part of any Sabbath in all the year ? What is more plain 
than the obligation to keep holy Jifty- two Sabbaths annu- 
ally ? Whatever can release us from the obligation of sanc- 
tifying one, gives us an equal liberty with respect to all. 
We may not forget every other Sabbath, or one a month, 
or one in three months. They must every one be remem- 
bered. Some persons seem to think that an occasional in- 
terference with the Sabbath, by a journey on it, or some 
other unnecessary thing, is quite excusable, provided it is 
not the individual's habit to desecrate the day. But may 
a person even occasionally break a law of God ? Is it a 
good apology for secularizing one Sabbath, that all the rest 
are sanctified ? Does the habit of obedience form an excuse 
for the act of disobedience ? 

I suppose there is not any way in which the Sabbath is 
broken more than by travelling on it. Certainly profes- 
sors of religion desecrate it not so much in any other way. 
Travelling may, almost, be called the Christian mode of 
breaking the Sabbath. What church has not, among its 
members, those who, while they would not break the Sab- 
bath in any other manner, will yet sometimes journey on 
that sacred day ? One would suppose, to judge from the 
common practice, that the law had made an exception in 
favor of travelling, forbidding every other species of secular 
employment on the day of rest, but allowing men to jour- 
ney on it. They that would not do any other labor on the 
Sabbath, will yet, without compunction, travel on that day. 
The farmer, who would not toil in his field ; the merchant. 



DON'T BREAK THE !<ABBATH. H 

who would not sell an article out of his store ; the me- 
chanic, who would not labor at his trade ; and the mistress 
of the family, who scrupulously avoids certain household 
occupations on the Sabbath, Avill yet, all of them, without 
any relentings, travel on the Sabbath, and tliat whether the 
object of the journey be business or pleasure. No other 
work, appropriate to the six days, will they do on the 
Sabbath — it would shock them; but to commence, con- 
tinue, or finish a journey on it, offends not their consciences 
in the least. There are those who would not, for the world, 
travel to a place on Saturday, accomplish the business, 
which is the object of their journey, on Sunday, and re- 
turn on Monday. Oh, never. Do worldly business on the 
Lord's day ! Yet these same persons will, for a very little 
of the world, and without hesitation, go to the place on 
Friday, do their business on Saturday, and return on Sun- 
day. But where is the difference? In the judgment of 
God there is not the slightest. The Sabbath is as little 
honored in the one case as in the other. To perform the 
journey on the Sabbath desecrates it as truly as to accom- 
plish on it the object of the journey. 

I would ask the candid traveller, if any thing can secu- 
larize the Sabbath more completely — if any thing can more 
effectually nullify it, than ordinary travelling ? If a man 
may lawfully travel on the Sabbath, except in a case of 
stern necessity, such as would justify any species of work, 
I see not what he may not lawfully do on that day. Indeed, 
I dare affirm, and defy successful contradiction, that there is 
nothing a 7nan may not do on the Sabbath, if he may travel 
on the Sabbath. What an absurdity, that it should be un- 
lawful and improper to buy or sell, to sow or reap, to spin 
or weave on the Sabbath, yet perfectly lawful and proper to 
journey on the day set apart and sanctified for rest. Does 
journeying comport so well with rest ? And then the plea 
that travelling is not work, and therefore not included in the 
prohibition, when often it proves the most fatiguing work, 
and no greater weariness follows any thing. 



12 DON'T BREAK THE SABBATH. 

But what if it be not work to the passenger, is it not 
work to those who are employed in conveying him ? and is 
he not as truly responsible for the work which he renders 
necessary on the Sabbath, as for that which he does with 
his own hands ? What if he can sit apart and read his 
good book, and have his good thoughts, or even listen to 
the sermon, by which some conscience-smitten clergyman 
on board seeks to mend the matter, do those who convey 
him, the hands, find their situation as favorable to devotion ? 
Are they not to be taken into the account ? Have they no 
souls ? Are they under no responsibility to God ? Is it no 
matter though they should never enjoy the privileges of a 
Sabbath ? Was not the Sabbath made for them too ? How 
would the traveller like to spend all his Sabbaths in a steam- 
boat or stage ? He would not like it at all. Why, then, 
will he sanction and encourage a system by which others, 
whom he is bound to love as himself, are, in a manner, 
compelled to pass all their Sabbaths in these vehicles of 
journeying, and do actually spend them all there? One 
wants to make use of the public conveyance this Sabbath, 
and perliaps he does not care to use it again the whole year; 
another's convenience requires it on the next Sabbath ; and 
another's on the Sabbath after ; and so, to accommodate all, 
it must run every Sabbath, and those employed in propelling 
or directing it, must work every Sabbath or lose their places. 
And thus it comes to pass that some thousands of account- 
able subjects of God's government in our own country, are, 
for the sake of the public convenience, prevented from ever 
hallowing a Sabbath or hearing a sermon ; and are driven, 
as it were, to do violence to the fourth of the precepts 
which the finger of God wrote on the tables of stone. 

It is an abominable arrangement to make some men 
break every Sabbath in the year, in order that yourself 
may be able to break one ; to compel them to work every 
Lord's day, that you may travel on some Lord's day when 
it suits you. How any one, who has a conscience at all 
enlightened — much more, how any one, whose heart harbors 



DOiN'T BREAK THE SABBATH. 13 

the least love to God and his neighbor, can encourage such 
a system, is to me inexphcable. And yet it is done, even 
by members, and sometimes also by officers of the church 
of Christ. 

It is to no purpose that they tell us the conveyance 
would go whether they went in it or not — for every trav- 
eller may, with equal propriety, say the same, and then 
none are responsible for its going — and yet it would not go 
unless some went in it. Does any one say, by way of 
excusing himself, that he uses the conveyance but rarely, 
perhaps not more than once in a whole year ? I answer, 
that is all the encouragement any one individual need give 
it. If every man in the community travelled one Sabbath 
in the year, it would fill the steamboats and stages every 
Sabbath. The proprietors would not ask for better en- 
couragement. 

But what if no human being is employed to forward the 
traveller on his journey, does he not deprive the least of his 
day of rest ? And is it nothing to withhold from the poor 
animal the privilege of the Sabbath — to compel him to work 
on the day on which God has directed that he should be 
permitted to rest ? According to this theory, that it is law- 
ful to journey on the Sabbath, a man may so arrange it as 
never to be under obligation to keep a Sabbath. He has 
only to set apart that day of the week for travelling. More- 
over, he who gets his living by travelling, or by the jour- 
neying of others, has, on this supposition, a manifest advan- 
tage — if such it may be called — over his neighbors. He 
has seven days for profit, while they have only six. The 
day-laborer and the poor mechanic may not use the seventh 
day as they do the other days of the week ; they must make 
a distinction between them ; but those who travel for their 
pleasure, or whose business calls them abroad, and those 
who accommodate them with conveyances, may use the 
seven days indiscriminately. Is this equal ? 

I think I have made it evident to every unprejudiced 
mind, that to travel on the Sabbath is to use it as any other 



14 DON'T BREAK THE SABBATH. 

day. It is to make no distinction between it and Monday 
or Saturday. It is to disregard the peculiarity of the day 
altogether. But some are so wicked or thoughtless as to 
travel on the Sabbath, and in some cases pubhc convey- 
ances still continue to run. But it is in disobedience to the 
command of God, and is highly injurious to men. Those 
who commit the sin will themselves be injured by it ; and 
they will be the means of bringing great evil upon others. 
Increasing numbers, from their own experience, have be- 
come convinced of this, and have ceased to violate the holy 
Sabbath. They neither commence, prosecute, or close a 
journey on that day. And let all, even if it cost them some 
present sacrifice, rest according to the commandment, and 
they will in the end find it to be great gain. To travel on 
the j^abbath is an immorality, and those who do it are 
wicked men ; men who regard themselves more than they 
do God or the best good of their fellow-men. And what- 
ever they may hope to gain by it, they will find the way of 
transgressors to be hard. 

But has the Sunday traveller nothing to say for him- 
self ? Yes, much. What transgressor, from Adam down, 
has not had an apology at hand ? It is not here that sin- 
ners are speechless ; it is not until the King comes in and 
calls them to account. 

Some tell us they are very sorry to travel on the Sab- 
bath, and think that should go far towards excusing them. 
But why are they sorry ? It must be because they regard, 
or at least suspect, the act to be sinful. Why, then, do 
they do it ? It does not affect the criminality of an act 
that it is perpetrated with some degree of regret. Herod 
was sorry to put John the Baptist to death. 

Some tell us it is against their principles to travel on the 
Sabbath. Why, then, do they practise in opposition to their 
principles ? What are principles for but to regulate practice ? 
A man's principles may as well be in favor of Sabbath- 
breaking as against it, if his practice is in favor of it. 



DON'T BREAK THE SABBATH. 15 

One says it is not his hahit to travel on the Sabbath. 
Why, then, does he allow it to be his act ? He must be at 
a loss for reasons, who alleges, as an apology for travelling 
one Sabbath, that he does not travel other Sabbaths. 

One says he would never commence a journey on Sun- 
day, but he can see no harm in proceeding when once set 
out. But where is the difference between setting out on 
the Sabbath, and going on on the Sabbath ? Are they not 
both travelling — both equally opposed to rest ? 

One travels on the Sabbath because it is the only day the 
stage runs to the place to which he wishes to go. It is no 
justification. Let him decline going to the place, or else 
procure a private conveyance on another day. What if it 
would be more expensive ? Doing right pays so well, that 
one can afford to be at some expense to do it. 

But another pleads, that if he had laid by on the Lord's 
day, he would have lost his seat in the stage, and might 
have had to wait on the road a whole Aveek. That would 
be an inconvenience certainly ; but does the obligation to 
obey the commands of God bind us only when it is perfectly 
convenient to obey them ? Better, I should think, the de- 
tention of many days, than the transgression of a precept of 
the decalogue. 

One, having been some time absent from his family, is 
anxious to know how it goes with them. They may require 
his presence ; but cannot he trust the Lord to take care of 
them one day more without his aid ? 

One travels to reach an ecclesiastical meeting in season ; 
another in order to fulfil an appointment to preach. They 
plead the necessity of the case ; but there is no necessity 
in it ; the business of the meeting can go on without this 
individual. The appointment to preach should be broken. 
It ought never to have been made, if a journey on the Sab- 
bath was necessary to fulfil it. 

They all endeavor to make out a case of necessiti/. But 
there is no real necessity in the case. It is an abuse of lan- 
o-uap-e to call it necessitv. There is no necessity in the 



16 DON'T BREAK THE SABBATfl. 

sense in whicli that word is used, either in the dictionary or 
in the Bible. The merchant tells us that his business requires 
him to be at home on a certain day. It invites, it perhaps 
solicits him — but does it require him ? That is a strong 
word to use. Suppose sickness should detain him a day 
on the road, and he should get home a day later on that 
account ; is it at all likely his business would suffer ? Does 
it occur in one case out of ten thousand that a man's busi- 
ness suffers in consequence of such a detention ? And is a 
man's business likely to suffer more, when, out of regard to 
the law of God, he voluntarily rests on the Sabbath, than 
when, in involuntary submission to his providence, he is 
compelled to rest on it ? He who said, " Remember the 
Sabbath-day to keep it holy," will take care that no man 
suffer loss in consequence of obedience to that command. 
Hear his promise : "If thou turn away thy foot from the 
Sabbath, from doing thy pleasure on my holy day, and call 
the Sabbath a delight, the holy of the Lord, honorable ; 
and shalt honor him, not doing thine own ways, nor finding 
thine own pleasure, nor speaking thine own words, then 
shalt thou delight thyself in the Lord ; and I Avill cause thee 
to ride upon the high places of the earth, and feed thee with 
the heritage of Jacob thy father ; for the mouth of the Lord 
hath spoken it." Wherefore, "remember the Sabbath-day 
to keep it holy." Let all thy arrangements be subservient 
to God's appointment ; and whatever the inconvenience, or 
the immediate loss, hallow the day which God has blessed. 
Don't break the Sabbath. 

A premium of $50, offered by a friend, was awarded to the 
orphan children of the lamented author of this Tract. 



No. 335. 

THE 



VOICE OF TIME 



Time past, present, and to come — yesterdmj, to-day, 
and to-morrow — each suggest lessons of moral instruction. 
Will the reader receive the friendly warning ? 

TIME PAST appeals to us ; and ascribing to God our 
existence, our social affections and enjoyments, together 
with the needful supply of all our temporal wants, its voice 
emphatically inquires, " Has not God nourished and brought 
you up as a child ?" In distinction from the Pagan and 
Mohammedan, you have been surrounded with the light of 
the Gospel, and the name which is above every name — 
Jesus, who saves his people from their sins — is familiar to 
your ear. The gate of life, and the narrow way of eternal 
salvation, have been opened before you. Tlie Bible has 
been in your hands, and the strivings of God's Spirit in 
your heart. A gentle whisper, " This is the way, Avalk ye 
in it," has arrested you amidst the bustle of business and 
the whirl of pleasure ; has followed you to your retirement, 
and to the pillow of your repose. You have felt that you 
needed an interest in the Saviour. The cup of sin has been 
imbittered by remorse and affliction. Unwearied in pa- 
tience, God has pursued you with invitations and warnings, 
with mercies and judgments ; thus pressing upon you the 
thrilling admonition. Why loill you die ? 

How have you requited him ? What use has been made 
of your existence, your strength, your faculties ? Have they 
been consecrated to the service of God ? Have you acted 
under the abiding conviction that you are not your own, but 
belong to him ? In your plans and pursuits, have you 
sought to please yourself, or to obey iiim ? To what pur- 
pose have your temporal mercies been devoted ? Have you 
ate and drank to glorify your Maker ; or, by perverting the 
tokens of his goodness to self-indulgence and licentious- 
ness, have you ""made him to serve in your sins?" What 
has been your treatment of his blessed Son, who left heaven 
and gave his life a ransom for your soul ? Have your 
VOL. IX. 32 



2 THE VOICE OF TIME. 

thoughts, affections, and labors been for him ; or have you 
kept aloof from the knowledge of his ways ? How have 
you valued the Bible and the throne of grace ? Have you 
searched the one as for hid treasure, and perseveringly 
bowed before the other in humble supplication? What 
reception have you given, in his personal visits, to the Holy 
Ghost ? Have you yielded to his entreaties, casting all your 
cares and hopes upon the Lord ; or have you resisted his 
strivings, hardened your heart, and bid him be gone ? Have 
you not preferred the company of your sinful associates to 
communion with him ? sin to holiness ? earth to heaven ? 

TIME PRESENT also addresses us, and says, To-day 
he grateful to your injured Benefactor. Adopting the sen- 
timent of the Psalmist, exclaim, " How precious are thy 
thoughts unto me, O God ; how great is the sum of them." 
Call upon your soul, and all that is within you, to bless and 
magnify his name. 

To-day exercise unfeigned repentance. Confess, deplore, 
forsake your sins. Open the volume of your moral history, 
and read on your knees at the throne of grace the chapter 
of your secret faults and of your outbreaking sins — of your 
perverted endowments — of your hatred, malice, envy — 
temporary good obtained at the expense of disobeying 
God — lusts of the flesh, of the eye, and the pride of life. 
Let each act, which you fain would have forgotten, prove 
an arrow of conviction, in the hand of the Holy Spirit, to 
penetrate your conscience. Is there not enough to bewail — 
enough to make an angel weep ? 

To-day receive the atonement — embrace the satisfaction 
of Christ. "Sins which are as scarlet and as crimson, 
through his merits, may become as wool and as snow." 
Do you inquire hoio to believe ? Nothing is plainer : the 
Saviour has paid the debt to infinite justice due for human 
crimes, and proclaims acceptance to all who, with a sincere 
heart, desire to return to their allegiance with heaven. 
Until you know the plague of your own heart, you cannot 
appreciate the necessity of a renovation, nor be willing to 
solicit pardon on the ground of a Saviour's righteousness. 
The disease that is concealed cannot be cured. Of this, 
however, lest assured, that, on your repentance and faith 
in the Son of God, there is no depth of depravity, no moral 



THE VOICE OF TIMK. 3 

leprosy, no blot on the soul, no passion too inveterate for 
the Gospel, in its purifying omnipotence, to remove. 

" The dying thief rejoiced to see 
That fountain in his day ; 
And there may I, though vile as he, 
Wash all my stains away." 

To-day devote yourself to the service of the Saviour. An 
ample and fruitful field of labor opens before you. The 
poor are always with you; sinners are perishing, who, 
through your instrumentality, may be rescued ; and a 
WORLD is to be enlightened and converted. The Christian's 
business is, "to do good and to communicate." ' What a 
contrast with the selfish pursuits of those who live only to 
receive. The Christian, while he freely receives, freely 
gives. He that dwelleth in God, dwelleth in love, and 
God in him. 

To-day — now — is the accepted time. Every individual 
who is saved comes to the determination to accept of mercy 
NOW. Every individual who is lost, is lost for neglecting, 
when the gospel salvation is offered, to embrace it now. 
Will the reader ever have a more favorable season to attend 
to the interests of the soul than to-day ? 

TIME TO COME— the future also prefers her solemn 
warning. To-morrow the Spirit of God may cease to 
strive ; your conscience may be seared as with a hot iron ; 
your heart may be hardened, and you may be given over 
to a reprobate mind. God may swear in his wrath that 
you shall not enter into his rest. 

To-MORROW your intellectual vigor may be lost; your 
reason dethroned ; your bones may be full of pain, and the 
multitude of your bones full of strong pain — enough to 
endure without the agony of spirit which must result from 
a faithful examination of your heart, and a review of your 
life. It is related of a distinguished civilian, that during 
his last sickness, suddenly opening his eyes from what 
seemed a disturbed sleep, he said sharply, "remorse ;" soon 
after, more emphatically, "remorse ;" presently at the top 
of his strength he cried out, "REMORSE." He then 
required the word to be written and understood. " Ah," 
said he to the by-standers, gazing earnestly upon it, " He- 
morse ! You don't know what it means. You don't know 



4 THE VOICE OF TIME. 

what it means !" What gloomy attendants upon a sick-bed 
are such reminiscences. May God save us from the sad 
experience. 

Yes, TO-MORROW, amid the scenes of a dying chamber 
you may be the principal figure. The cold and palsying 
touch of dissolution may creep over your frame ; the vital 
current may ebb back to its fountain; and the spirit, di- 
vested of every privilege of probation, may return to God 
who gave it. What is your life ? How slender the thread. 
And yet eternity, with its tremendous infinite consequences, 
depending. What multitudes in the bloom of youth, in the 
strength of manhood, and amidst the circles of social affec- 
tion, while stretching out their arms in joyous anticipation 
to embrace a future, prospective good, have found to- 
morrow the executioner of all their hopes. 

To-morrow the soul' of the righteous may be in heaven. 
In contemplating the uncertain future, the world of eternal, 
divine enjoyment draws near, and sheds a lustre warm with 
hope and promise upon our earthly pilgrimage. Innu- 
merable happy spirits, full of love and good-will, display- 
ing their crowns, their harps, and seraph-wings, unite their 
voices to allure the wandering sinner from his downward 
course to the chambers of death. In choral harmony their 
music breaks upon the ears of mortals : " Come away from 
sin, from care, from fear, from woe — to glory come. To- 
morrow may hring you here.'' So thin a veil. 

To him who refuses to embrace the Gospel to-day, to- 
morroiij may be the commencement of endless " weeping, 
and gnashing of teeth." While, reader, you hesitate 
whether to yield yourself into the hands of your compas- 
sionate Redeemer — remember, the decision you noiv form 
may be your last. 

Thus the ^^as^ and the future concentrate their energy 
of motive upon the present — 

" This isthmian NOW of two eternities." 

Yesterday will return no more — to-day there is hope — 
to-morrov) all may be over. Come, then, embrace the 
Saviour NOW. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



DO YOUR CHILDREN 

REVERENCE THE SABBATH? 



What benevolent and Christian heart is not pained to 
witness the sad profanation of our blessed Sabbath by rude 
and lawless children, who run at will in our streets, or as- 
semble in their places of resort on this holy day ? To see 
these youthful Avanderers, these future fathers of the land, 
the hope of their country and the church, thus roaming in 
• paths of sin, and preparing for ruin. To see them left not 
only to destroy themselves, but to scatter as they go, fire- 
brands, arrows, and death, through a thousand domestic cir- 
cles, and amid ten thousand associates, the wrecks of whose 
souls lie along the downward path of every Sabbath-breaker. 

Scarcely can we pass from our dwellings to the house of 
God without observing their profanations of the day. Here 
is one loitering idly, there a company amusing themselves 
with their ordinary sports ; yonder is a large group wrest- 
ling, playing at ball, or roaming from place to place ; now 
and then you see them issuing from the dram-shop or the 
confectionary, and your ear is pained with their shouts of 
rudeness, vulgarity, and profaneness. The dress and car- 
riage of many of them show that they are not from the fam- 
ilies of the low, the vicious, and the ignorant. The parents 
of some may at that very hour have presented themselves 
in the sanctuary, while their children are thus left to wax 
bold in sin. 

Guilty children of still more guilty parents. Had your 
father restrained you from profaning the Sabbath ; had your 
mother taught you to keep it holy ; had you been led to the 
happy Sabbath-school, the instructive Bible- class, and the 
blessed courts of the Lord, and been cut off from corrupt 
companions, how different might have been your course; 
how changed your character ; how bright your example ! 

Parent, God has cast upon you the responsibiHty of 
your child's observance of the Sabbath. Your own soul is 
involved in his guilt. The same awful voice that amid the 
VOL. IX. 32* 



2 DO YOUR CHILDREN 

thunders of Sinai proclaimed, " Remember the Sabbath-day 
to keep it holy ; in it thou shalt not do any work," added, 
also, "nor thy son, nor thy daughter, nor thy servant, nor 
thy cattle, nor the stranger that is within thy gates." Alas, 
how many neglect one-half of the divine injunction. How 
many, who are conscientious in the performance of duty 
themselves, fail to "command their children and their house- 
hold after them,"'that they " keep the way of the Lord." 

Parents, Guardians, and Masters — You may think 
the Sabbath of little importance, but God makes a vast ac- 
count of it. Both in his moral government and in his word, 
he has laid a tenfold stress upon it, and guarded it with 
sanctions high as heaven. Warn your child of the doom 
that awaits the transgressor. If the sound of merry sports 
reach his ear ; if the stage or the pleasure-carriage roll by ; 
if the shop or the post-office shows its open door ; if the 
ship sails or the steamboat arrives on this holy day, lift up 
your voice, and say, "God has forbidden it." Interpose 
your authority, and see that it is obeyed. 

Beware how you loiver the standard of Sabbath duties. 
One man would not be guilty of manual labor, of buying 
and selling, or setthng accounts on the Lord's day ; but ho 
likes to amuse himself with the public journals ; to walk out 
into the green fields with his children ; to have an hour of 
cheerful conversation with his family and friends ; and some- 
times even to take a ride or a sail. Does this man honor 
the Sabbath ? Will not such a course soon lead to the open 
and shameless profanation of the day ? 

Who could bear the responsibility of such a parent? 
Who meet the frown of an offended God, that hangs over 
him and his household ? If his providence does not speak 
out in sudden judgments upon the transgressor — if punish- 
ment is not executed speedily, yet it is sure. Sooner or 
later, God makes known that he will bless no one who pro- 
fanes his holy day ; or, by connivance or neglect, suflfers 
those under his charge to profane it. Look a little way 
down the stream of life, and you will find punishment for 
your disobedience falling here and there upon your charac- 
ter, your comforts, your descendants, or your property. 
Your social relations may be imbittered, your hopes crushed, 
your fields blighted, your treasure corrupted, your mer- 
chandise buried in the sea ; or, worse than all, the children 



REVERENCE THE SABBATH? 



whom you neglected to restrain may plant thorns in your 
bosoms, and as they rush on to their destruction, reproach 
you with being the cause of it. Nothing is promised, noth- 
ing is secure, unless you obey God's command. 

Think not, that because you may count the failure a small 
one — your servants only are detained from public worship ; 
your son or your Avard is but allowed to go out for a little 
amusement or exercise ; you only close your eyes while your 
daughter spends her time unprofitably, or while your family 
are going on in their worldly concerns, and indulging in 
worldly conversation — think not that God will also consider 
it a trifle. How dare you treat the divine law with such 
contempt as to make it bend to every little deviation which 
your convenience or your love of ease may claim ? It is not 
a slight thing, if the Sabbath is polluted ; and remember, 
that you are made responsible for your familg, and will have 
to answer for all transgressions which you might have pre- 
vented, and did not. And the influence of your example may 
extend far and wide, through large circles, and into other 
generations. You cannot shake off" these responsibilities. 
Your own soul is in peril, if your child is a Sabbath-breaker. 

Blessed is the man to whom the Sabbath is ''a delight, 
the holy of the Lord, honorable." His common pursuits, his 
physical and mental recreations, are his six days' work, and 
never allowed to intrude on the heritage of the Lord. The 
law which he feels to be binding on himself, he inculcates, as 
far as his example, his influence, his counsel, or his author- 
ity can reach. And he finds that "in keeping" God's 
" commands there is a great reward." His children and his 
dependants flourish happily around him. In the midst of 
them he falls to the ground as a shock of corn fully ripe. 
Their tears and their blessings drop upon his dying bed, and 
rise again as sweet memorials to heaven, that make his pas- 
sage thither pleasant, and his reception glorious. 

Follow his family into the bosom of succeeding years. 
His children copy his example ; and in the midst of their 
own domestic circle, the son or the daughter Avill often lift 
the moistened eye to heaven, and exclaim, " Blessed be the 
memory of my parents, who taught me early to revere the 
Sabbath." And the orphan, as he grows up amid the cares 
and business of life, when the Holy Spirit has strengthened 
him to resist temptation, will raise the voice of thanksgiving, 



4 DO YOUR CHILDREN REVERENCE THE SABBATH 1 

and say, " I thank thee, God, that when my father and 
mother were taken away, thou didst give me a protector, 
Avise and faithful, who would never allow me to profane the 
Sabbath." And as he enters the mansions of the blest, 
think you that the heavenly dwellers have no salutation of 
unwonted joy for this faithful parent who has dared to resist 
evil, and bring up his household in the fear of the Lord ? 

And now, parents and guardians, we leave you with the 
command of God before you. You see that it has a distinct 
clause for you as the head of a family, and by keeping it, 
you have the promise of the life that now is, as well as that 
which is to come. Think what a floodgate of iniquity you 
open, when you allow your children to violate the Sabbath ; 
how much you contribute to the sins of the land. let 
your own roofs shelter them from corrupt associates, or lead 
them yourselves to the house of God, and teach them that 
a day in his courts is better than a thousand. Where is the 
community that can prosper, if the Sabbath is profaned ? 
Will there be parental tenderness and filial piety, the en- 
dearments of home, the thirst for improvement, the march 
of science, the charms of taste and refinement ? No ; every 
thing good will retrograde : the morning prayer, and the 
evening hymn, the duteous respect, the gentle deportment, 
the interests of education, the authority of law, the rev- 
erence for the ministry, the study of the word of God, all 
decline. If you would advance the mental cultivation, the 
respectabihty, the correct habits, the virtuous principles, or 
the everlasting welfare of those under your charge, throw 
around them the salutary restraints of the Sabbath. 

Let the scythe of desolation sweep over the Sabbath, 
and you cut down, by thousands, the hopes, the joys, the 
comforts, the dearest inheritance of man. Interpose, then, 
your authority ; uphold this pillar of society ; watch, guard, 
compel your children and dependents to keep holy the day 
of the Lord. Remember, that the command of God lies 
upon you, strong, urgent, and uncompromising — that you 
and yours should preserve this beautiful memento of creat- 
ing power and redeeming love, this blessed pledge of the 
favor of God to man, pure from every spot and stain. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



]¥o. 337. 

THE GAIN IS LOSS; 

OR, 

THE UNPROFITABLE EXCHANGE. 



The Lord Jesus Christ utters the voice from heaven, 
What is a 7nan profited, if he gain the whole world, and lose 
his own soul ? or what shall a man give in exchange for his 
soul ? To these inquiries let the reader be entreated to de- 
vote a few moments of solemn attention. Compare the two 
points — the value of the soul, and the gaining of the world ; 
weigh them in the balance of the sanctuary, and then ren- 
der a rational, a just decision of their respective worth. 

THE W^ORLD, THE WHOLE WORLD. 

The depth of the import of the inquiry of our Lord will 
not be apprehended, unless we attend to the emphasis which 
he lays upon the term, the whole world. It embraces the 
entire surface of our globe : its various states, its several 
empires, every island, and every continent; every river, 
every lake, and every sea. It embraces every species of soil, 
and the innumerable products of every clime ; the trees of 
the forest, and the spices of tropical lands ; the abundant 
fruits of untamed nature, and the more costly ones of the 
cultivated field. The mines, too, are comprehended in the 
sum ; the iron, the silver, the gold, and the richer gem of 
every water ; the treasures of the deep, with all the facil- 
ities which, as the highway of nations, it affords for the 
interchange of the comforts and luxuries of hfe, and the 
accumulation of wealth. 

. Every clime is furnished with some precious material, 
that addresses itself with peculiar adaptation to one or otlier 
portion of our sensitive constitution ; and when each clime 
and soil unites with every other cUme and soil to minister 



2 THE GAIN IS LOSS. 

to the senses, how abundant and exquisite the delight. In 
the charms of a rich and pohshed literature, in the depths 
of absorbing science, in the arts, useful and fine, intellect 
can revel, and have its hour of ecstasy. Ambition, too, if 
not too proud for feeling, may have its ecstatic moment : an 
obedient world, the fame of the schools, the glories of con- 
quest, the diadems of empires, crouching milHons — what can 
be desired more ? 

This is a rough draft of the outlines of the map of '' the 
whole world." This, man of the world, this, all this, son of 
earth, is, by supposition, yours. You have secured it ; and 
to do so, you have pledged the price. This is the world, the 
whole world. During those few years in which it may be 
supposed you will desire it, or be capable of relishing its 
enjoyments, it is yours. How many exclaim, Happy man. 
But ere we join the shouts of congratulation, let us hear the 
price at which this supposed possession has been obtained. 

THE SOUL. 

That upon which Almighty God stamped, at its crea- 
tion, his own image of light, blessedness, and glory, was 
the soul of man. Alas, how marred by sin. How is the 
gold become dim ; how is the fine gold changed ; the crown 
is fallen from our head. Woe unto us that we have sin- 
ned. Still, it is the soul of man ; and even in its moral 
ruins, it is beyond the power of calculation precious. Were 
it not thus precious, the Son of God would not, for its re- 
demption, have poured out his own life's blood. Its intel- 
lectual efficiency is not confined to the great variety of earth- 
ly objects with which it is called to be conversant ; nor lim- 
ited to the admeasurement of the fields where comets trace 
their erratic and rapid course, or the exposition of the laws 
that govern suns and stars. Man's mind is capable, in the 
inspired light of heaven, and guided by its spirit, of reach- 
ing the eternal throne, and of holding sweet and near com- 
munion with the Creator and Redeemer of men. The spirit 
of man, in possession of its own constitutional principles of 
intellection, of volition, of moral sense, of religion, of affec- 



THE GAIN IS LOSS. 3 

tion, has capacities of interminable improvement ; of higli 
and varied activity, and susceptibilities of enjoyment which 
the pen of the ready writer cannot describe, which the 
tongue is inadequate to express, and to the bounds of which 
the heart's own conceptions have never reached. Immor- 
tality has stamped her seal upon this chief of the works of 
God on earth. But Oh, this soul of man, thus endowed 
with faculties, in the likeness of God, is susceptible of deg- 
radation as deep, and of misery as intense and everlasting, 
as it is of felicity immortal, and of glory unspeakable. This 
is the soul of man. The price at which the world is to be 
gained, is, 

THE LOSS OF THE SOUL. 

Loss of the soul ! What is this ? Must it fall into the 
unfathomable abyss of annihilation ? Ah, no. This, to the 
lost soul, would be a refuge which it shall seek in vain. 
The soul will lose much, but interminable existence it can- 
not lose. From non-existence it will for ever be at an infi- 
nite distance. With an existence of wretchedness its immor- 
tality will connect it in endless duration. Equally vain will 
be its desire of forgetfulness of the past, unconsciousness of 
the present, and thoughtlessness of the future. Memory 
will be terribly tenacious of the past, consciousness will be 
all awake to the present, and thought will be upon the wing 
in anticipation of the future. What, then, is the loss ? It 
is happiness that is lost. The means of happiness, every 
association in which it might be expected, shall have depart- 
ed ; hope, the last friend of the miserable, shall have fled 
for ever. Every foundation where hope could have found 
even a temporary resting-place, shall be torn up. 

Does the sinner say. This is hard ? Why say so ? Was 
it not thy choice ? Was not this the understood condition 
of this transaction ? Gain the luorld — lo§e the soul. Didst 
not thou with eagerness seek, habitually seek, in some form, 
what the world could afford thee ? Thy heaven-born intel- 
lect was separated from thy God. Its eye was turned from 
the contemplation of his glories, and was bent upon the 



4 THE GAIN IS LOSS. 

earth, not to trace its relation to thy Creator and Redeemer, 
nor to mark the impression of his excellencies left upon the 
work of his hands, but to ascertain how far it furnished the 
means of a temporary indulgence, or of a low gratification 
of thy ill-regulated propensities. Those fine affections of 
the immortal heart, fine in their primitive formation, and still 
capable of being raised to celestial perfection, were alienated 
from the Divinity, from things above, "where Christ sitteth 
at the right hand of God ;" and instead of mingling in the 
delights of heaven, became absorbed in the dregs of earth. 
Thy moral sense became unfeeling ; and amidst profane as- 
sociates, in the mean pursuits and the low indulgences of the 
world, the voice of conscience in thy breast became well- 
nigh silenced. Why, then, when thou must leave that world 
which was thy choice, and to whose pursuits thou didst so 
entirely surrender all thy immortal powers ; why, when that 
world abandons thee, shouldst thou complain if the God of 
truth and righteousness, whom thou didst contemn, now 
abandons thee to the consequences of thine own ways? 
Alas, ruined sinner, deserted by that world which thou didst 
so ardently love, and forsaken of that God, who alone is 
able to bless for ever, woful is thy condition. 

And is this all ? is this all that is involved in the loss of 
the soul ? Happiness, and hopes of happiness are gone, for 
ever gone. The favor of God, which is better than life, is 
lost. Heaven and all its joys have been bartered. But this 
is not all. Positive pain, misery indescribable, shall be 
added to the losses already told — pain, misery, that shall 
never end. 

Until the resurrection morning, the lost soul, in the sep- 
arate state of spirits, shall be in woe. From that eventful 
morn, soul and body, reunited, shall add to each other's pain. 
The whole person shall be the miserable subject of the ex- 
ecuted curse of t^he violated law. Through every faculty, 
the bitterness of that curse shall flow in upon the guilty 
and condemned soul. Every sense shall be a medium of 
anguish. Visions of horror, far and near, and on every side, 
shall meet the eye. Doleful sounds, despairing cries, bitter 



THE GAIN IS LOSS. 5 

Bxecrations, shall fall, perpetually fall upon the ear, Un- 
gratified propensities, stimulating the infuriated soul to in- 
creasing rage, will add to the torments of this dreadful 
state. Actual associates, recollected relationships, blighted 
prospects, neglected means, severally and unitedly, will 
crowd before the mind, and unceasingly contribute to aug- 
ment the auguish of the hopeless soul. Parental counsels, 
tears, and prayers, the admonitions of friendship, the assem- 
blies and solemnities of the sanctuary, the rest of the Sab- 
bath, with all its consecrated associations, will there be 
things of memory, but can be enjoyed no more. The day 
of grace shall then be ended ; the sun of hope has set ; the 
night of the blackness of darkness has spread its curtains, 
and no light remains ; no beam of brightness comes athwart 
the gloom, except from the awful gleams of justice, burst- 
ing forth from the thick clouds of God's displeasure. "The 
harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved,'' 
will be the language of those in the place of wailing and 
gnashing of teeth ; " where the worm dieth not, and the fire 
is not quenched ;" where " the smoke of their torment as- 
cendeth up for ever and ever," Eternity as infallibly marks 
the duration of the misery of the ruined soul, as it does the 
duration of its existence. When ages, long lasting ages of 
agony, more than imagination could ever number, shall have 
rolled over it, the FOR EVER— dreadful thought !— the 
FOR EVER, in all its extent of dreadfulness, shall be still be- 
fore, not shortened by a single hour. This is what is meant 
by the loss of the soul. 

Grant that for a few years the world is yours. Connec- 
tion with the world must cease. Though gained, the ca- 
pacity of man is found too limited to enjoy it. Its perplex- 
ities constituted an unforeseen and extensive drawback upon 
its enjoyments, while they were in reach. Even its fresh- 
ness withered under the eye, and its possession fell from the 
feeble grasp. Both possession and enjoyment are matters 
of recollection, objects that recede from the view, as unend- 
ing ages of agony are rolling on ; and however the remem- 

VOL. IX. '^'^ 



Q THE GAIN IS LOSS. 

brance of them, as past, may aggravate, assuredly it will 
never mitigate the experience of present wretchedness ; nor 
will it sustain the soul under the dreadful anticipations of 
future and increasing woe. The enjoyment furnished by the 
world, was in no proportion to the amount of guilt con- 
tracted in its acquisition, nor to the intensity of anguish 
connected with that guilt ; the transient possession, and its 
advantages, are lost in the eternity of privation and misery 
that are future. What, then, is the gain ? Inconceivable 
loss. 

But was ever the wliole loorld gained hy any one ? Small, 
very small is that portion of the whole world which any in- 
dividual can possess. The unsatisfied desire of acquisition, 
indeed, may prompt him on and on, and claim nothing less 
than the undiminished whole. But human life is too short 
for him to attain the object. And if the gain of the whole, 
at the price of the soul's loss, would be an unspeakably 
wretched adventure, what shall be said of him who pays 
the mighty sum for a very trifle ? 

And can the soul he lost for less than the gaining of the 
whole luorld ? Its loss depends not upon the extent of 
worldly possessions or gratification. It is the prevailing 
temper of the heart, the habit of mind, giving character to 
the life, that settles the account in this dreadful issue. 
Thirty pieces of silver was the amount of what Judas got, 
in exchange for his soul. Many, very many, have trafficked 
theirs for less. " The love of money is the root of all evil ; 
which, while some coveted after, they have erred from the 
faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows." 
It is an awful consideration, one which ouofht often and 
pressingly to be urged upon the attention of men in our 
age and country, that " they that will be rich, fall into temp- 
tation, and a snare, and into many foolish and hurtful lusts, 
which drown men in destruction and perdition." How 
many, ah, how many, in the criminal pursuit of wealth, car- 
ry along with them their sons, their daughters, their domes- 
tics, all over whom they have influence, into the same gulf 
of perdition. How small the temptation. How transient 



THE GAIN IS LOSS. 7 

tlie possession, and short-lived the joy, that must by so 
many be set over against the loss of the immortal spirit — an 
eternity of privation and of anguish. 

" What shall a man give in exchange for his soul?" 
When life ends, the hope of redemption ceases. With the 
possessions of earth, of which the condemned soul is now 
bereft, the means of salvation are likewise gone. In the 
grave, and beyond the grave, these have no place. " There 
remaineth no more sacrifice for sin." What would the 
ruined and suffering soul not give, to obtain exemption 
from the pains of the lake of fire ? But there is no place 
for repentance in that abode of sorrow. There the sinner's 
doom is for ever sealed. Between the habitations of woe, 
and the mansions of joy at God's right hand, " there is a 
great gulf fixed," which none shall ever pass. 

Reader of cultivated mind, whose heart is given up to 
the pursuits of earth, pause for a moment, and direct thy 
thoughts to the solemnities of immortality. Of thy constitu- 
tional conformation thou knowest much, and to a great extent 
thou art capable of tracing the faculties, the susceptibilities, 
and relations of thy immortal spirit. That spirit, remember, 
is a subject of high and lasting responsibiUties. There is a 
futurity of endless duration, in which thou hast a deep con- 
cern ; and there is a tribunal of impartial justice, of omnis- 
cient scrutiny, and almighty efficiency, before which thou 
must pass, in entering upon that untried futurity. Ask — 
do more than ask — ascertain, ere the awful inquest com- 
mences, what is likely to be the state of thy soul in that 
futurity. 

Man of business, in gaining thy estate, hast thou lost thy 
soul ? Thou hast pushed, successfully, thy mercantile spec- 
ulations, and escaped the perils of the deep ; but hast thou 
drowned thy immortal spirit in perdition ? Son of arro- 
gance, thou hast sought, and, to some extent, gained the 
object of thy ambition. But in the ascending of that lad- 
der hast thou not morally degraded thy immortal mind ? 
Is thy fall, from that elevation on which thou now standest, 
into everlasting contempt, inevitable ? Trifle not with this 



Q THE GAIN IS LOSS. 

inquiry. And still more, votary of mental cultivation, man 
of business, son of ambition, what of that fine family in- 
trusted to thy care — committed to thy hand to be educated 
for eternity ? In the ardor of earthly pursuits, it was for- 
gotten by thee, that they were immortal. Hast thou given 
to them the impress of thine own character ? Do they bear 
thy image of ruin ? Must they, through thy example, and 
under thy influence, with thyself be hurried down to hell ? 
Is it so, then, that thy soul, in its tremendous fall, brings 
so many others under the same ruin — ruined minds, ruined 
consciences, ruined hearts, eternally ruined souls ? 

How inexpressible the folly of that man, and how incon- 
ceivable the amount of his criminality, who barters his vir- 
tue, his religion, his God, and all the prospects of a blessed 
immortality, opened before him in the Gospel of his Son, 
for the toy of an hour ! Reader, you are not beyond the 
regions of redemption, of means, of activity, and of hope. 
Trifle not with your immortal interests. Your Bible is in 
your hands, the way to the throne of grace is open, the 
condescending ear of Him who occupies that throne is bend- 
ing to hear the feeble prayer of the humbled heart ; the 
blessed Mediator, the Son of God in our nature, is there to 
intercede on the supplicant's behalf; the Spirit of grace 
and supplication, in his blessed influence, is ready to descend 
to aid the struggling expression of the laboring soul. Go, 
then, without delay, to the throne of divine mercy, and, in 
the name of the Redeemer, plead, plead in faith, plead with 
fervor, for deliverance from a worldly spirit ; plead for the 
hallowed influences of the spirit of adoption, that, rising 
above the world, and escaping from all its debasing attrac- 
tions, you may evince yourself a child of God, an heir of 
life, and inherit an immortality of blessedness. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



]¥o. 338. 

"IT IS THE LAST TIME." 



Heard you that voice ? It is the voice of God by an 
inspired apostle. The last — how precious is the last time ; 
and yet how rarely suspected to be the last, when it actually 
arrives. With many, the present is literally the last time. 
From sixtij to eighty thousand immortal souls will be sum- 
moned to the bar of God within the next twenty-four hours. 
And do they expect it ? Are they aware that it is with 
them the last time ? A few may realize it ; but the great 
multitude, whose next step will be into the grave, have 
hardly a suspicion of it. How is it, reader, with thee ? 

Man of business, thou art ''careful and troubled about 
many things" — thy farm, thy merchandise, thy bank, thy 
policies of insurance, thy thousand-handed machinery, thy 
professional calls — some one of these engrosses all thy 
thoughts, and puts far off the great work of repentance. 
And yet, it may be the last time with thee. That bargain 
which thou hast just closed, that entry which thou art 
making in thy leger, that ship which thou hast just freight- 
ed, that sum of money which this morning came into thy 
hands, that patient whom thou hast just visited, that cause 
which thou hast just argued with so much ability — may be 
the last. Think of it, think of it, and do not let " the 
cares of this world, the deceitfulness of riches," cheat thee 
out of "durable riches and righteousness." 

Votary of amhition, while thousands have been disap- 
pointed, thou hast, perhaps, been steadily advancing towards 
the bright summit of thy wishes. Thou art now receiving 
the greetings and inhaling the incense of popular favor, 
utterly regardless of that " honor which cometh from God 
only." But it may be the last time. Death may be at the 
door. He may come in the very next moment, and with 
his cold hand strip off thy robes of office, and lay tliy body 
and thine honors in the dust. And Oh, the soul that never 
dies, where will that be ? on which side of the great gulf? 
Think of Herod, " arrayed in his royal apparel," at Cesarea. 
It was the last time he ever put it on. See him enthroned 
in all the pomp and pride of majesty. It was the last Ume 
he ever sat upon that throne. Hear him address the admir- 
voL. iXv 33 



2 "IT IS THE LAST TIME." 

ing throng. It was his last oration. Listen to the impious 
shouts of the multitude : " It is the voice of a God, and not of 
a man." It was the last shout he ever heard, for "the angel 
of the Lord smote him, because he gave not God the glor}' ." 

Child of ijleasure, art thou adorning thyself for the thea- 
tre, the card-party, or the ball-room ? Call in all the helps 
of taste and fashion, adjust every article of thy dress, and 
every lock of thy hair, as if thy life depended upon the nod- 
ding of a plume, or the color of a ribbon. Deck thyself 
with jewels, and display all thy charms, for it may be the 
last time. Drink deep of the cup of pleasure — drain it 
while it is yet in thy hand, for it may never be handed to 
thee again. But stay — is it wise — is it safe ? Should this 
be the last time with thee — should it be the last night of 
thine appearance with the giddy throng, what will become 
of thine immortal soul ? Can it solace itself in the world 
to come with the pleasures and flatteries of this ? no, 
no, NO. But whether this should prove the last night of 
thy going out or not, the last will certainly come, and come 
soon. And then death will deal roughly with thy toilet 
and thy wardrobe. Methinks I behold thee summoned as 
in a moment to the bar of God, and that I hear the Judge 
demand of thee, " Where wast thou when that fever, or 
consumption, seized thee, which so unexpectedly brought 
the hearse to thy door ? How hast thou spent the last few 
weeks of thy life ?" Oh I seem to see thee then, but not to 
hear thy answer. For what canst thou say ? No sounds 
escape thy lips but the wailings of despair, as thou goest 
away into the blackness of darkness for ever. 

Miserable slave of appetite, where wast thou on the last 
Sabbath ? In whose temple didst thou worship ? On 
whose altar didst thou pour out thy libations ? The odor 
of what incense went up to heaven from that altar ? Thy 
companions — who were they ? The song, too — was it the 
song of Zion, or of the drunkard ? What if it had been thy 
last Sabbath upon earth, as it Avas of many who spent it 
like thee ? What if those three bosom companions, horrid 
oaths, gross obscenity, and strong diink, had strangled thee 
to death ? What would have been thy condition now ? 
Where would have been that soul which was formed for a 
bhssful immortality — where? In the Holy City, in the 
New Jerusalem, or loithout, where are " doo-s, and sorcer- 



"IT Irf THE LAST TIME." 8 

ers, and whoremongers, and murderers, and idolaters, and 
whatsoever loveth and maketh a lie ?" 

Where art thou in the habit of spending thine evenings, 
and thy money, and sacrificing thy health, and thine honor, 
and thy morals, and turning all thy domestic affections into 
gall and wormwood? What if the last night of thy ca- 
rousals had been thy last on earth ? Pause, pause, I be- 
seecli you. It may be with you the last time. 

Fearless unbeliever, art thou making a mock at sin, and 
pouring out thine impious ribaldry upon the Holy Bible, and 
lying in wait to catch the innocent ? It may be the last 
time. The arrow which is to strike thee dead, may have 
already left the string. While the impious sneer is on thy 
lip, "the Lord may consume thee with the spirit of his 
mouth." And then, be assured, thy doubts will all vanish. 
The truth of the Scriptures will flash upon thy soul like 
lightning. An atheist, or sceptic, thou canst not remain 
another moment. With devils thou wilt " believe and 
tremble." The undying Avorm will gnaw thy now seared 
conscience for ever and ever. And canst thou, ivilt thou, 
" mock on ?" wouldst thou, knowing it to be the last time ? 
Ah, why those secret misgivings ? Why that unconscious 
flush, that terror which thy tongue scornfully denies ? The 
last time will certainly and soon come. The last profane 
jest will have passed thy lips. Thy last bitter sneer will 
have been stiffened into a cold marble horror. But thy last 
wail, alas, alas, that will never have been heard. 

Hardened, stupid sinner, methinks I hear the accents 
fall upon thy dull ear— ii is the last time. And wilt thou 
not rouse thyself up to instant thought and effort ? As well 
mightest thou think of sleeping in a den of enraged scor- 
pions, with a thousand fangs in thy flesh, as of remaining 
stupid one moment after death. And how canst thou still 
hum over the fatal lullaby, "Yet a little sleep, a little 
slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep?" Perhaps 
thou hast just returned from the house of Crod, where the 
ambassador of Christ besought thee to be reconciled, and 
offered thee pardon through his blood. And didst thou 
heed the appeal ? no ; thy thoughts were i'ar away, or 
perhaps thou wast slumbering at the very gate of heaven. 
And it may have been thy last opportunity in the house of 
prayer. With what feelings do those who went down to 



4 " IT IS THE LAST TIME." 

death, stupid, and hardened as thou art, now look back upon 
their last Sabbath, their last sermon, their last sleep under 
the thunders of Sinai or the moving accents of Calvary ? 

Thoughtful sinner, has the Lord Jesus Christ come into 
the place where thou art, upon the chariot of salvation ? It 
may be the last time. It is highly probable thou wilt never 
witness his triumphs again. Before another season of re- 
freshing, thou mayest hear thy eternal doom. Wilt thou 
not, then, while he is passing by, wilt thou not cry unto 
him, " Jesus, thou son of David, have mercy on me ?" Pi- 
ous friends, it may be, are praying for thee, and exhorting 
thee to seek the Lord while he may be found. And it may 
be the last time. While they are yet speaking, death may 
call and drown all other voices in a moment. 

Awakened sinner, is the Spirit of God actually striving 
with thee ? what a perilous crisis — what a moment preg- 
nant with all the joys or woes of eternal ages. The Holy 
Ghost striving with thy rebellious heart, to bring thee to 
Christ and to heaven. It may be his last call. It probably 
will be, if resisted now. And why wilt thou not embrace 
it at once ? What hinders ? What does God require ? " My 
son, give me thy heart." What does he require, but repent- 
ance, and faith, and love, and new obedience ? Yield him 
these this moment, I entreat thee. Do you reply, " I would 
yield, but I cannot ; my heart refuses." But what is this ob- 
durate heart, but thy wicked self ? Do you say, " I am trying 
to repent with all my might ?" No, conscience will not bear 
you out in that. Trying? how? In whose strength? Try- 
ing to do what ? To make yourself worthy of the divine 
favor. That is impossible. To get ready to yield up thy 
soul to Christ ? That is not what he requires. He comes 
to the point at once. He insists upon instant submission. 
" God now commandeth all men everywhere to repent." 
And with you, awakened, lingering sinner, it may be the 
last time. The next hour, the next moment, God may with- 
draw his Spirit. And then — but who can speak the rest ? 

" Haste, O sinner — now return ; 
Stay not for the morrow's sun, 
Lost thy lamp should cease to burn 
Ere salvation's work is done." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



ivo. sao. 

OBSTACLES TO COIVERSION. 



There are persons who think they wish to be Christians, 
and yet are conscious they are not. Why are they not 
Christians ? What is the obstacle that prevents so many 
from accepting the terms of salvation which God has offered ? 

1. Is it that Ood is univilling to save them? No. No 
one dares say so, or even think so. God has removed all 
doubt upon that point, not only by his invitations and en- 
treaties, but by his unqualified declaration, *' As I live, saitii 
the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the death of the wick- 
ed ; but that the Avicked turn from his way, and live." 

2. Is it that God has not made suitable provision for 
the return of all ? The atonement which the Saviour has 
offered is so ample, that he can say, "Whosoever cometh 
to me, I will in nowise cast out." Whosoever will believe 
in him shall not perish, but have everlasting life. 

3. Is it that there are not motives to influence to a Chris- 
tian hfe ? What more powerful motives can be conceived 
than those which are urged upon almost every page of the 
Bible ? Eternal happiness is the reward of obedience — 
eternal woe, the consequence of continued sin. 

4. Is it because the sinner is not elected, that he is not 
saved ? The terms of salvation are offered equally to all. 
And whoever is willing to accept these terms, shall have 
everlasting life. They who will not accept, and they only, 
will perish. 

5. Is the duty of repentance neglected because there are 
no convictions of sin ? Where is the heart that has not felt 
such convictions ? Who has not at times felt the reproaches 
of conscience ? Who in truth must not plead guilty to the 
charge of having often grieved the Spirit away ? O how 
importunate has God been in his strivings Avith us by his 
Spirit. We have heard his warning voice in every funeral 
bell, in every dying scene we iiave witnessed, in every joy 
that has "crowned our days," and in every pain we have 
borne. But the voice of conscience we have stifled, and 
the warnings of the Spirit we have disregarded. 

6. Is this world so full of happiness that we have no 
inducement to look to another world for joy ? There is in 



2 OBSTACLES TO CONVERSION. 

every heart an aching void which the joys of earth cannot 
fill. how constantly is our path through life strewed with 
disappointed hopes. How often is one almost persuaded to 
be a Christian. 

Why then is it that so many continue unreconciled to 
God ? What are the obstacles so powerful, that the 
entreaties of God, the sufferings of the Saviour, the striv- 
ings of the Spirit, do not remove them ? Among them are, 

1. An indistinct belief in universal salvation. Many 
indulge in a vague impression that all will be saved. This 
lulls them into security. They think, of course, that no es- 
pecial effort is necessary for salvation. Some openly avow 
this belief; others secretly cherish it. But whenever it 
has any hold upon the heart, it seems to deaden conscience, 
and to lead one to feel that a life of sin is not inconsistent 
with eternal happiness in heaven. How often does one ward 
off the arguments and appeals of the pulpit, by the sooth- 
ing repl}^, that live as he may, he shall eventually be drawn 
smoothly and pleasantly to blest abodes. While one cher- 
ishes this impression, be it ever so vague, ever so indistinct, 
it is the most effectual preventive of contrition for sin and 
faith in Christ. With thousands it stands in the way of 
eternal redemption. Thousands it entices through paths of 
sinful indulgence, to a death- bed of despair and an eternity 
of woe. They will not enter the door which Christ has 
opened, because they hope to climb over some other way. 

2. Thoughtlessness is another most formidable and most 
ruinous obstacle. There are thousands in Christian lands, 
and with intelligent minds, who will never allow themselves 
time for serious reflection. They enter the church upon the 
Sabbath, that the sound of the Gospel may fall upon the ear, 
but make no mental effort that its truth may be conveyed 
to their hearts. They hear the funeral bell, but will not 
think that they must die. They look upon the cold corpse, 
but will not, by reflection, make the case their own. They 
hear of eternity, but will not send the mind in serious 
thought to explore its limitless duration, its overwhelming 
scenes. Most studiously and most wickedly do they exclude 
reflection, and are borne as bubbles on the deceitful surface 
of life's gliding stream. how strange it is that any mind 
can refrain from reflection, when placed in the scenes which 
now surround us. Death is certain. The trump of the 



OBSTACLES TO CONVERSION. ' 3 

archangel will soon burst upon the ear. The resurrection- 
morn will soon gleam upon the eye. The eternal glories 
of heaven will soon fill the heart with rapture, or the glooms 
of hell pervade it with undying despair. And yet men will 
not think. How strange. How incomprehensible. TIictj 
will not think, and thus by thousands they are peiishing, to 
be eternal outcasts from heaven. 

3. A 'Wrong vieiu of the mercy of God is another source 
of ruin, not imcommon in the world. It is not very unu- 
sual for persons to think that God is so merciful that he 
will not be strict in his requirements. But can God receive 
to heaven those who will not repent of sin, and who Avill 
acquire no taste for heaven's purity and heaven's joy ? Can 
those who here never will bow the knee to Jesus, never 
will speak his praise, be admitted to those blest abodes 
where he reigns supreme, where every knee bows at the 
mention of his name, and every heart thrills at the remem- 
brance of his love. " I cast myself upon the mercy of God 
for salvation," said a hardened, and impenitent, and dying- 
sinner. 0, Avhat infatuation. The goodness of God should 
lead to re2)entance ; if it does not, it never can be manifested 
in our salvation. The only way to be saved is the way 
which God has pointed out. 

4. Another obstacle, far from uncommon, is a desire to 
obtain a neiv heart in a different way from that in which 
alone the Bible assures us a new heart can be obtained. Such 
persons will wish they were Christians. They will try to 
feel interested in serious things. They will read the Bible. 
They will do any thing but just what God requires them to 
do : repent of sin, seek forgiveness in the name of Jesus, 
put their trust in him, and at once commence a life of prayer, 
and of active effort in his service. Thousands thus go on 
through life, though they know their neglect is sinful, and 
conscience reproaches them every day. 

5. Ununllinr/ness to give up a worldly spirit is another 
obstacle which ruins thousands. Every man in heart knows 
that if he Avould be a Christian, he must make it the one great 
object of life to prepare for heaven, and to reclaim a guilty 
world to God. And in almost every bosom there is a strug- 
gle, arduous, though it be hidden, between the claims of 
Religion and the allurements of the world. How often will 
the ambitious, and the worldly, and th.' gay. confess tho 



4 OBSTACLES TO CONVERSION. 

emptiness of their pursuits, and express regret that they are 
not walkino- in the Christian's path. Ah, this is the con- 
fession which conscience, that faithful monitor, will at times 
extort from the tortured bosom ; and yet will the infatuated 
votary of the world glide along, through empty and heart- 
less joys, till the lamentation is upon his lips, ''the harvest 
is past, the summer is ended, and I am not saved." 

6. Pride, or an unwillingness to confess being in the 
wrong, is another obstacle which ruins thousands. Nothing 
is harder for the unsubdued heart, than the sincere, open 
confession of having lived in sin, and needing forgiveness. 
The attitude which the sinner assumes, practically and really 
is, that God must yield to the stubbornness of his own heart. 
Every man who does not cry for mercy, is exhibiting this 
feeling to God. This pride of heart must be subdued, even 
to the loAvly spirit of a little child, or there can be no 
admission to his courts above. 

Such are some of the principal obstacles Avhich stand in 
the way of the conversion of the sinner. The path to woe 
is downward, and the passage rapid. The current bears you 
onward, and you need but float upon its surface, and you will 
soon enter those gloomy depths whence there is no return. 
The obstacles in the w^ay of conversion are powerful. They 
are not to be overcome by the transient feeling of a moment ; 
they are not to be removed by waiting in indolence. They 
demand great effort to overcome them. If there be any thing 
in nature which calls for strenuous exertion, and which holds 
out sufficient motives to encourage such exertion, it is the 
salvation of your soul. O, do you ever think of that eter- 
nity which is before you, of those realms of boundless space, 
where in a short time must be your endless home ? Do you 
ever think of the wonders of a Saviour's love, of the sympa- 
thy of celestial bands, of the glittering mansion, of the heav- 
enly robe, of the everlasting song ? Can you think of such 
things, and not have your heart burn within you, and not 
be impelled by desires, which never can be extinguished, to 
reach forward by every possible exertion to the attainment 
of that world ? " Ask, and ye shall receive ; seek, and ye 
shall find ; knock, and it shall be opened to you." 



'UBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



]¥o. 340, 

SECRET PEAYER. 



Our Saviour, in language the most emphaiic, has en- 
joined upon us this duty : " Enter into thy closet, and when 
thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Fatlier who is in secret ; 
and thy Father, who seeth in secret, shall reward thee 
openly." How distinct is this command. And yet it is to 
be feared that, by many professed Christians, it is more neg- 
lected than almost any other. 

1. Let us contemplate its importance. When midniglit 
spread its gloom over Judah, why was our Saviour found a 
lonely wanderer in its most unfrequented Avilds ? Luke 
tells us it was his custom to retire to those solitudes fur pri- 
vate devotion. We have many instances given in which he 
united with his disciples in social prayer ; but every day he 
left the crowds with which he was surrounded, and went 
alone to hold communion with God. Christian, is it not 
important that a duty should be fulfilled which is enjoined 
by the Saviour's lips, and enforced by the Saviour's exam- 
ple. And remember, that this is secret prayer ; the prayer 
of retirement ; the communion of the soul with God, when 
that soul is withdrawn as far as possible from every exter- 
nal influence. 

The example of pious men in all ages of the world 
shows the importance of secret prayer. Witness Daniel, 
three times a day retiring to his chamber for prayer. Read 
the biography of any eminent Christian, and you will find 
that it is in secret prayer that his strength has been obtained. 
O, there is a host of worthies who rise at once in attestation 
of its infinite importance. And another host may be seen 
of languid, spiritless, desponding professors, whose lives are 
passing unprofitably and wretchedly away because they do 
not strengthen their faith and animate their zeal by the 
devotions of the closet. Here lies tlie cause of so many 
doubts and fears of the Christian ; of that paralysis of Chris- 
tian feeling which makes so many professors an incumbrance 
and a burden to the church. 

There are peculiar sins to be confessed, whicli it is not 
proper to confess in public or in social prayer. T!ie Chris- 
tian needs to go to God in all the ronfid.Mice of a private 

VOL. IX. '^^ 



2 SECRET PRAYER. 

interview, and there to unfold the inmost secrets of his 
heart. He has pecuhar temptations from which he needs 
to be guarded ; pecuhar trials, under which he needs sup- 
port ; and he must in private go to God, that he may seek 
relief for these private wants. 

Secret prayer affords the most direct intercourse the 
soul can have with God. In the hour of retirement and 
solitude the soul is most perfectly cut off from all exter- 
nal influences. It can then be more easily ushered into the 
immediate presence of its Maker. These are the occasions 
in which the soul breaks from the trammels of earth, and 
soars, as it were, on angels' pinions, to the bosom of its God. 
And it is from such visits as these, that the soul returns to 
earth refreshed with draughts from the fountain of life, 
warmed by the joys it has felt, and showing to the world 
around, by the glow of its feelings, that it has, like Moses, 
seen God in the mount. 

2. The MANNER in which this duty should be performed. 
When our Saviour says, " Enter into thy closet, and when 
thou hast shut thy door, pray to thy Father," he does most 
undeniably mean that we should seek actual retirement ; 
that we should go to some place alone, where we may pray 
to our Father in secret. It does not do to say that we can 
pray anywhere ; that we can, in the bustle of business, 
withdraw our minds and have sufficient communion Avith 
God. The Saviour's command is positive, that we must 
seek retirement, and there in secret make known our requests 
to God. Surely, if Christ found it necessary to withdraw 
from the crowd, and even from every friend, that his devo- 
tions might not be disturbed by passing scenes, it is the 
most egregious folly for the frail disciple of Jesus to pre- 
tend that secrecy and retirement are not essential in his own 
acts of devotion. Yes, follower of Jesus, you must actually 
go to the place of retirement. It may be to the chamber ; 
it may be to the grove : but it must be to some place where, 
alone and uninterrupted, you may commune with God. 

There should be stated times for secret prayer. The 
habit should be formed of going at particular hours of the 
day into the presence of God. Unless the Christian has 
resolution to form a plan, and to abide by that plan, he 
cannot make advances in the Christian life ; he cannot enjoy 
religion. If you say, "I will daily enjoy the privilege of 



SECRET PRAYr-R. 3 

secret prayer," and yet do not set apart some particular 
portion of the day, which you will appropriate to this duty, 
you will find that your resolutions are made but to be 
broken. The evening twilight appears to have been the 
favorite hour with our Saviour for this purpose. Daniel 
selected the morning, the noon, and the evening, as his sea- 
sons of private devotion. 

The very design of secret prayer is to enable the 
Christian to approach God with the least possible restraint. 
"We should at such times, with great particularity, acknow- 
ledge sin. Has any temptation excited irritated feeling ? 
In your closet confess that individual sin to God. Have 
you neglected duty ? In penitential prayer allude to the 
time and to the circumstances, that your heart may not be 
sheltered by the vagueness of mere general confession. In 
your closet review your actions, and speak to your Maker 
distinctly what you mean, when you confess you are a sin- 
ner. In the solitude and the silence of the soul's retirement 
with God we may become acquainted with ourselves. This 
is the way to make confession of sin which is acceptable to 
God. 

We should also, in secret prayer, pray for particular 
hlessings. You are a parent. Your son is at a distant 
school, surrounded by new and trying temptations. In 
retirement plead for him by name. State distinctly the 
temptations to Avhich he is exposed. Thus may you pray 
with a degree of fervor and distinctness which would be 
impossible and even improper in the more public circles of 
social prayer. When our Saviour united with his disciples 
in prayer, his petitions were general : " Thy kingdom come," 
'*o-ive us day by day our daily bread," "forgive us our 
debts," " lead us not into temptation." But when he retired 
to the garden, in solitude, his prayer was, '^' O my Father, 
if it be possible, let this cup pass from me." Here he un- 
veiled all his secret sorrows to a Father's view. Imitate 
your Saviour, and daily in secret prayer remember your 
friends, calling them by name. Remember your own par- 
ticular temptations, and your own particular sins, and thus 
will your Father, who heareth in secret, himself reward 

you openly. 

3. Consider the ADVANTAGES of secret prayer, ihere 
is no exercise of the Christian which has so powerful an 



4 SECRET PRAYER. 

influence in promoting spirituality of mind. Secret com- 
munion with God seems to introduce us into his immediate 
presence. If we go to the closet Avith the distinct confes- 
sion of sin, and asking particular blessings, we can hardly 
fail of receiving an influence into our own hearts which will 
be abiding. There never can have been a case of one who 
perseveringly frequented his closet, and there found rest to 
his soul, who was not a spiritual man and a growing Chris- 
tian. And the Christian who does not pray in secret must 
be a languid and a heartless disciple. 

There is no j^reservative frotJi sin so potent as this. An 
hour of temptation may overcome the Christian. He may 
be left to the commission of sins, the thought of which now 
makes him shudder. Temptations may be thrown in your 
way, and you have no safety — you have no protection but 
in prayer. He who comes from the audience chamber of 
God, from intimate communion with his Maker, has faith so 
bright and strong that temptation will in vain assail him. 
Standing in the very verge of heaven, breathing the very at- 
mosphere of that pure world, he will be enabled to say, " Get 
thee behind me, Satan." The path to the commission of 
sin lies invariably through the neglect of secret prayer. 

There is no exercise which can so purify and tranquil- 
lize the mind. It is this which gives that " closer walk with 
God," which insures " a calm and heavenly frame." This 
is the mount upon which the Christian may stand above 
earth's vapors and smile at earth's storms. When Jesus 
went to the garden, as the hour of death approached, he 
was in an agony. But he came from the retirement of that 
garden calm and composed. Thus, Christian, may you 
obtain a composure of mind, and a calm, steady enjoyment, 
which no opposition or trials can rufile. And how happy 
is the heart, thus fixed on God — thus steadfast in a joyful 
serenity which nothing can disturb. Neglecting this duty, 
how full does the heart become of worldly cares. How 
often depressed with anxiety. How will trifling obstacles 
disturb and irritate. The remedy for all this is secret 
prayer. Then is the spirit alike independent of great calam- 
ities and of petty vexations. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



iVo. :mi, 
HINTS 

FOR 

VISITORS AND TOAVELLKHS, 



FROM AN ADDRESS BY THE I.ATE REV. DR. BEDELL, OF ruiLADELnUA. TO 
THE PEOPLE OF HIS CHARGE. 



Since I have been settled in this city, the most cases of 
rehgious depression and declension which have come under 
my notice, have occurred in the autumn of the year, and 
amongst those professors of religion who have spent their 
summers in the country, or in travelling. This is a fact, 
the causes of which are well worthy of investigation. I can 
discuss the subject experimentally, because what I say is 
not abstract reasoning, but truth gathered from the history 
of some melancholy cases. Not that I would object to 
travelling, or passing the distressing heats of the summer 
among the shades and delicious retirements of the country ; 
no — I am an advocate for these, and the necessities of my 
own health require the relaxation and refreshment which 
such changes are calculated to produce. But let us not 
be blind to the attendant evils. I mention, 

1. Axi inattention to secret religious duties. The duties 
of the closet, such as reading, meditation, prayer, self-ex- 
amination, are indispensably necessary to the welfare of the 
soul. In travelling, or in the retirement of the country, 
there is temptation to neglect these duties. In the former 
case, public conveyances hurry us along, as if the object 
was to annihilate time and space ; and public-houses atlord 
small accommodation for reading, and meditation, and 
prayer. We start early in the morning, and travel till late 
at night, all is hurry and bustle, and nothing is thought 
of but to accomplish our wish. If we are in the country, 
perhaps there are other persons with us of uncongenial dis- 
positions and habits. We have small rooms, new occupa- 



VOL. IX. 



34^ 



2 HINTS FOR VISITORS AND TRAVELLERS. 

tions, a variety of new engagements, and the duties of the 
closet are neglected. Public duties are also broken in 
upon ; there are not the same Sabbath privileges as at home ; 
or if there are, the heat and the want of conveyances are 
pleaded in excuse for neglecting them. All these, by a 
process just as natural as any which can be imagined, lead 
to depression ; the light of God's countenance is not sought, 
and the soul is left to darkness and to doubt. 

2. ^Vii, to omission of duty, many add actual sin. Forced 
by circumstances, as they say, they travel on the Sabbath, 
on the vain plea, that they shall commit as little sin by do- 
ing so, as by staying where they happen to be uncomforta- 
bly placed. Some are in large public establishments, and 
spend the day, not in their rooms, but in promiscuous com- 
pany. Those who do not travel, but who are in the country, 
are apt to spend the day very idly, or else improperly ; 
neither going to church, nor occupied in prayer and medi- 
tation. 

And besides this, there are many professing Christians, 
who, in the country, are the actual cause of sin in others. For 
instance, a family in the country, a few miles from the city, 
has the father or the brother remaining behind. What then ? 
The wife and the relatives must be visited. Shall I leave my 
business ? asks the husband. Oh no, I cannot spare time 
to see my family and friends during the week. When can I 
go ? Oh, there is Sunday. It is no matter if I break God's 
law. I will go out on Saturday, and stay till Monday. I 
shall gain two things by it : I shall see my family, and spend 
my time with ease and comfort, and I shall lose nothing, but 
rather save a day. Some ride out on Sunday morning, and 
return again in the evening, and spend the day without re- 
ligion. Thus the man breaks the commandment of God ; the 
wife and the children are taught that the institutions of 
public worship are mere matters of convenience ; duties are 
neglected ; God is insulted. Is it wonderful that God with- 
draws his presence from those thus tempting him ? Is it 
not rather wonderful that he does not cast them off for ever ? 



HINTS FOR VISITORS ANP TRAVKLLKRS. 3 

At length the travellers return from their tours, and those 
from the country to their homes ; the closet is sought, but 
it has been too much neglected to give pleasure now. Spir- 
itual darkness overwhelms the soul, and in anguish the indi- 
vidual cries out, " that I were as in months past." My 
friends, you bring this on yourselves. There is no neces^^ity 
that you should neglect your duties of reading, meditation, 
prayer, and self-examination. You permit your enemy to 
get the advantage over you. You gradually become care- 
less and indifferent. One duty gives way, then another ; one 
sin is committed, then another ; and religious declension in 
some, and depression in others, ensue. This leads me, 

3. To the remedy. If you must go into the country, or 
if you must travel, determine upon one thing before you go : 
God goes with you wherever you go. Set your face like a 
flint against sin ; determine to do nothing, and encourage 
nothing, which you would not do and encourage at home. 
If you travel, where the Sabbath meets you, stop ; if there 
is a place of worship, go to it. If not, go to your chamber, 
and spend the day with the best of company, your God. 
Carry your Bible with you ; think not to escape out of the 
presence of God ; mingle not with indiscriminate or light 
company; give the day, and give your heart to God. If 
you are in the country, within reach of any place of worship, 
go to it ; put yourself to some inconvenience : if not, spend 
the day with God. Do not encourage your husband or 
relatives in ruining their souls to enjoy your company. You 
thus become a partaker of their sins. There must be a pos- 
itive determination made to set your face against any thnig 
which will draw you from God, directly or indirectly. ^ ou 
must be on your guard, and determine that on no account 
whatever will vou bring yourself into the difficulty. 

But perhaps some may say, then we must never travel, 
and never go into the country ; we must stay and sutter m 
health ; it is impossible to do otherwise, there are so many 
disadvantages. Permit me, my dear friends, to say to you. 
in the honesty and simplicity of the Gospel, that if. lo your 



4 HINTS FOR VISITORS AND TRAVELLERS. 

individual case, these things are inseparable from your 
circumstances ; if you cannot travel or go into the country 
without neglecting God and your soul, then it is your im- 
perative duty never to travel, and never to go into the coun- 
try. It cannot possibly be your duty to ruin your soul. 
You had better stay in the heat of the city ; aye, if there 
should even be here the " pestilence that Avalketh in dark- 
ness, and the sickness that destroy eth at noonday." Your 
children had better go to heaven before they have the guilt 
of actual sin on their souls ; every inconvenience had better 
be endured, than that you should lose both soul and body 
in hell, and be the ruin of your children also. The great 
business of your lives, permit me to tell you, is to regard 
eternity, not time ; to see that you are prepared for death 
and judgment, rather than prepared for mere employment. 
You know not when your Lord may come. You may be 
called away to judgment while far distant from your home ; 
or from the shades and delights of your summer residence, 
you may be summoned to give an account of your steward- 
ship. And if this should take place while you are thus 
neglecting God, your doom at the day of judgment Avill be 
terrible indeed. I say, and the reason of every one cannot 
but respond to it, if you think travelling and country resi- 
dence incompatible with precisely the same state of mind 
and exercises of heart as are indispensable at home, then 
your duty is to stay, and if the body perishes, the soul may 
be safe. But I do not believe these things incompatible. 
The situation is more difficult, it is true ; but because it is 
difficult, it ought to rouse new energies. God can be 
served, and yet the distant journey taken, or the country 
quiet resorted to. But it requires you to fight against your 
inward coiTuptions, and to resist your great and spiritual 
adversary. You must be decided against the world, and 
friends and relatives, if you would save your soul from neg- 
lect of God. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



THE 



CHEISTIAN'S DUTY. 



There is hardly any thing in this world which can be 
efficiently carried on without system. In every branch of 
business, order and punctuality, it is well known, are essen- 
tial to success. Why, then, should the Christian feel that 
the church can be prospered, if its meetings be not attended 
with punctuality, and its affairs conducted witli cneri^^y ? 
He should feel, that next to the duties he owes liis family, 
are the duties he owes to the church ; and he should feel as 
deeply bound to attend the stated meetings of the church, 
as he does to attend to any duties which he is called to per- 
form in life. 

You have stood before a laro:e congreo-ation of vour fel- 
low-men, and solemnly called God to witness that you would 
consecrate the affections of your heart and the energies of 
your life to his service. And now, with what possible pro- 
priety can you allow the ordinary claims of business to 
draw you away from the evening lecture, where your 
brethren are assembled for worship ; or from the church 
meeting, convened for prayer and to further the interests of 
our blessed Redeemer's kingdom ? You have vowed fidelity, 
and your vow is recorded in heaven ; and will you now, in 
total disregard of these your obligations, leave the church 
unaided by your prayers or exertions ? After having en- 
tered into engagements with your Maker, can you, witii any 
conscience, engage in other pursuits to such a degree as 
to prevent your fulfilling these your prior and most solemn 
engagements ? 

If a man had engaged to perform certain services for 
you, and afterwards should enter into new obligations to 
some other individual, which rendered it impossible to dis- 
charge his duty to you, and should offer this as an excuse 
for violating his promise and proving unfaithful to his trust, 
would you not say to him, "You have no right to fonn 
new engagements which will prevent you from discharging 
the obligations into which you have already entered . 



2 THE (.'HRISTIAN'S DUTY. 

Would you not consider sucli a man as false in word, and 
unfaithful in action ? How then can you, after having prom- 
ised fidelity and activity in God's service, and taken upon 
yourself the obligations of the church, how can you enter 
into new obligations with the world, Avhich make you un- 
faithful to God, and an apostate from the responsibihties 
and labors of the church ? And yet how frequently do we 
hear it said, " My worldly cares are so numerous that I have 
not time to attend the meetings of the church, and to take 
an active interest in efforts to convert the world." What 
impiety and what insanity is such an excuse. 

Here is a man who has recently become interested in 
religion, and he most sincerely resolves that he will give his 
life to his Maker. He is humble, and prayerful, and active. 
Look into his family, and you see him the engaged Chris- 
tian. Go to the evening lecture, and you see him there one 
of the most devout and happy of the worshippers. Follow 
him to his business, and he is ever ready to speak a word 
for his Saviour. He unites with the church, and takes a 
deep and active interest in all its proceedings. And thus 
he continues, for some months, apparently a happy and 
growing Christian. But he is prospered in business, and 
by and by begins to think of enlarging his establishment. 
Perhaps some new branch of business opens before him 
which promises profit. He hesitates, for his time is now 
fully occupied, and if he enlists in this new enterprise he 
must neglect some of his Christian duties ; at last, however, 
he concludes to take upon himself these additional cares. 
As a consequence, he becomes a less frequent attendant 
upon the social evening prayer-meeting. Before many 
months have elapsed he neglects these meetings entirely ; 
soon you look in vain for his presence at the monthly con- 
cert : his prayer is not offered there ; his pecuniary aid is 
not felt there. Next he abandons his brethren at the busi- 
ness meetings of the church. He leaves them to bear alone 
the responsibilities and toils of the church, to form and exe- 
cute their own plans of usefulness, unaided by his coopera- 
tion or encouragement. The lecture preparatory to the 
communion is next forsaken. Hurried and heartless family 
prayers, and the total neglect of active Christian effort, 
follow in the train of this sad declension. Christians are 
disappointed and grieved. Those who are not Christians, 



THE CHRISTIAN'S DUTY. 3 

but feel friendly to religion, are, by his example, repelled 
from duty, and begin to fear that all professions are delu- 
sive ; and the enemies of religion point contemptuously to 
him, and say, " What do ye more than others ?" Tin!' in- 
fluence of such a professor is decidedly disastrous to the 
prosperity of the church. 

What right have you to have so much business uj)on 
your hands that you cannot attend to those duties you owe 
to God ? When has your Saviour absolved you from your 
covenant obligations, and permitted you to neglect his ser- 
vice, that you may more energetically engage in laying up 
treasures upon earth ? The duties you owe to (iod can 
never, with impunity, be laid aside for new and unnecessary 
obligations ; and yet in every church there are some who 
are thus neglecting duty, and are endeavoring to quiet con- 
science by an excuse so fallacious and so wicked. You 
would never dream that they were professed disciples of 
Jesus, did you not occasionally see them at the communion 
table. Such professors are but a mockery ; and if sucii a 
man be not in truth a hypocrite, he makes others believe 
that he is so, and that the religion which he professes is a 
delusion. 

It is necessary for the prosperity of a church, that the 
members should be acquainted with one another, and that 
there should be that bond of union which, in former times, 
attracted the attention and admiration even of heathen ad- 
versaries. But this acquaintance can only be obtained by 
frequently meeting together as Christian brethren. It is 
generally the case, when difficulties arise in a church, that 
it is in consequence of that want of sympathy and confidence 
which a more intimate acquaintance would insure. The 
church is surrounded with many dangers, and there is great 
need of that strength which can only be found in united 
hearts. It is this alone which can prevent occasional col- 
lisions and strife. And he who stands in tlie way of tins 
union of affection, bv not cultivating the acquaintance of his 
brethren, and bv giving them no opportunity to sympathize 
and commune With him, is weakening the onergies of the 
whole church. He not only witiidraws his own influence, 
but throws an obstacle in the way of otlu-is. 

Plans must be formed to awaken deeper interest, and to 
extend the power of religion through the community. Here 



4 THE CHRISTIAN'S DUTY. 

is a call for all the energy of mind of which the church is 
possessed ; for all the ingenuity of skill, for all the strength 
of combined action. Such questions as the following are 
constantly arising : 

What shall be done to give more efficiency to Christian 
effort in connection with Tract distribution ? 

How shall we enlarge the Sabbath- school ? 

What measures shall be adopted to promote more sys- 
tem in collecting money for charitable purposes ? 

Is it desirable that a day should be set apart by the 
church for fasting and prayer ; or that a committee be ap- 
pointed to visit all the members of the church ; or that some 
other measures be adopted to arouse the attention of a 
slumbering community ? 

Now, who are to sustain the responsibility of forming 
and carrying out these plans ? Does it belong to the pastor 
alone ; or rest solely upon the officers of the church ? By 
no means. Here is a call for the prayerful, self-denying 
attention and cooperation of every member of the church. 

And what is the influence of the example of a cold and 
lukewarm professor? He is continually enticing other 
Christians to do as he does. He is thus paralyzing the 
efforts of the more faithful members ; he is speaking to the 
community around, telling them that religion is but a name ; 
and the more respectable the man is in character, the more 
unimpeachable in conduct, and the more extensive his influ- 
ence, the more disastrous to the welfare of the church is his 
example. 

It is the silent influence of a holy life, the constant exhi- 
bition of deep interest in the welfare of the church, which, 
more than all things else, impresses the community with 
the belief of the reality of religion. And he who practically 
says, " I will take care of my own concerns, and they who 
please may plan and execute for the interests of the church," 
practically says, " I have no confidence whatever in the 
demands of the Bible." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



THE ANXIOUS SERVANT. 

BY REV. RICHARD KNILL 

OF ST. PETERSBrUG. 

This young woman lived in an ancient (cwii in Great 
Britain, where some of the best people in tlie worhl reside. 
On the 18th day of May, 1834, these zealous Christians 
made a noble eti"ort to send the (lospel to tlie heathen; and, 
while they were thus exerting themselves for the good of 
others, they were cheered with the hope that (Jod came 
down among them and brought a sinner to repentance. 

A repenting sinner is one of the most interesting sights 
we can behold. It gives joy to the angels in heaven. It is 
very probable, that if an angel were passing over London, 
he would not be attracted by the palaces, the ships, or the 
merchandise ; but if a poor, guilty creature were upon his 
knees in a garret, crying, " God be' merciful to me a sinner," 
that would arrest him in his flight : he would stop, and 
gaze, and admire, and clap his wings, and fly back to his 
companions and announce the fact. Here was a repenting 
sinner. She went home from the chapel deeply afl'ected, 
and spent the greater part of the night in ofl'ering up pray- 
ers and supplications, with strong crying and tears. 

The day following we met again at the chapel ; and just 
as I was going to commence the service, an elderly, respect- 
able-looking woman came to me and said, " There is a young 
woman in great distress of mind, who wishes to speak with 
you." Immediately after service she conducted me to the 
seat where the young woman sat. She was dressed in a 
plain, neat manner, and by her side sat three other young 
women. I said to her, " Do you wish to speak with me ?" 
" Yes," she replied, " I am in great distress about my soul ; 
the services of yesterday made a deep impression uj)t»n mo. 
I have spent most of the night in wee])ing and in prayer. 
O, sir, I am afraid I shall be lost." 

"Ah," said I, "many are lost; but it is becau^Je they 
have destroyed themselves. Many are lost ; but it is be- 
cause they have neglected the great salvation. V(.u will 
certainly be lost, if Christ do not save you; but you will 
certainly be saved, if you trust in him ; for it is written, 
'Whosoever believeth' in him shall not perish, but have 
VOL. IX. •^'> 



2 THE ANXIOUS SERVANT. 

everlasting life.' Do you know who Christ is ?" " 0, yes, 
sir." "Do you know that Christ came to seek and to save 
that which was lost?" ** Yes, I know that too." 

On a little farther inquiry, I found that she had enjoyed 
religious advantages in early life, but had since neglected 
them ; still, she knew the way in which God can " be just, 
and yet the justifier of him that belie veth in Jesus." 

After a good deal of conversation, to which her com- 
panions listened in tearful silence, I said to her, " If these 
things are important for you, then they must be important 
for your companions also. You should tell them what you 
see and feel of the need of salvation." " 0, sir," she replied, 
" I have been telling them about it all the morning." At 
this they, each of them, began to weep, and added, " Yes, 
sir, she has been warning us of our danger, and calling 
upon us to flee from the wrath to come." This was as it 
ought to be. I always consider it a good sign when persons 
feel deeply for their fellow-sinners, and, like the woman of 
Samaria, are willing even to leave their water-pot at the 
well to go and rouse the guilty, slumbering world to seek 
a Saviour. Indeed, if I may judge from my own feelings, 
I can hardly conceive how a person can be in earnest about 
the salvation of his own soul, and not be anxious to snatch 
every poor sinner from the ev^erlasting burning. 

In the evening of the day we had a missionary meeting, 
when the young woman brought me two half-crowns to 
assist in sending missionaries to the heathen. I said to her, 
" Is not this too much for you to give ? Perhaps you had 
better keep it and buy some good books for yourself." " No, 
sir, you must keep it ; I have many good books which I 
have never read yet, but I shall begin to read them now ; 
and I give this to you to send the Gospel to those who are 
yet ignorant and out of the way." 

Here my conversation with her ended ; but the events 
connected with it will be lasting as eternity. It suggests, 

1. Hoiv im-portant it is to attend to the souls of domes- 
tics. Here is a fine field of labor for pious and intelligent 
heads of families, especially for ladies. Many young people 
come into our families who have received much instruction 
in Sunday-schools; and if this is followed up by the pious 
cai-e of godly matrons, unspeakable good must result. Or, 
peradventure, some may come to live with us who are to- 



THE ANXIOU.S SERVANT. 3 

tally ignorant of the way of salvation ; these ouirlit to excite 
the pity of the pious, and to call forth every ener((y to direct 
them to the Lamb of God. The writer of this can speak 
with confidence of the comfort connected with caring for the 
souls of the inmates of his family. 

One young woman came to live in my family who was in 
the grossest spiritual darkness ; but she -became not only 
pious, but eminentii/ useful. Another, when slie first came 
to my house, had never heard that she had a soul ; but she 
learned to read and to write with great fluency. And if we 
could communicate to other families the joy and haj)piness 
which we have had in teaching our domestics the way to 
heaven, it would produce a new feeling in half the families 
in the land. A minister once told me that he had received 
seven men into his church, at different times, who liad all been 
domestics in the same house, and who were all converted 
through the pious and zealous labors of a young lady who 
lived in the family. What a rich reward for a little toil ! 

2. Hoiv greatly may pioiis domestics assist t/ie ministers 
of the Gosj^el. It is very probable that the three young 
women who sat in tears listening to what their companion 
said to them, were completely out of the reach of pastoral 
visitation. Ministers are not expected to go into a gentle- 
man's kitchen, or into the nursery, to converse with the 
domestics : they are, in a great measure, shut out from all 
the pious counsel which ministers are in the habit of impart- 
ing. But here is a specimen of what may be done by a 
servant. Here were three young persons in tears, " because 
of the saying of the woman." " Yes, sir," said tliey, " she 
has been warning us of our danger, and calling upon us to 
flee from the wrath to come." Interesting sight. What 
honor was God putting on this feeble effort. 0, how it 
should call forth the pious endeavors of servants. Who 
would not wish for the same honor? Pious servant, will 
you not labor for this honor? Souls are precious; souls 
are perishing. Opportunities for doing them good will so(Mi 
be over. A prayerful concern for the good of souls will 
lead to many plans, and inventions, and endeavors, upon 
which God will smile. One of these is to make known t<» 
your minister the state of all who need, and are willing to 
receive instruction. 0, then, think how much good you 
may do, and begin, and persevere, and take courage. 



4 THE ANXIOUS SERVANT. 

3. Hoiv many servants are there exactly in the same state 
as this young woman on the day before she attended the mis- 
sionary meeting? Her sins were unpardoned; her heart 
was unsanctified ; and she was altogether unprepared to 
meet her God. If she had died in that state, she would have 
perished ; but it gave her no alarm. She was standing on 
the brink of hell> but she was not terrified. She had re- 
ceived good instruction in early life, but it was like good 
seed in bad ground — no fruit appeared. She had good 
books in abundance, but they were left unread. There was 
a total neglect of the soul. 

Is not the state of such a sinner dreadful ? And yet 
how many there are in this unpardoned and condemned con- 
dition. 0, what will become of them ? Ought they not to 
be faithfully and affectionately warned ? Ought not their 
condition to rouse all that are connected with them ? What, 
are their souls of so little value that no one will care for 
them ? Is there not reason to fear that half the young men 
in counting-houses, and two- thirds of those in shops and 
warehouses, and three-fourths of the apprentices, and tens 
of thousands of servants in our great cities, are unconvert- 
ed ? And .if they die in this state, what will become of 
them ? Where will they appear ? Will they not lift up 
their eyes in hell ? Tremendous, overwhelming thought. 
And to whose account will their guilt be charged ? There 
must be blame somewhere. " As I live, saith the Lord, I 
have no pleasure in the death of a sinner;" therefore the 
blame cannot be with God. The angels rejoice over one 
sinner that repenteth ; therefore it cannot be with angels. 
Ministers, in most cases, cannot gain access to these per- 
sons — at whose door, then, will the blame be laid ? Have 
masters been faithful to the souls of the young persons in 
their employ ? Have apprentices who love the Saviour 
been faithful to their youthful friends ? Have servants dealt 
faithfully with the souls of their fellow-servants ? 0, it is 
high time that every one of us should awake from our leth- 
argy, and improve the present moment, lest God should 
hereafter say to us, " Thou didst not speak to warn the 
wicked from his evil way, and that wicked man has died in 
his iniquity, but his blood will I require at thy hand." 

PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



\o. :m I. 

BOB THE CABlx\-BOY. 

BY REV. G. C. SMITH, 

OF PENZANCE. 

A FEW months since, a vessel sailed from England with 
a captain whose habitual blasphemy, drunkenness, and tyr- 
anny so disgusted the crew, that some of the must fatal 
consequences might have taken place, but for liis sudden 
and alarming illness. The mate took charge of the sliip, 
and the captain, greatly afflicted in his cabin, was left, by 
the unanimous voice of a hardened crew, to perish. He bad 
continued nearly a week in this neglected state, no one ven- 
turing to visit him, when the heart of a poor boy on board 
was touched with his sufferings, and he determined to enter 
the cabin and speak to him. He descended the companion- 
ladder, and opening the state-room door, called out, " Cap- 
tain, how are you?" A surly voice replied, " Wiiat's that 
to you? be oft"." Next morning, however, he went down 
again. " Captain, hope you are better." "0, Bob, I'm 
very bad ; been very ill all night." " Captain, please to let 
me wash your hands and face ; it will refresh you very 
much." The captain nodded assent. Having performed 
this kind office, the boy said, " Please, master, let me shave 
you." He was permitted to do this also ; and, having ad- 
justed the bedclothes, he grew bolder, and proposed some 
tea. The kindness of this poor boy found its way to his 
heart; and, in spite of all his daring, independent spirit, his 
bowels melted, and his iron face displayed the starting tear. 

The captain now declined apace : his weakness was daily 
increasing, and he became gradually convinced that he should 
not live many weeks at farthest. Alarmed at the idea of 
death, and ignorant of the way of salvation, with a conscience 
thundering conviction to his guilty soul, he cried one morn- 
ing, as Bob opened the state-room door and atfectionatelv 
inquired, " Well, master, how is it with you this mornmg ?" 
"Ah Bob, I'm very bad; my body is getting worse and 
worse but I should not mind that so mucli, were Jt not for 
my soul. 0, Bob, what shall I do ? 1 am a great sinner. 
I'm afraid I shall go to hell— I deserve it. Alas, Bob I m 
a lost man." - no, master," said the boy, - Jrsus ( hrist 
can save you " " No, 13ob, no, I cannot see the least pros- 



VOL. IX. 



:^r)* 



2 BOB THE CABIN-BOY. 

pect of being saved. 0, what a sinner I have been ; what 
will become of me ?" His stony heart was broken, and he 
poured out his complaints before the boy, who strove all he 
could to comfort him, but in vain. 

One morning, as soon as the boy appeared, the captain 
said, " 0, Bob, I've been thinking of a Bible. I know there 
is not one in the cabin ; go forward and see if you can find 
one in the men's chests." The boy succeeded, and the poor 
dying man beheld him enter with tears of joy. " Ah, Bob, 
that Avill do, that will do ; you must read to me, and I shall 
soon know whether such a wicked man as I am can be saved, 
and how it is to be done. Now, Bob, sit down on my chest, 
and read to me out of that blessed book." "Where shall 
I read, master?" *' I do not know, Bob. I never read it 
myself ; but try and pick out some places that speak about 
sinners and salvation.''' " Well, master, then I'll take the 
New Testament ; you and I shall understand it better, for 
as my poor mother used to say, there are not so many hard 
words there." The boy read for two hours, while the cap- 
tain, stretching his neck over the bed-place, listened with 
the eagerness of a man on the verge of eternity. Every 
word conveyed light to his mind, and his astonished soul 
soon beheld sin as he had never seen it before. The justice 
of God in his eternal ruin struck him with amazing force ; 
and though he heard of a Saviour, still the great difficulty 
of knowing how he could be saved appeared a mystery un- 
fathomable. He ruminated a great part of the night on 
some passages Bob read, but they only served to depress 
his spirits and terrify his soul. 

The next morning, when the boy entered the state-room, 
he exclaimed, " 0, Bob, I shall never live to reach the land. 
I am dying very fast ; you'll soon have to cast me over- 
board ; but all this is nothing ; my soul, my poor soul. Ah, 
Bob, my dear lad, what will become of my soul ? Oh, I 
shall be lost for ever. Can't you pray ?" " No, master, I 
never prayed in my life, any more than the Lord's prayer 
my mother taught me." " 0, Bob, pray for me : go down 
on your knees, and cry for mercy ; do, Bob, God will bless 
you for it. kneel down, and pray for your poor wicked 
captain." The boy hesitated, the master urged ; the lad 
wept, the mastei groaned, " God be merciful to me a sin- 
ner." Both cried greatly. " O, Bob, for God's sake kneel 



Hon Tin: cvnix rov. 3 

down and pray for me." Overcome by importuiiiiy and 
compassion, the boy fell on his knees, and with heavy sobs 
and in broken words, begged God to have pilv on his por^r 
dying master. 

The captain was too much affected to sj)eak. Tiie sim- 
plicity, sincerity, and humility of the lad's pravcr had so 
much impressed his mind, that he lay gi-oaning inwardly 
with spiritual anguish, and wetting his couch with liis tears. 
Bob retired on deck, for the scene had quite overcome him. 
In the evening he again read the Bible to the captain, wiiose 
soul appeared to receive every word with indescribable ea- 
gerness. The next morning, on entering the state-room, 
the boy was struck with the extraordinary change visible in 
his master's features. That gloomy horror which had so 
long added to the natural ferocity of his weather-beaten 
countenance was fled, and the circumstance of the past night 
had settled the whole arrangement of his features into a 
holy, pleasant, calm, and resigned state, that would seem 
to say. An heir of grace can find "glory begun b«'low." 

"0, Bob, my dear lad," said the captain with great hu- 
mility, " I have iiad such a night ! After you left me, 1 fell 
into a sort of doze; my mind was full of the many blcsst-d 
things you had been reading to me from the precious Bibh-. 
All on a sudden I thought I saw, in that corner of my bed- 
place, Jesus Christ bleeding on his cross. Struck with liie 
view, I thought I arose and crawled to the place, and 
casting myself at his feet in the greatest agony of soul, I 
cried out for a long time, like the blind man you read of, 
'Jesus, thou Son of David, have mercy on me.' At length 
I thought he looked on me. Yes, my dear lad, he looked 
at your poor wicked captain ; and 0, Bob, what a look it 
was. I shall never forget it. My blood rushed to my 
heart; my pulse beat high ; my soul thrilled with agitation, 
and, waiting for him to sj)eak, with fear, not umnixed with 
hope, I saw him smile. O, my child. I saw liim smih — 
yes, and he smiled on vie — on vw, liob. O, my dear boy. 
he smiled on wretched, guilty me. Ah, what did I feel at 
that moment; my heart was too full to speak, but I waited, 
and ventured to look up, when 1 heard him say. hangmg as 
he did on the cross, the blood streaming from his hands, and 
feet, and side— 0, Bob, what sounds were these; shall I 
ever hear his beloved voice again ?— I heard him >ay. m 



4 BOB THE CABIN-BOY. 

sounds that angels cannot reach, ' Son, be of good cheer ; 
thy sins, which he many, are forgiven thee /' My heart burst 
with joy ; I fell prostrate at his feet ; I could not utter a 
word but glory, glory, glory. The vision vanished ; I fell 
back on my pillow ; I opened my eyes ; 1 was covered with 
perspiration. I said, 0, this cannot be a dream. No, Bob, 
I know that Jesus bled and died for me ; I can believe the 
promises, the many precious promises you have read to me 
out of the Bible, and I feel that the blood of the cross can 
cleanse even me. I am not now afraid to die ; no. Bob, my 
sins are pardoned through Jesus. I want no more ; I am 
now ready to die ; I have no wish to live. I cannot, I feel 
I cannot be many days longer on this side of eternity. The 
extreme agitation of my mind of late, has increased the 
fever of my body, and I shall soon breathe my last." 

The boy, who had silently shed many tears, now burst 
into a flood of sorrow, and involuntarily cried, " No, my 
dear master, don't leave me." "Bob," said he, calmly, 
" my dear boy, comfort your mind ; I am happy, I am go- 
ing to be happy for ever. I feel for you ; my bowels yearn 
over you as if you were my own child. I am sorry to leave 
you in such a wicked w^orld, and with such wicked men as 
sailors are in general. 0, may you ever be kept from those 
crimes into which I have fallen. Your kindness to me, my 
dear lad, has been great ; God will reward you for it. To 
you I owe ever}^ thing as an instrument in the Lord's hands. 
Surely he sent you to me. God bless you, my dear boy ; 
tell my crew to forgive me, as I forgive and pray for them. 
Thus the day passed in the most pleasing and profitable 
manner, when Bob, after reading the Bible as usual, retired 
to his hammock. 

The next morning Bob arose at daylight, and opening 
the state-room door, saw his master had risen from his pil- 
low and crawled to. the corner of his bed-place, where, in 
his dream, he beheld the cross. There he appeared kneel- 
ing down in the attitude of prayer, his hands clasped and 
raised, and his body leaning against the ship-side. But the 
spirit had fled some hours before, we hope, to be with 
Christ, which is far better. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



,\o. itirt. 



LAND TACKS ABOARD; 



OR, 



ADVICE TO A SAILOR ON COMING ASIIORK. 




-L»gj_v*5-c 



You have just returned from a voyage— perhaps a lone: 
one— perhaps a dangerous one. At any rate it might liave 
been dangerous ; and, if it has been safe and prosperous. 
God has made it so. It is lie that makes tlie Muid blow, 
and restrahis its fur)^ He rouses the ocean Irom its sleep, 
and quiets it again. Sailor, thank him now, that he has 
not dashed your vessel to pieees, and sunk it, with all on 
board, to the bottom of the ocean, where he tiie hones ol 
thousands of poor sailors. 



2 LAND TACKS ABOARD. 

But whether your voyage has been prosperous or not, 
you are welcome on land. If you have a family and home 
in this port, we say, Peace be to you and to your house ; if 
not, we still say. Peace be to you. You have some good 
friends on shore. The landsmen will not all cheat you out 
of your hard earnings, and, when you begin to complain, 
turn you out of doors. There are some among them who 
can pity a sailor in distress, and do him a favor if he needs it. 

Let me tell you then, as a friend, that there are dan- 
gers ON LAND as well as at sea. Some sailors know this as 
well as I do, but others seem to think that all the danger is 
over as soon as they set their foot on shore. If you spring 
from your vessel with a -light heart, thinking that there is 
no need of keeping a good look-out upon land as well as at 
sea, I fear you will soon be found in distress. More sailors 
are ruined on land than on the ocean. 

The first danger to which you are exposed on land, is 
that of being cheated out of your hard-earned money. Too 
many shopkeepers and landlords take advantage of the 
io-norance or generosity of seamen, and charge extravagant 
prices for goods or lodgings. Frequently, as soon as a ship 
reaches her destined port, one or more greedy landlords 
beset the crew with entreaties to take lodgings with them. 
They refuse to take any denial. And so fair are their prom- 
ises, that they often succeed in leading away the whole 
crew with them. But, alas, these promises, in too many 
instances, are never fulfilled. All these landlords, or rather 
land-sharks, care for, is the sailor's money ; and frequently 
do they fleece him of that at a round rate, especially if they 
can persuade him to pour down ardent spirits until he no 
longer knows what he is doing, or what is done to him. I 
could relate many facts of this kind, which would fill every 
fair and generous mind with indignation. 

" Not six months since," says the master of a vessel, 
" I shipped a cook at New Orleans, who had boarded at a 
sailor boarding-house three days, for which the landlord 
was to have charged him at the rate of three dollars fifty 
cents per week. I paid him twenty dollars in advance, 
which the landlord pocketed, and the cook came on board 
without clothes or money, and with a promise from his 
master landlord that he would settle with him on his return. 
When he returned, the cook went several times for his 



LAND TACKS AHOAHI). 3 

money, but was put off by his old master, (cllini^ liiin lliat 
he had not time to look over his books. At hisL he stayt-d 
so late one night, waiting for his lionest old friend, as h<* 
still supposed him to be, to get time to adjust tlie account, 
that he concluded to take a bed in the house for the night, 
and did so, for which the landlord charged him four d(jliars, 
and threatened to commence a suit against liim ior that 
sum, and put him in jail, which so alarmed the ignorant 
fellow that he speedily fled from his presence, and caUed 
for his money no more." 

Yes, not unfi-equently, in a few days after entering one 
of these abominable grogshops, called, as if in mockery, 
seamen's boarding-houses, with a full purse, is tlie poor 
sea-weary mariner driven into the street friendless and 
pennyless, compelled to seek employment wherever he can 
get it, to avoid starvation. 

Now take a word of advice. Do not be in haste to take 
board, or to make purchases. Take some observations tirst. 
Look around and make inquiries. If there is a seamen's 
chaplain in port, go to him, and he will give you such in- 
formation as you need. He is one of the best friends you 
can possibly find. I will tell you more about him before 1 
close. At any rate, do not lay out your money for things 
which you do not need ; and do not pay double prices for 
things which you do need. Give me t/ic worth of u\y money, 
should be your language to every man you deal with. 

As to ' boarding-houses, there are some very good 
ones established by the true friends of seamen, in which 
efforts are made to render them as comfortable as possihle.^ 
In these no ardent spirits are sold. If you can find one of 
them, take lodgings there ; and you will soon iind out how 
much more comfortable it is to be in one of them than in 
the rum-selling taverns. Many officers and seamen have 
tried them already, and say they never found so mucii 
comfort in any boarding-houses before. 

Perhaps you have a mother, or a sister, who is suffenng 
from poverty. How thankful she would be f».r a liiiU; 
money, if you can spare it. Don't forget your mother, 
sailor— don't forget your mother, nor your poor sister. 
How much better it would be to dry up their tears witii 
some of your money, than to spend it all. as too many sailors 
do, for that which does them no good, but much harm. 



4 LAND TACKS ABOARD. 

Would it not be well to lay up a little money to help 
yourself with, if you should ever become old and disabled ? 
Remember, you will not always be able to perform the duty 
of a seaman. After a little while, you will become so shat- 
tered by the storms of time, that you will be laid aside, like 
an old hulk that is no longer seaworthy. How much it 
would add to your comfort then to have a little store of 
your own to draw upon. True, say you, but where can I 
lay up my money so as to have it secure ? I will tell you. 
There are, in several of our cities, what are called Savings 
Banks. If you put what money you can spare at the end 
of every voyage into one of these banks, it will be kept 
safely for you; and you can draw it out again, with inter- 
est, at any time when you need it. By taking this plan, 
you will save your money, keep out of many scrapes, be- 
come more respectable, and after a while be able to quit the 
seas with a competent support for the remainder of your 
days, especially if you should continue to be economical and 
industriously pursue such business as you can on land. 

There was once a man who earned seventy dollars a 
month, and wasted the whole of it by a careless, extrava- 
gant, and dissipated course of life. On paying him off one 
evening, his employer urged him to put some of his money 
in the savings bank. At first he was offended. He thought 
nobody had any business to tell him what to do with his 
money. Afterwards, however, he concluded to deposit 
twenty dollars in the bank. He did so, and soon found 
that this was a good way of saving his money. He now 
determined to deposit some every month, and soon became 
prudent, economical, and steady in his habits. Every body 
saw that he had changed for the better. After a few^ years, 
he bought a store, and drew out of the savings bank two 
thousand dollars towards paying for it. By careful man- 
agement the store was soon entirely paid for. The income 
which it now brings, supports himself and his family com- 
fortably. His children are well educated and neatly dressed ; 
and every thing prospers around him. Sailor, will you not 
put some of your hard-earned money into the savings 
bank? 

The next danger against which I would warn you, is 
drunkenness. This, indeed, is a danger to w^hich many 
sailors are exposed on shipboard as well as on land. The 



LAM) TACKS AMoARD. 



danger, however, is greater on land tlian at sea. In many 
ships no ardent spirits are now used ; and even in those in 
Avhich their use is allowed, the sailor is expected to do his 
duty, and exposes himself to punishment if he becomes too 
drunk to perform it. On land this restraint is taken away. 
The sailor now feels himself at liberty to drink as much as 
he pleases ; and, as he has just received his wages, and 
grogshops are found at every corner, there is great danger 
that he will become a victim to this shameful vice ; and this 
danger is still greater if he has taken lodgings at a rum- 
selling tavern or boarding-house. It is truly distressing to 
see so many noble sailors ruined by this abominable vice. 
One can scarcely take a walk along the wharves or streets 
of our large cities without meeting some drunken sailors ; 
and, if a peep is taken into some of the grogshops, what a 
disgusting spectacle is beheld. A dozen sailors in a spree, 
so drunk as scai'cely to know whether they are on sea or 
on dry land. No wonder that sailors are so often cheated 
out of their money. What does a drunken sailor care for 
money ? When crazed with rum, he would as soon give 
live dollars for a glass of grog, as tive cents. Besides, how 
can he tell the number of glasses he calls for in a drunken 
frolic, and how many he is charged with which he never 
had ? 

But the loss of money is not the worst evil connected 
with intemperance. It destroys health. Thousands of poor 
sailors are brought down to their graves, at an early period 
in life, by the use of ardent spirits. Nor is the mere death 
of the body the worst evil which is inflicted by intemper- 
ance. It destroys the precious soul. Yes, sailor, if you 
fall a victim to it, you will be shut out of heaven, and sent 
down to a miserable and an endless hell. The Bil)le declares 
that no drunkard shall inherit the kingdom of (rod. dal. 

5 : 21. 

If you wish, therefore, to save your m<iney— to pre- 
serve your health— to escape hell and gain heaven— see to 
it that you shun this dreadful vice. This is the rock upon 
which thousands of poor sailors strike, are dashed to pieces, 
and then sink into the gulf of perdition, called m Jxod s 
word, "the lake that burns with tire and brwnstone. Us 
bottom is strewed with the bones of poor sailors wiio have 
been wrecked on the rock of intemperance, bee to il that 



VOL. IX. ^^*' 



6 LAND TACKS ABOARD. 

you steer wide of this fatal rock. Give it a good birth. 
Keep at so great a distance from it as to be sure of receiv- 
ing no damage. 

Perhaps you are ready to ask, How can I shun the vice 
of intemperance ? I will tell you. Drink nothing that will 
make you drunk, and you will ahoays he sober. Depend 
upon it, this is the only plan which is perfectly safe. If 
you drink a little, you will be in danger of drinking much. 
Drunkards are made out of sober men by drinking a little, 
and then a little more, and then more still, till the process 
is completed. Hence, the best, the wisest, and the only 
safe plan is, not to taste any thing, as a drink, that can 
make a man drunk. 

But can a sailor cross the ocean, and be exposed to 
storms, and heat, and cold, and sickly climates, without 
tasting gin, whiskey, rum, or brandy? Yes, hundreds of 
sailors, since Temperance Societies were first estabhshed, 
have made the experiment. They have gone on long voy- 
ages, performed the hardest duties, visited sickly climates, 
and returned home safe and sound, without tasting a drop 
of these dangerous liquors. What they have done, you 
can do — can you not ? Sailor, wont you join the Tem- 
perance Society ? At least, will you not abstain from in- 
toxicating drinks ? What say you ? Will you be a cold- 
water man ? Others have adopted this principle, and find 
themselves much the better for it. Will not you give it a 
fair trial ? Perhaps you will be pleased with it too. 

But there is still another danger on land, against which 
I must warn you. It is that which arises from had women. 
These abandoned, miserable, filthy creatures, are found 
prowling about in all our large cities ; and many are the 
sailors who fall a prey to them. They are the land pirates. 
Their object is to rob, and plunder, and destroy. Did you 
ever visit the hospital ? There you may see some of their 
miserable victims dragging out the last remains of a 
wretched existence, the flesh even rotting from their bones 
before death releases them from their sufferings. But, does 
death indeed release them ? Ah, no — death is to th^m the 
gateway to hell. Is it not said in the Bible, that those who 
are guilty of the works of the flesh, such as adultery, for- 
nication, uncleanness, lasciviousness, shall not inherit the 
kingdom of God ; thnt no whoremonger, nor unclean per- 



LAND TACKS AHnAKD. 7 

son, nor covetous man, wlio is an idolater, lialli anv iiilirri- 
tance in the kingdom of Christ and of (rod ; tliat marria^a^ 
is honorable in all, and tlie bed undeliled, but tliat whonr- 
mongers and adulterers God will judge; and that wliorr- 
mongers shall have their portion in the lake which burnulh 
with fire and brimstone? Gal. 5 : 19-21 ; 1 Cur. 6 : 9, 
10; Eph. 5:5; Heb. 13 : 4 ; Rev. 21 : 8. Ah, if you 
could follow one of those miserable sailors who lias falU'U 
a prey to these land pirates, to the hospital, to the grave, 
and then to the lake which burns with Hre and brimstone, 
and witness his bitter lamentations — his weeping, and wail- 
ing, and gnashing of teeth — you would need no persuasion 
of mine to induce you to keep out of their way. 

Do you ask me how you shall escape this great danger? 
I answer, in the words of the Bible, flek foknicatio.v. 
1 Cor. 6 : 18. Other dangers you must boldly face and 
grapple with; but to avoid this, you must fly. When iht; 
pirate raises the red flag, and you are not sulhciently arnird 
to fight with him, you must spread the sail, and ply the oar, 
and pray that the winds of heaven may carry y<ni out of 
his way. Now, these land pirates may generally hv known 
by their colors. When you see them, pray to God for 
deliverance, and fly for your life. If you come near tlu-in. 
you will be in danger of being taken, and robbed, and 
ruined, soul and body. 

It is difficult to say which ruins most sailors, drunken- 
ness or lewdness. It is certain, however, that those wlio 
are addicted to the one are generally addicted also to ti)e 
other. In order, therefore, to escape either, it is l)est to 
shun both. 

£ad company ruins a great many sailors. Solomon 
says "He that walketh with wise men shall be wise ; but 
a companion of fools shall be destroyed." Prov. 13 : 20. 
Select, therefore, the best sailors you can tind for your 
companions. And if you at any time fall into the c..m|)any 
of those who would persuade you to go to the grog-shop, 
or to the house of ill-fame, leave them as soon as you can. 
They are danoerous companions; and, however much ihi-y 
may persuade you to go to these places, or to engage ni 
any kind of mischief or sin, see that you hrmly reluse. 
Take the good advice of king Solomon, •* My son, if sm- 
ners entice thee, consent thou not." Prov. 1 : 10. 



8 LAND TACKS ABOARD. 

I trust you are satisfied by this time, that all danger is 
not over as soon as you step on dry land, and that you may 
be ruined in a city as well as on the ocean. Yes, r«ly 
upon it, brother sailor, there are perils to be encountered 
upon land as well as upon sea. You have stood in the 
evening upon the deck of your vessel, and cast your eyes 
above upon the blue heavens, and around upon the dark 
ocean, and all was just as a sailor would wish. The stars 
were looking down upon you, and a gentle breeze was waft- 
ing you rapidly forward to your desired haven. You went 
to your hammock, fell asleep, and dreamed of no evil. 
But, in the dead of night, the stamp of your captain's foot, 
and his commanding call, Turn out ! turn out I awoke you 
from your slumbers. You came on deck — the heavens 
were black with clouds — the lightnings Hashed — the thun- 
der rolled — the wind howled through the rigging — the 
ocean heaved — your frail bark now rose on the mountain 
wave, now plunged into the threatening trough — you feared 
that every plunge would be the last — you thought, too, of 
the reef, the breakers, the iron-hound coast. Death was 
riding in the storm, and threatened destruction to all on 
board. Perhaps, if you never prayed before, you prayed 
then. These are scenes with which you are familiar. 

Now let me tell you what landsmen often see. They 
see the sailor, after having escaped the perils of the ocean, 
spring from his vessel, with a light heart and a full purse, 
about, as he supposes, to realize the happiness on land 
which he has long anticipated. In rigging himself out with 
a new suit of clothes, he is cheated. He enters the grog- 
shop, and the habitation of her whose " house is the way 
to hell," and whose "guests are in the depths of hell." 
Prov. 7:27; 9:18. Shortly he is seen in the streets with 
tattered garments and downcast looks, pennyless and friend- 
less. Many are the blows he has received. His body is 
bruised, his eyes are bloodshot. How miserable is he ! 
He is next found in the hospital, wasting away with the 
most shameful, loathsome, and painful of all diseases, wish- 
ing for death, and yet afraid to die, because he expects, 
Avhen he dies, to be shut up in that dismal hell which God 
has prepared for drunkards and whoremongers. Yes, sail- 
or, there are dangers on land. Be on your guard, that you 
mav avoid them. 



LAM> TACKS AlloARP. 9 

If you wish to gratify your curiosity on land, vmi may 
visit the museum, the hospital, the almshouse, the orpiiaii 
asylum, and similar public and charitable insiiiutions. 
These are places which you may visit with safety and 
profit. But do not go to the theatre. You will meet with 
bad company there, and be in danger of having your morals 
corrupted. And do not go to see any of tlie silly shows 
which are got up merely to make money, without affording 
any real benefit. 

There is one place especially to which you must not fail 
to go. I mean the Mariners' church. 

"The Mariners' church! What do you mean by tli<! 
Mariners' church? Messmates, can you tell what the 
Mariners' church is ?" 

The Mariners' church is the liouse in which sailo?-s meet 
to worship God. Formerly there was little attention paid 
to the souls of poor sailors. They were suffered to live in 
sin, and go to hell without a warning, or an attempt to show 
them the way to heaven. It was thought that sailors were 
so wicked that it was vain to try to reform them. After 
a while, however, a minister of the gospel, called the sea- 
men's chaplain, was employed to preach to them. Thoy 
met together, first on one ship and then on another. A 
flag with the word BETHEL on it was hoisted to show 
the sailors when and where to meet. The word /hthil 
means the house of God. Gen. 28 : 10-22. It was now 
found that sailors were not so hardened in sin as had been 
supposed. Many of them shed tears of repentance, be- 
lieved in Christ, reformed their lives, died in peace, and 
went to heaven. The landsmen saw this, and were glad. 
Those who were pious among them now felt encouraged to 
do all they could to benefit poor seamen; and, as they 
knew that sailors, dressed in their jackets and tarpaulins, 
did not like to go to the churches in which tlie finely 
dressed city folks worshipped, they went to work and built 
churches on purpose for them, called Mariners' churches. 
Now the sailor can go to these churches, and sit d..wn 
amoncr sailors dressed like himself, and hear the w.)r(i of 



itns 



God read and preached by the chaplain. 1 hose cliapl 
are supported principally by landsmen. Ihe.r business 
is, to do good to seamen in every possible way ; especial v to 
teach them how their souls may be saved, and how they 

VOL. IX. 3«* 



IQ LAND TACKS ABOARD. 

may steer their course on the voyage of hfe, so as to reach 
the happy port of heaven when they die. Hence, they 
preach to sailors, and give them tracts and Bibles, and pray 
with them, and pray for them. 0, sailor, these chaplains 
love you, and you should love them. As I told you before, 
they are the very best friends you can find on land. 

Now, sailor, when Sunday comes, instead of strolling 
about the city, or lounging in the grog-shops, go to the 
Mariners' church. Look out in the morning over the city, 
and at the mastheads of the ships in the harbor ; and if 
you see the Bethel flag waving, whether on the top of a 
house, or at the masthead of some vessel, go there, and 
you will have an opportunity of becoming acquainted with 
the chaplain, and of hearing him preach the word of the 
Lord. What say you, sailor, will you go ? Methinks I 
hear you answer, Yes, and j)er8uade my messmates to go 
too. 

I said that the business of the chaplain is especially to 
teach sailors how their souls may be saved. But is there 
any danger that their souls will be lost ? yes, there is 
great danger. The soul of every man, woman, or child, 
that commits but one sin, is in danger of bei-ng lost, and 
must certainly be lost, unless God pardons that sin. To 
be lost, is to be cast into hell, into the lake that burns with 
file and brimstone, where there will be weeping, and v.^ail- 
ing, and gnashing of teeth for ever and ever. Lest you 
should doubt whether one sin unpardoned will destro}^ the 
soul, I will prove it from the Bible. Hear what the apos- 
tle Paul says, " Cursed is every one that continueth not in 
all things which are written in the book of the law to do 
them." Gal. 3 : 10. The law of God, as you perceive 
from this passage, is very strict. You may read that law, 
as contained in the ten commandments, in the 20th chapter 
of Exodus. It requires us to do some things, and to ab- 
stain from others. Jesus has summed it up in two great 
commands, requiring us to love God with all our heart, and 
soul, and strength, and mind ; and our neio^hbor as our- 
selves. Luke 10 : 27. Now observe, it is not enough to 
avoid Avhat the law forbids, we must do ivhat it requires ; 
and we must not only do some things, or many things, but 
all things ; and that not only for a few days, but continu- 
alb/ — we must continue in all things — and if we fail in a 



LAND TACKS AHOAHn ] [ 

single point, we are cursed, that is, we arc liahl.- (o !)«• r;isi 
into hell. See also James 2:10. 

And *is it true, that one sin will destroy the soul ? 'I'Immi. 
poor sailor, what will become of you? Call to niiiul vour 
wicked oaths, your quairels, your lies, your Sabbalh-hrfak- 
ing, your drunkenness, your debauchery, your want of lov.- 
to God, your neglect of prayer, your disregard of the Lord 
Jesus Christ. O, sailor, you have not only sinned once, but 
thousands of times. God knows it, and your own heart 
knows it too. Ah, are you not in danger of being cast, soul 
and body, into hell ? 

But, although you have sinned long, and sinned niucli, 
you need not despair. If no sinner could be saved, then 
all must perish ; for all have sinned. But remember that 
we cannot save ourselves. We cannot make satisfaction to 
God for our sins. Who can then save us? "Christ Jesus 
came into the world to save sinners." 1 Tim. 1:15. He 
is the Son of God. He is both God and man ; and thus 
qualified to reconcile God and man to each other. Hence 
it is said, "God was in Christ reconciling the world unto 
himself." 2 Cor. 5 : 19. It cost the Son of God dreadful 
suffering — tears, and groans, and bloody sweat, to save vile, 
sinful man. Yet he loved the race of men so well tiiat he 
cheerfully endured it all. He knew that he must even suf- 
fer death, or sinners must go to hell ; yet he did not refuse 
to die. what love and mercy was it in God to send liis 
dear Son into this world to die for sinners ! Says the apos- 
tle Paul, " God commendeth his love to us, in that while 
we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." Bomans 5 : 8. 
Remember, too, what a painful and disgraceful death Iw 
sutiered. He died on the cross. "He bore our sins in his 
own body on the tree." 1 Pet. 2 : 24. And is it true 
that " God so loved the world, tliat he gave his only begot- 
ten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, 
but have everlasting life?" John 3 : 10. How then can 
you forbear to exclaim, "Thanks be unto (iod for his un- 
speakable gift?" 2 Cor. 9 : 15. And how can you rduse 
to put you? trust in such a Saviour ? Go to him. .sailor, go 
to him just as you are, covered with the pollution of your 
sins, and he will wash it all away. "The blood ..f Jesus 
Christ cleanseth from all sin." 1 John, 1 : ' • ^^ ,"'^^. ^ ""^ 
glad tidings ? Sailor, listen to it— yes, "the blood ot Jo- 



12 LAND TACKS ABOARD. 

sus Christ cleansetli from all sin." Go to God, then, on 
your bended knees. Ask him, with sorrow in your heart, 
to pardon your sins for Jesus' sake. And then go and sin 
no more. Bring forth fruits meet for repentance. Live a 
life of prayer — live by faith on the Son of God ; and then, 
when the voyage of life is finished, God will give you an 
everlasting habitation in the happy port of heaven. 

And now, sailor, w^hat is your determination ? Will 
you accept of Christ, and go to heaven ; or neglect him, and 
go to hell ? If you believe, you shall be saved — if you be- 
lieve not, you must be damned. Yes, salvation or damna- 
tion is near at hand. You are constantly exposed to death, 
and when you die your soul will immediately rise to glory, 
or sink into the lake of fire. Your body will lie in the 
grave, or repose in the bottom of the ocean, it may be for a 
thousand years; but, at the awful day of judgment, Jesus 
w^ill come in power and great glory, and awaken it from the 
long sleep of death. "All that are in the graves shall hear 
his voice, and shall come forth ;" even the sea shall give up 
the dead which are in it. Rev. 20 : 13. Then shall every 
man be judged according to the deeds done in the bod}^ 
What a solemn scrutiny will that be ! What a multitude 
of secret sins will then be brouo-ht to lii^ht ! What a com- 
fort it will then be to have Jesus for our friend ! How the 
poor sinner that has neglected Christ and died without par- 
don, will fear and tremble, as the Judge brings his past 
conduct to his recollection, and charges him with all his 
crimes ! But listen to the sentence which the Judge will 
pronounce. To his faithful followers he will say, " Come, 
ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for 
you from the foundation of the world." Matt. 25 : 34. 
But to all others he will say, "Depart from me, ye cursed, 
into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels." 
Matt. 25 : 41. Sailor, what will be your doom in that day ? 
The Lord grant you may be saved. Farewell. 



x\o. :tiv. 
JAMIE; 

OR, 

A VOICE FROM IRELAND FOR TEMPERANCE. 

A TRUE NARRATIVE. 
BY PROFESSOR EDGAR, 

OF BELFAST. 



In a populous and civilized district of Ulster lived 
Jamie, a day-laborer; a fellow of right good sense and 
practical talent, carpenter and mason, shoemaker and black- 
smith, and aught else the case required. Tlie variety of 
his powers had nearly ruined him. On all hands he was 
in requisition, and everywhere he was a favorite — kindness 
flowing to him in its common channel, spirituous liquor. 
Wherever he went, he was treated. Tiiis was too mucii for 
flesh and blood, and Jamie became, in the style of tho 
world's false charity, " fond of the drop." His cash flew 
to the spirit-shop, and brought neither health nor happi- 
ness in return. The neighbors called him — alas, for such 
lullabies to conscience! — an honest, good-hearted fellow, 
who did nobody any harm but himself. Wliile. however, 
they tempted, and flattered, and deceived, their victim was 
posting to ruin. 

But, while moderate drinkers were training him to 
drunkenness, God was raising up the Temperance Society 
as an ark of safety to him from the flood of tiieir tempta- 
tions. One of the publications of the Ulster Temperance 



2 JAMIE, A TRUE STORY. 

Society fell into his hands, and he read it, for he was of an 
inquiring spirit, and a blessing attended it. What, said he, 
in amazement, can this be true ? — distilled spirits of no 
more use to any man in health than arsenic or opium? 
" Distilled spirits are too tempting, and dangerous, and vio- 
lently intoxicating, to be used as a common beverage at 
all !" O, thought he, that at least is true. " Distilled spirits 
are in their very nature injurious to the human constitu- 
tion ; and every man who indulges even in their moderate 
use, injures himself in proportion to the quantity which he 
consumes." Jamie was astonished, and well he might be; 
but Jamie was conscientious, and though he had the man- 
hood to confess, what few moderate drinkers will, that he 
liked a glass, yet, because he had still a conscience, not- 
Avithstanding the searing it had got from the fiery drink, he 
said to himself, " I must, at least, try whether these won- 
derful statements respecting distilled spirits be true." 
James tried, and the effects were delightful. In a very 
short time he found, from happy experience, that his health 
was better from the change ; that his purse was better ; 
that soul and body, the whole man of him was far better, 
in all respects, since he renounced the maddening draught. 

His duty was now clear before him — to abstain from the 
raging drink which, in time past, had been emptying his 
pocket, destroying his character, and bringing down his 
body to the grave, and his soul to hell. He did his duty 
in the right way for doing duty — at once, and right on. 

He saw, however, that something more was incumbent 
on him than merely doing his duty in this particular — he 
must, for the good of others, let it be known, without osten- 
tation, that his duty was done. Abstaining, he said to 
himself, has done me good ; the banishment of spirituous 
liquors would do my country good ; what is every man's 
duty is my duty; and therefore, in love to my brethren, 
I'll freely give the blessing which to me has been so freely 
given. Union is strength, thought he : separate efforts are 



JAMIE, A TRUE STcmV. .•} 

a rope of sand ; united, they are tlie cable wliicli holds the 
might}^ ship. He resolved to establish a 'J em])eranct' So- 
ciety. 

For this purpose, he supplied himself immcdidUhj with 
a number of Tracts on temperance; for Jamie knew tliat 
when self-interest or passion come in, second thoui^lits arc 
not always best ; and forthwith he commenced travelling 
around, reading them, at spare hours throughout the neigh- 
borhood, wherever he could find half-a-dozen people to 
listen to him. He was a good reader, and very soon found 
that his readino- was not without effect ; for in a short time 
he heard of a decent w^oman telling her neighbor to send 
for Jamie to the wake which was to be held in her house, 
if she wished to save her whiskey, and have peace and 
quietness ; for, said she, he came to the wake in my liouse, 
and read and talked about temperance, till both the whiskey 
and the people seemed either persuaded or frightened, for 
hardly one had the courage to put to liis lips what .laniie 
called, indeed too truly, " the accursed thing." 

Jamie, however, soon found to his cost that lie had 
commenced a very great and a very sore work. The spirit- 
sellers, four of whom were at a single cross-roads in his 
neighborhood, he expected to be against him, and drunk- 
ards he expected would be against him too; but he s.^on 
found that his chief opponents lay in quite another (|uar(er. 
Sensible people soon began to see that spirit-selN-rs are 
drones on the community, doing no good, but much harm : 
and, besides, one of them having first allowed a temp.'rance 
meeting to be held in his barn, conscientiously shut up lu.s 
spirit-shop, and joined the Temperance Society, being con- 
vinced that spirit-selling is poison-selling, and that each 
spirit-shop might justly have on its sign-boani - IJ.ggars 
made here " Of the drunkayls, some mdeed did call hnu 
hard names, and impute to him base motives ; but from 
amono- even these, lost as they seemed to be to all hope, ho 
^as bv God's grace, enabled io reelaim some, ns brands 



4 JAMli:, A TRUE JsTOIlY. 

snatched from the burning, while others of them said to 
him, in the bitterness of their reflecting moments. Go on, 
Jamie, your work is God's work. Had you commenced 
but a little sooner, what a blessing might your Society have 
been to us ; but alas, it is all over with us now ! 

What at first surprised Jamie much was, that the fa- 
thers or husbands of these very drunkards were his most bit- 
ter opponents. He went to them with a glad heart, expect- 
ing that they would hear with delight of a plan by which 
drunkards, in great numbers, have been reclaimed, and by 
which the temperate can be effectually secured against 
temptation; but his heart sunk when he found, not that 
they received him coldly, for to such receptions he was 
accustomed, but that they, as well as others who boast 
much of being " temperate enough already," lost all temper 
at the very sound of temperance. 

Some of these neiorhbors of Jamie were reo'ular in at- 

o o 

tendance on public worship, orthodox and strict, which gave 
them an influence in the neighborhood. Jamie, therefore, 
was anxious to enlist them on the side of temperance. Yet 
he could not but know, and very seriously consider, that 
whether, in market or fair, these same men either bought 
or sold, there could be no such thing as a dri/ bargain ; 
that at churns, and wakes, and funerals, and marriages, 
and such like, they always pushed round the bottle cheer- 
ily ; that they held it churlish to refuse either to give or 
take a treat ; that at their evening tea-parties it was not 
uncommon for six or eight gallons of spirituous liquor to be 
consumed by a few neighbors, men and women, in a single 
night ; that in every house which their minister visited, the 
bottle was put to his mouth ; and that as the natural conse- 
quence of all this and far more, not only was the crime of 
drunkenness, whether in minister or private layman, treated 
with much false charity, and called by many soft names, but 
drunkenness was spreading its ravages through many fami- 
lies, and brinmnrj down miiiv heads in sorrow to the crrave. 



JAMIE, A TRUE STORY. "J 

Jamie was indeed charitable, but he was unable to per- 
suade himself that, amid such universal drinking, all tho 
objections to his Temperance Society arose merely from 
ignorance, or prejudice, or conscience ; and therefore, when 
people were telling him, as they often did, that they cared 
not a rush about spirituous liquor, "they could either drink 
it or let it alone," he used sometimes to reply, "Oh, I 
know well enough that you can drink it ; what 1 want to 
know is, whether you can let it alone :" and at other times 
he would tell them Dean Swift's story of the three men 
who called for whiskey in a spirit-shop : I want a glass, 
said the first, for I'm very hot ; I want a glass, said the 
second, for I'm very cold ; let me have a glass, said the 
third, because I like it ! 

As Jamie's opponent^ were no match for him in argu- 
ment, they tried the plans usually resorted to when the 
wisdom and the spirit by which truth speaks cannot be 
resisted. For a while they tried ridicule. That, however, 
neither satisfied their own consciences nor frightened Jamie, 
for Jamie could stand a laugh, what many a man can't do 
who has stood grape-shot. Then they circulated reports 
about his having got drunk on different occasions, and hav- 
ing been caught drinking in secret ; and some believed thera, 
being of the same mind with the distiller, who asserted it 
to be mere humbug that any man could live without whis- 
key, and that wherever the croaking cold water society 
men did not drink in the daytime, they made up for it by 
drinking at night. These evil reports, however, fell dead 
after a Httle, and nobody was vile enough to take them up 
again; and though attempts were made to circulate the lie, 
that Jamie had grown weak and sickly since he gave up 
drinking, yet every body who looked him in the face saw, 
that though he had neither a purple nose nor whiskey blos- 
soms on his chin, yet he was stronger and healthier than 
ever- and that he could say, what every member of tho 
Temperance Society, whether temperate or intemperate 

VOL. IX. ^^ 



6 JAMIE, A TRUE STORY. 

formerly, can say with truth, after abstaining for a single 
month from distilled spirits, that in every sense of the word 
he is better for the change. 

Foiled thus in all their attempts, the opponents of Jamie 
and of temperance ralhed strong for one last charge ; and 
as it was against Jamie's weak side — who has not a weak 
side ? — they already chuckled in triumph. Jamie had thrown 
away his glass for ever, but his pipe stuck firm between his 
teeth still. The time was, when he was strong and well 
without tobacco, and when the taste of tobacco was dis- 
gusting and sickening to him ; but respectable people were 
smoking, and chewing, and snuffing around him, and when 
he went to the wake, the funeral, or the evening gathering, 
" Why," thought he, " should I be singular, and not take 
a whiff like the rest ?" He chose smoking, probably, because 
he considered it to be the most genteel way of being dirty 
and disgusting ; and, according to the general law of habits, 
being most inveterate where the article used was at first 
most nauseous, he soon became so confirmed a smoker that 
one-half of what he smoked would have kept him decently 
clothed. 

The lovers of strong drink, therefore, thought that they 
had Jamie on the hip completely, when they told him that 
his only reason for giving up whiskey was, that he could 
not afford to buy both it and tobacco; and promised, though 
with no sincerity, that they would quit drinking if he would 
quit smoking. 

The reproach stuck like a burr to Jamie's conscience. 
He asked himself again and again. Is my use of tobacco a 
stumbling-block in the way of any ? Does it do injury to 
the great cause which has all my heart? He read, he 
thought, and read and thought again; and the more he 
read and thought, the more was he convinced that the 
liabitual use of tobacco in any of its forms is useless ; is 
Avasteful of time and money ; is dirty ; is offensive to others, 
and a broach of Christian charity ; is a bad example to the 



JAMIE, A TRUE STORV. 7 

simple and young; is a temptation to (liunkeiiiicss. and in- 
jurious to health. He resolved to renounce it, and dung 
the old black pipe from him to lift it again no more. Thus 
Jamie was conqueror still ; and his victory was one which 
Alexander, the conqueror of the world, could not gain. 
Jamie gained a victory over himself, and he that ruleth 
over his own spirit is better than he that taketh a city ; 
but Alexander, who wept because he had not other worlds 
besides his own to subdue, died as a fool dieth, and sleeps 
in a drunkard's grave. 

Jamie learned an important lesson in his victory, which 
will be of use to him as long as he lives. Whatever bad 
habit, he says, has got hold upon you, break it ({f at once. 
Would you pull your child out of the fire cautiously and 
gradually ; or would you out with him at once ? So let it 
be with every thing wrong. Don't prepare for ceasing 
from sin to-morrow, or next year, but cease from it now. 
Do so yourself ; go right up to your neighbor without fear, 
and in love tell him to do the same, having this assurance 
on your mind continually, that xi'hat oufjht to he done, can 
he done. 

Jamie seemed from the commencement, to have taken 
for his motto. Expect great things, work for them, and you 
shall have them. Work as though all depended on self; 
pray as knowing all to depend upon God. He knew his 
place, and modestly kept it ; yet when opportunity offered 
for dropping a word on behalf of temperance, in the ear 
either of clergyman or layman, whatever his rank, he did 
what conscience told him was right towards a neighbor and 
a brother. Jamie's pockets and hat were tilled with tracts, 
which, as the most suitable plan for his shallow purse, and 
perhaps, too, for securing a reading of thorn, he generally 
lent, and sometimes gave away, to all who promised to read. 

Let it not be supposed that amidst such active benevo- 
lence he neglected his own business. No ;^ Jamie had not 
learned in vain the apostle's maxim, "Let him labor, work- 



8 JAMIE, A TRUE STORY. 

ing with his hands the thing which is good, that he may- 
have to give to him that needeth." It was nothing for him 
to start off half a dozen miles of an evening after his work 
was finished, to procure some new tracts, or attend a tem- 
perance-meeting, or read and talk kindly to some poor 
drunkard, whose wife had sent him a hint that her husband 
would be glad to see him ; or else to procure the services 
of some clergyman to address the next meeting of his 
Temperance Society. Jamie is one of those who imagine 
that the business of a minister of the Gospel is not finished 
when he has preached a couple of discourses on the Sab- 
bath ; he really presumes to say, that both minister and 
layman should be " instant in season and out of season," 
and like their great Master, going about continually doing 
good. He does not set up for a preacher, nevertheless, but 
confines himself to his own proper sphere. He applied to 
ministers to address his meetings, and though some few of 
them refused, telling him significantly that they preach the 
Gospel, even when Jamie did ask in his simplicity, if Paul 
forgot his resolution to know nothing but Christ and him 
crucified, when he reasoned of righteousness, te7nperance, 
and judgment to come ; yet to the honor of the ministry 
around him be it told, that whenever he got up a meeting, 
a minister was at Jamie's service to address it. 

Though, as a body, Jamie's Temperance Society was 
most steady, yet a few, and only a few, fell. It would be 
harsh to say that some were glad at their fall ; at least 
many temptations were thrown in their way ; and when 
they fell, a shout of triumph was raised against the Tem- 
perance Society. Such trials as these only urged Jamie on 
with fresh vigor. 

Suppose, he used to say, that every drunkard should 
return again to drunkenness and ruin ; would not this be 
another proof that truth, and honor, and principle, are all 
as nothing before the drunken appetite ? Would not this 
be a louder and a stronger call to save the young, to stop 



JA.MIK, A TRli: srnRV tj 

young sons and daughters, now safe, from filling the place 
of drunken parents when they are gone ? What ruins these 
poor wretches ? he would ask. Is it the mere abuse of a 
good and wholesome thing? No. Distilled spirits arc 
tempting, deceitful, and too violently intoxicating to be at 
all habitually used with safety ; and as four hundred of the 
ablest doctors now living have established, and unnumbered 
facts prove, they are unwholesome and injurious U) body 
and soul. Let every man, then, for his own sake abstain ; 
and for the sake of others too, especially such as are near 
and dear to him, let him abstain for ever. 

Who, he would ask, give currency and influence to the 
absurd fooleries which are circulated respecting the mar- 
vellous excellences of spirituous liquors, while common- 
sense tells that they are of no more use to a man than to a 
cow or horse? Not drunkards, surely; for, on such a sub- 
ject at least, they would not be believed. Who give sup- 
port and respectability to spirit-shops, and the whole spirit- 
trade ? Drunkards surely could make nothing respectable, 
and no spirit-seller would put on his sign-board, " The 
drunkard's spirit-shop." Again, he would put it to men's 
consciences to answer, who give respectability and perma- 
nence to all the treatings and other customs by which each 
successive generation of drunkards is trained ? There was 
no getting over the undeniable fact, that moderate spirit- 
drinkers must bear the responsibility of all this : and the 
more the matter Avas canvassed, the more clearly was it 
seen, that the only way in which drunkenness can be put 
down is the very way which Jamie and the Temperance 
Society proposed— ^/<e union of the temperate in re/ralnin;/ 
from intoxicating drinks, and promoting tew])€rance. 

'["o jxircnts^iimie addressed himself with unwearied and 
anxious importunity. Would you obj.'ct, he would say to 
them, when other arguments had failed— would you object 
to your son becoming a member when going away from 
vou to live, perhaps, amidst the temptations of a large 

VOL. IX. •^' 



10 JAMIE, A TRUE STORY. 

town ? Would you be afraid, lest keeping him away from 
the temptations of the bottle would make him an easier 
prey to the solicitations of the strange woman, whose house 
is the way to death, and whose steps take hold on hell ? 
He met with none, whether spirit- sellers or spirit-drinkers, 
who were able to resist this appeal ; and from this, as well 
as other causes, the young formed a large and zealous por- 
tion of Jamie's Society. The young he was particularly 
anxious to enlist in his cause, not merely because youth is 
the time of truth, and of open, warm hearts, and in an es- 
pecial manner God's time, but because he believed spirit- 
drinking parents to be the great agents in making their 
children drunkards. 

A case which happened in his own neighborhood, gave 
him a melancholy confirmation of this opinion. A respect- 
able moderate drinker, who only now and then exceeded 
his single tumbler of punch, had seven daughters, whom 
he was in the habit of treating to a little glass of punch 
each day after dinner. He, of course, considered it good, 
and they were soon taught to consider it so too. They 
began first to like their one glass ; then they began to like 
two glasses much better ; one glass called for another, till, 
in the end, they found, according to the adage, that though 
one glass of spirits is too much for any one, two glasses are 
quite too little. Right onward they went to drunkenness 
and crime ; for, alas, it was too true in their case, as in all 
others, that any one may be ruined who can be persuaded 
to drink intoxicating liquors. With the help of whiskey, 
as the murderer said, a man can do any thing ; so, at least, 
it was with these poor girls ; they are living with broken 
character, virtue and all lost. There is, liowever, one ex- 
ception, the youngest ; and how did she escape ? She was 
too young when her father died to be influenced by her 
father's example ; and her father, with the character of a 
moderate, regular man, died sitting at table with his tum- 
bler of punch before him. 



JAMIE, A TRUE iSTuRV. 1 J 

Principally through the prudent and laborious exertions 
of Jamie, a great moral reformation has been efTectcd 
throughout an extensive district; three hundred names are 
enrolled on the list of his Temperance Society ; wives and 
sisters are blessing him for husbands and brothers reformed ; 
the standard of public sentiment in regard to temperance 
has been nobly raised ; people don't talk now as formerly 
of a man's being someivhat elevated or t'q)sy, or merely over- 
taken, when he is drunk, for they have learned to call things 
by their right names, and not practise imposture by slang 
phrases. Public resolutions have been passed against giv- 
ing spirituous liquor at Avakes or funerals, churns, plough- 
ing-matches, or evening parties ; men and women can go 
to market and fair, buy and sell, and yet never think of 
treating or being treated with spirits ; and what still more 
fully exhibits the extent of the reformation, it has reached, 
in some cases, even the most degraded victims of iniquity, 
some of whom at least are now consistent members of the 
Temperance Society. 

Arguing on the subject of temperance has, in a good 
degree, ceased in the neighborhood ; and though a number 
of the old or ill-disposed appear decidedly resolved to have 
their glass, whatever the consequences, in the spirit of the 
fellow who told his doctor that he loved his glass, and did 
not care a fig for his liver, yet the young and conscientious 
are becoming more hearty in the cause of Jamie and tem- 
perance. 

Nothing gladdened Jamie's heart more tlian the success 
which crowned his eflbrts in the Sabbath-scliool, of whicii 
he is superintendent. Spirit-drinking he not only knew to 
be a barrier against the progress of the Gospel, in prevent- 
ino- drunkards from hearing it, and grieving away the Spirit 
of^God from the moderate drinker, but he felt it to be prcu- 
liarly injurious to the young, in often swallowing up that 
money which should be spent in their education and m 
withholding from many even the poor pittance which should 



12 JAMIE, A TRUE STORY. 

cover their nakedness in the Sabbath-school and the house 
of God. 

As, therefore, the children of the poor had wrung out 
so much of the bitter dregs of spirit-drinking, he was anx- 
ious that Temperance Societies, the sworn foes of spirit- 
drinking, should, with their earliest, warmest efforts, return 
blessings to them for years of sorrow, oppression, and 
wrong. Sabbath-school teachers, too, he saw to be among 
God's choicest instruments in the work of reform. Young, 
yet serious, active, and benevolent, possessed of the confi- 
dence of their scholars and their parents, and from their 
own character, and their connection with a noble system of 
Christian enterprise, exercising a mighty moral influence, 
wide as the world, what could they not do for the regene- 
ration of the public mind, especially of that mind which 
shall be all active, in good or ill, w^hen the present genera- 
tion are mouldering in the grave. 

He commenced, therefore, the work of reformation in 
his own Sabbath-school, and he commenced in the right 
way, by communicating information, and bringing both 
teachers and scholars to think and apply the truth for 
themselves. He wished none, he said, to join his ranks 
against the great enemy, but volunteers ; he wished for no 
influence over any one, but the influence of truth, and no 
bond upon any but the bond of an enlightened conscience. 
He introduced a proposal for each teacher in rotation to 
read an interesting extract to the scholars on some suitable 
subject, and temperance of course was not excluded. The 
mere hearing of the principles of Temperance Societies was 
sufficient to make converts of some of the teachers ; for 
what can be more rational than abstaining from intoxicating 
drinks and promoting temperance? but it was not so with 
others. 

Freethinkers may talk as they please about a man 
having no more control over his belief than over the hue 
of his skin or the lieight of his stature, still it is a simple 



JAAIIE, A TRUE tiTORV. i;j 

fact of Jamie's experience, that it is mighty hard to con- 
vince a man who does not wish to be convinced, and that, 
when anybody first resolves to continue to drink, he is then 
marvellously fertile in objections against the Temperance 
Society. 

One of the teachers especially, who had been at differ- 
ent times overtaken by the bottle coming from the market 
or fair, was so opposed to temperance, that when his turn 
for reading on the subject came, he had still some excuse ; 
and Jamie, without in any way wounding his feelings, was 
prepared with an extract to read for him, till at length, 
finding him softening down under the influence of truth and 
love, he, on one morning of his turn for reading, put an 
extract into his hand, and said kindly. Just go out for a 
little and read it over by yourself, and that will prepare 
you for reading it nicely to the children. He did so, and 
came in and read it as one who felt its power. Jamie saw 
that his heart was full, he knew that now is the time for 
doing good, and not to-morrow, and therefore rising up 
and proposing that a Temperance Society should bo formed 
in the school, he put his own name to the usual declaration, 
We resolve to refrain from intoxicating drinks, and promote 
temperance. 

The next man who stepped forward w;is the st'lf-same 
teacher who had so long opposed. " Cliildren," said he, 
*' spirituous liquor is a bad thing ; it has done me harm ; it 
is doing harm to every thing good, and to show that I hate 
it and renounce it, I put down my name." The oilier 
teachers followed; the elder children followed the nc.ble 
example of their teachers, and as a proof that liiey knew 
and felt what they did, when after school-hours on next 
Candlemas-day, the master of a day-school which some of 
them attended, brought forth whiskey to treat the scliolars 
according to custom, the noble little temperance heroes 
rose, as if by concert, and marched out of the room. 

While thus Jamie urged on the good work of reformmg 



14 JAMIE, A TRUE STORY. 

Others, his own soul knew the blessings of the promise, 
" He that watereth others, shall be watered also himself." 
After renouncing w^hiske}^, he felt a sweetness and power 
in God's word which he had never known before. He al- 
most doubted whether it could be the same old Bible that 
he used to read. He had been abusing God's mercy by 
indulging in sin in time past, as if in expectation that 
sovereign grace would some moment descend in a miracle 
and drag him to holiness and heaven ; but now he saw 
clearly that God is sincere in all his promises, and that 
the gracious invitations of the Gospel mean just what they 
say. 

His first duty, he saw clearly, was to give his own self 
to the Lord. To that God of love who asked his heart, he 
gave it. He heard God in his word saying, " Believe on 
the Lord Jesus Christ, and ihou shalt be saved;" and he 
took God at his word, and obeyed his command. From 
what he knew to be sin, he ceased at once ; and what God 
told him was duty, he did at once, as God enabled him, 
without stopping to calculate consequences, for he left them 
with his Maker. He knew that no one sfoes to heaven or 
hell alone, the influence of the most humble being necessa- 
rily exerted either for good or ill ; and as though travailing 
in birth for immortal souls, he was each day, by his con- 
versation and example, saying to his neighbor. Come with 
us, and we will do you good. The more heartily and fully 
he obeyed God, the better he liked God's service ; and the 
more extensive acquaintance he obtained of the great salva- 
tion of the Gospel, the more strongly did he feel himself 
drawn by a Saviour's love to accept, to adorn, and propa- 
gate it. Though beyond middle Hfe, he had never cele- 
brated his Saviour's love at the Lord's table. Now, how- 
ever, he saw it to be his duty and privilege ; and those 
whose hearts are set on winning souls, can conceive with 
what holy joy a worthy young minister, whose church 
Jamie had lately joined, saw him sitting, down to com- 



JAMIE, A TRUE STORY. 15 

memorate with his fellow-Christitins tlie djiiig love of the 
great Redeemer. 

" Not unto us, Lord, not unto us, but unto tliy name 
give glory, for thy mercy, and for thy truth's sake." 



I knew a man by the name of D , who was a very 

skilful, robust, and prosperous blacksmith, and a man of 
more than ordinary intelligence. He yielded to the temp- 
tation to which his trade exposed him, till he became 
habitually intemperate, and actually a nuisance to the 
neighborhood. The innkeeper, who was also a store- 
keeper, on whom he depended for his daily supplies of 
strong drink, amounting, it is believed, to little less than a 
barrel and a half annually, at length hired him to abstain 
for one year, by giving him his note of hand of ten dollars. 
He immediately became a calm and peaceable man. His 
liealth, and appetite, and business returned to him. And 
he would tell you that the innkeeper had done liini lii.^ 
greatest kindness he had ever received. " I was undone." 
said he. " Now I enjoy myself and my family, and the 
best farm in the town would not tempt me to return to the 
use of ardent spirits." The poor man kept his resolution 
till the end of the eleventh month, which it seems he had 
mistaken for the end of the year, and tlien ventured to in- 
dulge a little ; and alas, when I saw him last, he was drag- 
ging his legs along, supported by two of his companions, 
who I feared were pursuing tlie same miserable course to 
destruction, and seemed to be lending him their sympathy ; 
and he was one of the most loathsome and degraded hu- 
man beings my eyes ever beheld. 1 should not be sur- 
prised to know that he is now with the dead. May my 
latter end not be like his. 

A respectable merchant in P , having long oh>rrv.d 

that a farmer, with whom he often traded, was m the hab.t 
of using ardent spirits to gront excess, off-red one day to 



16 JAMIE, A TRUE STORY. 

give him fifty dollars, if he would drink no more for ten 
years ; except so much as his physician should think neces- 
sary for his health. The farmer agreed to the proposition, 
and the bargain was confirmed in writing. It was not long 
before he felt unwell, applied to his physician, and bitters 
were prescribed. He had scarcely begun to use them, when 
he found that his appetite for ardent spirits was returning 
with almost irresistible violence. He foresaw the evil that 
would probably ensue, threw away his bitters, and dashed 
his bottle to pieces. He drunk no more ardent spirits till 
the ten years had expired, when he called on the merchant, 
and informed him that the conditions of the obligation had 
been, on his part, fulfilled. " Of course, then," said the 
merchant, " you w^ant your money." " No," he replied, " I 
cannot take it. I have saved far more than my fifty dollars 
in my bills at your store, and I have made ten times that 
sum by attention to my business." The merchant has long 
since gone to his rest. The farmer still lives, has a large es- 
tate, and a fine family around him, and is a respectable and 
worthy citizen ; for, till this day, he drinks no ardent spirits. 



DECLARATION OF THIRTY-EIGHT PHYSICIANS. 

"The undersigned, physicians of Cincinnati, feel it their 
duty to express their decided opinion in opposition to the 
habitual, as well as occasional use of ardent spirits. They 
are convinced, from all their observation and experience, 
that ardent spirits are not only imnecessary , but absolutely 
injurious in a healthy state of the system ; that they pro- 
duce many, and aggravate most of the diseases to which 
the human frame is liable ; that they are unnecessary in 
relieving the effects of cold and fatigue, which are best re- 
lieved by rest and food ; that their use in families, in the 
form of bitters, toddy, punch, etc., is decidedly pernicious, 
perverting the appetite, and undermining the constitution ; 
that they are equally as poisonous as opium or arsenic, oper- 
ating sometimes more slowly, but with equal certainty." 



iVo. :t 1 7. 

PREPARE TO MEET THY GOD ! 



Solemn admonition ! To whom is it addressed ? Reader, 
it is addressed to you. It may be the last that the God 
of infinite mercy will ever give you. He has often spoken 
to you before ; sometimes in the language of threatening, 
sometimes in the tender tones of invitation and promise. 
He has addressed you by his word, and by his ministers — 
by his judgments, and by his mercies. His next call may 
be from the throne of judgment. 0, then, as you value 
your immortal soul, " To-day, if you will hear his voice, 
harden not your heart." "Prepare to meet thy (lod." 

Consider the certainty of the event. You must meet 
God. Other events may be doubtful ; other meetings may 
never take place ; but from this there is no escape : " We 
must all appear before the judgment-seat of Christ." *' So 
then every one of us shall give account of himself to God." 
Willing or unwilling, prepared or unprepared, you must 
apjjear in the presence of God. 

This meeting rtiay take place soon — it cannot be very 
far distant. If delayed to old age, it will soon arrive. The 
intervening years are lost in comparison with eternity. Hut 
you may never see old age ; you may never see another 
year ; nay, another day, another hour may usher your stnil 
into the presence of your Judge. 

Consider whom you are to meet. Not a man like your- 
self; not an angel, however exalted, but God! the infinite 
Creator and Governor of the universe ; a Being uh<»s«' maj- 
esty and glory fill the highest seraph with awe ; a M.'ing 
of perfect'' holiness, inflexible justice, unchanging truth, as 
well as boundless goodness and mercy. Reader, he is thy 
God. Thou mayest never have acknowledged him as such ; 
thou mayest never have chosen him as thy portion: yet lie 
is thy Creator, thv Preserver, thy Benefactor, thy Sovereign 
and Judo-e. On" him thou art entirely dependent; to Inm 
indebtedfor everv blessing; and to iiim thou art accountable 
for the use thou hast made of all his gifts. Art thou ready 
to appear in his presence ? He Is coming to judymnit. '• 1 lie 
voice of the archangel and the trump of God announce 

38 



VOL. IX. 



2 PREPARE TO MEET THY GOD. 

his approach. " Behold, he cometh with clouds." The 
startled world look up in amazement ; the millions of the 
dead are waked, and stand before the Judge in silent and 
awful expectation ; and thou among them, reader. The 
books are opened, and the dead are judged out of the 
things that are written in the books, every one according 
to his deeds. 

Say not with the cavillers of "the last days," ''Where 
is the promise of his coming ?" " The day of the Lord will 
come as a thief in the night." The da?/ of death will be to 
you the day of judgment; the sentence of which will be 
confirmed amid the pomp and splendors of the final scene. 

Hoiu fearful luill he the consequences if found unpre- 
i>ARED ! What shame and confusion, what consternation 
and despair will overwhelm the spirit, as it is ushered into 
the presence of the infinite Judge, with all its neglected 
opportunities, its unheeded calls, and warnings, and invita- 
tions full in recollection ! What self-reproaches, what bitter 
regrets, what agonies of remorse will convulse and tear 
the soul ! But the righteous sentence must be pronounced : 
*' Depart, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the 
devil and his angels." Oh, what a pang of insufferable woe 
does this sentence strike through the soul ! and yet it is but 
the beginning of sorrows. It is but a foretaste of the worm 
that never dies, and the fire that is never quenched. The 
sinner now finds himself in the hands of an Omnipotent God, 
beneath whose all-consuming wrath he must sink for ever. 
Resistance is vain ; tears are of no avail. Repentance now 
comes too late. The day of probation is closed; his doom 
is sealed. Amd Oh, what a doom ! 

Banishment from heaven, and eternal misery in hell! 
Yes, the bright abodes of purity and peace, where angels 
and saints mingle their praises and joys in sweet and holy 
fellowship, he shall never see, except "afar off," and only 
to aggravate his pain. Separated for ever from the good 
and holy, his dwelling is amidst the " blackness of dark- 
ness," his companions devils and damned souls, destitute 
of every lovely feature, "hateful, and hating one another," 
Scenes of horror and sounds of woe, the mournful fruits of 
sin, such as eye has not seen, nor imagination conceived, 
meet his eye and his ear in every direction : it is, indeed, 
" a place of torment," Hope, that sweet solace amid the 



PREPARE TO MEET TIIV (JOD. jj 

trials of tliis life, now dies. Eternal itmsiimkm is wiittL-ii 
on all sides of this infernal jjiiscn, and is fch.M-d in all the 
wailings of the lost. 

Reader, is this to be your portion? It will l,c. unless 
you listen to the gracious admonition now addrc.sst-d to 
you— -" Prepare to vieet thy God:' Can you be so thought- 
less, so rash, so hardened, as to neglect it ? Will you give 
heed to the admonition of an earthly friend, and not listen 
to " Him who speaks from heaven ?" Will you prepare in 
summer for the desolation of winter; in health, fur sickness; 
in youth, for approaching age : prepare for every earthly 
contingency, and yet miike no preparation for eternity? 
Will you prepare a habitation for the body, which must 
soon crumble to dust, and neglect the never-dying spirit ? 
Will you prepare to meet the chief magistrate of the nation, 
and make no preparation to meet God, the Judge of all ? 

Is the happiness of the immortal soul of so little value, 
that you can afford to part with it for the few uncertain 
and short-lived pleasures of this life ? Are tliei/ sufficient to 
counterbalance the endless pains of the second death / Oh, 
no, you cannot say this, you do not believe it. Whv. then, 
not awake immediately to your peril and your duty? (iod 
is now calling upon you; the Saviour extends his compas- 
sionate arms ; the Holy Spirit, it may be, is striving with 
you ; Christians are praying for you; the angels are waiting 
to rejoice over you ; and are you only indifferent ? 

Do you plead your pressing engagements ? What en- 
gagements can you have so important as this ? This is tlie 
prime business of life — the only thing worth living for; 
and this neglected, whatever else is attended to or obtained, 
life is spent in vain ; life is lost ; all is lost for ever. 

Are you waiting for a more convenient season? Wiiat 
reason have you to believe that you will ever see such a 
season ? The present is all the time of which you are sure ; 
the future may be in eternity. If not, it may find you 
surrounded with more hinderances, and more callous to 
every impression of truth. God, in his righteous anger, 
may withdraw his Spirit, give you up to your own lusts, 
and swear, in his wrath, that you shall never enter his rest. 

O, how many beacons warn you of the danger of delay ! 
How many blighted hopes and ruined souls admonish you 
to prepare noiv to meet God! It falls from the gasping lips 



4 PREPARE TO MEET THY GOD. 

of the dying sinner, and comes up in tones of anguish and 
despair from the bottomless pit: "Prepare to meet thy 
God." It is echoed from heaven and earth, from time and 
eternity, and from the voice of your own conscience within, 
"Prepare to meet thy God." Now, in this accepted time, 
this day of salvation, make your peace with God. 

I will indulge the thought that your careless mind at 
length begins to think, and your hard heart to feel, and 
that you begin to inquire, "What shall I do to be saved ?" 

Most gladly will I endeavor to answer the question. 
If, then, a single serious thought has arisen in your mind, 
cherish it. As you value your immortal soul, let it not go 
till it has led you to peace and safety. Now, form the 
purpose at once, that preparation to meet God shall, from 
this moment, be the great business of life. Look up to 
God to confirm this purpose. And now, think what you 
have been doing all your life. How have you lived without 
God ; how ungrateful have you been for all his mercies ; how 
disobedient to his plain commands. How have you lived 
wholly to yourself in the gratification of " the lust of the 
flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life." How has 
your life been full of sin ; what an awful weight of guilt rests 
upon you. Fall at once before God, and with a broken and 
penitent heart confess your sins, and resolve,- in his strength, 
u tterbj and for ever to forsaJce them. Implore h is forgiveness, 
and yield yourself up to him to be his servant for ever. 

Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ. Without him you are 
lost. " There is no other name under heaven given among 
men, whereby we must be saved." Trust in him ivith all 
your heart, and you are safe. " His blood cleanses from all 
sin." Guilty and hell-deserving as you are, you need not 
fear to go to him. He himself has said, " Him that cometh 
unto me I will in no wise cast out." Go, then, at once, and 
commit your condemned and polluted soul to his hands, 
and you will find " how freely Jesus can forgive." You may 
have a title secured to you of an interest in the everlasting 
inheritance, and a hope full of immortality. 

And now, my friend, what is your decision ? Whatever 
it is, it is recorded in heaven, and you will meet it at the 
last day. Will it be with joy or grief? 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



i\o. :m*^, 



PEQUOT OF A JIUNDIIKI) Vi:.\i;s 



AN AUTHENTIC NARRATIVK. 



*' I AM an aged hemlock. The winds of a luindrcd win- 
ters have whistled through my hranclu's. 1 am dead at 
the top," said a venerable Moliawk chieftain. The ancient 
Pequot w^oman, whose brief history is here given, expressed 
herself in language equally figurative : " I am a withered 
shrub : I have stood a hundred yeans : all my leaves arc 
fallen ; but water from the river of God, still keeps my root 
alive." Here was a bright allusion, wanting in the speech 
of the Mohawk, which implied confidence in God. This 
individual, long known in her neighborhood as the Good 
Old Ruth, died February 5, 1833,^iged 100 years. 

The Pequots, her native tribe, were distinguished for 
cruelty and hatred of the Christian religion ; and she lier- 
self, in early life, possessed the same chanioteristics. Her 
memory reached back to the period when the eastern part 
of Connecticut was full of Mohegans and Pecpiots, and the 
Narrao-ansetts were numerous in Rhode Island. Among 
these tribes, more than half of her life was passed. She 
well remembered the enlistment of the Indians in the army 
that took Louisburg from the French in 1745, and to her 
last days would describe their march in glowing language ; 
the Avomen and children following them for some miles, 
wailing and lamenting according to their native custom. In 
her youth, she resided a while among the Narragansetts, 
and married one of that tribe, named Pomham, with whom 
she removed to the Mohegan settlements in the vicinity of 
New- London, Connecticut. They lived togetiier about a 
dozen years, in a low, irregular manner. Pomham at length 
died ; die sons went to sea, the daughters to service ; and, 
at fifty years of age, Ruth was left a lonely widow, ignorant 
of Christ, and wiUi no cheering hope either for this world 
or the next. 

VOL. IX. ^^* 



2 THE PEaUOT OF A HUNDRED YEARS. 

About this period she became a constant attendant upon 
an aged hidy, who was very infirm, but intelhgent and pious. 
This lady often conversed with her on the subject of rehg- 
ion, and two young children connected with the family took 
great pains to teach her to read and understand the New 
Testament. Its truths, now for the first time brought home 
to her understanding, made a deep impression on her soul. 
She soon began to confess her sins to God, and to cry to 
him for mercy. The knowledge that she imbibed from the 
lips of these children seemed to her, as she afterwards said, 
" sweeter than meat or sleep.'"' Her situation was one of 
great confinement, but whenever permission was given her 
to go out for refreshment or exercise, instead of availing 
herself of it, she would spend the time with these children, 
sitting down on a low stool by their side, while they in- 
structed her from the Bible, or other good books — prefer- 
ring this privilege to the enjoyment of the fresh air, or 
rambling in the green fields. Thus was she gently led, like 
a little child, by the instrumentality of little children, to 
the feet of the Saviour ; and after having, for some time, 
given decided evidence of piety, she was received into the 
communion of the Baptist church, about the year 1790. 

During the last thirty years of her life, she resided with 
her youngest daughter in a comfortable tenement, where 
the charitable and the pious often went to see her, and 
took care that in her old age she should not be without 
some of the comforts of life. Those who knew her origin 
and her early history, were surprised at the depth of her 
Christian experience, and even strangers were often affected 
to tears, to find such a heavenly relish of divine things in 
one so poor, so ignorant, and so aged. 

Her senses were very little impaired at ninety years of age, 
but she had never been able to read very fluently, and a 
visit from a Christian, or even from a child, who would read 
to her in one of her two precious books, her Bible and 
Psalm-book, was a blessing for which she used most de- 
voutly to thank God. For every little article of comfort 
also that was presented to her, she would first give thanks 
to God, and then express her gratitude to her earthly bene- 
factor. The smallest of these gifts would instantly carry 
her mind away to its Author, and lead her to dwell upon 
his goodness, sometimes with calm delight, and sometimes 



THE PKaUOT OF A HUNDRKI) ^ KARS. 3 

with deep emotion. " God is good," slie would say ; " 0, 
how good ! The air that comes in at my window, the sinjr. 
ing of birds, and all the sounds I hear, tell me that lie is 
good. This fruit that I hold in my hand, s[)eaks of his 
goodness ; I see it everywhere ; I learn more of it every day. 
Yes, he is good, and he is my heavenly Father — tJmt'x^ niv 
exceeding joy." 

She often spoke of the sweet views she had of (iod, and 
Christ, and heaven, during the silence of the night — always 
preferring to sleep alone, that her communion with (n)d 
might be undisturbed. " It is sweet," said she, "■ to be 
alone in the night-season with my Saviour." 

A visitor once wished to ascertain whether her love to 
the Saviour was truly spiritual, or merely like what we feel 
for a dear earthly friend: "Ruth," said she, "do you love 
the Saviour more" — she could proceed no further before 
the aged woman raised her shrivelled hand from the bed, 
and exclaimed with great animation, " Better than all the 
world besides — better than friend or kindred ; he is all my 
hope, and all my joy." 

She manifested such confidence in God, and such a 
happy assurance of heaven, that faith seemed at times lost 
in vision. Life had no distressing doubts or cares — neither 
had death any terrors. " I am in the hands of my Father," 
she would say : " God will take care of me all the days of 
my appointed time — I will wait. But I am not afraid of 
death. Jesus has been through the valley, and he will go 
with me. I will lean upon his rod and his staff." 

All who came near her shared in her prayers and ex- 
hortations ; and after she had lost her eyesight, even the 
sound of footsteps passing by would make her heart beat 
quick with desire for the salvation of the wayfaring man 
and the stranger. To some teachers who had been instru- 
mental in establishing a Sabbath-school in the neighborhood, 
she said, " I thank my God for what you have done. May 
he bless you for it. I cannot see it, but I can hear the little 
feet as they patter along on the Sabbath morning, and I 
rejoice that they are going where they will be taught to 
love the Lord Jesus Christ." . 

Once, on a cold day in winter, the almoners of a chari- 
table society carried her a donation very opportunelv As 
they opened their stores, her daughter remarked, " Mother 



4 THE PEaUOT OF A HUNDRED YEARS. 

will surely think this comes in answer to prayer ; for when 
I told her this morning that we had nothing left, she bade 
me trust in God and take courage, saying, ' I have been 
young, and now am old, yet have I not seen the righteous 
forsaken, nor his seed begging bread.' " Her mother from 
her bed overheard this last sentence, and interrupting her, 
exclaimed, " 0, he has always fed me, and he always will ; 
none ever trusted in him and were forsaken." At another 
time they arrived on their charitable errand just as Ruth 
was about to take her dinner. As she was blind, they 
entered unobserved. Her food consisted of a kind of soup, 
made by boiling bones in corn-water, and it stood before 
her in a rusty tin basin. After tasting it, she folded her 
hands and asked, to borrow the lanofuas^e of one of the 
visitors, "a most heavenly blessing." Her words Avere 
slow, but she expressed herself with great propriety and 
fervency. The idea she conveyed was, that as God had 
fed the Israelites in the wilderness with manna from heaven, 
so she in her poverty had been sustained by the same kind 
hand ; and she prayed that she might always have a thank- 
ful heart, and as good and as sweet food as that which was 
now before her. 

In a message to an absent minister, whose prayers and 
conversation had yielded her great delight and comfort, she 
said, " Tell that dear man what happiness I have. Last 
night I had such views of heaven, that I thought I heard 
the music of the angelic host, and saw the Saviour face to 
face. I could not believe but I was there, till I called to 
my child, and she answered me. O, it was a foretaste of 
heavenly bliss ! Tell him that this is my continual frame of 
mind." 

Her death was sudden. The last distinct words she 
uttered were, " Come, my Saviour, come !" A short time 
previous, she breathed the prayer which may be found 
upon her gravestone in New London : " Thou hast been 
my hope, O Lord God ; I have trusted in thee ; now take 
me to thyself." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



THE 



SINNEll'S Jb'lllENl). 

BY A LAYMAJf, LOXG A HARDENED TRANSGRESSOK, N<i\V IIAITY IN TIIK 
SERVICE OF CHRIST. 



Look unto me, and be ye saved, all the ends nf tho rartli. Isaiah 
45 : 22. Ye vk-ho were enemies to (lod. Rom. 5 : 10. Afar ofT. 
fulfilling the desires of the Hesh and of the mind. Vim. 2 : '.i, 13. 
Seek yc the Lord. Isaiah 55 : G. 

Hear this blessed invitation, thuu guilty, lie;ivy- laden 
sinner ; hear the voice of God. See him a God reconciled 
by the blood of Christ. Hear the voice of mercy, extended 
to the very ends of the earth, calling the drunkard, the 
blasphemer, the infidel, the wicked of every denomination 
and degree — calling every wandering stout-hearted rebel to 
repent, and partake of that mercy which endureth for ever. 

Were the holy angels to call forth all their liighest 
powers, with all their loftiest strains of song, tliese could 
not express the vastness of the love of God to siiDiers ! 

" God only knows the love of God." 
He alone knows the immensity of his own mercy ; but we 
know it to be fully sufficient for all our need, and that no 
polluted sinner can come in vain, who comes to God by 
Jesus Christ. Do you then linger? Do you tarry ? Do 
you halt ? Do you refuse an entrance into heaven ? Do 
you prefer the downward road to hell ? 

sinner, stay — stay, and turn to God. Look not merely 
at your sins, but look to Christ. Ho-morrow may be your 
Imt. Seek him io-day, this very hour— this very moment, 
and escape for your life ; esccqie, before the flames of hell 
surround you, and your soul be lost for ever. 
Stay, sinner, on the gospel plains ; 
Behold the Son of God unfold 
The glories of his dying love. 
For ever telling — yet untold. 

The wicked 7x<rc?owef/. See Ezekiel, c. 18, v. 21, to the 
end; also c. 33, v. 11. Examine these. 



2 THE SINNER'S FRIEND. 

PARDON FOR THE WORST OF SINNERS. 

The Son of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost. 
Luke 19 : 10. 

This was the kind errand of the everlasting Son of God, 
the Messensfer of Peace, the Reconciler between God and 
man. " Save the lost /" There is something stupendously- 
magnificent in the mercy here proclaimed. " Save the 
LOST?" What, the most abandoned — the most sinful? 
Are these to be saved ? Yes ; ever?/ one who comes to 
Jesus will indeed be saved ; for he has declared, that all 
manner of sin and blasphemy shall be forgiven to the true 
penitent. Matt. 12:31. Peter and Paul were blasphemers, 
but they were pardoned, and commissioned to preach the 
Gospel to a lost world. John 21:17; 1 Tim. 1 : 12-16. 

Look up, then, poor sinner, whoever thou art, or how- 
ever thou mayest have sinned against God — look up and 
believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt assuredly 
be saved ; for he himself has declared that he came to save 
such as YOU. Repent, then, that thy sins may be blotted 
out. Acts 3 : 19. Every true penitent will be pardoned; 
for the Lord hath no pleasure in the death of a sinner, but 
rejoiceth in mercy. Thousands of drunkards, swearers, and 
unbelievers have been pardoned, on repentance, and received 
into the kingdom of God. Look up, then, poor, trembling 
sinner ; repent, and believe the willingness of God to receive 
YOU also into favor, and you will not be cast out. Nothing 
but unbelief can cause your ruin. Only come to Jesus as 
a poor lost sinner, and salvation is yours — it is certain. 
Look to Christ, and be saved. 



It pleased God to make this portion the means of con- 
version to a young man who had been a dissipated prodi- 
gal. He died rejoicing in Christ. To the Lord be all the 
praise. 



THE SINNER'S FRIRXP. 3 

NONE CAST OUT. 
Him that cometh to mo, I will in no wise rasi out. Ii is ihc will <.f 
him that sent me, that evenj one wlio seetli the Son, and helievrth on 
him, may have everlasting hfe : and I will raise him up at the last 
day. John 6 : 37-40. 

This implies an assurance that no degree of previoua 
guilt, no inveterate habits of vice, no slavery to Satan, no 
secret decree of God, no involuntary mistake, no feebleness 
in coming to Christ, would induce him to reject a single 
person who applied to him for the salvation of his soul, 
with a sincere desire to obtain that blessing, depending on 
his truth, power, and grace, and using the means he hath 
appointed. In this, the Father's will, which the Son came 
down from heaven to perform, perfectly concurs ; it is his 
will that not one of those given to his Son should be re- 
jected or lost, in life or death ; but that every one of them 
should be raised up to eternal happiness at the last day. 

Jesus not only saves all who believe and obey him, but 
he dehvers them from the guilt, condemnation, dominion, 
and pollution of all their sins ; and, finally, he will save 
them from the very existence, and from the effects of sin, 
when death shall be swallowed up in victory, and sorrow in 
everlasting joy. 

Sinner, do you hesitate ? Do you, for a single moment, 
reject this glorious offer of mercy? ^^oio is the day of 
salvation ; and yo?/r time is happily come, when all your 
manifold sins may be blotted out, and your soul be everlast- 
ingly saved. Jesus yearns over you to do you good. 
receive him into your heart, and he will carry you to heaven. 

May this portion be as great a blessing and encourage- 
ment to all who read it, as it has been to the writer. 



THE SIXNER'S FRIEND. 



REST FOR THE WEARV. 



Come unto me, all ye that labor, and are heavy laden, and I will give 
you rest. Matt. 11 : 28. 

This is a free invitation to ever?/ weary and heavy-laden 
sinner, made by Him who alone is able to take away the 
load of guilt and sin ; every person under the pressure of 
sin, not only may, but ?nust come to Jesus, thus laden with 
guilt, if he hope to succeed, for pardon. While we endeavor 
to prepare our way by holy qualifications, we rather fill it 
with stumhling-hlocks, whereby our souls are hindered from 
attaining to the salvation of Christ. Christ would have us 
to believe on Him who justifies the ungodly, and therefore 
he doth not require us to be godly before we believe ; he 
came as a physician for the sick, and doth not expect they 
should recover their health in the least degree before they 
come to him. The vilest sinners are fitly prepared and 
qualified for this design, which is to show forth the exceed- 
ing riches of his grace, pardoning our sins and saving us 
freely. Eph. 2 : 5-9. It is no affront to Christ, or slight- 
ing, or contemning the justice and holiness of God, to come 
to God while we are 'polluted sinners ; but rather it is 
affronting and contemning the saving grace, merit, and ful- 
ness of Jesus, if we endeavor to make ourselves righteous 
and holy before we receive Christ himself, and all holiness 
and righteousness in him by grace. 

Be persuaded to come just as you are ; it is the very sit- 
uation in ivhich Christ receiveth sinners. Could you prove 
your state to be such, that mercy could not possibly be 
shown to you, it might excuse delay, that you might en- 
deavor to be prepared ; but this cannot be done. In the 
sight of God, your unfitness is no unfitness at all; the 
worse you are, the greater reason have you for an imme- 
diate application to Christ, and the more dangerous is 
delay. 



THE SINNER'S FRIEND. 



ASK, AND IT SHALL BR GIVEN. 

Ask, and it shall be given you ; seek, and ye shall find ; knock, and it 
shall be opened unto you: for every one that asketh, rer<'iv«th ; and 
he that seeketh, findeth ; and to him that knocketh, it s/iall hr opened. 
Matt. 7 : 7-8. 

He who comes, as a sinner, to a merciful God, tlirougli 
Jesus Christ, for all the blessings of salvation, in sincerity, 
and with earnest prayer, as having hope in this way, and 
none in any other — he who seeks spiritual blessings with- 
out delay, and in the use of all appointed means ; and he 
who knocks and Avaits at mercy's gate, as resolved to find 
admission, or perish knocking, will be sure to succeed. 
The promise is absolute and express : " Every one that 
asketh, receiveth,'' etc. 

Such suppliants always find admission: their previous 
character, however vile, does not preclude them from the 
benefit; for He who opens the way of access, has taught 
them to come in it, and he giveth liberally and upbraideth 
not. 

*' Open thy mouth wide," says the Lord, " and I will 
fill it." "Ye shall ask what ye will," says Christ, and it 
" shall be done." The pardon of all our sins, free, com- 
plete, and eternal ; a victory over every lust ; the presence 
of God with us all through this dark world ; his glory 
passing before our eyes and shining into our hearts ; guid- 
ance, protection, strength ; heavenly consolation while we 
live, and heaven itself when we die— all are within the reach 
of prayci' ; within our reach— held up, as it were, before 
our face, with this inscription shining on them all, " Ask, 
and ye shall receive." Mercies purchased, prepared, wait- 
ing for every praying man. 
Vol. IX 39 



6 THE SINNER'S FRIEND. 

PEACE TO A GUILTY CONSCIENCE. 

Thy faith hath saved thee ; go in peace. Luke 7 : 50. 

The poor woman to whom Christ addressed these 
words, had performed no previous good works to recom- 
mend her to the Lord, but she came to him the moment she 
was convinced of sin — believed in his power to pardon, and 
was instantly forgiven, although her sins were many. 

Now, my fellow-sinner, here is every possible encour- 
agement for you to do the same, in order that you may ob- 
tain the same blessing, the same mercy, the same forgive- 
ness. Christ is as willing now as he was eighteen hundred 
years ago, to welcome and pardon every self-condemned 
sinner who comes to him for shelter and relief : and it is no 
obstacle that your sins have been of the deepest dye, or 
have been continued many years ; the power, and love, and 
mercy of Christ far exceed the sins of the whole world. 

The poor woman who came to the Lord, had probably 
been a most notorious sinner, of the lowest kind, for many 
years ; yet she was not reviled nor taunted on this account ; 
her sins were not even mentioned to her, Ezekiel 33 : 16 ; 
and instead' of being driven away in her wickedness, she 
found nothing but love and mercy to pardon her guilt, and 
bid her go in peace. 

This portion may possibly fall into the hands of some 
poor woman equally debased by a wicked course of life ; 
but there is no reason for despair — Christ is still the 
same — full of mercy, full of truth ; and " he saves to the 
uttermost all who come to God by him." 

Arise and flee to Christ; flee to him, and escape 
eternal woe. 



THE SINNER'S FRIEND. j 

FREE JUSTIFICATION. 

Their sins and iniquities will I remember no more. Heb. 10 : 17 • 
Jer. 31 : 34 ; Isa. 43 : 25 ; Ezek. 36 : 25-27 ; Micah 7 : 19. 

In the free justification of a sinner before God, and 
giving him acceptance and peace of conscience, the Gospel 
disphiys its power unto salvation. It comes to the penitent 
transgressor as a ministration of righteousness — as a word 
of reconciUation and peace. It opens the prison doors, and 
bids the captive go free. The power of the hiw was for 
destruction. The power of the Gospel is a life-giving power. 
The law could only hold down the man who was down be- 
fore ; it could never give him life again. But the power to 
give life is far greater than the power to kill. The Gospel 
is thus mighty to pass by transgressions and sins, to set at 
liberty the souls that are bound, and to give boldness in the 
presence of the King of saints to the poor captives of Satan. 
When the sinner's heart is brought under the influence of 
the Gospel by the power of the Holy Spirit, it takes away 
the burden of guilt ; it silences every accuser ; it fills the 
believer with the confidence of hope ; it forbids every weapon 
to prosper which is formed against him ; and .condemns 
every tongue which rises up in judgment against his soul. 
The justification which the Gospel gives is perfect and 
entire. The sins of a ivhole life, however accumulated, 
however aggravated, are blotted out in one moment, and that 
for ever. Luke 7 : 47. " Who shall lay any thing to the 
charge of God's elect? It is God who justifieth. Wiio is 
he that condemneth? It is Christ who died — yea, rather, 
that is risen again ; who is at the right hand of God " for 
ever : and where Christ is, there must his followers be also. 

In this total change in the relation of a sinner towards 
God, the Gospel shows its power ; it turns aside the edge 
of judgment, and rejoices in a victory over condemnation 
and relieving a soul from fear — from danger — and from 
death — it shows itself to be the power of God unto salva- 
tion. Sinner, rejoice. 



THE SINNER'S FRIEND. 



SALVATION BY GRACE. 



We are justified freely by his grace, through the redemption that is in 
Christ Jesus ; whom God hath set forth to be a propitiation through 
faith in his blood, to declare his righteousness for the remission of sins 
that are past. Rom. 3 : 24, 25. 

How sweet are the words, " By grace," without merit, 
** ye are saved." Here is an overflowing fountain of comfort 
and divine strength. But how httle are the generaUty of 
vain and worldly people, who still feed upon husks, ac- 
quainted with these words. How little are they relished 
by our self-righteous and moral Christians. But 0, how 
deliciously does a poor hungering sinner fare upon them. 
There is hardly any thing less known and understood, as to 
the power and experience, than the mystery of Christ's 
suffering and dying for us, and justification by faith in him ; 
though it is the only paradise and element of believers, and 
the greatest jewel restored by the Reformation. Such 
talking and representations of sin as only strike the imag- 
ination, are not sufficient ; but we must also/(?eZ the mortal 
wounds of sin, by which the flesh is mortified, and be 
actually healed by the stripes of Christ. There is no other 
way ; for Christ himself has declared that he is the Way, 
the Truth, and the Life. John 14 : 6. That no man 
cometh to the Father but by him. That he giveth his 
life for the sheep, John 10 : 11 ; he giveth even eternal 
life ; declaring, John 10 : 28, 29, that they shall never 
perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of his hand, 
nor out of his Father's hand. Here, my fellow sinner — 
here is security doubly secure ; and this is for you, if you 
be but willing to accept it. May the Lord make you 
willinsf. 



THK sinm;r\s friknu. 9 

THE BROKEN-Ht:ARTED. 

The Lord hath sent me to heal the broken-hearted, to preach deliver- 
ance to the captives, to set at liberty them that arc bruised. Lvkz 
4: 18. 

Reader, thou mayest be a poor broken-liearLed widow, 
mourning the loss of one dearer to thee than thine own life ; 
or thou mayest be a man of a tender heart, recently bereaved 
of one who was the dehght of thine eyes — the partner of 
thy joys and sorrows. Well, my friend, whoever thou art, 
or whatever thy sorrows may be, here is one leudy and 
willing to bear it all away, and heal thy broken heart ; to 
turn thy mourning into rejoicing, by the gift of himself, as 
an ample return for all you have lost. 

This very providence, dark and mysterious as it may 
appear in your present view, may be the very means of 
bringing you into the way of salvation, by bringing you to 
the footstool of mercy. Have you not neglected the best 
interests of your soul when all went well with you ? Have 
you not frequently neglected opportunities of prayer and of 
praise ? Have you not fixed your aftections more on the 
creature than on the Creator ? Or have you not indulged 
in sinful pursuits instead of holiness ? You may have been 
a drunkard, a swearer, or a backslider, and thus stand broken- 
hearted before the Lord. But is there no help ? Go to 
Jesus, so exactly suited to thy melancholy case : cast thy- 
self at the feet of him who came from heaven " to set at 
liberty them that are bruised— to preach deliverance to the 
captive, and to heal the broken-hearted ;" and, vile as you 
may have been, he will not cast you off, nor send you away 
without a blessing. 

« Come, sinner, seize tlie present hour, 
A Saviour's grace to prove : 
He can relieve, for he has power ; 
He urill — for he is love." 
Sinners can never be so willing to be healed as Christ is 
willins: to heal them. 

VOL. IX. '^^ 



10 THE SIN.NER'S FRIEND. 

There is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that 
repenteth. Luke 15 : 10. I will arise and go to my father : but 
when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had com- 
passion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him. Luke 15 : 20. 
This my son was dead, and is alive again; was lost, and is found. 

Here is a fulness of encouragement for every poor wan- 
dering, outcast sinner to return to his Father — to his God. 
The vilest wretch under heaven may embrace the offered 
mercy of the Lord, whose tenderness and compassion are 
most beautifully detailed and set forth in the parable of the 
prodigal son. See Luke 15 : 11-32. 

We are all prodigals by nature, and should be lost for 
ever, were it not for divine grace softening the heart, and 
bringing us to the footstool of mercy — to our heavenly 
Father, who waits to be gracious — full of pity, full of 
love. 

Try the experiment, thou poor, tempted, tossed, and 
heavy-laden sinner ; try the experiment ; cast thyself before 
the Lord, and ere thou canst even reach his feet, he will 
bend forward to embrace thee in his arms of mercy and 
forgiving love. 

The writer of this portion knows, by happy experience, 
the power of redeeming love ; and he who was once a great 
way off — within a step of being lost for ever — has now, 
as a monument of mercy, been brought 7iigh by the blood 
of Christ, and can safely recommend such a Saviour to the 
vilest of the vile. 

You cannot be deceived — cannot be mistaken, trusting 
in him. Our gracious God will never break the bruised 
reed nor quench the smoking flax. The name of Jesus 
is too dear to him to reject a sinner's cry. John 16 : 23. 
Try the experiment, and heaven is yours. May the Lord 
give you courage, strength, and faith, that your soul may 
be saved, and his name be glorified. Amen. 



THE SINNER'S FRIEND. 1 1 

Verily, verily, I say unto thee, except a man be born again, lie cannot 
see the kingdom of God. Ye must be born again. John 3 : 3, 7. 

This evidently shows that a bare profession of Christ 
will not do. Nothing but a real possession of liim in tlic 
heart, by faith, will suffice. And before we can attain this, 
we must experience a renovation of the heart by the Spirit 
of God. We must be led to see the horrid nature and C(jn- 
sequence of sin ; and this will lead us to hate and abhor it. 
We must be born of the Spirit. Let me exhort you to 
make this strict inquiry, Am I born again ? Have you a 
desire to know whether you are in this state ? Examine 
yourself by the apostle's definition of the doctrine, 2 Cor. 
5 : 1*7 : "If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature : old 
things are passed away ; behold, all things are become 
new." Are you a new creature? Are old things passed 
away, and all things become new ? Do you act from new 
principles, and aim at new ends? Is sin hateful, and holi- 
ness pleasant ? Is Christ precious ? Do you wish to enjoy 
him, and be like him ? Are you concerned to glorify him 
with your body and spirit, which are his ? If so, you may 
answer the question, and say, I am born again. 

This new birth Avill give new desires, new affections, 
and new enjoyments. The soul thus renewed will look 
back with astonishment at the long-suffering and mercy of 
God when in a state of rebellion against him, and wonder 
how it was that he was not driven away into everlasting 
woe. The heart will now be filled with holy desires and a 
constant longing after Christ ; and those who have had 
this new and Hving principle wrought within, may feol 
assured that the Lord hath set his seal upon them for 
EVER. Nothing can separate them from his unchanging 
love. May this portion give hope and comfort to every 
desponding soul. 



12 THE SINNER'S FRIEND. 

The preaching of the cross (of Christ) is, to them that perish, fooUsh- 
ness ; but to us who are saved, (to those who beUeve,) it is the power 
of God. 1 Cor. 1 : 18. 

This doctrine, so simple in its nature, so grand in its 
effects, is foolishness to the wise of this world. It is clearly 
understood by those who believe, but by none else. God 
hath chosen the foolish things of this world to confound the 
wise, not many of whom are called to be heirs of glory, be- 
ing shut out by their own wisdom and self-conceit. Such 
persons are too high-minded to be taught of God, too wise 
to beheve in the need of a second hii^th ; therefore their eyes 
are closed to the full blaze of heavenly light, though shining 
with an effulgence of love and mercy everywhere around. 

It is not by human eloquence that sinners are won to 
God, but it is by the foolishness, or simplicity of gospel 
truths that souls are saved. 1 Cor. 1 : 21. 

0, my friend, whoever you may be, or whatever station 
of life you may fill, whether high or low, rich or poor, 
listen to the admonition of one who has been brought out 
of this fatal delusion, and has happily found Christ to he 
the POWER OF God — the every thing to a poor sinner, to 
heal his soul, and reconcile him to the living God. 

How great, then — how all-important is Christ — the 
power — the strength of God. Christ, our redemption — 
OUR ALL. 1 Cor. 1 : 31. 

Remember, that our gracious Lord is no respecter of 
persons. Acts 10 : 35, 36. All w^ho love God and hate 
sin, all are invited to Christ, and he will own such at the 
last day. Matt. 10 : 32. 

Search the Scriptures, for out of this heavenly treasure 
are drawn all the exhortations, warnings, and encourage- 
ments of this little book, which the Lord has mercifully 
owned and blest in the conversion of sinners of the foulest 
dye, and made them to be heirs of everlasting life. 



THE SINNER'S FRIEND. Jg 



JOY IN GOD. 

Delight thyself in the Lord, and he shall give thee the desires of thine 
heart. Psalm 37 : 4. 

If tliou desirest to delight thyself only in the Li^rd, and 
art more solicitous for the increase of faith, love, and holi- 
ness than temporal happiness ; and wouldst even part with 
some earthly good, provided it would enlarge thy spiritual 
welfare ; this comes not from nature, hut is an infallible 
mark of grace and regeneration ; and the Lord shall give 
thee also the desires of thine heart, and even more than 
thou desirest. 

Nothing can be more foolish than to harbor one or more 
secret lusts in our hearts after we have been once awak- 
ened. We must certainly suffer for it ; our conscience will 
check us ; we cannot enjoy it ^vith half the pleasure as 
before ; our course is hindered and our peace is disturbed. 
How much more prudent and profitable then would it be 
to forsake all and follow Christ fully, who only can satisfy 
the desires of our heart. Consider this, my soul ; act 
the wiser part ; let thine eye be single, and cleave to him 
alone ; while others, seeking to serve two masters, God 
and Mammon, are wofully disappointed at last ; avoid thou 
this folly, and be wholly for Christ. The hearts of sinners 
must be prepared, before they can welcome the privileges 
and perform the duties of the kingdom of God. Numbers 
may be led to confess their sins, and to profess repentance ; 
but without faith in Christ, through the regeneration of the 
Holy Spirit, they cannot be accepted as servants or wor- 
shippers of God. Remember, the Lord will have notliing 
to do with a divided heart, except to punish its hypocrisy. 



14 THE SINNER'S FRIEND. 



THE FRUITLESS TREE. 

Behold, these three years I come seeking fruit on this fig-tree, and find 
none : cut it down ; why cumbereth it the ground ? Lord, let it alone 
this year also, till I shall dig about it, and dung it ; and if it bear fruit, 
well ; and if not, then after that thou shalt cut it down. Luke 13 : 7-9. 

Thou fruitless fig-tree ; thou barren professor ; dost 
thou hear this, and not tremble ? God is come seeking 
fruit. Will thy bare profession, thy knowledge of the 
principles of religion satisfy the great God ? Will the no- 
tions of truth in thy head, thy talking and disputing, and 
hearing the word preached ; thy commending or censuring 
sermons and preachers, just as thou art in the mood ; will 
this serve thy tui'n ; and wilt thou thus endeavor to ward 
off the heart- searching God ? Know thou, God is come to 
seek ior fruit, and for good fruit from thee ; not the fruit of 
good words only, but the fruit of good works ; not the fruit 
of talking well, but of living well ; the fruits of holiness in 
life and conversation ; fruit short of this God will not regard. 
If thy conscience be awakened, look to thy merciful High- 
priest ; consider well his intercession for such a barren soul 
as thou art : " Lord, let it alone," etc. Father, let this man 
live one year longer ; turn away from this thine anger. 
I will yet try what corrections may do ; perhaps the rod 
may work more upon him than my word hath hitherto done, 
and may tend to make his barren heart fruitful ; I will also 
stir up my servants to awaken him by a more sharp and 
searching manner ; and if these new efforts be blessed to 
him, all shall yet be well, thy grace magnified, and his soul 
saved ; if not, then thou shalt cut him down. 

Trifle not with time, but instantly seek the favor of God, 
or be for ever lost. 



THE SINNER'S FRIEND. 15 



FOLLOW CHRIST. 

Follow me. Luke 5 : 27. Endure hardness, as a good soldier of Je.«im 
Christ. 2 Tim. 2:3. 

Would you follow Christ? Then follow him in self- 
denial, in humility, in patience, and in readiness for every 
good work. Follow him with a daily cross upon your back, 
and look to his cross to make your burden light. Follow 
him as your guide and guard, and learn to see with his eyes, 
and trust in his arm for defence. Follow him as the friend 
OF SINNERS, who healcth the broken heart, and giveth rest to 
weary souls, and casteth out none that come unto him. Fol- 
low him with faith, resting your whole acceptance with God, 
and your title to heaven on his meritorious blood and right- 
eousness. Lastly, follow him with muchjirayer. For though 
he is full of compassion, he loves to he much entreated, and 
when he is determined to give a blessing, you must yet 
wrestle with him for it. Be of good courage : be strong in 
the Lord ; for he is the help of the helpless — the hope of 
the hopeless — the health of the sick — the strength of the 
weak — the riches of the poor — the peace of the disquieted — 
the comfort of the afflicted — the light of those that sit in 
darkness — the companion of the desolate — the friend of the 
friendless — the w^ay of the bewildered — the wisdom of the 
foolish — the righteousness of the ungodly — the sanctitica- 
tion of the unholy — the redemption of captives— the joy of 
mourners — and, in a word, the salvation of the lost. O 
then follow Jesus, and he will lead you to glory. 



To follow Christ, we must be in the continual exercise 
o^iyrayer. The neglect of prayer opens a chasm, wliicli is 
soon filled up with sin, and then we follow Satan. 



16 THE SINNER'S FRIEND. 

We must all appear before the judgment-seat of Christ. 2 Cor. 5 : 10. 

And are there scofTers, who madly walk after their own 
lusts, and question the coming of the Lord ? The hour 
hastens, when infidelity shall doubt no more : " The Lord 
himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the 
voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God." How 
shall sinners fade away, and be afraid in their close places, 
when, visible to all, the Judge shall appear on his great 
white throne, and from his face the earth and the heavens 
flee away. Before him shall stand the whole race of men, 
small and great ; and by the testimony of God, and their 
own consciences, it shall be fully proved and openly declared 
what they have been, and what they have done. Then, 
sentence, most righteous, irrevocable, and big with eternity, 
shall be pronomiced. On the wicked, everlasting punish- 
ment ; on the righteous, life eternal. Think, think what 
destruction is hanging over your heads, ye obstinate trans- 
gressors ; for " Behold, he cometh with clouds, and every 
eye shall see him ; they also who pierced him, and all " the 
wicked " kindreds of the earth, shall wail because of him." 
" Now, now is the accepted time, now is the day of salva- 
tion ;" now embrace him, as your offered, your all-sufficient 
Saviour; so- shall you be for ever delivered from him as 
your angry Judge. If this you neglect, how shall you abide 
the day of his coming, in flaming fire to take vengeance on 
all them that know not God, and who reject his ofiered 
mercy ? 

"An awful day is drawing near, 

When Christ shall judge the quick and dead : 
Ah, sinner, how wilt thou appear, 

With all thy sins upon thy head ? 
JVoiv mercy seek, which may be found , 

For yet you stand on praying ground." 



iVo. :mo. 

FUTURE PUNISHMENT; 

OR, 

THE UNIVERSALIS! REFUTED. 



No benevolent being delights in the suffering of others, 
for its own sake ; but it is one of the clearest dictates of 
reason, that sin should be visited with punishment. Men 
may differ widely in opinion as to what sin is, in regard to 
many particulars, but every one sees and feels the propriety 
of punishing crimes, which he acknowledges to be such, in 
proportion to their evil. Indeed, it would be difficult to give 
a definition of sin which does not involve this idea ; and a 
better definition of moral evil could not easily be given, than 
that it is that which deserves punishment. None are found, 
therefore, who, while they acknowledge a difference between 
virtue and vice, deny that the latter deserves punishment. 
And as all sinful acts are not of equal malignity or turpi- 
tude, itrwill be agreed by all, that, in justice, every one ought 
to receive according to his deeds ; and that he whose sins are 
less, should not suffer equally with him whose sins are greater. 

Whether the end of punishment is always the good of 
the sufferer, is disputed. On this point it may here be ob- 
served, that that intuitive perception, which exists in every 
mind, of the connection between sin and punishment, has 
no respect whatever to the good of the guilty person. Pun- 
ishment, according to the clearest and simplest idea of its 
nature, is some pain or loss to the person who endures it. 
Suffering, which brings no injury to the sufferer, can scarcely 
be called punishment in a strict sense. In our intuitive, 
original judgment of the connection between sin and punish- 
ment, we regard nothing but the nature of the crimo. the 
demerit of the act. No man needs to know more, or tlnnk 

VOL. !X. ^^ 



2 FUTURE PUNISHMENT. 

of more, in determining that punishment is deserved, than 
that a crime has been committed. We may conclude, oi 
rather conjecture, that the reason why we are so constituted 
as to be under the necessity of forming such a judgment, is 
because sin obstructs the general good, or is injurious to 
others, as we see that this is its tendency ; but this enters 
not into our original conception. It is a clear dictate of 
the human mind, that if there be a crime, some punishment 
is due to it ; and when the sin contemplated is atrocious, 
there is not merely a dispassionate judgment that it ought 
to be punished, but an earnest demand, an indignant feel- 
ing, a vehement desire that the guilty perpetrator of the 
act should suffer condign punishment. These are the 
genuine feelings of nature, experienced by all men, in all 
countries, and in all ages; and no one is conscious, that 
when they rise in his breast, they are excited by a regard 
to the welfare of the guilty person. The truth is, his welfare 
is so far from being regarded, that, as far as he is considered 
as deserving of punishment, we do not consult his felicity ; 
but, on the contrary, our judgment is, that his happiness 
ought to be lessened, or taken away, to the extent of his guilt. 
Although we are so constituted as to perceive and feel 
that sin deserves punishment according to its evil, yet we 
have no precise standard of the degree of punishment which 
any sin deserves. Reason cannot tell how much pain is 
due to an}^ particular offence : its clear perception goes no 
further than to the general proposition that it ought to be 
punished according to its desert, whatever that may be. 
Yet it has appeared exceedingly evident to most men, that 
although some degree of punishment follows sinful actions 
in this life, yet men do not receive here a full retribution 
for their crimes ; since very often great transgressors are 
prosperous, and some of them die in the commission of atro- 
cious sins. This has furnished the strongest of all the 
arguments which reason can discover, for a future state of 
existence. Indeed, admitting the fact that men are not 
rewarded and punished here according to their respective 



FL'TURK I'L'NISiniKNT. 3 

deserts, the conclusion is inevitable, if God be ju^t. But 
some moral Deists who could not deny the dillerence be- 
tween virtue and vice, and that the former ought to be re- 
warded and the latter punished, held that virtue is its own 
reward, and vice its own punishment. That is, that good 
men, in the performance of good actions, and in the conse- 
quences which naturally follow them, have their reward ; 
and that wicked men, in the remorse which attends the 
commission of sin, and in its effects, suffer all the ])unish- 
ment which they deserve. Therefore they maintained that 
there is no future existence to be expected or feared. This 
theory, however grateful it may be to the wishes of wicked 
men, as freeing them from all apprehension of a future 
judgment, has found but few abettors. The reason is, that 
the evidence against its truth is obvious. All men must 
see, if they have even a small share of discernment and im- 
partiahty, that crimes are not punished in. this life accord- 
ing to their demerit. 

But in our times, and in our country, a new phenomenon 
has appeared in the religious world. A sect has risen up, 
calling themselves Universalists, who profess to receive 
the Bible as the word of God, and yet utterly deny all fu- 
ture punishment. From early times there have been a few 
persons, among Avhom were some men of learning, who en- 
tertained the opinion that the punishment of the wicked in 
a future world Avould not be strictly eternal, or without end ; 
but they all held that the impenitent would certainly suffer 
condign punishment after death. This scheme was de- 
fended on various principles, by different persons ; and the 
arguments of the same persons were not commonly consist- 
ent with one another. At one time, they asserted that it 
would be unjust in the Ruler of the universe to make his 
creatures eternally miserable on account of the sins com- 
mitted here in the course of a short life. But again, not 
satisfied with this ground, they resorted to the vurcif and 
goodness of God as revealed in the Gospel, and endeavi.ri'd 
to prove, that as God loved all his creatures equally, and 



4 FUTURE PUNISHMENT. 

that as Christ died equally for all, all would certainly be 
saved, if not here, yet, without doubt, hereafter. These 
topics of argument were popular, and many would have 
been the converts to this system, had it not been for a num- 
ber of plain and stubborn texts of Scripture, which these 
men, with all their critical efforts, found to be rather in- 
ti-actable. Most people, too, feared to trust their eternal sal- 
vation on the criticisms of fallible men. They did not know 
but that at last it might be found, that the words everlasting 
and eternal might mean endless punishment. Moreover, 
it was demonstrated by the defenders of the orthodox doc- 
trine, that the two grand topics of argument used by the 
Universalists, were perfectly incompatible with each other : 
for if, in the nature of things, it was unjust to punish men 
with eternal misery, there was no need for a Saviour to 
come into the world and die, to prevent the Almighty from 
doing an act of flagrant injustice. Upon this principle, 
universal salvation would have occurred in due time, as a 
matter of course ; and therefore the death of Christ was 
unnecessary, and there was no occasion for mercy or pardon. 
But if they built their argument on the principle of God's 
mercy and Christ's death, and ascribed the salvation of all 
men to free-grace, then it was manifest, that, had not this 
mediatorial scheme intervened, men must have perished for 
ever; for there is no mercy or grace in redeeming from 
misery to which men were never exposed. This, therefore, 
which was the principal argument, could not be employed 
without recognizing the justice of condemning men to end- 
less punishment for their sins. But if that was the pun- 
ishment to which men were condemned by the Law, no 
reason could be assigned why rejecters of the Gospel might 
not be left to suffer what was before due to them. Upon 
this ground, there was no presumption against the plain, 
literal interpretation of those texts which seem to represent 
future punishment to be eternal. And that which per- 
plexed the subject still more, was the fact, that no punish- 
ment mentioned in the Scriptures, was so great as that 



FUTFRE PUNISHMENT. .- 

threatened against those who refused to believe the Gospel : 
whereas, according to this theory, the penalty of tlio law 
ought to be endless punishment, and the misery actually 
inflicted on those redeemed from the curse of the law, r)ught 
to be something very difierent. Indeed it was difficult to 
explain why they should suffer in the future world at all, 
if Christ died for them, so as to free them from the curse of 
the law; especially, it was almost incredible that they 
should suffer so long, as the phrases used in Scripture, 
limit them as they would, must import. It was also a per- 
plexing point to determine whether those severe sufferings 
for ages of ages, were j^^nal, expiatory, or merely castigatonj. 
If they maintained the first, how could they reconcile it 
with their cardinal position, that Christ redeemed all men 
from the curse of the law ? If, after all, sinners might be 
left to suffer part of the penalty, why not all? But if the 
sufferings of the wicked in a future world are held to be 
expiatory, then they are saved independently of Christ ; 
or their expiation must be added to his : both of which 
suppositions are derogatory to the Saviour, and inconsistent 
with the radical principle of their system, that all are saved 
by grace, through the merit of Christ. And finally, if the 
punishment which sinners endure in hell is merely castiga- 
tory, why is it so long and so tremendously severe ? This 
idea, however, is manifestly repugnant to the whole tenor 
of Scripture, which uniformly represents the sufferings of 
the damned as destructive, and never as salutary. 

But even on the supposition that the punishment due to 
each sin -svas limited, and as short as any one might choose 
to make it ; yet the punishment of the sinner might be justly 
without end, because, being a moral agent still, and under 
oblio-ations to obey his Creator, from which he never can be 
released, he may be continually contracting new guilt ; .so 
that if one should suppose that the punishment of one sin 
was momentary, yet if the sinner in hell is every moment 
committing fresh sin, it does not appear how he can ever 
be released. There is no way by which this conclusion 

VOL. IX. 40* 



6 FUTURE PUNISHMENT. 

can be evaded but by supposing that men and devils in 
hell are incapable of sinning, or that the sins which they 
commit there do not incur any additional punishment. But 
neither of these positions can be maintained. That men 
whose nature is sinful, and who by long custom have formed 
inveterate habits of sinning, when removed to another world 
should cease to commit sin, is an unreasonable supposition ; 
and to suppose that sin, in a future state, does not incur the 
curse of the law, or the displeasure of God, is equally un- 
reasonable. God, from the holiness of his nature, must hate 
sin wherever it appears, and he always acts agreeably to 
his nature. To suppose men in hell to be divested of their 
moral agency, would be to suppose them in such a condi- 
tion as scarcely to be capable of suffering for their sins. 
No doubt the devil sinned when he tempted our first par- 
ents, and in all his other temptations ; otherwise he could 
not be called a murderer from the beginning, and a liar, and 
the father of lies. Indeed, no one who believes that there 
is a devil, doubts that he is continually sinning and rebel- 
ling against God ; and I think it can scarcely be doubted 
that he will suffer punishment for these sins. Then what 
reason can be assigned why the reprobate from among men 
wdll not continue to sin in another world, and to heap up 
fresh WTath upon their guilty souls ? 

Other foniiidable difficulties encumber this scheme of 
universal salvation. It was not easy to understand hoiv the 
inmates of this prison ivere to he released : whether by a 
due course of law, they should come out after having suf- 
fered the full demand of justice, and after having paid the 
last farthing, as the Scriptures speak ; or whether the offers 
of the Gospel should follow them there, and they should 
not be delivered until they cordially embrace the terms of 
salvation. Each of these plans has its peculiar difficulties. 
According to the first, Christ and his merits are completely 
set aside, and the sinner gets to heaven upon the strict prin- 
ciples of retributive justice ; just as, among us, the convict 
comes out of the penitentiary and enjoys his liberty and. 



FUTIRH riMSMMKNT. 



7 



the rights of a citizen when he has served out liis limc, in 
pursuance of the sentence of the law. But if tlie simuT 
comes out of hell by believing the Gospel, then tlie Gospel 
must be preached in hell, but by whom does not appear. 
And its efficacy there must depend on the Holy Spirit, or 
on the freewill of the creatuie. If the former, the Holy 
Spirit (I tremble to write it) must be poured out in hell ; 
if the latter, it remains to be shown that severe pain will make 
men willing to believe. But if it depend on our freewill, 
and this may resist for ages of ages, why not for ever ? It 
may happen then, after all, according to this theory, that 
some sinners, by their obstinacy, will never be saved. And 
if efficacious grace rescues them, what reason can be as- 
signed why that grace did not operate effectually in this 
world to prevent them from going to that infernal prison ? 
But the difficulties do not end here. Suppose the prison 
doors thrown open, and the law to make no further de- 
mands, how is the miserable sinner to he fitted for the pure 
and blessed society of heaven ? Whatever hell may be in 
other respects, surely it is no school of virtue — no place to 
acquire holy habits, and relish for the praises of the heavenly 
hosts ; unless ages of blasphemy should be thought to pre- 
pare a sinner for the exalted hallelujahs of heaven, or the 
society of devils to qualify for the society of angels and the 
spirits of just men made perfect ; since it is true for ever, 
that without holiness no man shall see the Lord, and it is 
demonstrable that there can be no enjoyment in that pure 
and blessed place, for those whose minds are full of malig- 
nant passions. Universalists must therefore make it a part 
of their system to have the soul puritied by regeneration 
and sanctification by the Holy Spirit. Or will they cast 
indignity on the office and work of the Holy Spirit, as be- 
fore on that of the Redeemer, by maintaining that his pe- 
culiar work can be performed by the fire of hell ? It is very 
remarkable that the holy Scriptures shed a clear light on 
the path which leads to future misery, but not a solitary ray 
on the way of escape from that dismal place. Yet, if this 



8 FUTURE PUNISHMENT. 

is a doctrine of the Scriptures, it is marvellous that they 
have never mentioned the case of any one saved from hell, 
nor left us a single hint respecting the method of passing the 
Avide gulf which separates the two places. When the rich 
man in torment begged Abraham for a drop of water, we 
surely might have expected some word of encouragement to 
the poor sufferer, if that venerable patriarch had known any 
thing of a passage from hell to heaven. But no ; he seems 
to preclude all hope of the kind. " Between us and you," 
says he, " there is a great gulf fixed : so that they who 
would pass from hence to you, cannot ; neither can they pass 
to us, that would come from thence." Call this discourse a 
parable, or what you will, it matters not : no word is spoken 
respecting a way of escape from torment. Nor is there, 
from the beginning to the end of the Bible, one word to in- 
form us of the method of being delivered from hell, and 
prepared for heaven, for those who once go away into ever- 
lasting punishment. 

There was still another defect in this scheme, which, I 
doubt not, has had, practically, more efficacy in exploding 
it than all the rest. It cannot be concealed, and perhaps 
will not be denied, that the primary motive which has led 
men to Universalism, is the desire of removing from the 
minds of worldly and wicked men, the dreadful apprehen- 
sion of endless torments. I say worldly and wicked men, 
for the true Christian does not need this doctrine for his 
consolation. He is safe without it. Therefore the humble 
and devout Christian is not commonly, if ever, the advocate 
of this system. It was a doctrine invented for the lawless 
and disobedient ; a doctrine to bring comfort, not to penitent 
believers, but to impenitent sinners, who are not willing to 
forsake their sins. Now, it is manifest that the old scheme 
of Universalism, which admitted not only of future punish- 
ment, but of a duration of punishment which might, in some 
sense, be called everlasting, did but half answer the purpose 
contemplated. When the abandoned profligate, the mur- 
derer, the robber, the debauchee, the defrauder of the or- 



FUTURE rU^NISHMENT. Q 

phan and widow, and every description of ungodly men, 
saw eternity approaching, supposing that they firmly U- 
lieved their own tenets, the prospect before them was appal- 
ling. What, to lie for ages of ages in fire, or in torment 
comparable to fire ! The thought was intolerable. This 
subject brings to recollection a fact which occurred more 
than thirty years ago. A popular preacher of universul 
salvation thought it necessary to guard his doctrine agiiinst 
the common objection, that its tendency was to encourage 
wicked men to continue in sin, whereupon he undertook to 
represent to his hearers how long future punishment might 
possibly last. And he took the illustration so often used 
by preachers who wish to give some faint idea of eternity, 
of a bird taking one grain of sand from the earth every 
thousand or million years, until the whole was taken away, 
and bringing it back, grain by grain, after the same inter- 
vals : "so long," said he, " may some atrocious and obsti- 
nate sinners have to suffer in hell." A young man who 
had become a convert to this flesh-pleasing doctrine, upon 
hearing this representation, was struck with horror. No 
idea of a duration so long had ever before entered his mind, 
and he began to be seriously concerned how he should 
escape from sufferings so tremendous. And it is said that 
his conviction of danger was only removed by a beheving 
application to the Lord Jesus Christ. But, as might be 
expected, he was no longer an advocate for the salvation 
of impenitent sinners. 

The reader, I think, will now be able to understand 
why Universalists* in this country — or at least some of 
tliem — have forsaken their old ground, and are now endeav- 
orino- to build on an entirely new foundation. They cer- 
tainly avoid the last-mentioned difficulty of their predeces- 
sors. They now have made their doctrine palatable enough 

* The Universalists of the old school liave recently soparatod 
from those of the new school, and have taken tJic nnine of Rf.s- 
TORATioNisTS, leaving the old name Universalists to tJiosc 
who deny all future punishment. 



JO FUTURE PUNISHMENT. 

to the worst of sinners. There is no danger that the new 
doctrine, by its terrors, will drive any poor sinner to seek 
refuge in a crucified Saviour. They preach no appalling 
doctrine of burning torments in hell for ages of ages. Ac- 
cording to the new theory, all that the most enormous 

SINNER has to FEAR OR SUFFER, IS CONFINED TO THIS WORLD. 

Even if he should die blaspheming ; by his own hand, as 
Judas ; or in the act of giving command to commit compli- 
cated murder, as Herod, it matters not, all is safe : there 
is no judgment after death, no casting of soul and body into 
hell, except what takes place here ; for as to hell itself, what 
is it, they ask, when critically explained, but the valley of 
Hinnom, outside of Jerusalem ? Sinners, if this doctrine 
be true, may dismiss all their foreboding apprehensions. 
They may, indeed, " eat, drink, and be merry :" and if they 
will only make up their minds to bear the inconvenience 
which sin may bring upon them here, (and few are re- 
strained from the indulg^ence of revencfe, ambition, avarice, 
and lust, by this consideration,) they may give full swing 
to their corrupt inclinations, and be just as wicked as they 
please. And indeed, if there be no future reckoning, the 
principal source of uneasiness to the sinner here will be 
removed, namely, the fear of judgment to come. This is, 
indeed, a glorious doctrine for impenitent sinners. They may 
even set their Maker at defiance, for they have nothing to 
fear from him after this life. Nothing vvhich they can do 
will either retard or hinder their eternal happiness. 

I was perhaps wrong in calhng this a new doctrine. It 
is as old as the fall of man, and was distinctly preached in 
the garden of Eden, when the tempter said to the woman, 
Thou shall not surely die ; and it has had a willing recep- 
tion in the minds of many abandoned profligates and hard- 
ened apostates from the truth ; but I do suppose they never 
anticipated the time when it should be gravely preached to 
them from the Bible, as the very essence of the Gospel. 
In this respect, then, it may be called new ; for surely no 
sect before our times, who professed to receive the Scripture 



FUTURE PUNISIIMKNT. ] ] 

in whole or in part, whether in the church or among liere- 
tics, ever held and taught such a doctrine as this. 

What I propose further in this Tract is, to show that 

THIS DOCTRINE HAS NOT THE SHADOW OF EVIDENCE FROM 
THE WORD OF GoD TO SUPPORT IT. 

But here, I confess, I feel a difficulty in the very com- 
mencement. What, am I called upon to prove that doc- 
trine false, which maintains that the New Testament teaches 
that the impenitent sinner will not be punished for his crimes 
after death ? Why, it would be almost as reasonable to be 
required to refute the assertion that there were neither words 
nor letters in the Bible, or to demonstrate that he spoke 
falsely who should declare that there was no such book in 
existence. Some things are so manifest, that it would be 
ridiculous to attempt their proof by reasoning. In fact, 
reasoning and argument are not intended for truths so plain 
that he that runs may read them. Who would undertake 
to refute the fool who should insist upon it that the sun did 
not shine at noonday ? Much like this, it seems to me, is 
the task I have taken upon myself. When I first heard of 
men who professed to believe the Scriptures, and at the 
same time denied all future punishment, I knew not how to 
believe it. But since that time I have had evidence enough 
of their existence, and have had the humiliation to be con- 
vinced that many follow their pernicious ways. But it may 
be asked, Why do these deceivers connect their doctrine 
with the Bible ? Would it not be much easier to take the 
ground of infidelity at once, and depend upon reason for 
support, instead of Scripture ? It would seem so at first 
view, but this ground has been heretofore occupied without 
success. Infidelity is out of fashion, and as most people 
have a veneration for the Bible, they wish to avail th»ni- 
selves of these common sentiments in favor of the Scrip- 
tures ; and by this means they get a handle for working on 
the credulity" and prejudice of unstable souls, who are ever 
gaping after something new and strange in religion : " ever 



12 FUTURE PUNISHMENT. 

learning, and never able to come to the knowledge of the 
truth," By the perversion of the sacred Scriptures, also, 
they are able to promise their followers not only exemption 
from future misery, but positive felicity in heaven, which 
they could not do on the principles of infidelity. 

Let us see, then, in what way the advocates of the com- 
plete and unconditional salvation of impenitent sinners at- 
tempt to defend their doctrine. The texts relied on are 
such as these : 

1. "All the ends of the earth shall remember and turn 
unto the Lord ; and all the kindreds of the nations shall come 
and worship before him" — " all nations whom he hath made 
shall come and worship before him, and glorify his name." 
Now, this text has nothing to do with the subject, more or 
less. It is obviously a prophecy of the universal spread of 
the Gospel in the millennium, or glorious latter days of the 
church. This is a kind of universalism in which we rejoice 
to believe ; for it is predicted by Him who cannot he, that 
the earth shall in those latter days be full of the glory of 
God. Then, indeed, shall " the ends of the earth turn unto 
the Lord, and all the kindreds of the nations come and 
worship before him." But I ask. What has this to do with 
the future salvation of those who never turn unto the Lord, 
nor render him any worship, but die in their sins ? Whether 
the language of this prophecy is to be taken in its most un- 
limited signification, is a matter of no consequence. If not 
one unconverted sinner should, in those blessed times of 
gospel grace, be found upon earth, that will have no effect 
on the condition of those who continue in their obstinate 
rebellion until death. The text asserts nothing respecting 
past times, nor any times that may intervene before the 
blessed era of universal grace shall commence. 

2. " The righteous shall be recompensed in the earth ; 
much more the wicked and the sinner." This, I find, is a 
favorite text with the advocates of the doctrine under con- 
sideration. They have caught at the words recompensed in 
the earth, as if they furnished a proof that the sinner re- 



FUTURE PUNISIIMFNT. I3 

ceived, in this world, a full retribution for his crimes. Hut 
they must be very short-sighted critics, or must be confident 
that their followers have no discernment at all, or they 
would never have selected this passage of Scripture as the 
corner-stone of their fabric. The plain meaning of tlie wise 
man in this text is, that in the righteous dispensations of 
divine Providence, the righteous man shall receive some 
recompense for his good deeds, and much more will the 
wicked and the sinner be visited, even here, more or less, 
with divine judgments, by which a holy God testifies his 
displeasure against their evil ways. But does the text as- 
sert that their whole recompense shall be received in this 
world ? It does not. And if it did, it would contradict the 
whole tenor of Scripture. But these pretended critics, in their 
haste to prove that the wicked sinners receive their whole 
recompense in the earth, forget to notice that the words are 
spoken primarily of the righteous, and therefore, if the bare 
use of the word recompense proves that the wicked receive 
all their punishment here, then the righteous, as they receive 
their full recompense here, must expect no felicity hereafter. 
And so we have got round to the conclusion of the atheist, 
or moral deist, that there is neither good nor evil beyond 
the grave. And let them escape from this conclusion if 
they can. But this is not all. Their interpretation of this 
text utterly sets aside the Gospel of Jesus Clirist. There 
is, according to this, no manner of need that Christ should 
die to atone for sin, or rescue the sinner from its punisli- 
ment ; for he bears the whole himself in the earth. He 
has his full recomjmise, and what need of a Saviour to inter- 
fere in his behalf ? 

3. A third text alleged in proof of the non-existence of 
future punishment is, "The Lord is good unto all. and hi.«^ 
tender mercies are over all his works." Now it is plain, if 
this text furnishes conclusive proof that there will be no 
punishment of sin in iha future world, it is equally ns stronjr 
to prove that there is no punishment of sin in this world ; 
and so it overthrows their fundamental principle, that sin 

VOL. IX. ^^ 



14 FUTURE PUNISHxMENT. 

is recompensed here. If sin deserves punishment, it is no 
how inconsistent with God's goodness to inflict it ; and it 
is as Httle incompatible with this amiable attribute to inflict 
deserved punishment in the future Avorld as in the present. 
All that it is requisite to be assured of is, that the pain in- 
flicted is just. Manifestly, then, nothing can be inferred from 
this, and similar texts, unless we will draw conclusions in 
direct opposition to plain facts, and also to principles acknow- 
ledged by those who use the argument. Declamation con- 
cerning the goodness and tender mercy of God may beguile 
the simple, but will have no eff"ect on those who know that 
the name of Jehovah, as given by himself, is, "The Lord, 
the Lord God, merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and 
abundant in goodness and truth — but will Inj no means clear 
the guiltij:' Exod. 34 : 6, 1. 

4. Another text adduced in favor of the salvation of all 
without future punishment, is, that Christ " must reign till 
he hath put all enemies under his feet ; the last enemy that 
shall be destroyed is death." But what has this to do with 
the question, whether the impenitent sinner shall be pun- 
ished in a future state ? And who before ever thought, that, 
in order to subdue an enemy, and put him under one's feet, 
it was requisite that he must be made completely and ever- 
lastingly happy ? The apostle Paul, in this chapter, is treat- 
ing of the resurrection of the bodies of believers to immor- 
tality and glory, and says nothing of the unbelieving and 
impenitent. But even if we should admit, that by the all 
made alive in Christ, the whole of mankind should be un- 
derstood, the only consequence that can legitimately be 
derived from the v/ords is, that all men will be raised from 
the dead by the power of Christ : a doctrine clearly taught 
in other parts of Scripture. But because all men shall be 
raised from the dead, that they may be judged according to 
the deeds done in the body, it does by no means follow that 
they shall all be received into heaven ; for some will rise, 
as our Saviour declares, nnto the resurrection of damnation. 

5. The onlv other text which 1 shall now consider, is. 



that "all things shall be reconciled to God." Tiiere are 
many texts in the Bible in which general expressions of 
this sort are used ; but it is very evident that they are not 
always intended to embrace every individual of the human 
famil)^ If we should interpret them without hmitation or 
qualification, wherever they are found, we should inevitably 
be involved in contradictions and absurdities. According 
to this mode of interpretation, it might be proved as easily 
that all men w'ill be lost, as that all will be saved. Every 
good interpreter of the Bible feels the necessity of compar- 
ing Scripture with Scripture, and deducing such a meaning 
from each passage as shall not be repugnant to the plain 
dictates of the Spirit in other places. Because it is said 
that the whole world lieth in tmckedness, we do not so un- 
derstand the apostle, as if he meant to teach that every 
man in the world was lying in wickedness, and that there 
was no Christian sanctified in part ; but this is spoken of 
the greater number of men, or rather of the heathen nations, 
who are commonly called the ivorld in the New Testament. 

But we will now adduce texts of Scripture sufficient 

TO CONVINCE ALL CANDID INQUIRERS, THAT THE DOCTRINE OF 
UnIVERSALISTS IS IN UTTER CONTRADICTION TO THE WOKD OF 

God. 

1. Our blessed Saviour says, ''Fear not them that kill 
the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear 
him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell." 
The same awful truth is repeated in Luke : " But I will 
forewarn you whom you shall fear: fear him, which, after 
he hath killed, hath power to cast into hell." Matt. 10 : 28 : 
Luke 12 : 5. Here the castinrf into hell comes after the 
death of the body, and must therefore mean future punish- 
ment beyond the grave. The truth is so plain, that argu- 
ment or comment seems to be superfluous : it cannot bo 
made more evident. Feeling, however, a curiosity to know 
what gloss these deniers of all future punisliment could put 
on a text so plain, we turned to a pamphlet written by one 



16 FUTURE PUNISHMENT. 

of their most popular preachers, and found that by being 
cast into hell, he understands, being thrown into the valley 
of Hinnom, near Jerusalem. The body, indeed, after being- 
killed, might have been cast into this valley, but how the 
soul could be punished in this valley, he has not explained ; 
nor has he assigned any reason why being cast into this 
valley is so much more fearful than having the body killed 
by men. Such an interpretation is too absurd to require 
refutation. 

2. " The hour is coming, in the which all that are in the 
graves shall come forth : they that have done good, to the 
resurrection of life ; and they that have done evil, to the res- 
urrection of damnation." John 5:29. These are also the 
words of him who is Truth itself, and they teach as clearly 
as words can teach, that after the bodies of the wicked have 
lain for a time in the grave, they w^ill come forth inito the 
resurrection of damnation. Is not thi& future punishment ? 
What evasion can the most perverse ingenuity find here ? 
They tell us, that by graves we are not to understand literal 
graves, and that the death here spoken of is a moral, not a 
natural death. Well, then, what is the import of the pas- 
sage ? What, according to this interpretation, is the meaning 
of the resurrection to damnation ? 

3. " Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom 
prepared for you from the foundation of the w^orld." "De- 
part, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil 
and his angels." " These shall go away into everlasting 
punishment, and the righteous into life eternal." Matt., ch. 25. 
Is there no reference to future punishment in these solemn 
declarations of our Lord ? If not, then there is no reference 
to the future blessedness of the righteous. If ten thousand 
persons were set to read this portion of Scripture, and each 
to declare what he believed to be the plain import of the 
words, can it be believed that there would be found one 
individual who w^ould doubt whether or not future punish- 
ment was threatened here ? Certainly not, unless he had 
been perverted by the false glosses of Universahst teachers. 



FUTiJRK iMMsn>n:\r 17 

One of them, wliose words are now before me, calls this a 
parable: "It is supposed," says he, "to furnish an argu- 
ment in favor of endless happiness on the one hand, and 
ceaseless perdition on the other. But is there any thing 
said in the parable about either endless happiness or cease- 
less misery? No, there is not." What unblushing assur- 
ance must the man possess, who could allow himself to 
utter and print such a declaration. With such, all reason- 
ing is useless ; and if Scripture 'testimony, of the clearest 
and most solemn kind, can be set aside by a positive denial 
of the plain, common meaning of the words, surely, it is vain 
to cite Scripture in proof of any position. But these op- 
posers of the truth, when a text is too evidently against 
their doctrine, and when they are not satisfied with their 
own attempts at perverting its meaning, do not scruple to 
call its authenticity in question. Thus, in regard to this 
text, the writer already referred to, after denominating the 
whole passage a parable, and denying that it contains the 
doctrine of endless happiness and ceaseless misery, appar- 
ently dissatisfied with his own exposition, says, " If Mark, 
Luke, and John believed that Christ taught the awful doc- 
trine of endless woe and misery to any part of the human 
race, Avhy did none of them record the parable? But 
neither the parable of the tares, nor any part of the 30th 
chapter of Matthew, is to be found in either of the other 
evangehsts. If they had known any thing about these par- 
ables, and believed that they contained proof of so awful a 
doctrine as that of ceaseless perdition, would they have 
passed them over in silence ?" Here the disregard to the 
authority of Scripture is manifest. Is not the clear testi- 
mony of one inspired apostle sufficient to establish a doc- 
trine ? A great part of what is read in the gospel of John, 
is not recorded by any of the other evangelists ; must it, on 
this account, be rejected? And if the passage does not 
teach the doctrine of future punishment, why are they so 
solicitous to get rid of it ? 

4 Our Lord, in the explanation of the panibh- of tlie 
VOL. IX. 41* 



18 FLTURE PUNIt!!HMEi\T. 

tares, Matt. 13 : 40-43, says, "As therefore the tares are 
gathered and burned in the fire, so shall it be in the end of 
the world. 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." And in the parable of the net cast into the sea, 
in the same chapter, Matt. 13 : 4*7—50, our Lord, in the ap- 
plication, says, " So shall it be at the end of the world : the 
angels shall come forth, and sever the wicked from among 
the just, and shall cast them into the furnace of fire ; there 
shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth." In these pas- 
sages the punishment threatened is to be inflicted by the 
ministry of angels at the end of the tvorld, and must, of 
course, be future pvmishment. And as this tremendous 
punishment of being cast into a furnace of fire, is threatened 
to all workers of iniquity, it must be endured after the res- 
urrection. There is here no need of exposition. Every 
word is as plain as it is terrible. There is no room for 
plausible evasion. The Universalist may say, as in the for- 
mer case, that there is no account of ih\s in the other evan- 
gelists. If that was an argument of any force, Ave might 
as well lay aside the Bible ; but one " thus saith the Lord " 
is enough : the testimony of one inspired apostle will satisfy 
every one who believes in the inspiration of the sacred 
Scriptures. But although these parables are not repeated 
by the other evangelists, the same doctrine of future pun- 
ishment is inculcated with equal clearness by them all, as 
will appear by the following testimonies. 

5. Mark, chapter 9, records a discourse of Christ, in 
which the certainty and perpetuity of future punishment 
axe taught as explicitly and strongly as they can be in 
words. " And if thy hand offend thee, cut it off: it is bet- 
ter for thee to enter into life maimed, than having two hands 
to go into hell, into the fire that never shall be quenched ; 
where the worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched." 
And to give emphasis to this awful declaration, our Lord 



FUTURE rUM.SIlMHNT. 10 

repeats it three several times. Surely, it becomes us to 
tremble at the word of the Lord, and to obey liis voice, by 
denying ourselves and repenting of our sins, ratlier tlian to 
invent such glosses as would make him speak in a way to- 
tally unworthy of a divine teacher. 

6. Our next testimony for future punishment shall be 
taken from the gospel of Luke, chapter 10 : 19-3L Here 
we have set before us the different conditions of men in the 
state after death, in the case of two persons — the rich man 
and Lazarus. It matters not whether this be considered 
the history of real personages, or a parable ; the doctrine 
inculcated is the same. If the plainest words can teach any 
thing, we are here taught that, to some, the state after death 
is a state of misery — hopeless, excruciating misery. The 
man here spoken of, is expressly said to be dead and buried ; 
and what our Lord testifies that he suffered, was after his 
death and burial. "The rich man also died, and was 
buried ; and in hell he lifted up his eyes, being in torments." 
The dreadful nature of his suff'ering is strongly described 
in the words which he is represented as employing in his 
address to Abraham : " Send Lazarus, that he may dip the 
tip of his finger in water, and cool my tongue ; for I am 
tormented in this flame." And the hopelessness of his 
miserable condition may be learned from Abraham's answer: 
** Besides all this, between us and you there is a great gulf 
fixed : so that they which would pass from hence to you, 
cannot ; neither can they pass to us, that would come from 
thence." If this discourse of our Lord does not teach that 
there is misery to some men after death, then we may give 
up all hope of learning any thing from his plainest and most 
pointed discourses. 

7. The evangelist John also records clear and frecjuent 
testimonies of this doctrine. We have already cited one 
testimony from him. We give another : " He that believeth 
on the Son, hath everlasting life ; and he that believeth not 
the Son, shall not see life, but the wrath of God abideth on 
him." John 3 : 36. Here there is no room for any doubt 



20 FUTURE PUNISHMENT. 

on account of the import of particular terms. That the Ufe 
here spoken of, is life in a future state, cannot be denied, 
for it is expressly called everlasting life ; and it is ex- 
pressly asserted, that unbelievers shall not partake of this 
life. Now, if they are deprived of life in the future world, 
they are deprived of happiness ; there is no medium be- 
tween life and death, happiness and misery. Unbelievers 
must, therefore, be miserable in the future world. And 
this seems to be asserted strongly in the last words quoted : 
"And the Avrath of God abideth on him." These words 
do not merely signify that the final unbeliever is under 
wrath while in this world, but that this is an abiding state. 
It is the conti'ast to the possession of eternal life. While 
the wicked are in this world, they are, indeed, under a sen- 
tence of wrath, but the execution of this wrath is reserved 
for a future state. The greatest sinners and most obstinate 
unbelievers live in ease and pleasure here, and do not suffer 
the wrath under the sentence of which they lie. But it will 
abide upon them, and the vials of this divine wrath will be 
poured out upon them to all eternity. 

8. " I said, therefore, that ye shall die in your sins ; and 
whither I go, ye cannot come." John 8:21. With this may 
be connected several other testimonies in which it is clearly 
implied, that the wicked cannot escape future punishment : 
*' Strive to enter in at the strait gate ; for many shall seek 
to enter in, and shall not be able." " How shall we escape, 
if we neglect so great salvation?" " For what is a man 
profited, if he gain the whole world, and lose his own soul ?" 
Luke 13 : 24 ; Heb. 2:3; Matt. 16 : 26. 

9. "But the blasphemy against the Holy Ghost shall 
not be forgiven unto men. Whosoever speaketh against 
the Holy Ghost, it shall not be forgiven him, neither in this 
world, neither in the world to come." " There is a sin unto 
death : I do not say that he shall pray for it." Matt. 
12 : 31, 32: 1 John, 5:16. But if there is no future 
punishment, then this sin must be forgiven ; or forgiveness 
is of no consequence to obtain future happiness. 



FUTURE PUNISHMENT. 



21 



10. "But woe unto that man by whom the Son of man 
is betrayed ; it had been good for that man if he had not 
been born." Matt. 26:24. But if there will be no future 
punishment, Judas will fare as well as tlie greatest saint. 
Indeed, his case was more eligible than that of any of the 
apostles ; for they lived in the midst of persecution, while 
he was enjoying pleasure. How, then, could it have been 
good for him never to have been born? According to 
Universalists, he has an eternity of bliss before him, and 
therefore, if he had suffered a thousand ages of years, it 
would be an infinite benefit to be born. 

11. Let us now attend to a few testimonies from the 
apostle Paul. " For the wages of sin is death ; but the 
gift of God is eternal life, through Jesus Christ our Lord." 
Rom. 6 : 23. Here the just rules of interpretation require 
us to consider death, as it stands in contrast with eternal 
life, to be eternal death. 

" For many walk, of whom I have told you often, and 
now tell you even weeping, that they are the enemies of the 
cross of Christ; whose end is destruction." Phil. 3 : 18, 19. 
This destruction, which comes at the end of the sinner's 
course, cannot be natural death ; for to this all are subject, 
the friends as well as the enemies of the cross. It is cer- 
tainly a destruction which is peculiar to the wicked, and as 
it is their end, must be future punishment, or the second 
death. 

"And thinkest thou this, man, that judgest them 
which do such things, that thou shalt escape the judgment 
of God ? Or despisest thou the riches of his goodness, and 
forbearance, and long-suffering ; not knowing that the good- 
ness of God leadeth thee to repentance? but after thy 
hardness and impenitent heart, treasurest up wrath against 
the day of wrath and revelation of the righteous judgment 
of God, who will render to every man according to his 
deeds: to them who, by patient continuance in well-doing. 
seek for glory, and honor, and immortality, eternal life ; but 
unto them that are contentious, and obey not the (ruth, but 



22 FUTURE Pl'NISHMENT. 

obey unrighteousness, indignation and wrath, tribulation 
and anguish, upon every soul of man that doeth evil ; of the 
Jew first, and also of the Gentile ; but glory, honor, and 
peace, to every man that worketh good ; to the Jew first, 
and also to the Greek ; for there is no respect of persons 
with God. For as many as have sinned without law, shall 
also perish without law ; and as many as have sinned in the 
law, shall be judged by the law." Rom. 2 : 3-12. The 
apostle is here laying down the principles on which the 
whole world will be judged at the last day ; and can there 
be a doubt in any mind, that the wicked are here threatened 
with future punishment ? " When the Lord shall be re- 
vealed from heaven with his mighty angels, in flaming fire 
taking vengeance on them that know not God, and obey not 
the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ ; who shall be pun- 
ished with everlasting destruction from the presence of the 
Lord, and from the glory of his power, when he shall come 
to be glorified in his saints." 2 Thess. 1 : 7-10. The pun- 
ishment here threatened is of the nature of vengeance — 
talcing vengeance : it is to be inflicted on all w^ho obey not 
the Gospel when the Lord shall come ; that is, at the day 
of judgment. The duration of the punishment is everlast- 
ing. In whatever sense this word is understood, the argu- 
ment is equally conclusive in favor of future punishment. 
No testimony. can be made more direct and explicit to prove 
future punishment than these words of Paul. We should 
be at a loss, if required to frame a declaration which should 
fully express the doctrine of the future punishment of the 
wicked, to invent one more clear and positive. 

" For if w^e sin wilfully after that we have received the 
knowledge of the truth, there remaineth no more sacrifice 
for sins, but a certain fearful looking for of judgment and 
fiery indignation, which shall devour the adversaries. For 
we know Him that hath said. Vengeance belongeth unto 
me, X will recompense, saith the Lord. It is a fearful thing 
to fall into the hands of the living God." Heb. 10 : 26, 27, 
30, 31. Perhaps we have adduced more texts than are 



FUTURE PUNISHMENT. 23 

necessary ; for if one were to rise from the dead and testify- 
that there was a dreadful hell, these Universalists would 
not believe him. They will not believe Moses and the 
prophets ; yea, they refuse to give credit to the repeated 
declarations of Christ himself and his inspired apostles. It 
is to be feared, that some of them are of the number whom 
God hath given up "to believe a lie" in just judgment, 
because they were unwilling to obey the truth. In regard 
to such, our labor will be altogether in vain ; but there arc 
many others who have been induced to lend a favorable ear 
to this flesh-pleasing doctrine, who have yet some respect 
for the holy Scriptures, and whose consciences are not yet 
seared as with a hot iron. To pluck some of these as brands 
from the burning, may be practicable. But our chief hope 
is, to secure those from falling into the snare of the devil 
who are exposed to this soul-destroying heresy. 

The legitimate and practical consequences of this 
DOCTRINE are of such an appalling nature, that if the prop- 
agators of it were not reckless of consequences, they would 
pause in their course, and hesitate about casting around 
them firebrands, arrows, and death. Greater mischief can- 
not be done to men, than by disseminating among them such 
erroneous opinions as remove from their minds those salu- 
tary restraints which preserve them from giving indulgence 
to sin, or such as lull them into a false security, and per- 
suade them to neglect attention to that preparation which 
is necessary to fit them for death and judgment. And if 
any opinion is dangerous above all others to the best intoi-- 
ests of men, it is the one which I have refuted in this Tract. 
Among the many evil consequences of this doctrine I would 
mention the following. 

1. It does violence to the hohj Scriptures, and perverts 
the plain and obvious meaning of numerous passages whicli 
speak of the future punishment of impenitent sinners. And 
if in one case we may thus set aside the express and repeated 
declarations of God, to accommodate the dogtrinc to our 



24 FUTURE PUNISHMEXT. 

own reason or inclinations, the volume of inspiration is dis- 
honored and rendered useless; for upon these principles we 
may reject every fundamental truth of the Bible. If the 
doctrine of future punishment is not taught in the Bible, 
neither is the doctrine of future happiness ; for they are 
commonly inculcated in the same passages, and in similar 
language. 

2. If it be true that sin is not punished in the future 
world, then it would follow that God exercises no moral 
government over the world ; for in the present life the wicked 
often live at ease and are prosperous, while the virtuous are 
afflicted. This doctrine goes far to annihilate all difference 
between virtue and vice, for Ave must judge of these accord- 
ing to the treatment which they respectively receive from 
the Supreme Ruler; but if there be no future punishment, 
there is no strong mark of disapprobation set on vice. A 
doctrine which involves such a consequence as this, must be 
false and dangerous. 

3. If this doctrine should become general, hummi society 
could not exist. Like atheism, to which it is near akin, its 
malignant tendency is not fully seen while society at large 
is under the influence of a contrary belief. But take away 
from the minds of all men the fear of judgment and eternity, 
and this world becomes a scene of violence — an aceldama. 
All confidence among men would be destroyed ; all the 
bonds of civil society would be severed. Do not say that 
vice might be coerced by the civil law — a vain hope. Where 
the whole mass is corrupt, laws are useless. What means 
of ascertaining the truth in courts of justice will remain, 
without which justice cannot be administered, if no man 
fears the consequences of perjury? Suppose a man who 
has no fear of judgment, to be solemnly called upon to de- 
clare the truth in a case where his own honor and interest, 
or that of some friend, is at stake ; what is there to prevent 
him from perjuring himself ? Or if he can gratify secret 
malice, by swearing against the life of an enemy, what shall 
restrain him ? He mav reason with himself thus : " I know 



FUTURE PUNISHMENT. 



25 



this is a wicked act, but it will serve ray purpose, it will 
enable me to gratify my revenge ; I have nothing to fear. 
Detection here is impossible, and hereafter I am sure of 
heaven, do as I will." What security should we have that 
our food and medicine would not be mingled with poison in 
every house ? The men who propagate such doctrines, are 
manifestly pursuing a course destructive to the peace and 
good order of society. I would fully as soon have an atheist 
to bear witness against me on oath, or to sit in judgment as 
a juror, as one of these new-fangled Universalists. 

4. If there is no future punishment, the ivicked, who are 
driven away in their wickedness, are happier than the right- 
eous who are preserved to suffer. The wicked antediluvians 
who perished in the flood, had a better portion and a richer 
reward than Noah ; for they all escaped the troubles of 
life and went to heaven, while Noah and his family were 
subjected to innumerable hardships for some hundreds of 
years. The inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah were 
better off, though they were destro3'ed by fire from heaven, 
than righteous Lot, who escaped ; for they were released at 
once from all pain and sorrow, but his afflictions were many. 
The wicked Canaanites were too bad to live upon earth, 
and therefore God enjoined it on Joshua to extirpate them; 
but not too bad to be admitted at once to heaven without 
any repentance or sanctification ! Their lot was, therefore, 
greatly preferable to that of the Israelites, who endured 
many toils and suflferings. Upon this theory, Judas was 
rather benefited than injured by his base and ungrateful 
crime of betraying his Lord, and by his suicide. Indeed, 
if there be no future punishment, and the next world be 
better than this, not only will suicide be innocent and bene- 
ficial, but there can be no great harm in murder. It only 
ushers a fellow- creature into superior bliss a little earlier 
than if he were left to die a natural death. 

5. Upon the supposition that this doctrine is true, repent- 
ance is useless; neither is there any need of sanctif cation. 
Heaven is the sinner's right, without any condition or pn-p- 

VOL. IX. •*- 



26 FUTURE PUNISHMENT. 

aration. How the ungodly will be pleased with the place 
and its exercises, is another question. Whether dying will 
take away their disrelish for devotional exercises, is not ex- 
plained. But there is no need of undergoing the sorrows 
of repentance for sin. This the Universalist acknowledges. 
A writer before referred to declares, that ** there is not the 
least occasion for solicitude about salvation, neither is it in 
our power to promote or hinder it." We did suppose that 
the advocates of this doctrine would have pleaded for re- 
pentance, which is nothing else but a turning from sin to 
God, as useful to prevent evil in this life ; but we find that 
in this we mistook their views, for the same writer asserts, 
concerning the evils which sin produces here, that '* these 
consequences are inevitable, and cannot be escaped, even by 
repentance." What these men can preach, or why they 
should preach at all, we do not see. 

6. Upon this theory there is no need of religion of any 
kind : no connection exists between religion and salvation ; 
between the man who loves and serves God, and him who 
hates him and despises his service. Atheism is as good as 
piety ; idolatry and heresy as safe a way to heaven as truth 
and righteousness. The one thing needful is, to he fully 
■persuaded that nothing is needful. If men are only in- 
formed that there will be no future reckoning, no condem- 
nation of the wicked, no future punishment, they need know 
nothing else ; and whether they believe it or not, all are in 
the safe way to heaven ! We presume that the principal 
preaching of Universalists is on the single point, that the 
wicked have nothing to fear on account of their sins ; for 
why should they disturb their hearers about believing or 
doing other things ? But the benefits of this system will, 
in the future world, be as fully enjoyed by those who op- 
pose the doctrine, as by those who believe and preach it. 

1. This doctrine encourages men to continue in sin, by 
removing all fear of future judgment and punishment. In 
this respect its tendency is as bad as atheism itself ; for the 
most impious denial of a divine Being cannot promise more 



FUTURE PUNISHMENT. 27 

to its foolish votaries than exemption from judgment and 
future punishment. This species of Universalism is fraught 
with the very worst poison of atheism. It tells the sinner, 
that, let him act as wickedly as he will, or as he can, there 
is no fear of future misery. Indeed it is in some respects 
worse than atheism, for it not only promises exemption from 
punishment, but the reward of eternal happiness to the im- 
penitent sinner. It says to the atrocious murderer and 
cruel assassin, " You need fear no evil hereafter : though 
you should die in the commission of the foulest deeds, 
heaven, with all its glory and happiness, is yours." Is not 
this shocking to every honest mind ? And what must the 
effect be on profane, cruel, and abandoned profligates ? How 
pernicious its influence in the hour of temptation ! Suppose 
an inexperienced youth in a place of trust to have imbibed 
this doctrine. An opportunity occurs of defrauding his 
employer of a vast sum of money, with the prospect of es- 
caping detection. Well, what shall hinder him from enrich- 
ing himself at once? If the belief of a future judgment 
were now to rise in his mind, he would be ready, like 
Joseph, to say, " How can I do this great evil, and sin 
against God ?" But having no apprehension of any judg- 
ment to come, and sure of heaven let him do what he will, 
he is led into temptation, and is deprived of every consider- 
ation which would lead him to resist it. Even the faint 
hope that there is no future punishment, has a powerful 
effect in leading corrupt men to commit atrocious crimes, 
although this hope is contrary to all that they have ever 
been taught ; but who can calculate the influence of a per- 
suasion that there is no future punishment for the greatest 
crimes, derived from men who pretend to be preachers of 
the gospel ? Doubtless a large portion of the most abomi- 
nable crimes that ever w^ere perpetrated, owe their existence 
to a secret belief or hope of the truth of the very doctrine 
which Universalists preach. 

8. It is a horrible consequence of this doctrine, that it 
puts it in the power of the sinner to set Ood himself at de- 



28 FUTURE PUNISHMENT. 

fiance loith impunity. The malignant, ungrateful wretch, 
instead of praising, may blaspheme the great Jehovah every 
day of his life, and may die with horrid blasphemies on his 
lips, and yet he shall be rewarded with everlasting happi- 
ness ! Indeed, as all the punishment of sin is supposed to 
be in this life, when a sinner commits some horrible crime 
in the last moments of his life, as in a late case where a 
man first shot an innocent person, and then blew out 
his own brains, where or how will he receive his due pun- 
ishment ? His death is but the pang of a moment, and if 
there be no retribution for such crimes in the government 
of God, it cannot be believed that he is a righteous moral 
Governor. 

9. But how are sinners prepared for the enjoyment of 
the pure and elevated pleasures of heaven ? The Scriptures 
everywhere teach the necessity of a change of heart, before 
sinners can enjoy the kingdom of God ; and this is not an 
arbitrary appointment, but arises from the nature of the case. 
Reason and experience assure us, that there must be a con- 
gruity between the state of the mind and those objects from 
which it derives its pleasure. Where no such suitableness 
exists, there is a natural incapacity for that particular spe- 
cies of pleasure. This is a fact so evident and so well un- 
derstood, that it stands in no need of illustration. How, 
then, we ask, -can men of depraved habits, all whose moral 
sensibilities have been blunted by a long course of sinning, 
relish the pure and sublime joys of heaven without a change? 
Such men cannot endure the mention, much less the par- 
ticipation of holy exercises while here ; nothing is so much 
the object of their detestation as spiritual religion. And 
there is no ground for the opinion, that death can make any 
radical change in the moral character and feelings. The 
wicked, therefore, who die in impenitence, never can go to 
heaven ; and if admitted, they could have no real enjoyment 
themselves, while they would disturb the harmony and in- 
terrupt the felicity of that high and holy place. 

10. This doctrine renders totally unnecessary the medi- 



FUTURE PUNISHMENT. 29 

ation and atonement of Jesus Christ. For if the sinner be 
fully recompensed for his sin here, what need of a Saviour 
to die for those sins, the punishment of which he himself 
endures in this world ? 

But if the Universalist should choose to rest liis doctrine 
on the ground that sinners would have sutlercd liereafter 
if Christ had not atoned for their sins, 1 would ask how 
long they would have suffered ? Or in other words, what 
is the original penalty of the law of God? Now, if it can 
be shown that any future punishment in the Scriptures is 
threatened, it will be easy to show that the rejecters of the 
gospel, or impenitent sinners, will suffer that punishment ; 
for what can be plainer, than that the heaviest penalties, 
and those most clearly and repeatedly expressed in the word 
of God, are those denounced by Christ against tiiem who re- 
fuse to believe his doctrine ? If, then, men were exposed 
to any future punishment before Christ came, it is most evi- 
dent that the impenitent are still exposed to the same, and 
greater. Therefore the Universalist doctrine cannot rest on 
this ground. And it is clear as any thing can be, that, ac- 
cording to this system, there was no need of a Saviour. 
Christ came without an errand, and shed his blood for no 
purpose, which is blasphemy. 

In conclusion, I would solemnly warn all who may cast 
their eyes on these pages, to beware of this pernicious doc- 
trine, and not to encourage those who go about the country 
preaching this soul-destroying error. Only suppose for a 
moment that their doctrine is false, and in what a deplorable 
condition are their disciples ! How dreadful their mistake ! 
These deceivers endeavor to seduce men from the doctrine 
of Christ by a great show of philanthropy and benevolence. 
They call the doctrine of endless punishment cruel and un- 
merciful, and rail against pious and orthodox ministers who 
hold it and preach it, as monsters of cruelty. Tliis is a 
cheap way of showing benevolence. It is just that sort of 
philanthropy which an unfaithful watchman would exhibit. 
^ VOL. IX 42^ 



30 FUTURE PUxVISHMENT. 

who should pertinaciously insist that there was no danger 
near, even when the enemy was in sight, and boast of his 
kindness because he would not suffer the citizens to be 
awakened from their sleep ; or the physician, who should 
lay claim to the character of peculiar benevolence, because, 
when a pestilential disease was destroying the lives of the 
citizens, he should obstinately maintain that no such disease 
existed, and that every measure recommended for prevent- 
ing its extension, or curing the sick, was unnecessary. The 
belief that many millions of our race are living in misery, 
and that all of the hundreds of millions now on earth will, 
in a short time, be cut off by death, is no evidence of a want 
of philanthropy. Benevolence does not consist in holding 
and teaching that men are liable to little or no misery, but 
in active exertions to relieve them from that evil which they 
suffer, and to arouse them to flee from the misery which 
impends. Which, then, I ask, are the friends of men ; they 
who endeavor to lull them into a fatal security in regard to 
the future, or those who faithfully warn them of their dan- 
ger ? Are they to be reckoned the truly benevolent, whose 
doctrine tends to encourage men in sin, and to induce them 
to think that repentance and reformation are useless ; or 
they who labor to bring their fellow-creatures to forsake 
sin, and live piously and justly ? Suppose the latter even 
to be mistaken, their error is on the safe side, and will hurt 
no body : but if the Universalist should be in error, what 
imagination can conceive the dreadful consequences of his 
mistake ? They say that the doctrine of endless punish- 
ment is ''cruel and unmerciful ;" but this is not true, unless 
it is unjust — and this they cannot prove. It is customary 
with them to appeal to the tender feelings and sympathies 
of their hearers, and to conclude that if a parent would not 
inflict such a punishment on his children, much less will 
God on his creatures. But this is a false method of reason- 
ing. An amiable child shudders at seeing a criminal suffer 
the just punishment of the law, but this is no argument 
against the punishment of the guilty. 



FUTURE PUNISHMENT. 3I 

It would be easy to persuade a set of convicted felons 
that the law which condemned them was cmel and unmer- 
ciful, because they are deeply interested persons, and do not 
take into consideration the important ends to be answered 
to the public by their punishment. Thus wicked men are 
easily brought to believe that the penalties threatened in 
the Scriptures are cruel and unmerciful ; but such opinions 
ought to have no weight with the candid and impartial in- 
quirer after truth. All comparisons on this subject fail ; for 
neither parents, nor civil rulers, nor any other beings in 
the universe, except the Supreme Ruler, are under obliga- 
tions to punish sin according to its merit. '* Vengeance is 
mine, I will repay, saith the Lord." No other is capable 
of estimating the evil of sin, and of inflicting punishment in 
exact proportion to its evil. If reasoning from the sympa- 
thies of our nature, and especially from the tender feelings 
of parents, were of real force, it would be as conclusive 
against the judgments of God on individuals and communi- 
ties in this world, as against future punishment. For what 
benevolent parent would subject his children to the innu- 
merable forms of evil and suffering which are everywhere 
witnessed in our world? How many perish by shipwreck, 
by pestilence, by earthquakes, by oppression, by war, and 
by persecution ! But because a kind earthly father could 
not endure to see his children suflfer such things, must we 
conclude that it is an unrighteous thing in the Governor of 
the universe to recompense the wicked by such judgments? 
Or will these men deny that God has any thing to do in 
bringing these evils upon men ? 

How is it possible that reasonable men, with the Bible 
in their hands, can believe in the doctrine of Universalists ? 
If they would only listen to the dictates of conscience, they 
never could think that there was no future punishment for 
sinners of the deepest dye. The very heathen, as many of 
them as believe in a future state, hold the doctrine of future 
punishment for the crimes of a wicked life. There never 
before was a sect of heretics who altogether denied the doc- 



32 FUTURE PUNISHMENT. 

trine of future punishment. Even the Mohammedans main- 
tain the doctrine of eternal punishment. Most Unitarians, 
however they may hesitate about everlasting punishment, 
teach the doctrine of future punishment. The maintenance 
of a tenet so absurd and dangerous, seems to have been re- 
served for these last times, and is even now almost entirely 
confined to these United States. It seems to be the most 
desperate effort of the father of lies. As we said before, 
this doctrine had its origin in paradise, and was the very 
doctrine by which the grand adversary murdered our whole 
race ; but never, until recently, could any number of men 
be found of sufficient hardihood to avow it as the main arti- 
cle of their creed. It contains within itself the virulent 
poison of all other errors and heresies ; yea, it leaves in the 
distance every form of infidelity. Atheism, black and blas- 
phemous as it is, is not so dangerous as this doctrine ; for 
it as completely removes all restraint from the sinner as 
atheism, assuring the vilest sinners that they have nothing 
to fear hereafter ; and not only so, but promising them the 
rich reward of eternal life. The prevalence of this soul- 
destroying error, in some parts of our land, is truly alarm- 
ing. Every patriot, as well as every Christian, is bound to 
use his best endeavors to check the progress of an error 
fraught with so many dreadful consequences. 



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