5~, 2^^ , oS 



Stotn t^e £i6rati5 of 

t^e feifitar^ of 
(prtncefon C^eofogtcaf ^eminarg 



sec 








o^^^iX^ ( S-S I 



TRACTS 



OF THE 



AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



encral Series. 




VOL. X. 



PRINTED BY THE 
AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 

150 NA SSAU-STREET, NEW YORK 



CONTENTS. 



VOL. X. 

No. Paoks. 

351. The Infidel Reclaimed, ....... 8 

352. The Sabbath, 4 

353. Marks of Religious Declension, ..... 4 

354. The Mother's Last Prayer, or George Vining, . . 8 

355. The Ringleader, .8 

356. The act of Faith, 4 

357. What is it to Believe on Chiist ? 4 

358. The Wonderful Escape, 4 

359. The Child a Hundred Years Old. By Rev. WiUiani S. 

Plumer, D. D., 12 

360. Redeeming the Time, ....... 8 

361. Atoning Blood, 12 

362. Universalism Unscriptural and Absurd, .... 8 

363. Come to Jesus, ........ 8 

364. How to Make the Most of Life, 4 

365. The Island Planter, 8 

366. The Beginnings of Evil, 8 

367. Live for the World, 8 

368. Don't put it Off, 4 

369. The Time not Come 8 

370. Memoir of Dr. John D. Godman. By Thos. Sewall, M. D., 20 

371. The Sinner his own Destroyer, ..... 8 

372. Joy in Sorrow, or Comfort for the Bereaved, ... 4 

373. Declarations of a Deist. By Rev. Herman Norton, . 8 

374. Short Method with the Sceptic, 8 

375. A few Thoughts. By a member of the Bar, ... 28 

376. The Infidel's Creed, or the Credulity of Infidelity. By Olin- 

thus Gregory, LL. D., ...... 8 

377. Fifty Reasons for attending Public Worship, ... 4 



CONTENTS. 



No. Pages. 

378. The False Hope. By Rev. Richard Knill, ... 4 

379. Some Memorials of Edward Lee, . . . . .12 

380. The Spirit Grieved, 4 

381. "We are all Here," 4 

382. Have me Excused, ....... 8 

383. Conversion of an aged Deist, ...... 8 

384. The Day of Trial, 4 

385. Convictions Stifled, ........ 4 

386. Sketch of Miss Harriet Patterson, ..... 4 

387. All in the Ark. A family Tract, 16 

388. Conversion of Dr. Capadose, a Jewish Physician, . . 24 

389. Do you Forgive all ycnr Enemies? ..... 4 

390. To the N'eglecter of Religion, 8 

391. I am no Hypocrite, ........ 4 

392. Come and welcome to Jesus Christ. By John Bunyan, . 8 

393. Justification by Faith, ....... 24 

394. Christian Liberality Explained and Enforced. By Rev. John 

Harris, .......... 48 

395. The Eventful Twelve Hours, or the Destitution and Wretch- 

edness of a Drunkard, . . . . . . .16 

396. Are you a Sabbath-school Teacher ? From Nevins' " Prac- 

tical Thoughts," ........ 4 

397. Do you Pray in your Family? From Nevins' "Practical 

Thoughts," 4 

398. The Lost Mechanic Restored, ..... 4 

399. Dialogue between the Bible and a Sinner, .... 4 

400. Do thyself no Harm, ....... 4 

401. The Temptations of Young Men, . . . . .16 

402. Counsels to a Young Man, . . . . . , 16 

403. " If any Man Thirst, let him come unto Me and Drink," . 4 

404. I have not Time, ........ 4 

405. " Cut it Down," . . . : . ... 4 

406. Private Devotion, ........ 4 

407. Self-dedication to God, 4 

408. I must Pray in Secret, ....... 4 



I¥o. 351. 



THE 



INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 



Dr. Thomas Jewett was born in Rindge, N. H., Feb. 
28, 1771, where, with the exception of four years, he re- 
sided till his death, which occurred April 24, 1840, at the 
age of 69. For many years he was a reputable physician, 
and also a justice of the peace ; but he relinquished the 
active services of both stations some time previous to his 
death. 

Having labored a few months in the ministry at Rindge, 
I called on Dr. Jewett, in the spring of 1822, to ask his 
consent that his eldest dauo-hter mitrht assist as a teacher 
in the Sabbath-school. He frankly stated his objections 
to Sabbath- schools ; but, after a candid reconsideration 
of them, granted my request, and all his children of proper 
age, were also permitted to attend. This brought the 
family more directly into contact with Christian influence, 
and at length this daughter and four other children, became 
hopefully pious, and united with the church. He was 
tenderly attached to his family ; and so far as his children 
exhibited the fruits of the Spirit, their influence upon their 
father was favorable to evangelical religion. He once said 
to me, in the hearing of some of them who were anxious 
for their salvation, "Say what you think proper to them; 
for though I do not believe your doctrine, if any of my 
family think it will add to their happiness to join your 
church, I am willing they should do it." 

He continued to indulge them in the enjoyment of relig- 
ious privileges, though still maintaining his infidelity, and 
rarely entering the sanctuary himself except on days of 
public fasting or thanksgiving. The temperance cause he 
cordially espoused, though he evidently perceived, and once 
frankly stated to me, that its influence was undeniably fa- 
vorable to evangelical reliction. 

In the summer and autumn of 1832, he was frequently 

VOL. X. 1* 



2 THE INFIDEL RKCLAIMED. 

present at public worship ; and on the last Saturday in 
March, 1833, called on me, and in the course of conversa- 
tion remarked, that he had resolved to destroy his infidel books ! 

Early on the following Monday he called again, bringing 
a large bundle enclosed in a handkerchief, and with great 
apparent earnestness and solemnity said, " Here are my 
infidel books ; I thought the minister's house the most 
suitable place to destroy them. Are you willing I should 
burn them in your fire ?" On my consenting, he called in 
two neighbors to be witnesses, as he said, of the transaction ; 
and then, after concisely stating what had been his religious 
opinions, took from his bundle book after book, gave its 
title and character, and committed it to the flames, till the 
whole were consumed. The stillness of death pervaded 
the room, and the tears of some, if not all the spectators, 
evinced the deep emotion which the occasion excited. While 
the last book was burning, the doctor broke the silence by 
saying, " It is a wonder that I have not come to some mis- 
erable end. Of six men who once joined me in reading 
these books, and ridiculing religion, four have already ter- 
minated their lives by drunkenness or suicide. It is a won- 
der that /too have not come to some miserable end." 

I proposed that prayer should be offered. The doctor 
readily assented, and with evident emotion added, " I wish 
3^ou to pray that all my sins may be forgiven." I was 
prevented having any conversation with him again till, on 
Sabbath evening, two weeks after, he came to inquire what 
he must do to be saved 7 He vras under pungent convictions 
of sin ; and in the stillness of that night, about two o'clock, 
this aged sinner sent up his first cry for mercy to that 
Saviour whom he had sixty years " despised and rejected." 

I might here dwell upon the scenes of the ensuing 
week : the agonies he experienced, the temptations with 
which he was assailed, the victory which, through grace, 
he achieved ; the peace that flowed in upon his own soul, 
and the joy felt by the pious members of his family, when, 
after disclosing his feelings to his children, and requesting 
them to talk with him and teach him as they would a child, 
on a subject so new as religion was to him, he first raised 
the voice of prayer at the family altar. I could speak of 
other incidents, on which my own mind, while memory 
lasts, will dwell with peculiar interest ; but I forbear. 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 3 

On the last Sabbath in August, 1833, Dr. Jewett was 
received as a member of the church, when, at his request, 
the following communication was read from the pulpit in 
the hearing of a numerous assembly, many of whom had 
known his "manner of life from his youth." 

" Respected Brethren and Friends — With my gen- 
eral course of life most of this people are acquainted. It is 
sufficient therefore to say, that, though educated in the 
belief that the Scriptures are the word of God, yet in early 
life, by means of erroneous books and associates of bad 
principles, I imbibed opinions which I now regard as funda- 
mentally corrupt and ruinous. Led astray first by the plau- 
sible but fallacious arguments of Elkanah Winchester, I 
adopted his sentiments fully ; and from his doctrine of tem- 
porary future punishment, the transition to Universalism, or 
the disbelief of any future punishment, was very natural 
and easy. This latter scheme, so perfectly agreeable to 
the doer of evil, I readily adopted, and warmly advocated 
for several years. 

"At thirty years of age, I tried to become an Atheist, 
but though I never was left to deny or disbelieve the ex- 
istence of God, yet I adopted the system of Deism ; utterly 
rejecting the Bible, as the work of man, and an imposition 
upon the world. My course of conduct in relation to evan- 
gelical ministers and Christians, was such as might be ex- 
pected from one who cherished such sentiments. I have it 
in painful remembrance that I opposed them, and made 
them and the cause they espoused, the subject of ridicule 
and contempt. 

" But the names of Infidel and Universalist, I was aware, 
were not popular. For a few years past I have assumed 
the name of Unitarian, for two reasons : one was, that it 
exposed me to less odium ; the other, I found that I could 
be reckoned in that class without any material change in 
my religious opinions. And here I honestly and soberly 
declare, that these several names were assumed at different 
times as a mere disguise, as convenience or interest might 
require. And I now regard these several schemes as es- 
sentially the same. I have been intimate with men in all 
ranks of society belonging to these religious persuasions, and 
1 have found their sentiments substantially the same rela- 



4 THE INFIDEL RECLALMCn. 

tive to the fundamental points in religion — none of them, so 
far as I could discover, receiving the Bible as decisive au- 
thority in religious faith. This, I need not say, is denying 
its inspiration. 

"During a few years past, my feelings towards evan- 
gelical religion and its advocates have been gradually be- 
coming more favorable. Several causes have operated to 
produce this change. Among these, I regard the temjjerance 
efforts as havinof had no inconsiderable influence. In this 
enterprise I cordially enlisted ; and I found myself at once 
connected with evangelical ministers and Christians, while 
those who agreed with me in religious opinions, with few 
exceptions, did not promote, but rather hindered the cause 
of temperance. 

" In the course of the last winter, I was led, by what 
means I know not, to the conviction that my infidel books, 
of which I had several, would do mischief to my children, 
or others, should they ever come into their hands. This 
impression continued, and became deeper and deeper, and 
gave me no little uneasiness for many months. I at length 
concluded to destroy them, not doubting, that if this were 
done, my mind would at once regain its accustomed calm- 
ness. These pernicious books I deliberately burnt the first 
day of last April. But the ways of God are not as our 
ways. As soon as the last book was consumed, and before 
I rose from my seat, for the first time in my life, so far as I 
can recollect, I felt a conviction that I was personally a 
sinner, and guilty before God. From this moment, though 
I knew not what it meant, I had no peace day nor night for 
two or three weeks. M}^ agony of mind it is impossible for 
me to describe. My feelings were to me entirely new ; and 
the doctrine of conviction of sin and of conversion I had 
always ridiculed. I tried in vain to throw off my impres- 
sions. For aught I know, my health was good, ray mind 
sound — but I had such a view of my sins, and such, partic- 
ularly, was the opposition of my hard and rebellious heart 
against God, that for several days I was unable to attend 
to any business, or enjoy food or sleep. After days and 
nights of struggling, in my extremity 1 called, for the first 
time in my life, upon Jesus Christ for help. My hardened 
heart began. to yield, and I expeiienced some quietness of 
mind. 1 immediately felt that I ought to set up the wor- 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 5 

ship of God in my family. But the duty was new to me, 
and very formidable obstacles rose up to view. After a 
violent conflict, I have reason to bless God he enabled me 
to overcome them, and to commence, and to maintain to 
this time, morning and evening worship in my family. From 
this hour particularly, I have enjoyed a peace of mind be- 
fore unknown to me, and have obtained increasing light and 
strength in spiritual things. 

"The Bible which I once rejected, I am fully convinced, 
and firmly believe, to be a revelation from God. My views 
of the Christian Sabbath, which I have greatly profaned, 
are entirely altered. I now regard it as a divine institution, 
to be kept holy; and I look forward to its return, from 
week to week, with high anticipations of happiness in the 
enjoyment of the precious privileges it affords in the private 
and public worship of God. I take great comfort in prayer, 
in reading the Bible, in hearing the Gospel, and in inter- 
course \Adth pious people. The way of salvation by the 
grace of God, through the atonement of Christ, appears 
right, safe, and glorious, and I rejoice in committing myself 
to the hands of Christ, whom I desire to receive as ni}^ all- 
sufiicient Redeemer and portion, I daily feel that I am a 
sinner, and my past life appears to me inexpressibly vile ; 
and I am filled with wonder that God has so lonq- suffered 
me to live. 

*' It is with a desire, if I am not deceived, to honor the 
name and promote the cause of Him who died for me, the 
chief of sinners, and from a sense of duty to the Saviour 
and his church, that I offer myself for admission among his 
visible followers. I do this with fear and trembling, lest I 
shall be left to dishonor religion ; but I ask for a special 
interest in the prayers and watchful admonitions of the 
church, that I may be enabled, by divine grace, to do some- 
thing for the advancement of the Redeemer's kingdom in 
the world. 

" I reflect with shuddering of soul upon the awful gulf 
to which my former opinions were leading me — a course 
which I was induced to enter upon through the influence 
of erroneous writings and corrupt companions. Let youth 
beware of these sources of danger. I believe their only 
ground of safety to be a life of prayer and of obedience to 
the will of God. 



Q THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 

*' Different opinions, probably, will be formed by dif- 
ferent persons, of the communication I have here made. 
But I have only to say, that I have done it in the sincerity 
of my heart, and must leave the result with God, earnestly 
desirino- that this expression of my views may be blessed 
to the o-ood of my fellow-men. 

"THOMAS JEWETT." 

By the grace of God, the doctor's life was such as to 
fulfil the hopes of the friends, and disappoint the predic- 
tions of the enemies of truth. He uniformly manifested a 
child-like svm2:)Ucity and teachableness of character. This 
was exhibited at the time of his conversion, and was mam- 
tained to the close of his life. 

He cherished a warm attachment to the house and peo- 
ple of God ; prayed for the peace of Zion ; rejoiced in her 
prosperity, and mourned over her afflictions. 

Watchful over his own heart, and circumspect in all his 
words and actions, he made growth in grace and usefulness 
in the cause of his Redeemer the great object of his life. 
Family worship he maintained morning and evening ; he 
was regular and punctual, not only in the house of God, 
but at religious services during the week ; and aware of 
the tendency of miscellaneous conversation on the Sabbath 
to efface good impressions, he usually walked in silence and 
thoughtfulness to and from the sanctuary. 

He took great delight in hearing the Gospel, and though 
he could be pleased with taste, and learning, and eloquence, 
he rather desii-ed " the sincere milk of the word, that he 
might grow thereby." He also daily studied the Bible, 
and prayerfully meditated on its blessed truths ; and by 
these and other means made very rapid advances in the 
Christian life. This was manifested in the tender compas- 
sion he felt for impenitent sinners, especially those who had 
imbibed the errors he lamented in himself; and he rarely 
expressed his religious feelings without uttering, in some 
form, his concern for their salvation. He "fought a good 
fight," he "kept the faith," and ''finished his course" with 

joy- 

About three months before his death, he became se- 
riously ill, and without delay began to " set his house in 
order," making all needful arrangements as to his worldly 



THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 7 

concerns, even including his funeral, with great calmness, 
and yet with becoming solemnity. 

In one of my first interviews with him after he became 
ill, he said substantially, " I have had great enjoyment under 
the means of grace, and now I have great peace. I am as 
happy as I can be. My confidence is all in the merits of 
Jesus Christ, who has purchased my redemption Avith his 
own precious blood. The way of salvation appears wonder- 
ful, and I have great peace in meditating upon it. Alluding 
to the expression of a dying infidel, that he was " about to 
take a leap in the dark," he said, " It is all light in heaven ; 
they have no need of the sun ; the Lord is their light — I 
shall soon be there," 

Again — " I am failing in body, but in faith and comfort 
I am growing stronger and stronger every day. A door is 
open before me into the New Jerusalem, the holy city, 
where are the angels and glorified saints, and where God is. 
Oh what seasons of joy are there ! Christ has opened this 
door, and invites us to come ; Oh that men would forsake 
their sins and come to Christ!" He was asked if he laid 
any claim to heaven on the ground of good deeds. "Oh, 
no ; I am a guilty sinner. It is a wonder that I was spared. 
I joined with the wicked in all their reproaches and inju- 
rious reports against evangelical ministers and Ciiristians." 

At another time he said, "I am w^asting away, but I am 
not afraid of death or of hell. God is with me. He will 
be with me in the dark valley. All is light — I seem to look 
right into heaven. I did not know before that any one 
could have such near views of God and heaven." 

In the course of his sickness he exhibited remarkable 
patience and submission, though his sufferings the last two 
weeks were uncommonly severe. He used his strength in 
praising God, and exhorting his brethren and fellow-citizens, 
nearly two hundred of whom called on him in the course 
of his confinement. Some hours each day were spent in 
conversation ; and he once said, " What can I do better 
than to talk my life out for my fellow-mortals ? Christ 
poured out his life for a guilty world." 

On one of the family rising to wait upon him, he said, 
" I sleep under the banner of Christ ; go lay yourself down 
to sleep in his arms ; I need no one to sit up ; the presence 
of Christ overshadows me." 



8 THE INFIDEL RECLAIMED. 

At another time — " I feel that I have done with earth, 
and I have comforting views of Christ's goodness and love, 
and feel no choice whether to live or die — ^just as God wills. 
I lay myself in his arms ; his Spirit dwells with me. Oh, 
the wonderful plan of salvation ! I never sought the Lord, 
but he sought me, and my soul shall praise him for ever." 

Again — " Bless the Lord, Oh my soul, and magnify his 
name, for his riches, for his wonderful kindness, his tender 
mercies to me a sinner. Oh the joy and peace in believing ! 
* Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered 
into the heart of man, the things that God hath prepared 
for them that love him.' Blessed be the name of that 
Saviour who allowed me to enter before it was too late. 
Oh, had I sought the Lord in my youth, how much I might 
have enjoyed ! All you, my children, remember your Creator 
now — now — even to-day, and do not abuse his tender care 
and compassion," 

The last time I saw him alive, was two days before 
he died. He said, "I may live till to-morrow, but I wish 
you to read the 21st chapter of the Revelation, contain- 
ing the account of the holy city. I wish to hear that once 
more hefore I diey As soon as the reading was closed, he 
said with great earnestness, " Is not that worth living for 
seventy years in such pain and anguish as I now endure ? 
Yes, oh yes ; worth thousands and thousands of years of 
pain to obtain such an eternal inheritance." 

To the question, " Do you long to be gone ?" he an- 
swered, " Not till my work is done — not till my heavenly 
Father is ready." Just before he ceased to breathe, he was 
asked, "Do you know that you are going?" "Yes," he 
replied, " Christ is just at hand." 

Thus lived and thus died the " Infidel reclaimed." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



TXo. 332. 

THE SABBATH. 



Law of the State of New York, — " There shall be 
no shooting, hunting, fishing, sporting, playing, horse-racing, 
gaming, frequenting of tippling- houses, or any unlawful 
exercises or pastimes, on the first day of the week, called 
Sunday ; nor shall any person travel on that day, unless in 
cases of charity or necessity, or in going to or returning 
from some church or place of worship ; '^ ^ * * * nor 
shall there be any servile laboring or working on that day, 
excepting works of necessity and charity." 

Most, if not all the states in the Union have laws essen- 
tially agreeing with the above ; and this protection of the 
Sabbath has obviously grown out of the conviction of all 
intelligent legislators, that a holy day of rest, and the pub- 
lic worship of God, ''are," as the statutes of Vermont well 
express, " in the highest degree promotive of the peace, hap- 
piness, and prosperity of a people." 

Law of God. — ''Remember the Sabbath-day to keep 
it holy. Six da3^s shalt thou labor, and do all thy work ; 
but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord thy God : 
in it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy 
daughter, thy man-servant, nor thy maid-servant, nor thy 
cattle, nor thy stranger that is within thy gates ; 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." Exod. 20 : 8-11. 

Promise of God. — " 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 will cause 
thee to ride upon the high places of the earth, and feed 
thee Avith the heritage of Jacob thy father : for the mouth 
of the Lord hath spoken it." Tsa. 58; 13, 14. 

VOL. X. 2 



2 THE SABBATH. 

Learned men have abundantly shown, (particularly in a 
recent examination before the British House of Commons,) 
that the horse and ox live longer, perform a greater amount 
of service, and are every way more valuable to their owners, 
when allowed to rest one day in seven. 

The Sabbath-day of rest is necessary to the full devel- 
opment of our physical powers, and to the longest continu- 
ance of health. Careful examination at a public institution 
in London, employing above two thousand laborers, proved 
that more work was performed in a year, when the Sabbath 
was faithfully kept, than during the same amount of time, 
when the men were required to labor every day. Planters 
in the West Indies, not many years since, worked their 
slaves on the Sabbath, till they became satisfied that this 
practice was a pecuniary loss to them. It produced en- 
feebled constitutions and premature death. 

The Sabbath is one of the strongest safeguards of vir- 
tuous principle in the young : the more respectable and 
amiable virtues will be seen in families who reo-ard the 

o 

Lord's day ; while, on the other hand, it is well known, that 
children rarely honor their parents, or prove a blessing to 
their old age, unless taught to honor the Sabbath. 

Sabbath-breaking leaves the mind to be filled with dark 
and dangerous errors, in regard to God and religion. This 
sin often leads men far into scepticism, and, in many ways, 
tends to instability of character. 

Sabbath- breakers are generally found among the foul- 
mouthed and profane. 

It is believed that very few persons ever become licen- 
tious or drunken, until they are accustomed to desecrate 
the Lord's day. 

Sabbath-breaking and intemperance have produced near- 
ly all the crime committed in our land. In Connecticut 
state prison, ninety, out of one hundred convicts, had been 
habitual Sabbath-breakers : in Massachusetts state prison, 
one hundred and eighty-two, out of two hundred and fifty- 
six, vrere of the same character. Much the same state of 



THE .SAHBATH. 3 

things may be affirmed of Auburn, and probably of all our 
public penitentiaries. The testimony of magistrates also, so 
far as we have been able to learn, is, that those concerned 
in riots and assaults, are almost universally notorious Sab- 
bath-breakers. 

A gentleman, acquainted twenty-five years in New York 
city, says those merchants of his acquaintance who kept 
their counting-rooms open on the Sabbath, have failed, with 
scarcely an exception. 

History most clearly proves that every nation and com- 
munity has been prospered while it honored God's Sab- 
bath ; and that social order and the supremacy of law have 
not been maintained Avhere the Sabbath has been trampled 
on. Ancient Israel is a signal proof of this : the nations of 
Western Europe illustrate the same truth ; while the history 
of our own New England most conspicuously demonstrates 
the blessing of the Christian Sabbath. 

France attempted to destroy the Lord's day by public 
enactment, but brought such scenes of bloodshed and hor- 
ror upon itself, in consequence, that the Infidel authorities 
were compelled to restore the fourth commandment, and 
institute religious worship, to save the metropolis and king- 
dom from utter desolation. 

In the church immediately succeeding the apostolic age, 
pagan persecutors detected and exposed those who were 
disciples, by the question, Dominicum servasti ? *' Hast thou 
kept the Lord's day?" And the uniform answer of the 
believer is declared by a distinguished Roman governor to 
have been, "I am a Christian, I cannot omit it." 

Sabbath-breakers, so far as can be known, seldom attain 
that purity of heart and life which enables them to die in 
peace, or look forward with solid hope to a blessed immor- 
tality. 

To Citizens. — Freemen, will you not faithfully obey 
and maintain the ordinance of your own legislators respect- 
ing the Sabbath ? Can you be patriots or republicans while 
your example tends to bring into contempt any one of the 



4 THE SABBATH. 

laws of your own state? As you prize your liberties, be 
entreated to lend your whole influence in favor of the Chris- 
tian Sabbath : civil freedom and national prosperity cannot 
exist without it. 

To Parents. — Will you not, by precept and example, 
sanctify the Sabbath ? Its blessed influence is all needed 
in training your children : without it, you cannot educate 
them in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, nor can 
you have good hope of leaving them with fixed moral prin- 
ciple that shall carry them honorably through life. 

To Magistrates. — You have sworn to maintain the 
laws : will you, then, wink at profanations of the Lord's 
day, knowing that its protection is necessary to the mainte- 
nance of all the great interests of this republic ? Above all, 
will you break the Sabbath, and thus lay upon your soul 
the awful sin of violating your own oath ? 

To Business Men. — Be entreated to require your work- 
men, your mills, your boats, your shops, and your legers, 
to rest on the Sabbath. You will gain nothing substantial 
by violating this law of your country and your God. By 
desecrating the Lord's day, you peril every thing that can 
be dear. 

Finally, this little Tract addresses itself to every dying 
reader. Will you not henceforth " Remember the Sab- 
bath-day to keep it holy ?" It is an institution rich in mercy 
and blessing. O, turn not away from it ; thrust not from 
you its hallowed influences ; lest its slighted privileges 
weigh you down in deep anguish and woe, at the last, as 
you hear this word, "So I sware in my wrath, they shall 
not enter into my rest." Heb. 3 : 11. But, dear reader, 
love the Sabbath-day ; receive it with gratitude, with glad- 
ness, as the type and earnest of that Sabbath, sweet, unend- 
ing, glorious, which shall be to the people of God. Heb. 4 : 9. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



jVo. 333. 

MARKS 



OF 



RELIGIOUS DECLENSION. 



1 . When you are reluctant to religious conversation, and 
the company of serious, heavenly-minded Christians, and 
enjoy yourself best vvdth men of the vi^orld. 

2. When, from preference, you are absent from meetings 
for prayer, confine yourself to Sabbath meetings, are easily 
detained from them, and are ready to excuse such neglects. 

3. When you are afraid to consider certain duties se- 
riously, lest your conscience rebuke past neglect, and insist 
on fidelity now, 

4. When it is more your object, in doing duty, to pacify 
conscience, than to honor Christ, obtain spiritual profit, or 
do good to others. 

5. When you have an over- critical spirit respecting 
preaching ; are dissatisfied vi^ith the tiumjier, as inelegant, 
too plain, too intellectual, or not according to some favorite 
model ; or with the ^natter, as too doctrinal, or too precep- 
tive ; or when you complain of it as too close, or are suspi- 
cious of personality. 

6. When you are more afraid of being accounted strict, 
than of sinning agauist Christ by negligence in practice, and 
unfaithfulness " to your Lord and Master." 

7. When you have little fear of temptation, and can 
trifle with spiritual danger. 

8. When you thii-st for the complacency of men of the 
world, and are more anxious to know what they think or 
say of you, than whether you honor the Saviour in their 
sight. 

9. When scandals to religion are more the subject of 
your censure, than of your secret grieving and prayer before 
God, and faithful endeavors for their removal. 

VOL. X. 2* 



2 MARKS OF RELIGIOUS DECLENSION. 

1 . When you are more afraid to encounter the scorn of 
an offendmg man, by rebuking sin, than of offending God by 
silence. 

1 1 . When you are more bent on being rich than holy. 

12. When you cannot receive deserved reproof for faults, 
are unwilling to confess them, and justify yourself. 

13. When you are impatient and unforbearing tow^ards 
the frailties, misjudgments, and faults of others. 

14. When your reading of the Bible is formal, hasty, 
lesson-wise, or merely intellectual, and miattended with 
self-application ; or when you read almost any other book 
with more interest than the book of God. 

15. When you have more religion abroad than at home ; 
are apparently fervent when " seen of men," but languid 
when seen only in the family, or by God alone. 

16. When your religious taste is more for the new 
things of men, than for the old things of the treasury of 
God's word. 

17. When you call spiritual sloth and withdrawraent 
from Christian activity by the names of prudence and peace- 
ableness, while sinners are going to destruction, and the 
church suffering declension ; unmindful that prudence can be 
united with apostolic fidelity, and peaceableness with most 
anxious seeking of the salvation of souls. Also, 

18. When, because there is false zeal abroad, you will 
neither trust yourself, nor others, even in that " fervency in 
spirit, serving the Lord," which Paul taught and practised. 

19. When you are secretly more gratified at the falls of 
some professor of reUgion, than grieved for the wounds he 
inflicts upon Christ. 

20. When, under chastisement of Providence, you think 
more of your sufferings than your deserts, and look more 
for relief than purification from sin. 

21. When you confess, but do not forsake besetting sin. 

22. When you acknowledge, but still ^neglect duty. 

23. When, under slight temptations, you step across the 
strict, straight lines of the divine law ; doing improper 



MARKS OF RELIGIOUS DECLENSION. 3 

things on the Sabbath ; not being exactly just in business 
transactions ; swerving from strict veracity ; and do such 
things without much shrinking of conscience. 

24. When your cheerfulness has more of the levity of the 
unregenerate, than of the holy joy of a son of God. 

25. When you live so little like a Christian, that you are 
embarrassed and ashamed in attempting religious duties. 

26. When you say in yourself, of this or that mi, "Is it 
not a little one?" "the Lord pardon thy servant in this 
thing ;" and think so lightly of sins called small, that you 
are not disturbed respecting great ones ; when, also, you 
laugh at sins in others, instead of reproving them, and 
mourning before God. 

27. When the liahit of neglecting duty is plead as an 
excuse, instead of an aggravation, and a reason for penitence. 

28. When you have so many worldly plans, and please 
yourself so much with success, that you are unwilling or 
afraid to think of death ; and m your daily manner of living 
say, " I would live here always." 

29. When you think more of being saved by Christ, than 
of serving Christ ; more of security of heaven, than of de- 
liverance from sin, saving dying men, and honoring God. 

30. When you shut your eyes from self-examination, for 
fear of what you shall find in yourself to alarm you and 
shake your hope, 

3 1 . ^Tien you lean on the opinion of others that you 
are a Christian, instead of faithfully searching your heart 
and life, and comparing them with the " sure word." 

32. When you speak more frequently of declension in 
the church, than in your own heart ; or talk of both more 
than you mourn and pray before God, and labor for a better 
state of things. 

33. When the worldly spirit, savor, and cares of the 
week follow you farther into the Sabbath, than the spirit 
and savor of the Sabbath follow you into the week. 

34. When you are easily induced to make your duty as 
a Chi'istian bend to your icorldly interest. 



4 MARKS OF RELIGIOUS DECLENSION. 

35. When you can be in frequent association with men 
of the world, without solicitude lest they do your soul hurt, 
or you do theirs no good, or both. 

36. When, in your thoughts, reading, or conversation on 
religious subjects, your clearness of head, ingenuity, and 
justness of conclusions, outgo your spirituality, and heartiness, 
and love to Christ and his Gospel. 

37. When your orthodoxy is the most or all there is 
which is right in you ; and when you contend more about 
its positions, than you strive for holiness. 

38. When your zeal, instead of being " according to 
knowledge," is according to your pride and prejudice; and 
you are more occupied in censuring the coldness of others, 
than in aflectionate endeavors to persuade them to do their 
duty, and quietly and humbly to do your own. 

39. When your activity in religion depends upon the 
excitement of occasions, instead of being the fruit of steady, 
spiritual-minded, disinterested principle ; and when you take 
more delight in the bustle of outward and popular religious 
movements, than in secret communion with God, and in 
duties in which you are retired from the notice of men. 

40. When you think more of " the mote in your brother's 
eye," than of the "beam in your own." 

41. When you find it difficult to tell wherein you are 
essentially different, as to your state of heart and habits of 
life, from what you were before you professed to be a Chris- 
tian. 

Declining professor of religion, will you use these pages 
as a help to self-examination, that you may know yourself 
and your state. " Be not deceived, God is not mocked ; for 
whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap." " Be 
watchful, and strengthen the things that remain and are 
ready to die ; for I have not found thy works perfect before 
God." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



]¥o. 354. 



THE 



MOTHER'S LAST PRAYER; 

OR, 

GEORGE VINING. 

A NARRATIVE OF FACTS. 



In the year 1Y92, I was called to the pastoral charge 
of a congregation of new settlers who had removed from 

the vicinity of Boston, and located themselves at P , on 

the Green Mountains, in the same state. Some of them 
had sat under preaching far from evangelical, but their 
common hardships constituted a bond of union ; and as soon 
as they had made an opening in the forest, and provided a 
shelter for their families, they united without a dissenting 
voice to secure the public ordinances of the Gospel. It was 
an interesting scene when they assembled, at the earliest 
dawn of day, to raise the heavy timbers for a house of wor- 
ship. I believe that every male inhabitant of the district 
was present, and the stillness of night yet reigned when I 
was called to lead them in invoking the blessing of God. 

No people were ever apparently more harmonious ; yet 
I soon discovered, in a number of individuals, a decided hos- 
tility to the humbling doctrines of the Gospel. Among 
these was George Vining, who, at the time of my settle- 
ment, Avas thirty- eight years of age. He had been early 
left an orphan ; at eight was placed as an apprentice in an 
irreligious family ; was married at twenty- two ; and then 
sat for thirteen years under preaching which inculcated a 
good moral life as the ground of acceptance with God. 

He was eminently a self-made man. His mind was 
vigorous and independent ; his thoughts original, and often 
expressed with surprising terseness and force. His mind 



2 THE MOTHER'S I.AST PRAYER. 

was metal i7i the ore. For fifteen years he was one of the 
, most attentive hearers I addressed ; but it was only to parry 
every argument and reject every truth that conflicted with 
his system of salvation. 

The Holy Spirit converted many around him, and among 
them the wife of his bosom ; but the only visible effect on 
him was to render him more decided in defending his own 
opinions. She has told me, that on returning from public 
worship, she always dreaded to take a seat with him on the 
horse, which was their only conveyance, as he failed not to 
go home quarrelling with the truths he had heard ; and 
what was worse, to vent his bitterness against them in the 
presence of his family of six sons and five daughters, all of 
whom were far from God. If his wife uttered a word in 
their defence, his a,uthoritative tone would silence her, and 
thus secure the argument. 

He indulged himself in like manner in the circle at the 
public-house, whither he loved to repair from the labors of 
his farm, to exchange horses, and mingle his social feelings 
as the glass passed briskly ; and where his loud voice, his 
ready wit, and his bitter thrusts at vital religion, gave him 
a sad prefiminence. 

The town is intersected by a small river, with long and 
steep acclivities on either side, spreading out, as they recede, 
into beautiful table-lands gradually ascending, bringing a 
large part of the farms and dwellings of the inhabitants in 
full view of each other, and presenting, in distant prospect, 
the spires of a number of neighboring churches. Vining's 
residence was on the opposite side of the gulf, about two 
miles from my own, and as some of my shade-trees excluded 
the public-house from his view, he rudely but honestly 
requested their removal. That public-house was his para- 
dise, where the native brilliancy of his mind sparkled and 
was admired. Often, as I sat in my study on Saturday 
evening, endeavoring to prepare my mind and heart for the 
Lord's day, have I heard the rude trampling of horses pass- 
ing rapidly by, as the group dispersed, and recognized Vin- 
ing's voice drowning that of his companions, and perhaps 
convulsincr them with lauw'hter. 

Yet on the following morning he would be early at the 
house of God, and always listen with attention. Not un- 
frequently he would call on me, perhaps abruptly com- 



THE MOTHER'S LAST PRAYER. 3 

mencing his interview by saying, " Well, Mr. H , I like 

you as a man, but I don't like your preaching. I don't 
believe the heart is depraved, as you represent it ; I suppose 
you think what you preach is true, but I don't." 

He would then sit down and debate the point, often with 
much shrewdness, till, feeling that enough had been said, 
and seeming to have an instinctive apprehension of the value 
of a minister's time, he would rise, seize his hat, kindly bid 
me farewell, and in an instant would be gone. 

In one of these visits, when his mind had become intent 
on the arguments for and against the doctrines of the cross, 
he broke out in a loud, half-ironical tone, with a shrewd 
glance of the eye, as if he were condescending to our relig- 
ious weakness, and with astonishing recklessness of feeling, 
" Well, perhaps I shall come over yet. They say — I know 
nothing about it — but they say my mother died when I was 

TWO WEEKS OLD, AND JUST BEFORE SHE BREATHED HER LAST, 
SHE TOOK ME IN HER ARMS AND BLESSED ME, AND GAVE ME 

UP TO God !" 

"Mr. Vining may yet be brought in," said my now de- 
parted wife when he was gone, with a breaking heart, and 
hoping against hope : " God is a prayer-hearing God, and 
that mother's last prayer may yet be answered." 

He had now been hardening in sin more than fifty years. 
His oldest son had left the paternal roof, and apparently 
inheriting all his father's faults, with little of his stability 
of character, changed from one object to another, till he 
located himself in D , Vermont, on the borders of Can- 
ada, and engaged in the traffic of lumber. With the minis- 
trations of the sanctuary, he had taken leave of the Bible ; 
the Sabbath he profaned by business or amusement ; and 
he loved the exhilaration of the festive bowl. 

But a prayer-hearing God had his purposes of mercy, 
and was not straitened in his means of fulfilling them. 
Through the example and influence of a pious lady, an 
impression was made on his mind that religion is a reality, 
and that he must be " horn again,'" or perish. He struggled 
to conceal his alarm ; obtained some fragments of a Bible, 
studied them in secret, and soon saw clearly that he was 
ruined by sin, that there was no hope but in Christ, and 
was brought humbly to accept of his mercy. His thoughts 
quicklv reverted to his obdurate father and his almost dis- 



4 THE MOTHER'S LAST PRAYER. 

consolate mother ; and without delay he wrote them all the 
feelings of his heart. 

The father soon called on me, saying, with his charac- 
teristic frankness, and with unusual apparent seriousness, 

*' Mr. H , we have received a most surprising letter from 

my son F . He is up there in the wilderness, with no 

means of grace, and thinks he is converted ; and it is unac- 
countable to me that, ignorant as he was about religion, he 
tells the same story that you do. I confess, it looks some 
like being taught by 'one and the same Spirit.' " 

It was not long before this son visited his parents. His 
heart was full, and he related to the listening family what 
he had experienced ; ascribing it all to the sovereign mercy 
of God, who had opened his blind eyes, showed him his sin 
and danger, and led him to the Saviour. 

As he unfolded God's dealings with him, a conflict 
words cannot describe agitated his mother's heart. To 
hear such language from his lips was indeed " life from the 
dead ;" but at every new disclosure she trembled, lest her 
husband should break out in wrath against the hated truths 
he uttered, denouncing the whole as fanaticism, and vindi- 
cate, with increased obstinacy, his cherished errors. The 
depravity of the human heart, the sovereignty of the divine 
purposes, dependence on the Holy Spirit, and salvation 
solely through the efficacy of atoning blood, were doctrines 
with which he had been at war ever since he came to years 
of discretion. But he heard in silence the whole narration 
of his son, and then only added, with much seriousness, " / 
do not hnoiv hut these things are so." 

He was soon again at my house, related all his son had 
said, and with a solemnity and tenderness I had never ob- 
served before, added, " If these things are so, all my hopes 
are without foundation." 

A few evenings afterwards he accompanied his wife to 
the residence of one of his daughters who had recently 
married, but the great subject of salvation so pressed upon 
his heart, that he could not be induced to take a mouthful 
of the plain refreshment provided. " Mr. Vining," said the 
wife of his pastor to him on this occasion, " how greatly 
should we rejoice to have you submit to Christ. Not only 
would your own soul be saved, but you might then be a 
blessing to your family and the church of God. If you 



THE MOTHER'S LAST PRAYER. 5 

live and die as you are, you will be no substantial benefit 
to either, but must spend an eternity in misery." 

Those words, he afterwards said, sunk into his heart. 
That night he scarcely closed his eyes. His long- cherished 
views of the method of salvation appeared baseless as a 
dream. He saw he must have light from the Bible, and aid 
from the Holy Spirit, or perish. He was dumb in his op- 
position to the doctrines of the cross, and felt that he needed 
unmerited mercy. He came to me again and again. " / 
noiv see," said he, " what neither you nor all other ministers 
could have convinced me of, that I am totally deinaved.'" 

He saw that God would be just in his condemnation, 
but his heart rose against that justice. All his former refu- 
ges failed. He felt that he was sinking, and needed some 
deliverer ; yet all we could do was unavailing to bring him 
to accept of Christ. At every religious meeting he would 
be present, borne down with the weight of his sins. He 
had cherished them for half a century, and cherished his 
unbelief. He wondered that the patience of God had not 
long since been exhausted, and saw not but he must lie 
down in eternal sorrow. In the interval of public worship, 
he was one of many who came to my house to spend the 
hour in religious conversation and prayer. " How are you, 
to-day, Mr. Vining?" said one very tenderly. "He hath 
hedged me about, that I cannot get out ; he hath made my 
chain heav}'," was his only reply, and in tones that indicated 
the crushing weight of a burden whicli God only could remove. 

Another Sabbath arrived before he would yield the 
contest with his Maker. A discourse that day on the judg- 
ment, he said, " was the first sermon I ever heard ; I saw 
myself at the bar of God, with my sins all before me. A 
lie that I told when a child, and which I had not thought 
of /or iliirty years, came as fresh to my memory as if it had 
been yesterday. My whole life appeared filled up Avith sin 
against a holy God. I saw there was nothing in me but 
sin — that God's law condemned me to the lowest hell, and 
that it was just. God then appeared to be as glorious in 
\)Ss> justice as in his mercy. 

"At evening," he continued, "as I approached the pray- 
er-meeting, I heard them singing, from the 119th Psalm, 

' My soul lies cleaving to the dust — 
Lord, g-ive me life divine.' 
VOL. X. 3 



^ THE MOTHER'S LAST PRAYER. 

The feelings of my heart, as those precious words fell on 
my ear, T can never describe ; they reached my inmost 
soul. Never did I hear music so melodious, like one of 
the songs of heaven. I saw that I was vile, but that in 
Christ there was an ocean of love and mercy. I saw he 
justly claimed all my heart, and I wished to give him all. 
I wanted an eternity and angelic powers to praise him, I 
wondered that there could be a rebel on earth unmoved by 
his love and his glorious perfections, and longed that he 
should be honored and praised by every child of Adam." 

The whole subsequent life of Mr. Vining showed that 
the change was real. He pubhcly professed Christ by 
uniting with the church, and became not only an attentive, 
but a spiritual worshipper. The idle group at the public- 
house was deserted, and his delight was in the company of 
the devout. He loved prayer, and for many years was the 
principal supporter of regular weekly prayer-meetings in 
his neicrhborhood. He was a fearless and decided Chris- 
tian. Much of the native roughness of his character re- 
mained, but a life of consistent piety gave unquestionable 
evidence that he had *' been horn again.'' 

Two or three traits in his character deserve special 
notice. One of these was. 

His study of the Bible. As he had few or no helps in 
commentaries, he brought his own powers more diligently 
and prayerfully to the work of " comparing Scripture with 
Scripture," and thus understanding its spiritual import ; and 
it became to him an exhaustless fountain at once of enter- 
tainment and of religious knowledge. Almost from Sab- 
bath to Sabbath he came to me in the interval of worship, 
as an humble inquirer for light on some portion of the in- 
spired word. With an adroitness peculiar to himself, he 
would almost break into my study, (where he knew he was 
Avelcome,) instantly propose his inquiry, and as suddenly 
depart. 

There was always pertinency in his inquiries, and his 
original thoughts and childlike docility often quickened my 
ideas of truth, and warmed and animated my heart. 

Another subject that continually pressed sore upon him, 
was the unhappy infiuence he had, before his conversion, 
exerted upon others, and especially upon his children. He 
did not doubt divine forgriveness, but feared souls were 



THE MOTHER'S LAST PRAYER. 7 

already lost, and others pressing their way irreclaimably to 
perdition, through his ungodly example and influence ; and 
he could not cease to mourn over the consequences of his 
guilt. Never did he speak to me of his neglect of his chil- 
dren without tears. 

" I neither prayed," said he, " with them nor for them. 
I long for the privilege of consecrating them to God from 
their earliest existence, and training them in . infancy and 
childhood to fear him ; but most of them are out of my 
reach. Some are heads of families, some are far away, and 
one is dead." 

Equally did he reproach himself for his unceasing con- 
tention with the truth. "I depended for salvation," said 
he, *' upon my Pharisaic religion of a moral life, and I had 
not even that." 

He was also intent on redeeming the time. On one 
occasion, when a heavy rain had fallen on a deep snow 
towards the close of Avinter, and rendered the roads almost 
utterly impassable, some one unexpectedly knocked at my 
door — it was Vining, wet as if he had been wading a river. 
He had come two miles on foot, descending and climbing 
the long hills : his hard countenance expressed the deepest 
emotion — his lips trembled, and the bursting of his heart 
almost prevented utterance. 

"I want," said he, " Mr. H , that you should 'come 

over into Macedonia and help us.' The Spirit of the Lord, 
I am sure, is among us. We had a very solemn meeting 
last evening. A number of persons seem deeply anxious 
for their salvation, and two or three are indulging hope." 

This hardened sinner, who for more than fifteen years 
had been my grief, was now for nearly an equal period my 
consolation, support, and joy in the ministry — "my helper 
in Christ Jesus." And in his death, which occurred April 
8, 1822, at the age of 67, he exhibited that calm resigna- 
tion and that blessed peace and hope which the Gospel 
inspires. 

Reader, mark, in the above faithful and unadorned 
narrative of facts, the display of God's boundless grace, and 
the necessity and reality of the new birth. Had you seen 
Vining one year before his conversion, you would have said 
he was among the most hopeless of men. But " the blood 
of Jesus Christ," that blood which he long persisted in 



8 THE MOTHER'S LAST PRAYER. 

rejecting, applied through the sanctifying influences of the 
-Holy Spirit, " cleanseth from all sin." 

Observe also how God miswers grayer, and by what a 
train of distant and apparently unconnected events, he can 
fulfil his merciful designs. Perhaps this Tract has fallen 
into the hands of a mother^ who trembles lest she shall train 
up children for perdition. All we know of Vining's mother 
is the simple record, " Just before she breathed her last, she 
took me in her arms and blessed me, and gave me up to God.''^ 
That mother's last prayer reached over an ungodly life 
of half a century. It was not forgotten of God. He met 
the wandering, reckless grandson in the wilderness, and 
through him reached and subdued the hardened heart of 
the son, grown old in rebellion and prejudice. Give me 
poverty, chain me in the dungeon, bind me to the mar- 
tyr's stake, but deny me not the prayers of a godly mMher. 

Is any one so dead to every tender and moving consid- 
eration as to DELAY REPENTANCE bccause Vining at last 
found mercy ? Will you, as he did, provoke God's Avrath, 
and hazard the rejection of Christ, till your sins rise up like 
mountains between your soul and heaven ? Beware, be- 
ware, lest God, who glorified his grace in rescuing him, 
glorify his justice in condemning you. Even now you may 
be "grieving the Holy Spirit." He may be ready to de- 
part, and you "find no place for repentance." One hour's 
delay is at your peril. Noiv God invites you — now the 
bleeding Saviour claims your whole heart. Will you thrust 
him away ? Can you dehberately postpone a matter of such 
amazing interest ? Remember, that while one hardened 
sinner of fifty years has found mercy, thousands have per- 
sisted in iniquity, and perished for ever ! 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



IVo. 355. 

THE 



RINGLEADER. 



AN AUTHENTIC NARRATIVE. 



It is well known to those who are acquainted with 

college, that a ringleader is regularly chosen from each senior 
class. There are some little formalities on the occasion, such 
as a short speech, and the presentation of a club, which has 
been handed down through successive generations, and which 
is the badge of his official station. 

The selection of a ringleader is made with a view to 
strength and muscular activity, and has no particular refer- 
ence to scholarship or genius. It sometimes happens that 
the choice — as in the case of which I shall speak — falls on 
one who possesses a happy combination of both mental and 
bodily vigor. It is expected that the ringleader will head 
his fellow-students in any affray, offensive or defensive, in 
which their honor or persons may be in danger. 

I make these remarks merely to introduce S C , 

who was unanimously chosen to the above office by the 
suffrages of his classmates. Never was there a more pop- 
ular selection. One would not imagine, at first sight, that 
so much muscular power dwelt in such a frame. He was 
rather above the middle size, thin, and very erect, his head 
thrown so far back as almost to be out of the line of his 
body ; and his gait was characterized by a remarkable bold- 
ness and freedom. His countenance bespoke his character. 

It Avas open as the day. It seemed to beruvi with courage 
VOL. X. 3*- 



2 THE RINGLEADER. 

and generosity. The light of genius was visible also in his 
small but piercing eye, which harmonized perfectly with a 

fine aquihne nose. Such was S C in person, as I 

first knew him. 

As to his mind, it was like his form, partaking both of 
strength and freedom. He was a good scholar without any 
great effort ; for he had a singular quickness of perception, 
and more than common genius. The book which he read 
most was Shakspeare ; and his principal study seemed to 
be the human mind and heart, as developed in himself and 
others. He had a style of manners peculiarly his own : 
all was nature, but it was nature on a chivalrous and gen- 
erous scale. He was as incapable of meanness as any 
human being I ever saw. He loved society, and was the 
centre of attraction in every circle. But he was accustomed 
also to solitude ; and seemed fond of roaming alone in the 
still, deep woods, conversing with his own reflections, and 
gathering images and ideas fresh from the storehouse of na- 
ture. He had a soul whose emotions were deep — intensely 
deep. Indeed, no ordinary mind could fully sympathize with 
his. On a subject which interested him, he would launch 
forth in strains the most energetic and eloquent, until every 
muscle would speak, and his beaming, often tearful eye, 
would tell you what was passing within. He was, in fact, 
the idol of his class. If any felt envy, it was not towards 
him. All conceded to his fine muscular proportions of 

body and mind. It should be stated, however, that S 

C was not so remarkable for a talent at fine writing as 

for an eloquent style of conversation. His soul had too 
much emotion, and the current of his ideas was too impetu- 
ous for the deliberation of writing ; but who that ever heard 
him converse was not reminded of the richness and copious- 
ness of a Johnson or a Burke ? 

But was this man a Christian ? Ah, reader, this is a 



THE RINGLEADER. 3 

question which the sequel will unfold. He was not at the 
time I am speaking of — no, he was apparently the farthest 
from it. Only think of his situation. He knew religion 
but at a distance, and could scarcely catch the outline of 
her fair proportions. His Shakspeare was his Bible. His 
companions were the gay, the thoughtless, even the scorner 
of religion. Between him and the pious stood a circle of 
proud-spirited, and, in many instances, dissipated compan- 
ions, who echoed every sentiment he uttered, and were ready 
to swear, that as he was the strongest, so also was he the 
noblest fellow they ever knew. See what an influence 
girded him about. How, I may almost ask, was it possible 
for the ringleader to bow at the feet of Jesus ? But with 
God all things are possible ; and let no man despair of the 
conversion of his fellow-man, so long as God holds the 
heart in his hand. 

S C was not forgotten by the pious, if he 

overlooked or even despised them. Said they, " What a 
pity such a man and such a mind should be lost to the cause 
of God." *' 0, if those native traits were but consecrated 
to Jesus, what a minister would they embody." "Let us 
pray for him ;" and they did sincerely, and, as I shall show, 
effectually. " The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous 
man availeth much," Let Christians select particular per- 
sons as subjects of prayer, and persevere until God answers 
them ; for he "that converteth the sinner from the error of 
his way, shall save a soul from death." 

It pleased God, in the senior year of S C , to 

visit the college with the special influences of the Holy 
Spirit. Well do I remember the scene. The whole col- 
lege inclosure was solemn as the threshold of eternity. One 
and another of the pious students were seen weeping and 
at prayer, until deep feeling, religious feeling, as I verily 
believe, pervaded the little church. All took knowledge 



THE RINGLEADER. 



of it, from the president to the lowest member of the insti- 
tution ; and each was ready to admit that an invisible but 
powerful influence was stealing over the mind. At many a 
pious student's door was heard the gentle tap for admit- 
tance, even at the midnight hour ; and when opened, some 
poor wanderer presented himself in tears, and begged to 
know what he must do to be saved. The number of the 
convicted multiplied rapidly, and ever and anon were seen 
the eyes of a liberated soul glistening with the emotions of 
new-born hope. 0, it was a blessed season. Let the infi- 
del deride and call us fanatics ; let the formahst pronounce 
it folly ; but we will remember the days of the right hand 
of the Most High. Return, God, and renew these visits 
of thy mercy. Here were not the weak-minded to be duped 
with what scoffers term the "incantations of the priests;" 
no: God was moving on minds of a high order — choice 
spirits, who are now wielding influences which are felt in 
the four quarters of the globe. Away, then, with that low 
infidel sneer which says that " none but the weak-minded 
are aftected by revivals." 

But where was S C all this while ? Reader, 

he was in the hearts and in the prayers of the pious ; but 
as yet he was not converted. He saw what was going on. 
Indeed, how could he fail to see it, for it invaded his own 
circle ; and, smitten by the Spirit of God, some left him and 

his gay companions to their mirth. S C was ill 

at ease. Conscience was at work ; but there was a des- 
perate struggle to put it to silence. He was more reckless, 
apparently, than ever. His voice was louder, and his feats 
of strength and agility elicited great applause. He seemed 
determined to stand out against all that was serious, and to 
show that he and his party were not to be subdued even by 
God himself. But Christians had him in their eye. They 
felt for him, and prayed for him. Their dependence was 



THE RINGLEADER. 5 

on God. They knew that if this strong pillar fell, the 
sound of it would shake the whole college. Some, who 
watched him narrowly, discovered in his very efforts against 
seriousness an incipient movement of soul. They expressed 
their belief. Prayer was unceasingly made for him. Jt 
was soon evident that there was something strange in his 
appearance and conduct. He was seen at times alone and 
downcast. the struggle which his proud spirit under- 
went. None can know it who have not themselves /i??^ it. 
" What, I become a Christian ! /, who am the ringleader, 
the centre of attraction to so many gay and careless spirits !" 
Then, as we may suppose, would he dash the thought 
away, and brace himself anew against the impression. 

But the strong man armed was not too strong for God. 
Conviction, dark and dreadful, did roll in upon that soul. 
It unmanned him. It made him a child. But, as a last 
desperate effort at concealment, he asked leave of the pres- 
ident to go home. He could not state the reason ; it was 
of a private nature. Leave was granted, and the con- 
science-smitten man is seen taking his seat in the carriage 
which is to convey him to his native village. So clandes- 
tinely did he go, that the inquiry was everywhere, *' What 

has become of S C ?" But none could say why 

he had gone, nor where. 

But who can escape from God ? *' If we ascend up to 
heaven, he is there ; and if we make our bed in hell, behold, 
he is there." What his thoughts were in the stage-coach 
none can tell. We may imagine, however. Reader, they 
were probably what yours will be, if you attempt, by change 
of place, to get away from the convictions of the Holy 

Spirit. S C is roused from his reflections by the 

sight of his home. Now, thought he, I shall be able to 
shake off these desponding thoughts. As the vehicle rolled 
along the street, his eye fell upon a group of his former 



6 THE RINGLEADER. 

companions. They were moving slowly, as if towards a 
given point, and he thought their countenances wore an 
unusual expression of solemnity. What can this mean ? He 
stops and inquires. *' 0," said they, "there is a great 
revival of religion here ; and we are going to hear the Rev. 
Mr. preach." The intelligence went like a thunder- 
bolt to his heart. It seemed as if an angel, as in the case 
of Balaam, stood with a drawn sword athwart his path. 
His convictions were awfully accumulated. He prostrated 
himself before God and cried for mercy. His heart melted. 
He was humbled. The Saviour lifted him up ; and soon 
he began to speak the language of a Christian. See him 
now, reader, a new man. Like Saul of Tarsus, he was 
smitten, and his eyes are opened. 

Immediately S C bethought himself of college 

and college-mates. He prepares to return. Another day 
finds him where he was wont to be ; but how changed. 
Surely, as he approached the venerable pile, and those 
almost enchanting grounds, they must have worn a richer 
hue of loveliness to his reillumined vision. He was a man 
to feel such things ; yes, he felt them intensely. 

There was, of course, great joy at his return ; but it was 
partially subdued by the unwonted sweetness of his expres- 
sive countenance. The image of Jesus was visible there, 
and gay companions looked and wondered. He shook them 
cordially by the hand, and told them he had a story to tell 
them that evening, and they must meet him at a certain 
hour. All was eager expectation. The room was crowded. 
Good and bad hurried to the spot. The stillness of death 
pervaded the assembly. Every eye was intent, and every 
ear open. Methinks I can see him rising in that assembly 
with almost angelic expression — an expression which told 
us what was coming. But, for a moment, the heart was 
too full ; it would not allow the speaker utterance. At 



THE RINGLEADER. 7 

length he broke the silence and declared the whole story 
from the beginning. But who can describe it ? What lan- 
guage ! It seemed borrowed from the upper world. What 
a countenance. What an effect. All felt that night, if 
they never felt before ; and tears came from eyes not accus- 
tomed to weep. 

From this time forth, the leader in sports became a 
leader in the Avork of his Master. This noble person — 
these engaging manners — this chivalrous spirit — this brill- 
iant genius, were all laid at the foot of the cross. The 

conversion of S C was a means, under God, of 

giving new impulse to the revival. Many, when they saw 
his case, said, "Surely, this is the finger of God." Often 
have I seen him in the recitation-room, surrounded by his 
fellow- students — with just space enough in the centre for 
him to stand — addressing them in language pointed, affect- 
ing, and onginal, pleading with streaming eyes that they 
would repent. Once, after describing, in terms most pen- 
etrating, the sufferings of Christ, he paused, raised both 
hands, and with an energy peculiar to himself, and in a sub- 
dued tone, exclaimed, " Can you look at all this, and not feel 
a generous indignation at your sins?" 

Reader, here is a great change. This man was once far 
from God, as far, apparently, as he could get from him. 
Now he is brought nigh. His whole course, for time and 
for eternity, is changed. He is all absorbed in urging sin- 
ners to repentance. He is full of the love of Christ. He 
wants every one to drink at the same fountain, and to rest 
on the same foundation. Does not the question occur to 
you, has this change ever passed upon my soul ? This we 
call conversion — regeneration — the new birth, without which 
Christ has said no man can "see the kino-dom of God." 
Here you see it e.xemplified. There is nothing abstract 
here ; nothing that you cannot perfect! v understand. You 



8 THE RINGLEADER. 

see what religion did for this man ; and you may hence 
infer what it must do for you, or you are lost. Have you 
ever been thus exercised, thus humbled, thus changed ? 
Have you turned, as he did, with full purpose of heart, from 
the world, from wicked companions, and given yourself to 
God? 

Is there not something of reality in religion ? Look at 
this case and say. It is the honest truth which I have 
related. The happy individual is gone to eternity. He 
died young. He had just girded himself for the conflict. 
He had breathed his vows to God in the ministry, but he 
was destined to serve his Saviour in a higher sphere of 
action. He went to his reward Avith the lano^uage of tri- 
umph on his lips. 

But how is it with you, my reader ? Have you the 
same blessed hope? Can you look forward to the same 
triumphant departure. This Tract comes to tell you, in 
the light of the above example, what you must, by God's 
grace, become, or be for ever undone. It comes to ask you 
if you are not a sinner. Is not thy heart polluted ? And 
can such a heart go unchanged to heaven ? no ; nothing- 
unclean can ever enter there. It must, in a Saviour's blood, 
be washed from its pollution, or in eternity it will be *' filthy 

still." Go then, at once, where S C went, into 

the dust before God. Fall before him and say, " Father, I 
have sinned." Fly to the cross, for God will be reconciled 
nowhere else. He will meet you in peace on Calvary, but 
nowhere else. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



]¥o. 356. 

THE ACT OE FAITH. 

" BELIEVE ON THE LORD JESUS CHRIST, AND THOU SHALT BE 
SAVED."— Acts 16: 31. 

I ONCE saw a lad on the roof of a very high building, 
where several men were at work. He was gazing about, 
with apparent unconcern, when suddenly his foot slipped, 
and he fell. In falling he caught by a rope, and hung sus- 
pended in mid- air, where he could get neither up nor down, 
and where it was evident he could sustain himself but a 
short time. He perfectly knew his situation, and expected 
that, in a few moments, he must drop upon the rocks below, 
and be dashed to pieces. 

At this fearful moment, a kind and powerful man rushed 
out of the house, and standing beneath him with extended 
arms, called out, " Let go the rope, and I will receive you. 
I can do it. Let go the rope, and I promise you shall es- 
cape unharmed." 

The boy hesitated a moment, and then quit his hold, and 
dropped easily and safely into the arms of his deliverer. 

Here, thought I, is an illustration of faith. Here is a 
simple act of faith. The boy was sensible of his danger. 
He saw his deliverer, and heard his voice. He believed in 
him, trusted to him, and, letting go every other depend- 
ence and hope, dropped into his arms. 

So must a sinner distinctly apprehend his guilt and his 
awful ex'posure by nature. He must know where he is, and 
what he needs, before he will apply to Christ for help. He 
must see distinctly, that he is a sinner — a transgressor of 
God's law, and a rebel against his throne. He must see 
that he has incurred the sentence of the law ; that it is a 
just sentence, and that he is liable every moment to sink 
and perish under it. He must see that, so far as his own 
efforts are concerned, there is no possibility of escape. He 
cannot pay the debt he has contracted, nor c;tn he, in any 
way, diminish it a farthing. He can make no amends, no 
expiation, for his past sins. The long catalogue of his trans- 
gressions stands arrayed against him ; and for aught he 
can do, there it must stand. The sentence of the law has 
been passed upon him, and for aught he can do, it must be 
P, — &pp edily executed ; and if it is executed, it will sink him for 
VOL. X. 4 



2 THE ACT OF FAITH. 

ever ; for this sentence is no other than eternal death : 
" eternal destruction from the presence of the Lord, and 
from the glory of his power." 2 Thess. 1:9. In this aw- 
fully exposed, and, so far as he is concerned, helpless and 
hopeless condition, he must see himself, before he will con- 
sent to drop into the arms of the Saviour, and accept de- 
liverance on the conditions of the Gospel. 

And he must see more than this. He must see lulio the 
Saviour is, and what he has done, and what is his ability 
and readiness to save. Suppose the boy, suspended by the 
rope, had seen another little boy like himself come out of 
the house and stretch his weak arms, and call upon him to 
trust to him for deliverance. He would have cried out at 
once, " You cannot save me. Get out of the way, or I shall 
fall and crush myself and you." Just so the convicted sin- 
ner feels, when invited to put his trust in a man like him- 
self. " A mere human deliverer 1" he exclaims — " do you 
mean to mock me ? What can such a deliverer do for a 
wretch like me ? What can he do with those mountains of 
guilt which are pressing upon me, and with that deathless 
worm which is gnawing within me ? What can he do with 
the dreadful sentence of the law which hangs over me, and 
with the devouring flames which are kindled to consume 
me ?" The sinner feels now that he needs a divine Saviour 
— an almighty Saviour — one who is able to " save to the 
uttermost" — one whose *' blood cleanseth from all sin." 
He feels that no other Saviour can meet the fearful exi- 
gencies of his case, or can ever do him any good. And 
when he looks into the Bible, and finds that just such a 
Saviour is provided and freely offered ; when he finds that 
he is a holy Saviour, -svhose word is truth — a glorious Sa- 
viour, altogether deserving his confidence and love ; when, 
with the eye of faith, he sees this Saviour standing beneath 
him, and extending his mighty arms to receive him, and 
calling out to him to let go all his false dependencies and 
hopes, and drop at once into his faithful hands : what should 
prevent him from doing it — from simply putting forth the act 
of faith, and falling into the kind and gracious arms of his De- 
liverer ? He obviously has all the knowledge and conviction 
that are necessary, and he has only now to believe in Christ, 
to trust to him, to fall into his embrace, and live for ever. 

But suppose a man. while hanging, as it were,, over the 



THE ACT OF FAITH. 



jaws of death, begins to doubt the ability or the readiness of 
Christ to save. Suppose he begins to reason with himself, 
*' My soul is of great vahie, and the difficulties in the way 
of my salvation are great. How do I know that this Jesus 
can save me — that he can cleanse such a polluted heart, 
and rescue such a vile and guilty sinner ? Or if he can, how 
do I know that he will ? He may not be sincere in his of- 
fers. It may be, he only intends to trifle with my misery." 
Would not this be a high affront and indignity offered to 
the benevolent Saviour? Would it not provoke him soon 
to withdraw his gracious hand, and say, "Well, sinner, if 
you are determined not to be saved, then you must perish. 
If you will not trust in me, I can do nothing for you. You 
might have been delivered, if you had hearkened to my 
voice ; but now you must be cast off for ever." 

Or suppose that, Avhile the Saviour is crying, "Look 
unto me, and be ye saved," you should say, "/ am not 
worthy to come to Christ as I now am. I must Avait till I 
have done somethinof to recommend me to his regfards." 

CD O 

And suppose the Saviour should continue crying, " Come 
just as you are ; come in all your vileness, and be cleansed 
in the fountain of my blood ;" and you still hold back, and 
persist in the struggle, and hang upon the vain excuse ; 
might he not be expected soon to withdraw, and leave an 
unbelieving rebel to perish ? 

Or suppose you should say, ''How came / to be a sinner ? 
Why did Cod permit me to sin, or permit sin to come into 
the world?" Or, "How can I believe of myself? Is not 
faith the gift of God ? and until the gift is bestowed, what 
can I do but patiently to wait for it?" Or suppose you fly 
to the other extreme, and say, " I can believe and secure 
my salvation whenever I please ; I need be in no haste about 
it. I will put off the work till a more convenient season." 
Or suppose you allege that you are not yet enough con- 
victed ; have not had enough feeling, enough distress, to 
render it possible for you to come to Christ. Suppose you 
speculate and trifle, and think to throw off present obliga- 
tion in either of these ways ; what must be the feelings of 
the Saviour in regard to you ? Here the poor rebel hangs 
over the pit of destruction, ready to drop at once into the 
burning lake ; and here the Saviour stands in all his fulness, 
oftering to rescue him, and pleading with him to submit, and 



4 THE ACT OF FAITH. 

live ! What more likely method could he take to seal and 
secure his own destruction ? 

Suppose the boy suspended by the rope, instead of drop- 
ping into the arms extended to receive him, had insisted on 
tirst knowing how he came to fall — " How came my foot 
to slip, and 1 to make this fearful plunge ? Why did not the 
men on the roof take better care of me ?" Or suppose he 
had said, " I have no power to let go the rope. My hands 
are fast clenched upon it, and how can I open them of my- 
self ?" Or, " I can let go and be delivered at any time, and 
I choose to hang a little longer. Perhaps I have not yet 
had enough distress." Would he not be evidently beside 
himself? And yet such is the conduct of the great mass of 
sinners, and of serious, awakened sinners, under the Gospel. 

Reader, what is your state ? Are you yet in your sins ? 
Do you see your dreadful guilt and exposure ? And do you 
anxiously seek and inquire for deliverance ? If not, it will 
be in vain to direct you. You will not follow any direc- 
tions, if given. But if you see yourself to be all guilty and 
exposed ; if your feelings prompt you to inquire, with the 
trembling jailer, " Sirs, what must I do to be saved ?" then 
it is easy and pleasant to direct you, to point you to the 
compassionate Saviour. There he stands, with outstretch- 
ed arms, waiting to intercept your fall. Hear him calling. 
Hear him inviting. " Come, come, for all things are now 
ready." Sinner, yield to him. Yield at once. Do not doubt 
his ability to save you. Do not doubt the sincerity of his 
offers. Do not wait to make yourself better. Do not hesi- 
tate or speculate a moment. Remember, that the question 
before you is one of riffht and wrong ; and it is also one of 
salvation or destruction. You cannot delay without adding 
to your sin, and hazarding the interests of your immortal 
soul. Nov), then, is your time. Now, while you are read- 
ing and pondering these lines — now, while the pressure of ob- 
ligation is strong upon you, let go, at once, every other depend- 
ence, and fall into the arms of your all-powerful Deliverer. 

"Here, Lord, I give myself away; 

'Tis all that I can do." 
" Love so amazing, so divine, 

Demands my soul, my life, my all." 

PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



IVo. 337. 

WHAT IS IT 

TO BELIEVE ON CHRIST? 



Reader, did you ever ask this question ? Is it your sin- 
cere and earnest wish to have it answered ? If so, tliis 
Tract is intended for you. May God make it a blessing to 
your soul. 

I will suppose that you have at some time felt alarmed 
in view of your sins, and inquired in your thoughts, if not 
in words, "What must I do to be saved?" You have the 
same answer that Paul gave to the jailer, "Believe on the 
Lord Jesus Christ." Still you hesitate. You ask what 
this language means. You desire to know lohat it is to 
believe on Christ. 

Your wish, fellow-sinner, is a very reasonable one. The 
wonder and the sin is, that you have not asked such a ques- 
tion before. It is a most important and solemn question. 
It has much to do with your salvation ; for the Bible de- 
clares, " He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting 
life ; and he that believeth not the Son, shall not see life ; 
hut the wrath of God ahideth on him^ 

** What is it to believe on Christ V It is. 

To FEEL YOUR NEED OF HiM ; 

To BELIEVE THAT He IS ABLE AND WILLING TO SAVE YOU, 

AND TO SAVE YOU NOW ; and 

To CAST YOURSELF UNRESERVEDLY ON HIS MERCY, and 

TRUST IN Him alone for salvation. 

To feel your need of him. Till you do this, you will never 
seek him earnestly, or trust him wholly. You do not send 
for a physician till you feel yourself to be ill. It was only 
when Peter found he was beginning to sink, that he cried, 
"Lord, save me." So the sinner never goes to Christ in a 
right manner, till he feels himself to be a lost, wretched 
being. It is not enough to know this : you must feel it. 

Do you say you cannot ? 0, then, hoiv lost, hoiu wretch- 
ed you must be ! Your very language ought to fill you 
with shame and fear. Whose fault is it that you do not 

VOL. X. 4* 



2 WHAT IS IT TO BELIEVE ON CHRIST t 

feel ? How long need it be before you feel ? You can feel 
alarm when a murderer holds you in his grasp ; you can 
feel sorrow when a friend is dying in agony before your 
eyes ; and can you feel no sorrow when you think of a suf- 
feringf Saviour, whose love vou have abused ? no alarm, 
when you call to mind that fearful judgment to which you 
are hastening ? Will you dare tell your Judge, at the great 
day, that you could not feel your need of a Saviour ? 

But you say, " I do feel, at least in some degree, that 
I am a poor, guilty, undone sinner ; but this will not save 
me." No, it will not. Thousands have felt this and per- 
ished. You must also, 

Believe that Christ is able and loilling to save you, and 
to save you now. He is able, for he is almighty. You are 
a great sinner, but Christ is a great Saviour. Satan has 
been trying to persuade you that Christ is not able to save 
so great a sinner as you are. It is false. He is able, and 
unless you believe this in all its glorious extent, you will no 
more be willing to trust him, than a man on the roof of a 
burning house will step upon a weak ladder which he knows 
will give way beneath him. 

You must believe that he is willing. He has in many 
ways shown himself to be willing. If you doubt it, you 
disbelieve and offend him. Does it please him, think you, 
when he utters this kind welcome, " Whosoever cometh 
unto me, / ivill in nowise cast out,'' to hear you reply, ''0 
Lord, I cannot think that thou wouldst receive such an one 
as me, if I should come?" Yet you do in effect say this, 
every moment you cherish the feeling that you are too sin- 
ful to hope for pardon. You mistake this for humility ; but 
it is unbelief, and sin. 

You must believe that he is willing noio. Perhaps you 
have thought he would be willing, after a few more days or 
weeks spent in praying, and weeping, and growing better. 
Be assured your worst enemy wants no more than that you 
should continue to think so. You are growing no better. 
You are doing nothing to gain Christ's favor while you 
refuse to yield to his invitations. Until you believe that 
he is able and willing to save you, and to do it now, you 
never will be saVed. The great enemy of your soul does 
not wish you to set a time far distant when you can go to 
Christ, and when he will be willing to receive you. If you 



WHAT IS IT TO BELIEVE ON CHRIST ? 3 

will continue to place that time at the distance of a week, 
or an hour, or a minute, his object is gained, and your soul ie 
lost. 

But you ask, " Does not a sinner, at the moment of his 
actual submission to the Saviour, feel more fit to be par- 
doned ; and is not Christ more willing to pardon him than 
ever before?" No, dear friend, no ! He was less fit to be 
pardoned, for his sins had been increasing every moment 
up to that very time ; and Christ was no more willing to 
pardon him than he had always been. Every Christian will 
tell you that, so far as Christ's willingness was concerned, 
he might as well have found peace in him months or years 
sooner, as when he hopes he was pardoned. The next 
thing required of you is. 

To cast yourself unreservedly upon his mercy, and trust 
in him alone for salvation. This implies that 3^ou renounce 
all expectations of saving yourself, or of being saved any 
other way than through the righteousness and redemption 
of Christ. Did you ever feel as if you had done all you 
could ? Have you tried to think of something more to do 
to obtain hope and forgiveness ? You have done too much 
in this way already. 

Just stop doing, and begin to trust Christ to do all, and 
you are safe. A man is rowing a boat on a river just above 
a dreadful cataract. The current begins to bear him down- 
ward, the spectators on the banks give him up for lost, 
** He is gone," they all exclaim. But in another moment a 
rope is thrown towards the wretched man, it strikes the 
water near the boat ; noio how does the case stand ? Do all 
the spectators call upon him to roiv, to row stronger, to try 
harder to reach the shore, when with every stroke of his 
arm the boat is evidently floating towards the falls ? no, 
the eager and united cry is, " Dro^j your oars! Give ujy your 
desperate attempt! take hold of the rope !" But he 
chooses to row, and in a few minutes he disappears and 
perishes. All his hope lay, not in rowing, but in ceasing to 
row ; for while he was rowing he could not grasp the rope. 
So all the sinner's hope lies not in struggling to save him- 
self, but in ceasing to struggle ; for while he expects soon 
to accomplish the work of salvation, he will not look to 
Christ to do it for him. It is not doing but yielding, that 
is required. 



4 WHAT IS IT TO BELIEVE ON CHRIST 1 

But you say, " If all I have to do is to cease from at- 
tempting to save myself, and to be willing that Christ should 
do the work of my salvation, why do you urge me to become 
a Christian, or to do an7/ thing ? Why not let me sit still, 
and wait till Christ shall come and pardon me ?" And what 
if the man in the boat had dropped his oar, and then folded 
his hands and waited for the rope to save hira ? He might 
as well have died rowing as sitting still, and would as cer- 
tainly have died in the latter case as in the former. But 
he must grasp the rope. So the sinner must lay hold upon 
the cross ; not by waiting till he is better, but by first con- 
cluding that he shall never be any better in the way he is 
going on, and then looking to Christ. As he perceives the 
ground sinking beneath him, and feels how lost and wretched 
he is, filled with mingled despair and hope — despair in 
himself, and hope in the power and mercy of Christ — he 
says, 

" I stand upon a mountain's edge, 
O save me, lest I fall !" 

His prayer is heard — the heart of the compassionate Saviour 
is ready to welcome him — the arms of mercy are stretched 
out to receive him — a word of kind welcome reaches his ear, 
" Son, he of good cheer ; thy sins he forgiven thee.^' He be- 
lieves that word — he trusts that heart — he falls into those 
arms, and he is safe. 

Now, dear reader, your question is answered. Is not 
the answer true ? Is it not plain ? Do you not see your 
mistake ? Since all things are now ready, and the Holy 
Spirit not quite grieved away from your heart by your 
delay, will you wait any longer ? 

Does your heart now say, " Lord, I believe : help thou 
mine unbelief?" Will you take the Saviour at his word? 
Are you willing to trust him to do the whole work of your 
salvation ? 

If so, lay down this Tract ; prostrate yourself before 
this waiting, insulted, and still compassionate Redeemer ; 
tell him all your heart, and he will pardon, accept, and save 

you. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIErr. 



I¥o. 358. 

THE 



WONDERFUL ESCAPE. 



In the town where I reside were twelve young men. 
who were accustomed, early in life, to meet together for 
indulgence in drinking and all manner of excess. In the 
course of time, some of them engaged in business ; but their 
habits of intemperance were so entwined with their very 
existence, that they became bankrupts or insolvents. Eight 
of them died under the age of forty, without a hope beyond 
the grave, victims of intemperance. Three others are still 
living in the most abject poverty. Two of these had for- 
merly moved in very respectable circles, but now they are 
in the most miserable state of poverty and disgrace. 

One more, the last of the twelve, the worst of all, re- 
mains to be accounted for. He was a sort of ringleader ; 
and being in the wine and spirit trade, his business was, to 
take the head of the table at convivial parties, and sit up 
whole nights, drinking and inducing others to do the same, 
never going to bed sober. He was an infidel, a blasphemer, 
a disciple of Tom Paine, both in principle and practice, yet 
he was a good-natured man, and would do anybody a kind- 
ness. At length he left the town, and went to reside at a 
distance, where, for a time, he refrained from drinking, was 
married, and every thing seemed prosperous around him ; 
but instead of being thankful to God for his mercy, and 
watching against his besetting sin, he gave way to his old 
propensity, and brought misery on his family and friends. 

One dark night, being in the neighborhood of Dudley, 
he had been drinking to excess, wandered out of the house, 
and staggered among the coalpits, exposed to fall into them, 
and be lost. He proceeded on till he fell, and rolled down 
the bank of the canal ; but God, who is rich in mercy, had 
caused a stone to lie directly in his path, and the poor 
drunkard was stopped from rolling over into the water, 
where, by one turn more, he would have sunk into eternal 
ruin. His senses returned for a moment ; he saw that if he 



2 , THE WONDERFUL ESCAPE. 

attempted to stand, he Avould fall headlong into the canal, 
and crawled back again into the road. But this miraculous 
preservation had no effect upon him ; he merely called it a 
lucky escape. 

Once, after having indulged in many da^'s of intemper- 
ance, being come a little to his senses, he began to reason 
with himself upon his folly — surrounded with blessings, yet 
abusing the whole — and in an angry, passionate manner, he 
muttered, " 0, it's no use for me to repent ; my sins are too 
great to be forgiven." He had no sooner uttered these 
words, than a voice seemed to say, with strong emphasis, 
** If thou wilt forsake thy sins, they shall be forgiven." The 
poor man started at what he beheved to be real sound, and 
turned round, but saw no one, and said to himself, " I have 
been drinking till I am going mad." He stood paralyzed, 
not knowing what to think, till relieved by a flood of tears, 
and then exclaimed, *' Surely, this is the voice of mercy, 
once more calling me to repentance." He fell on his knees, 
and half suffocated by his feelings, cried out, "God be 
merciful to me a sinner." The poor wretch was broken- 
hearted ; and now his besetting sin appeared more horrible 
than ever ; but it must be conquered, or he must perish. 
Then commenced a contest more terrible than that of con- 
flicting armies ; the soul was at stake ; an impetuous torrent 
was to be turned into an opposite course. He now began 
to search the Bible, which he had once despised. Here he 
saw that crimson and scarlet sins could be blotted out, and 
made white as snow ; that the grace of God was sufficient. 
He refrained from intemperance, commenced family prayer, 
and hope again revived ; but his deadly foe still pursued 
him, and he was again overcome. 

Now his disgrace and sinfulness appeared worse than 
ever, and with melancholy feeling he cried out, in anguish 
of spirit, that he was doomed to eternal misery, and it was 
useless to try to avert his fate. His cruel enemy took this 
opportunity to suggest to his mind that he had so disgraced 
himself, that it would be better to get rid of his life at once — 
frequently the end of drunkards. The razor was in his 
hand ; but the Spirit of the Lord interposed, and the weap- 
on fell to the ground. Still his enemy pursued him, and 
seemed to have new power over his sin of intemperance. 
He would sometimes refrain for days and weeks, and then 



THE WONDERFUL ESCAPE. 3 

again he was as bad as ever. Hope seemed now to be lost ; 
especially one day, when, after having been brought into 
great weakness through intemperance, death appeared to 
be very near, and his awful state more terrific than ever. 
Not a moment was to be lost ; he cast himself once more at 
the footstool of his long-insulted Creator, and with an in- 
tensity of agony cried out, " What profit is there in my 
blood when I go down to the pit ? Shall the dust praise 
thee ? Shall it declare thy truth ? Hear, O Lord, and 
have mercy upon me ; Lord, be thou my helper." He 
sunk down exhausted ; he could say no more. That prayer 
was heard ; and a voice from heaven seemed to reply, " I 
will help thee ; I have seen thy struggles, and I will now 
say to thine enemy, ' Hitherto thou hast come — but no 
further.' " 

A physician was consulted as to the probability or pos- 
sibility of medicine being rendered effectual to stop the dis- 
position to intemperance. The poor man would have suf- 
fered the amputation of all his limbs, could so severe a 
method have freed him from his deadly habit, which, like a 
vulture, had fastened upon his very vitals. Eagerly did he 
begin to take the simple medicine prescribed, (a prepara- 
tion of steel,) with earnest pra^^er to God for help in this 
last struggle for life ; but faith and prayer proved the best 
of remedies ; he persevered, and conquered ; and be it said 
to the honor and glory of the Lord God Almighty, who 
sent his angel to whisper in the poor man's ear, " I will 
help thee," that from the latter end of September, 1816, 
to the present hour, nearly twenty years, not so much as 
a spoonful of spirituous liquor, or wine of any description, 
has ever passed the surface of that mans tongue. 

The above account of his own experience, was given by 
Mr. Hall, a merchant of Maidstone, Kent, at the anniver- 
sary of the British and Foreign Temperance Society, May, 
1836. 

Mr. Hall stated, in conclusion, that he had since been 
aiminor to be useful to his fellow-men, and had written a 
Tract, the object of which was, to call drunkards, and all 
sinners to repentance, of which more than one hundred 
thousand copies had been circulated. See Tract, No. 349. 



4 THE WONDERFUL ESCAPE. 

Has the reader a relative, friend, or neighbor, who drinks 
his daily drams, and is plunging into that awful gulf which 
yearly swallows up its thousands of victims ? Let the above 
history suggest a duty, and encourage to its performance. 
This is not a solitary instance of victory obtained over pow- 
erful and raging appetite. There is evidence that tens of 
thousands of persons in the United States, who were once 
intemperate, have become sober, useful citizens ; and not a 
few of them ardent Christians. And this has been effected, 
not by despising and reproaching them, but chiefly through 
the divine blessing on the kind personal injiuence of friends, 
excited by no other motive than Christian benevolence and 
love of their fellow-men. The self-despair of the intem- 
perate man arises, in a great measure, from the conviction, 
that he is an outcast from public respect and sympathy. 
He is moved by the language of kindness ; and if suitably 
warned of his danger, and pointed to the way of escape, 
may be saved from ruin. Persuade him to refrain, till rea- 
son resumes her sway, and the burning desire for stimulus 
has subsided. A few months will generally effect this 
great change. In his sober hours he often weeps over his 
folly, his ear is open to the voice of friendship, and he will 
yield to kind remonstrance — perhaps consent to place him- 
self under the care of a temperate physician. Go to him 
when alone, with tenderness and love. Offer him such 
aid as is needed by himself or family. Give him the above 
history, in view of which none need despair. Bring him, 
if possible, to the house of God. Go to him again and 
again, till you obtain his pledge to abstinence. Follow 
him with kindness. Support him in the struggle. In- 
duce him utterly to abandon all that can intoxicate, as his 
only safety; wholly to refrain from the place and the com- 
pany where intoxicating drinks are used ; and in dependence 
on Christ, humbly to offer the prayer, " Hold thou me up, 
and I shall be safe." Interest yourself in his welfare, and 
persevere till you gain the glorious triumph — the conquest 
of an immortal mind, that may diffuse blessings on every 
side in this life, and be a star in the Redeemer's crown of 
glory for ever. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



I¥o. 359. 

THE CHILD A HUNDRED YEARS OLD. 



BY REV. WILLIAM S. PLIJMER, D. D. 



So long as the work of the Holy Spirit continues on earth, 
we may expect wonders. Especially may most glorious 
displays of divine grace be looked for, as the day draws nigh 
when " the light of the moon shall be as the light of the sun, 
and the light of the sun sevenfold, as the light of seven 
days." Then " the child shall die a hundred years old." 

Ann Eliza, the eldest child of Charles B. and Ann M. 
Williams, was born January 16, 1820, at Meadsville, Hali- 
fax county, Virginia. She had three sisters and one brother, 
besides a sister and brother who died m infancy. Her 
mother, who professed religion when she was Miss Hackley, 
four days after the birth of Ann Eliza, thus wrote : 

" On the 16th of this month, I was made the happy 
mother of a promising daughter. To thee, Lord, I desire 
in faith to dedicate her. And I implore the sanctifying in- 
fluence of thy Spirit to enable me to bring her up in the 
nurture and admonition of the Lord — to rear her up as an 
immortal being, destined to eternal misery or eternal bless- 
edness. wash her, and grant that as she ripens in years, 
she may grow in grace." 

On the 16th January, 1821, her mother again wrote, "I 
gave my dear Ann Eliza to God before she was born. I 
have done it since. On this her birthday I desire, Lord, 
to renew the offering ; and I beseech thee to cleanse her soul 
in the blood of Christ, and adopt her into thy family. If by 
thy will she should long sojourn in this barren wilderness, 
guide her, and lead her early to seek thy face. Keep her in 
thy way without weariness or fainting, and enable me to 
fulfil my solemn obligations as a Christian parent." 

At an early period, Ann Eliza was found to have an 
irascible, obstinate, and ungovernable temper, combined with 
exquisite nervous sensibility. Her mind was sound and 

VOL. X. 5 ' 



2 THE CHILD A HUNDRED YEARS OLD. 

sprightly, though the incidents of her very early life were 
not remarkable. In some respects, elements of a more mi- 
promising kind seldom enter into character. Yet, though 
self-willed, there was a sort of independence which was ca- 
pable of being turned to good account. It is also a remark- 
able fact, that she was never detected in any falsehood. She 
was naturally very timid. She was not naturally generous, 
or amiable, or confiding. Yet, for one of her age, she always 
commanded respect. 

When Ann Eliza was about seven years of age, she was 
invited to a dancing-party of little children, and was anxious 
to attend ; and her mother saying she was too young, she 
replied, that some others were going who were younger than 
she. Her mother then took her in her arms, and said, " My 
child, your father and I have both often and solemnly given 
you to God, and promised to train you up for him. We trust 
we are Christians. We seek your eternal happiness. The 
parents of the little girls you have named do not profess to 
think much about another world. We cannot, without sin- 
ning against God, permit y(ju to go to the ball." 

These things seemed to satisfy her conscience, and re- 
tained it on the side of her parents. Yet after her conver- 
sion, she confessed, " I was wicked enough to wish that my 
parents were not Christians, that I might partake of the 
gayeties in which others engage." 

By the blessing of God on a course of mild and firm 
training, her parents were pleased to find that her judgment 
and principles were, to some extent, on the side of duty, and 
that she had some correct geiteral views of the truth of the 
Bible, and of the reality and importance of religion. Yet 
she gave no evidence of special seriousness or tenderness 
until she was more than eight years old. 

In her ninth year, her heavenly Father began that course 
of gracious discipline which has clothed her character with 
such interest, and rendered her history worthy of a place in 
the annals of redemption. In the winter of 1828, her par- 
ents removed to Lynchburgh. Here, in May, 1829, she rup- 
tured a bloodvessel in the lungs. This was succeeded by a 



THE CHILD A HUNDRED YEARS OLD. 3 

copious bleeding. For some months she remained appar- 
ently thoughtless respecting eternal things. Late in the 
autumn of this year, she accompanied her grandmother on 
a visit to a maternal aunt in the Qounty of Orange. Here, 
in March, 1830, she had a second attack of bleeding at the 
lungs, which was attended with immediate danger, and 
which cut off nearly all hope of ever regaining jtermanent 
health. During this sickness, her alarm was agonizing. 
Death was to her the king of terrors. Courage in facmg 
such trials was no part of her natural character. It soon 
became manifest, that she was deeply impressed with a sense 
of her guilt, and misery, and danger as a sinner. She was 
found in retirement, bathed in tears, nor did she attempt 
to conceal the cause of her weeping. She confessed it to 
be her smfulness. Her sins of every kind, and above all, 
the deep pollution of her heart, filled her with grief and 
self-abasement before God. She said, " How could I be so 
wicked, and sin against a God so good and so holy," 

She now felt the unspeakable value of the friendship, and 
counsel, and prayers of her excellent grandmother. At one 
time, her views of sin being very clear, and her convictions 
very pmigent, she said, " Pray with me ; ask God to give me 
a new heart, and to renew a right spirit within me, and to 
prepare me for death, if he intends to take me now, or for 
living to his glory, if he shall be pleased to spare me." 

It should be observed, that from this time forward her 
intellect seemed to have a greatly increased vigor, and her 
language Avas generally very appropriate. The absence of 
childish companions in very early life, the constant society 
of her grandmother, the character of her disease, her famil- 
iar acquamtance with scriptural language, and the elevating 
influence of vital religion, may be assigned as the causes of 
this seeming precocity. Every sentence of her conversation 
quoted in these pages, is in the words she herself employed. 

By degrees a change in her character became manifest. 
Her burden of misery seemed to be gone. She was begin- 
ning to trust in atoning blood. Her views of the plan of 
salvation by faith in Christ Jesus, and by the renewing of 



4 THE CHILD A HUNDRED YEARS OLD. 

the Holy Ghost, were clear and consistent. She never as- 
cribed any thing to human merit or human power. She 
esteemed all her experiences as only calling for praise to the 
glory of His grace who had made her accepted in the Beloved, 
Her whole conversation and deportment from this time for- 
ward, proved the change to be great and real. Her mind 
seemed to grasp spiritual truth with vigor, and to feed upon 
it with zest. Her memory readily retained impressions of 
the^truth, and all she had ever learned seemed now to come 
to her aid. She often wrote down her thoughts, especially 
such as occurred in reading the Scriptures. A specimen is 
here given. 

" 1 John, 4 : 8, 9. what infinite, great, and amazing 
love is that described here. How glorious is God, to send 
his only-begotten Son into the world to die for sinful men. 
' Lord, what is man, that thou art mindful of him, and 
the son of man, that thou visitest him?' " 

A few weeks after her hopeful conversion, her life was 
again brought into extreme jeopardy by a return of bleeding 
at the lungs. This attack was worse than either of the 
preceding. Yet all was now tranquil. No violent agitations 
disturbed her. As soon as she was able, she spoke freely of 
her feelings, and contrasted them with what they had been 
under her second attack. Then, she was filled with fear. 
'Noii\ with love and peace. She said, "I am not afraid to 
die ; I am willing to be in the hands of God." 

As soon as it could be done, she was taken to her parents 
in Lynchburgh. In the last week of December, 1830, she 
was received into the communion of the visible church. 
This step was not taken until she had been well instructed 
in the nature of the transaction. Much prayer had been 
offered on the subject, and many conversations held with her 
respecting her religious exercises. She had also, during 
about seven months, exhibited a Christian temper and de- 
portment. She was now about ten years and ten months 
old. On the same day of her admission to the church, she 
partook of the Lord's supper. In speaking of this service 
soon afterwards, she said, " it was so delightful. I felt it 



THE CHILD A HUNDRED YEARS OLD. 5 

was good to be there. I felt as if God, for a little season, 
had let down heaven to earth." When asked why the com- 
munion had been like heaven, she said, " Because God's 
presence was there— 'tis that makes heaven." 

Early in her Christian life she began to see why God 
had afflicted her. Years before her death, she requested that 
whenever she should die, the text of the sermon at her fu- 
neral should be Psalm 94 : 12. " Blessed is the man whom, 
thou chastenest, Lord, and teachest him out of thy law." 
She said, " I had rather be sick, and suffer all my days, and 
enjoy religion, than be restored to health, and live as I have 
done." 

During her residence in Lynchburgh there was great 
attention to religion in that town, and in all the surrounding 
country. In the progress of this work she felt the most live- 
ly interest. She prayed for its extension, and rejoiced when- 
ever she heard of a hopeful conversion. Her interest was 
so great, that when her pious physician and pastor, meeting 
in her room, conversed on the work of God, her joy abomid- 
ed. At the close of this conversation, one asked her how 
she was. She seemed to forget all her bodily pain, and re- 
plied, " 0, Jesus is precious ; I am happy in him ; his favor 
is life, and his loving-kindness is better than life." 

Meanwhile her disease advanced, and in the spring of 
1832 her parents again removed to Richmond. Here her 
mind and her gracious affections matured fast. For a long 
time she had given up all expectation of ever recovering. 
One day her grandmother inquired if the stillness of the 
grave produced no alarm. " no," said she, " ' I know that 
my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter 
day upon the earth ; and though after my skin worms de- 
stroy this body, yet in my flesh I shall see God.' " 

On another occasion she said, " I know whom I have 
believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that 
which I have committed to him." She Avas often in imme- 
diate and imminent danger of sudden death ; and it was 
feared that her frequent recoveries from violent attacks 
would leave her mind exposed to surprise when death ap- 

VOL. X. 5* 



(J THE CHILD A HUNDRED YEARS OLD. 

proached. Yet any return of health did not make her less 
devout, or less solemn. 

On Saturday preceding her death, there v/as a marked 
change in her disease . She was the first to perceive it, and 
sj)oke of it with composure, saying, " Mother, you had best 
not leave me, for I don't know but I am dying." " I hope 
not," said the mother ; " but if you are, I trust you are lean- 
ing on a stronger arm than your poor frail mother's." " 
yes," said she, " God is the strength of my heart." 

A paroxysm of great suffering now brought on, for tl^o 
first and only time, a momentary delirium. In this state 
her grandmother said, " Ann Eliza, would you not wish to 
go to your heavenly home — to Jesus ?" The delirium was 
gone, reason regained its seat, and she said, " yes, I wish 
to go to Jesus, he is precious to my soul. Help me to praise 
him." 

One said, " As you approach nearer to eternity, do your 
views of the glory and excellency of Christ become more clear 
and precious ?" She replied, " He is my all, 7ny all." 

In the evening of this day, after a short conversation 
and prayer, led by her faithful pastor, she said, in a low but 
distinct voice, " I love my parents, I love you all, but I love 
my Saviour more ; I long to depart, and be with Christ, 
which is far better." 

She even objected to the usual opiate, saying, " Let me 
j)raise God while I have breath." Yet when told that it was 
thought to be her duty, she readily complied. The day be- 
fore her death, it became evident that the closing scene was 
at hand. Her distress for breath, and her danger of suffoca 
tion, were extreme, and prevented her saying much. Yet 
she spoke not of her pains. She said, " I am dying ; but 
death has no sting for me — all is peace. Sing ' When I 
can read my title clear.' " 

Early on the morning of this her last Sabbath on earth, 
she desired a very dear young friend to be sent for. When 
she came, Ann Eliza, extending her emaciated arms, received 
her very cordially, and though unable to speak aloud, whis- 
pered a most solemn and tender exhortation ; but her strength 



THE CHILD A HUNDRED YEARS OLD. 7 

failing, she said, " Grandma, I can't talk to her ; do yoic say 
to her what / would, if I were able." 

Some time during- her last night on earth, she awoke 
from a short slumber, and perceived a cold sweat upon her- 
self She asked if it was not the cold sweat of death. Her 
friend replied, " It may be ; but if it is, I hope it gives you 
no concern." She rephed, "0 no ; death is sweet to me." 

To her parents, who soon came into the room, she said, 
" I have jDcrfect peace ; we shall now part, but we shall soon 
meet again." She then took an affectionate leave of them, 
and seemed concerned at their sufferings only. 

During this trying time, her faithful grandmother was 
able to be with her. As the night began to be far spent, 
her agony was great, and her spirit seemed to say, as the 
angel to Jacob, " Let me go, for the day breaketh." But 
her warfare was not quite accomplished. The sun arose. 
Her mind was clear. Every look of her eye indicated intel- 
ligence and inward peace, though the pain which racked her 
little frame, was severe beyond all ordinary cases. She was 
unable to speak much ; but just before she ceased to breathe, 
after a violent struggle, her countenance seemed to "shine 
as it had been the face of an angel," and her whole appear- 
ance seemed to say, " My cup runneth over ;" she whispered 
firmly and audibly, " All is peace, peace and joy in the Holy 
Ghost." Then, without another struggle, God set her sjDirit 
free, and she fell asleep in Jesus. Thus, on the 18th day 
of March, 1833, died " the child a hundred years old." She 
is buried in the new graveyard at Richmond. A small 
marble tablet, bearing her name and age, and her favorite 
text, Psalm 94 : 12, in verse, points the wanderer among 
the tombs to her resting-place. 

In the religious character of Ami Eliza Williams, some 
things claim a more full consideration. The first of these is, 

Her faith. After her conversion, her confidence m God, 
through Jesus Christ, seldom wavered. Her heart was 
fixed, trusting iu God. Taught by the Spirit, her views and 
impressions of the truth were vivid and abiding. Eternal 
things always seemed near. She often spoke of a state of 



8 THE CHILD A HUNDRED YEARS OLD. 

happiness to come, not only as an undoubted reality, but as 
•at hand. In speaking of heaven one evening, she pointed 
to a beautiful view of the sky, and said, " If I could break 
from this clay tabernacle, and burst through that azure shell, 
I should be there." So far as faith regards the person and 
offices of Christ, hers was dependence on him alone as a 
complete Saviour. Nor was her faith dead. It wrought 
with her works, and by works was faith made perfect. 

Her i^eace was great. It was " peace in believing," and 
it was like a river. Those who were in the habit of seeing 
her, would have been surprised to have found her bereft of 
calmness of soul. In her case, " the work of righteousness 
was peace, and the effect of righteousness, quietness and 
assurance for ever." 

Her repentance teas thorough, deep, ingeimous, and 
lasting. Her sense of personal mi worthiness grew from her 
first attention to religion to her death. She was more than 
once found weeping, years after conversion. When asked 
why she wept, her answer was, " I am so wicked." She 
did not think once sorrowing for sin was enough. As often 
as she thought of her sins, it was with shame and sorrow. 
Her frequent prayer was, " Remember not against me the 
sins of my youth ; enter not into judgment with me." 

She rejoiced in hope. And she held fast her confidence, 
which had great recompense of reward. The apostle's figure 
of hope being an anchor to the soul precisely suited her case. 
She Avas tossed with tempest, the night was dark, the storm 
was loud, the wind was rude, the waters roared, but her 
hope was anchored in heaven, and her bark outrode the 
storm, and, as we have seen, glided serenely into the haven 
of rest. Seldom was her hope obscured, and then for a short 
time only. 

Her love luas strong. She longed after God. She loved 
all that belonged to God. Her delight was in his saints, the 
excellent of the earth. His word was sweeter than honey. 
His Sabbaths were in her eyes honorable. One day in his 
courts was better than a thousand. She had a most lively 
sense of the self-denial of remaining at home, when others 



THE CHILD A HUNDRED YEARS OLD. 9 

went to inquire in God's temple, and there behold his beauty ; 
and when her health permitted her to go, none seemed to 
enjoy the privilege more. 

She abounded in pi-ayer. She seemed never to lose the 
spirit of prayer, but to be continually breathing after com- 
munion with God. Nor were her prayers unanswered. God 
manifested himself unto her as he does not to the world. 
Two Sabbaths after she joined the church, she was left alone 
in the afternoon. On her grandmother's return, she said, " I 
have had a precious season. God has been with me. He 
has given me such realizing views of the joys of heaven, and 
the sufierings of my Saviour to purchase them for me, that I 
could scarcely contain myself for joy." 

Her gratitude tvas constant and lively. The least favor 
at the hands of any person, excited her thankfulness. " I 
thank you — I thank you much — you are so kind," were ex- 
pressions often in her mouth. And her gratitude to God was 
very promment. If she slept better, or coughed less than 
usual, she mentioned it with praise ; and often did she thank 
God for having afflicted her. She could say, 

" For all I bless thee — most for the severe." 

Being gratefid for all, she teas of course suhinissive. 
During her whole sickness she was not knovni to utter one 
murmuring word, nor was one fretful expression seen on her 
countenance. Many remember how dreadfully she suffered, 
yet none remember to have heard one word of impatience. 
A few days before her death, she said, " I must have more 
dross to consume than others, that God sees it necessary to 
keep me so long in this furnace of suffering." Thus she 
never " charged God foolishly." 

She tvas strictly conscientious. She was greatly afraid 
lest her ignorance, or inexperience, or unsanctified temper, 
should dishonor religion. Her rule respecting all doubtful 
things was, to avoid them. She would not go to any place 
or company, as a show or fair, unless it were of such a kind 
as to have no appearance of evil. The decisions of her con- 
science were clothed with the majesty of law. 



10 THE CHILD A HUNDRED YEARS OLD. 

Her jyiety teas based on the Bible. It was the rule of 
her life, the standard of her faith, the end of disputes. Dur- 
ing her long sickness she was not able to read much, and 
wisely confined herself to the holy Scriptures. Her views 
of the truths of revelation were clear, sound, and consistent. 
She is remembered to have expressed herself clearly on all 
the great doctrines, even down to that sublime doctrine of 
the resurrection. 

She had great strength of religious pi'inciple. Before 
her conversion she was dreadfully afraid of pain, and the 
sight of a physician coming to her almost overcame her ; 
but afterwards she never refused medicine, however offen- 
sive, nor objected to any operation, however painful. 

Her religio7i iiisured good conduct. She did not so learn 
Christ as to allow her to set up her own will in opposition 
to that of her parents. From the time of her conversion she 
scrupulously honored her parents and others her superiors. 
She was very careful of the comfort of others. She often 
exerted herself beyond her strength to avoid giving trouble, 
and expressed fears lest her own sickness should so multiply 
her mother's cares, as to injure her health. She often said 
nothing of her sickness and wants, until others spoke of them 
to her. She was very industrious, and of great service in 
maintaining family discipline with the younger cliidren. 

She ivas engaged in the service of Christ. She seemed 
ingenious in making occasions to say something for God. 
Long before her death, she told her father that the conver- 
sion and salvation of souls lay as a heavy burden on her 
heart ; and when near the close of life, refused to have a 
rocking-chair bought for her, and requested the price of it to 
be given to the Ceylon mission, Not ten days before her 
death, she undertook to employ her skilful needle in doing 
some work for a benevolent society. Among her last efforts 
she said to one, " Why don't you love Jesus ? do love 
him — ^he died for you." To another she said, " Remember 
iwiv thy Creator in the days of thy youth." Her zeal was 
well tempered with discretion and gentleness. 

Her religion ivore ivell. It bore her on — it bore her up — 



THE CHILD A HUNDRED YEARS OLD. H 

it bore her through. She came out like gold, purified under 
every trial. Two years before her deatli, she said she was 
not afraid to die. Some months afterwards she said, " Death 
is a pleasant journey, a sweet release, a stepping from time 
into eternity." It may be truly said, that death was her 
familiar acquaintance for years. She said, that as she lay 
dowai at night, she often thought she might wake in eter- 
nity, nor did the thought give her pain. On one occasion 
she said, " I have brought death very near to me this even- 
ing — he was robbed of his terrors. At times I look at 
death as a narroiv stream, which I must pass to get to 
heaven." During the last forty hours of her life, she often 
said, when she could say no more, " No fear — no fear." 

Her religion ivas tvell-p?'opo)'tionecl. It was not all 
knowledge, nor all sentiment, nor all practice. It was all 
these harmoniously combined. One duty or one grace was 
not allowed to crowd another out of its place. It was uni- 
form. It was dignified. Though she was but a child, and 
a very humble and unassuming child, it was impossible to 
be with her and not feel " how awful goodness is." 

He?' jnety uris lovely. Her humility was not meanness ; 
her firmness was not stubbornness ; her solemnity w^as not 
sourness ; her zeal was not bitterness ; her calmness was not 
stupidity ; her speech was well-ordered and gracious. She 
had self-distrust, but no cunning. Her faith was not pre- 
sumptuous ; her hope was not a vain confidence. Though 
meek, she was not tame. She feigned nothing ; she dissem- 
bled nothing. She readily acknowledged her faults, and 
modestly said nothing to her own praise. Her joys were 
sober and chastened, though unspeakable. 

Her humility was a rohe cast all around. The atten- 
tions shown her were w^ell suited to inflate a carnal mind 
with pride and self-conceit. But they all seemed to humble 
her. She preferred to be a hearer rather than a speaker on 
all important subjects. There was nothing like pertness in 
her character. She was naturally tenacious of her opinions, 
yet her great change so deeply impressed her with a sense 
of her own ignorance as to make her cautious of any opinion 



12 THE CHILD A HUNDRED YEARS OLD. 

not founded on the clear authority of God. Of the hundreds 
who saw her, most remarked her great humiUty. It was 
no scanty garment. It covered all her graces. She was 
" clothed with humility." 

Are you a parent ? Behold here, under the divine 
blessing, the success of a proper religious education in sav- 
ing the soul. If Ann Eliza had been trained as you are 
training your children, do you think her end would have 
been peace ? 

Are you sceptical ? Behold here the power and the 
glory of the Gospel. See a little child triumphing over suf- 
ferings and death, neither " wearied with the footmen," nor 
fearing to "contend with horses," neither fainting in "the 
land of peace," nor dismayed in "the swelling of Jordan." 
What else besides C^iristianity, pure and undefiled, can point, 
in all its annals, to the story of one whose sun went down in 
such bright effulgence as that which surrounded the depart- 
ing spirit of Ann Eliza Williams ? 

This case also shows the possibility of very early piety. 
The Bible long since taught this. The history of Ann Eliza 
furnishes an illustrious example of what God can do, Avheii 
out of the mouth of babes and sucklings he would ordain 
strength. Jesus Christ, who died for little children, and 
who said, " Feed my lambs," still cares for them. Himself 
was once a little child. 

Are you a child ? come to Jesus now. Here is a 
loud call to all, to repent, and prepare for death. Perhaps 
you are unwilling to hear the living. Then listen to the 
dead. Hear Ann Eliza's last appeal, given in her own 
words : "Look at me now dying. A^liat should I do, if I 
had put ofi^ repentance till this time ? What should I do 
now, without religion to support me ? don't let the world 
cheat you out of your soul ; if you lean on it, you will fmd 
it a broken reed, that will pierce you through with many 
sorrows." Here her voice failed. Dear reader, are you 
ready? "Except you be converted, and become as a little 
child, you shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven." 



IVo. 360. 

REDEEMING THE TIME. 



"Do not squander time," said an eminent philosopher 
and statesman, " for time is the stuff life is made ofT Act- 
ing on this maxim himself, he rose from an humble situation 
in life, to learning, wealth, and honor ; and had he applied 
the principle to the subject of religion, he would also have 
gained the endless and invaluable blessings which it secures. 

" Redeem the time,'" said the apostle Paul, under the 
influence of the Spirit of inspiration. Obeying himself the 
injunction which he delivered to others, we find him " in- 
stant in season and out of season," in the service of his 
divine Master, endeavoring to be more abundant in his 
labors, because he had once persecuted that faith which now 
he preached. Under its influence we find him stamping 
the impress of his own mind on thousands in his own and 
succeeding ages, instrumentally saving many souls from 
death, and winning for himself a crown of unfading glory. 

The proper improvement of time is a subject worthy of 
frequent and most serious attention. jSTothing is more valu- 
able, and yet nothing is in general less regarded ; there are 
indeed some who sincerely and earnestly wish to improve 
the time, and glorify God, and do good to men while they 
remain on earth, who yet accomplish little, because they do 
not use their means aright ; such need counsel. There are 
others who look on time as a kind oi enemy, and seek to 
kill it, to use their own expression. Appropriate language. 
It is indeed murder — a species of suicide. The period will 
certainly come, when like England's maiden queen, they 
would give all that they possessed for one moment of that 
VOL. X. G 



2 REDEEMING THE TIME. 

precious time which they have wantonly squandered. Happy 
will they be if, aroused to a sense of its value while some 
of it yet remains, they endeavor to redeem it. 

The expression which the apostle employs is peculiar 
and striking". He seems to speak of time as something lost, 
which, however, was so valuable that it would be proper to 
make efforts to procure it again, or redeem it. Past time, 
it is true, never can return, but yet its experience may afford 
much valuable instruction, and incite us to greater diligence 
in the improvement of that which may yet be granted us. 
In this way the future may be made more useful, and we 
may, in a certain sense, recover the past. 

I. Time is exceedingly valuable. 

This will appear from several considerations. 

1. From the opport7i7iities ivhich it affords. During its 
progress all our work is to be done, and our eternal happi- 
ness to be secured. " There is no work, nor device, nor know- 
ledge, nor wisdom, hi the grave''' Death puts an end to all 
earthly labors, and any work unfinished then, must remain so 
for ever. There is no intermediate state, in which neglect 
and criminality in this world may be repaired or expiated. 
There is no repentance in the grave, no forgiveness in hell. 
No ordinances, no preaching, no praying, no praising, no Sab- 
baths, no sanctuaries, no friendly admonitions, no strivings 
of the Spirit, can be enjoyed in the other world by those 
who have disregarded them in this. All such opportunities 
misimproved are irrevocably lost. 

2, The short7iess of time also proves its value. The less 
there may be of any good thing, the more valuable is it con- 
sidered. In this point of view, how much should time be 
prized. " What is our life ? It is even a vapor, that ap- 
peareth lor a little time, and then vaiiisheth away." " When 
a few years are come, we shall go the way whence we shall 
not return." The average dura,tion of human life is scarcely 
ihirtif ifears. From this must be deducted at least one-third 



f 



REDEEMING THE TIME. 3 

spent in sleep, and taking our food ; and in most cases, some- 
thing more is lost by siclmess : how small is the remainder ; 
and therefore, how valuable. 

3. Its uncertainty also renders it valuable : short as it 
is, we know not hoio short it is ; we know not whether it 
may be a year, or a month, or a day, or an hour, which may 
form the whole of the future part of our lives. Suppose, to 
use an illustration of the celebrated essayist, John Foster, 
that a prisoner is supplied with water from a cistern, the 
amount contained in which he knows not, but he is sure he 
can obtain no more when it is exhausted ; how careful would 
he be of every drop, because he laiows not how much re- 
mains. So is it in human life. How many sudden deaths 
do we notice — how unexpectedly to ourselves as well as to 
others may we be called away. " At such a time as we 
think not, the Son of man cometh." We need to be ivatcli- 
ing, to be always ready — we may have so little time re- 
maming that we cannot dare to squander any of it. 

4. It cannot he recovered^ if once lost, except in the 
secondary sense already mentioned. " There is hope of a 
tree, if it be cut down, that it will sprout again ; but man 
dieth and wasteth away, yea, man giveth up the ghost, and 
where is he ?" A man would not like to lose what was very 
valuable, even if he had the hope at some future time of 
recovering it ; how much less should we be willing to lose 
that which we can never regain. It is like dropping the 
precious jewel into the unfathomable abysses of the ocean. 
If to-day is lost, to-morrow will not restore it. Our regret 
or repentance will not bring it back ; our improvement of 
the future will not obliterate our loss of the past. 

5. It is a thing foi' which ive must give an account. 
" We must all appear at the judgment-seat of Christ." 
For eve7-y moment we are accountable. How have we im- 
proved our Sabbaths, our common time, our hours of busi- 
ness, or of leisure ? The servant who knows that his master 



4 REDEEMING THE TIME. 

will ask him at nightfall how he has been employed during 
the day, will feel that his time is precious, and should act 
accordingly. 

II. Much of it is lost. 

All that time is lost which is spent in a sinful manner ; 
and as God requires all our time to be devoted to himself, 
all of it which is not employed directly or indirectly in his 
service, is spent sinfully. We thus may lose our time, 

1 . By iclle7iess. How many pass hours and days in list- 
less apathy — mind and body unemployed — a dreaming ex- 
istence, like the life of an infant or an idiot. Let such ask, 
at the close of the day, how they have been engaged, Avhat 
they have thought or done, and there is nothing for the 
memory to recall ; their time has been almost a blank. 
Certainly such persons have lost their time. 

2. By dissipation much time is lost. Some relaxation 
is necessary both for mind and body ; if the bow is always 
tightly strung it will break. This will not be lost time, 
since it recruits our strength, and prepares us to spend more 
advantageously what follows. But dissipation, whether 
physical or mental, tmfits, not refits. How much is the 
body often thus impaired. Excess of eating, or drinking, or 
sleeping, all weaken the system, and prevent proper im- 
provement of time. Midnight revels, gay company, not to 
mention indulgences the very names of which should not 
be uttered, all are destructive. How much dissipation of 
time is caused also by the works of fiction, or even what 
might be called utter nonsense, with which the press is now 
so prolific. How do the theatre, the circus, and shows of 
various kinds, fascinate the young and thoughtless, and ere 
they are aware, carry them away from sober thought and 
regular habits, plunging them in degradation and destruc- 
tion. None can think time is profitably spent while thus 
employed. It is killed indeed. 

3. By crime. Principles of evil are deeply rooted in the 



REDEEMING THE TIME. 5 

human constitution, and oftentimes external objects call 
them out to a fearful development. How much time is 
worse than lost in thoughts of envy, malice, pride, covet- 
ousness, or other similar baneful affections ; how much in 
the formation or execution of the schemes which these, if 
unchecked, are sure to suggest. The Psalmist tells us that 
"the wicked man deviseth mischief upon his bed," and the 
prophet Micah denounces a woe on such characters. How 
much time and toil does the sinner take in his course of 
crime — all lost, indeed ; and how often, by the punishment 
which human laws exact, and by the sure vengeance of 
divine retribution, is he made to suffer for such conduct. 

4. By loorldly i^urmiits. It is proper for every one to 
have some particular employment, and to be diligent in his 
business. " If any man will not work, neither let him eat." 
But it is not i^roper to let the world and its pursuits engross 
the whole, or even the greater part of our thoughts and 
labors. To be making haste to be rich, to be rising early 
and retiring late, and eating the bread of sorrow, in order to 
increase our gain, is time misspent. The love of the world 
and the love of God are incompatible with each other, and 
all who are endeavoring to serve God and mammon are 
engaged in a vain efibrt, and will find at the last that they 
have lost their time and betrayed their hopes. 

III. How IMAY TIME BE IMPROVED ? 

The consideration of its value, and the great part of it 
wliich has been lost, should cause us to give earnest heed to 
this point. And we mention, 

1. Co)isec7'ate it all to Christ: it belongs to him of 
right, for he has given it to us. Thus will it be spent most 
pleasantly, and only thus safely and successfully. First of 
all, if we wish to redeem the time, we must devote it to the 
service of our blessed Saviour, to be spent directly or indi- 
rectly in promoting his glory. But more particularly, we 
should, 

VOL. X. Q* 



6 REDEEMING THE TIME. 

2. Distribute it properly. The duties of religion, pub- 
lic mid private, personal and social, require our attention, 
and should have a portion of time sacredly devoted to them. 
The ordhiary affairs of life must not be neglected ; but in 
whatever calling a man may be, he must conscientiously 
give it the time which it justly demands. Benevolence, 
too, claims its portion of time from those who are to love 
their neighbor as themselves. While attending to our oAvn 
souls, or our own bodies, we must not forget the souls or the 
bodies of others ; we should set apart a portion of time to 
instruct the ignorant, to comfort the afflicted, to warn the 
thoughtless, to supply the bodily wants of the destitute. 
We should ascertain what each of these objects calls for 
from us, and arrange our time accordingly. 

But in order that we may not waste our time, we 
should, 

3. Be careful of moments. Because Ave have but a 
little time, we sometimes think we need not be careful of 
it ; but the gathered fragments make basketsfidl. If we 
take the sum of squandered moments, we shall find that it 
will amount to hours, and days, and months, and even 
years. Besides, the habit of disregarding the little, Mall 
tend to make us neglect the much. In the mint, in Phila- 
delphia, there is a wooden grating on the floor of the room 
in which gold is prepared for coinage ; the design of which 
is to prevent any of the precious metal being lost by adher- 
ing to the feet. It has been found that the minute particles 
Avhich are thus saved, amount to thousands of dollars. We 
must not lose one golden minute. 

4. Do one thing at a time. This was the rule on 
which the celebrated De Witt acted, and which he assigned 
as the reason for his having accomplished so much. When 
the mind is distracted by the attempt to attend to many 
things at once, nothing will be done right, and all the time 
will most probably be lost. 



REDEEMING THE TIME. 7 

5. Acquire command of your thoughts. How much 
time is lost by wandering thoughts, by dreamy reveries, 
when we wake from which, we can scarcely say we have 
been even conscious of existence. Newton ascribed his emi- 
nent attainments to ^:)«/.ze7i^ thought, and every one who 
desires to become an instrument of good, or to spend his time 
profitably, must obtain a control over his thoughts — a power 
to direct them to any subject he desires to confine them to, 
and to guide them as he pleases in its consideration. We 
should endeavor to make our mental powers as obedient to 
the will as the members of our body are. 

6. Endeavor to get some good out of every object. If 
properly viewed, every thing will afford it. We may be 
compelled sometimes to attend to what may not be pleasant 
in itself, but it is possible to get honey even from a lion's 
carcass ; and the more imlikely the source from which we 
have obtained the benefit, the more satisfaction should we 
feel that we have procured it. 

7. Frequently review the past. This will teach us 
better to understand our errors, and prevent a repetition of 
them ; it will strengthen our intellectual powers, it will 
lead, if rightly attended to, to more conscientious improve- 
ment of our time. 

8. Fervently pray for divitie direction and assistance, 
for it is only when God himself " teaches us to number our 
days," that we " apply our hearts to wisdom." 

These hints may serve to suggest to us the proper way 
of redeeming our time. No doubt the closing year has wit- 
nessed much which has been misspent and lost ; let us 
endeavor that the end of the next year, if we are all spared 
to reach it, may show that we have been ''redeeming the 
time." 



REDEEMING THE TIME. 



TIME AND ETERNITY. 

Lo, on a narrow neck of land, 
'Twixt two unbounded seas I stand ; 
Yet how insensible ! 



A point of time^ a moment's space, 
Removes me to yon heavenly place, 
Or shuts me up in hell. 

God, my inmost soul convert. 
And deeply in my thoughtless heart, 

Eternal things impress ; 
Give me to feel their solemn weight.. 
And save me ere it be too late : 

Wake me to righteousness. 

Before me place, in bright array. 
The pomp of that tremendous day. 

When thou with clouds shalt come 
To judge the nations at thy bar ; 
And tell me, Lord, shall I be there, 

To meet a joyful doom? 

Be this my one great business here, 
With holy trembling, holy fear, 

To make my calling sure ; 
Thine utmost counsel to fulfil, 
And suffer all thy righteous will. 

And to the end endure. 

Then, Saviour, then my soul receive. 
Transported from this vale, to live 

And reign with thee above ; 
Where faith is sweetly lost in sight, 
And hope in full, supreme delight. 

And everlasting love ! Wesley. 

PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



ATOraC^BLOOD. 

. t C ; ■ • . '.I I 

"THE BLOOD OF JESUS CHRIST CLEANSETH FROM ALL SIN." 

1 John, 1 : 7. 

Sin is a want of conformity to the law of God. It in- 
cludes opposition to his will, rebellion against his govern- 
ment, ingratitude for his favors, and an impious refusal to 
serve and glorify him. No wonder, then, that sin is repre- 
sented in Scripture as that abominable thing which Jeho- 
vah hates ; that he cannot look upon it but with abhorrence ; 
and that "he will by no means clear the guilty." Nor is 
this all : sin is not only an object of God's just displeasure, 
but it is as polluting and degrading as it is criminal. It is 
not merely an offence, but it is also a corroding disease, 
which, unless it be removed, must inevitably separate the 
soul from God, and render it wholly unfit for the pure joys 
of his presence. 

With this evil every son and daughter of Adam is 
chargeable. "There is not a just man upon earth, who 
doeth good, and sinneth not." Eccles. Y : 20. *' By one 
man sin entered into the world, and death by sin ; and so 
death passed upon all men, for that all have sinned." Rom. 
5 : 12. With the guilt of transgression every one of our 
race is by nature loaded, and with the pollution of this 
moral leprosy every soul is defiled. " If any man say he 
hath no sin, he deceiveth himself, and the truth is not in 
him." 

And as sin is so odious in itself, so it is the parent of all 
misery. As it is that " accursed thing" which God has 
forbidden, and which is an abomination in his sight, so it 
ever brings with it its natural and unfailing consequence — 
the wrath of a holy God ; all the miseries of this life ; the 
death of the body ; the blight and ruin of the soul ; and, 
when not repented of, the pains of hell for ever. Nor is 
this a mere arbitrary consequence. The justice of God is 



2 ATONING BLOOD. 

an essential attribute of his character. As the righteous 
Governor of the universe, it is impossible that he should 
fail to testify his displeasure against sin. He cannot receive 
the impenitent sinner to his favor without '' denying him- 
self," trampling on the authority of his own law, abandon- 
ing the dignity of his government, and setting an example 
to the subjects of his moral empire, adapted to encourage 
rebellion, and to introduce universal disorder. He can there- 
fore no more omit to testify his fixed opposition to sin and 
sinners, than he can cease to be a righteous and holy Sov- 
ereign. 

All this the method of salvation by Christ presupposes. 
The Gospel is addressed to us as sinners,, All its com- 
mands, all its offers, all its exhortations and warnings, and 
all its "exceeding great and precious promises," proceed 
upon the principle that all those to whom it comes stand 
in need of a deliverer from guilt and pollution. Hence, the 
Saviour, we are told, was expressly called Jesus, because 
he came " to save his people from their sins." Matt. 1:21. 
Accordingly, from sin, in every respect, the Gospel pro- 
claims complete and eternal deliverance. 

But how is this deliverance effected ? By simply passing 
sin by, and dispensing Avith its threatened penalty ? By a 
mere act of sovereign forgiveness, without any demonstra- 
tion of God's abhorrence of evil ? By no means. " Christ 
hath redeemed us from the curse of the law, being made a 
curse for us^ " We have redemption through his blood, even 
the forgiveness of sins, according to the riches of his grace." 

There is no doctrine more important than this. It lies 
at the foundation of all Christian faith and hope. If it were 
asked, Wliat is the essence of the Gospel? The answer, 
undoubtedly, ought to be. It is a gracious message which 
informs a race of lost, miserable sinners, how they may be 
delivered from the condemnation of sin by the atoning blood 
of the Son of God, and from the dominion and pollution of 
sin by the power of the Holy Spirit, given in virtue of the 



ATONING BLOOD. 3 

vicarious, atoning sacrifice of the Redeemer, who came that 
he might " finish transgression, make an end of sin, make 
reconcihation for iniquity, and bring in everlasting right- 
eousness." Daniel 9 : 24. 

Reader, are you not desirous to know in what manner 
"the blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin?'' 
Your attention is earnestly requested to an humble attempt 
to throw light on this subject. 

1. How does the blood of Christ cleanse from the con- 
demnation OF SIN ? How does it deliver men from the 
wrath and curse of God justly due for every transgression? 
We shall conceive more clearly of this subject by recurring 
for a moment to the language and the typical institutions 
of the Old Testament economy. Immediately after the fall 
of our first parents, God was pleased to command that the 
blood of animals should be poured out, and the flesh offered 
in sacrifice, by those who worshipped him, as an acknow- 
ledgment of their sins, and as a kind of figurative expiation 
of them. Not that " the blood of bulls or of goats could 
really take away sin," but he who brought and offered up 
the bleeding victim in obedience to the divine command, by 
this sacrifice made confession of his sins, and of his desert 
of death, and typically expressed his humble reliance on 
the atoning blood of the infinitely greater sacrifice after- 
wards to be offered up once for all. Hence, a large part 
of the worship of the ceremonial dispensation consisted in 
the daily offering of bloody sacrifices, which, typically and 
ceremonially, took away sin ; that is, when they were regu- 
larly brought according to the divine prescription, the sacri- 
ficer was absolved from all liability to suffer the external 
penalty of transgression ; and when they were offered with 
sincere and humble reliance on the atoning sacrifice of the 
Messiah to come, all guilt, all obligation to punishment was 
taken away, and the penitent and believing offerer accepted 
as righteous in the sight of God. In making this offering, 
he who brought the victim laid his hand upon its hefid, as 



4 ATONING BLOOD. 

a kind of solemn symbolical transfer of sin from himself to 
the devoted animal, and as an acknowledgment that he 
himself deserved to die. 

Besides this daily offering, once a year, on the great day 
of atonement, a similar but still more formal and solemn, 
expiatory offering was made in behalf of the whole people. 
But the most remarkable bloody offering was that of the 
paschal lamb, intended to commemorate the deliverance of 
the children of Israel from bondage in Egypt, and more 
especially from the stroke of the destroying angel when 
the first-born of the Egyptians were slain. The blood of 
the slain lamb was ordered to be sprinkled upon the lintels 
and door-posts of the Israelitish houses, and all the families 
which had this mark on their dwellings were passed over, 
and spared by the destroying angel ; thus teaching, by a 
most impressive type, that all who were washed in the blood 
of the great sacrifice, and none others, should be spared 
and accepted in the day of trial. In short, as the apostle 
to the Hebrews declares, " almost all things under the law 
were purged with blood ; and without the shedding of blood 
there was no remission." Hebrews 9 : 22. 

^ All this was done, not that the literal blood of animals 
was expected to take away moral defilement, nor that a 
God of infinite benevolence delighted in the slaughter of 
innocent creatures on its own account ; but as a series of 
** sacramental memorials" of man's desert of death, and of 
" the Lord's death" as the substitute and surety of all who 
should believe in his name. 

Accordingly, when our blessed Saviour came in the flesh, 
all these typical representations were fulfilled, and their 
meaning realized. These were "shadows ;" Christ was the 
" substance" and the " end" of them all. These were " fig- 
ures for the time then present ; but Christ being come a 
High-Priest of good things to come, by a greater and more 
perfect tabernacle, not made with hands, neither by the 
blood of goats and calves, but by his own blood, he entered 



r 



ATONING BLOOD. 5 

once into the holy place, having obtained eternal redemption 
for us : for if the blood of bulls and of goats, and the ashes 
of a heifer sprinkling the unclean, sanctifieth to the puri- 
fying of the flesh, how much more shall the blood of Christ, 
who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without 
spot to God, purge your conscience from dead works to 
serve the living God ?" Heb. 9 : 9-14. 

But hoiv does the blood of Christ deliver from the con- 
demnation of sin? By "the blood of Christ" we are to 
understand the death of Christ, which was effected by shed- 
ding his blood. Hence, he is said to have " died for our 
sins," 1 Cor. 15:3; that is, to " take away our sins," Rom. 
11 : 27; to have "made his soul an offering for sin;" to 
have " put away sin by the sacrifice of himself." Hebrews 
9 : 26. All that Christ underwent as the Redeemer of sin- 
ners, and which was consummated by shedding his blood 
on the cross, may be considered as comprehended under 
the general expression of his atoning blood. As the sacri- 
fice, under the ceremonial economy, was not complete with- 
out actually shedding the blood of the victim ; so the sacri- 
fice of the Son of God, offered up once for all, was not 
finished until " he bowed his head" in the agony of expiring 
nature, and "gave up the ghost." 

Our race had become miserable sinners. AVe had broken 
the holy law of God under which we were placed, and had 
rendered ourselves liable to all the weight of that dreadful 
penalty which it denounces against offenders. The language 
of this holy law is, " Cursed is every one that continueth 
not in all things which are written in the book of the law 
to do them." Yet no one of Adam's race ever did render 
a perfect obedience to this law. Such, then, is our awful 
situation. We have transgressed the holy law of God times 
and ways without number. We have no righteousness of 
our own to meet its inexorable demands. We must die, or 
the justice of God must be tarnished ; or some one, able 
and willing, must pay, in our behalf, the mighty debt which 

VOL. X. 7 



6 ATONING BLOOD. 

we owe to divine justice, and become our ransom. We can 
make no reparation for our sins ; we are helpless, and with- 
out hope in ourselves. Not all the men on earth, nor all 
the angels in heaven could deliver us from the grasp of 
divine justice armed with almighty power. But '' what the 
law could not do, in that it was weak through the flesh, 
God" accomplished by " sending his own Son in the like- 
ness of sinful flesh, and for sin, condemned sin in the flesh, 
that the riMiteousness of the law might be fulfilled in us." 
Rom. 8 : 3, 4. Yes, this alternative, which has filled all 
heaven with wonder, joy, and praise, since the hour in 
which it was proclaimed — this amazing alternative was 
adopted in the counsels of eternal wisdom. The Son of 
God, the Lord of angels and of men, condescended to take 
our nature upon him — to appear in the form of a servant, 
and to obey and suffer as our substitute. He said, in the 
counsel of peace, "' Let me take the place of the guilty. 
Let me die to save them. Deliver them from going down 
to the pit — I have found a ransom." The wonderful, the 
unparalleled off*er was accepted. He who " thought it no 
robbery to be equal with God, took upon him the form of a 
servant ; and being found in fashion as a man, humbled him- 
self, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the 
cross." He " suflPered for us, the just for the unjust." He 
who was very God and very man in the same mysterious 
person, made himself a willing sacrifice for the sins of rebels. 
The Lord laid on him the iniquities of us all. " He hath 
made him to be sin for us, who knew no sin, that we might 
be made the righteousness of God in him." 2 Cor. 5 : 2L 
Not that Christ literally became a sinner, or deserved to be 
treated as a sinner ; but he took the law-place of sinners, 
and was treated as if he had been a sinner, that we, though 
most unworthy, might be treated, for his sake, as if we had 
fulfilled the law in -our own persons. Accordingly " he 
made peace by the blood of his cross." He "gave himself 
for us, that he might redeem us from all iniquity." There 



r 



ATONING IJLUOD. 7 

is, therefore, now " no condemnation to them that are in 
Christ Jesus." They are freely ''justified from all things 
from which they could not be justified by the law of Moses." 

Thus does the blood of Jesus Christ cleanse from the 
CONDEMNATION OF SIN. It takes away from the true be- 
liever all liableness to punishment on account of sin. Though 
his sins still deserve the wrath of God, he is graciously ac- 
quitted and accepted through the merits of Christ's atoning 
sacrifice ; and this acquittal has a respect not merely to 
some of his sins, but to all of them. This precious blood 
cleanseth from all sin. The moment the regenerated soul 
embraces the Saviour by faith, as "the Lord his righteous- 
ness," "though his sins were as scarlet, they become white 
as snow ; though they were red like crimson, they are as 
wool." He is clothed in a "robe washed and made white 
in the blood of the Lamb." Isaiah 1:18; Rev. 7 : 14. 

But the apostate children of Adam need something more 
than cleansing from the condemnation of sin. Their nature 
is depraved. " The carnal mind is enmity against God," 
and while it remains under the reigning power of this de- 
praved disposition, is altogether unfitted for communion with 
God, and incapable of participating in the joys of heaven. 
The soul must be " cleansed" from this moral defilement, this 
spiritual leprosy, before it can be "meet for the inheritance 
of the saints in light." Accordingly the Scriptures teach that, 

2. The blood of Jesus Christ cleanses eflfectually and 
completely from the power and pollution of sin, as well 
as from its condemnation. " Without holiness, no man 
shall see the Lord." It is just as essential to our eternal 
well-being that we be restored to the image of God, as that 
we be restored to his favor'. Hence, it is a vital part of the 
plan of salvation by Christ, to sanctify men as well as to 
justify them. 

But hoio does the blood of Christ cleanse the soul from 
its inherent depravity ? This is a question which must ap- 
pear deeply interesting to all who know any thing of the 



8 ATONING BLOOD. 

evil of indwelling sin, and who groan, being burdened under 
the weight of its grievous corruption. 

It is the immediate and appropriate office of the Holy 
Spirit to sanctify the soul. " It is the Spirit that quicken- 
eth." John 6 : 63. Hence the promise of Jehovah to the 
objects of his saving mercy : " Behold, I will sprinkle clean 
water upon you ; from all your filthiness, and from all your 
idols, will I cleanse you. A new heart also will I give you, 
and a new spirit will I put Avithin you ; and I will take 
away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you 
a heart of flesh. And I will put my Spirit within you, and 
cause you to walk in my statutes, and ye shall keep my 
judgments, and do them." Ezekiel 36 : 25-27. In short, 
for the commencement of holiness in the heart in regenera- 
tion, and for every progressive attainment made in conform- 
ity to the will of God, *'in crucifying the flesh, with the 
affections and lusts," we are indebted to the Holy Spirit of 
God. 

But it is only in virtue of the atoning sacrifice of Christ 
that the Holy Spirit of sanctification is given. This is one 
of the great benefits which the Redeemer died to purchase 
for his people. Had he not suffered and died, the Holy 
Spirit had never been given to enlighten and purify his dis- 
ciples. "If I go not away," said he, **the Comforter will 
not come unto you." John 16 : 7. Not only so, but one 
great purpose for which the Saviour became incarnate was, 
that " he might sanctify his people with his own blood." 
Accordingly we are told, " He loved the church, and gave 
himself for it, that he might sanctify and cleanse it with the 
washing of water by the word ; that he might present it to 
himself a glorious church, not having spot or wrinkle, or 
any such thing; but that it should be holy and without 
blemish." Eph. 5 : 25-27. And again, "He gave himself 
for us, that he might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify 
unto himself a peculiar people, zealous of good works." 
Titus 2:14. We may say, then, that the sanctification of 



ATONING BLOOD. 



his people is as much a part of the purchase of a Saviour's 
blood, as any of the benefits which they receive. In laying 
down his life, he left no uncertainty in respect to the salva- 
tion of believers ; but " through sanctification of the Spirit 
and belief of the truth," secured as firmly their deliverance 
from the dominion and pollution of sin, as from its condem- 
nation ; and insured to every child of God conformity to 
his image, and preparation for the society and employments 
of a holy heaven. 

We may add, that the blood of Christ cleanseth from 
the power and pollution of sin, in that believing views of his 
atoning blood have a direct and powerful tendency to pro- 
mote our sanctification. In proportion as the mind of man 
believingly contemplates, and practically embraces "the 
truth as it is in Jesus," and especially that great cardinal 
truth, in which all the lines of revelation meet — that Jesus 
Christ laid down his life to save sinners, and that his blood 
cleanseth from all sin — will the power of sin be broken in 
him, and he conformed to the great design of the Saviour's 
death. Nothing is more adapted to humble, soften, and 
purify the soul, than believing views of the adorable Re- 
deemer — his eternal and matchless love — his wonderful suf- 
ferings and death — and the rich benefits which flow from 
his atoning blood. A lively faith in these amazing objects 
presents such views of the divine character and law, such 
apprehensions of the astonishing love of Christ, such mo- 
tives to obedience, and such a constraining power over the 
whole man, as are adapted, more than any or all other con- 
siderations, to abase pride, to convince of sin, to melt the 
heart in penitential sorrow, to bind it to the Redeemer in 
sacred confidence and love, and to impel to habitual holiness 
of heart and of life. 

Thus complete is the dehverance from all sin by the 
blood of Jesus Christ. Thus does it take aAvay the con- 
demning power of sin ; the dominion of sin ; the love of 
sin ; the pollution of sin ; and, in due time, all its remaininc^ 

VOL. X. 7* 



10 ATONING BLOOD. 

existence from the heart. Happy, thrice happy is he on 
whom these benefits are bestowed. Well may the inspired 
Psalmist pronoimce, " Blessed is the man whose transgres- 
sion is forgiven, whose sin is covered ; unto whom the Lord 
imputeth not iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no guile." 

But let it ever be remembered, that this blessedness 
belongs to none hut true believers ; to none but those who 
"believe with the heart unto righteousness;" that is, who 
receive and rest on the Saviour, with humility, gratitude, and 
love, as their hope and life. The blood of the paschal lamb 
did not avail excepting to those on whose door-posts it was 
sprinkled. Neither will the blood of Jesus Christ avail to 
the cleansing of any but those to Avhom it is spiritually 
applied. However complete the atoning sacrifice of the 
Redeemer, we are assured it will benefit only those who 
cordially and gratefully receive it. However rich and all- 
cleansing the efficacy of his blood, those only will have their 
sins washed away in this precious fountain, who repair to 
it by faith, and renounce all hope of cleansing and saving 
themselves. " He that belie veth," said the Lord of glory, 
" shall be saved ; but he that believeth not, shall be damned." 
Mark 16 : 16. Again he declared, *' If ye believe not that 
I am he, ye shall die in your sins." John 8 : 24. And 
again, " 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. Yes, notwith- 
standing all that the divine Redeemer has done and suffered, 
those who reject or disregard his merciful offer, must go 
down to the prison of eternal despair, with all their sins 
unpardoned, with all their depravity unbroken ; under the 
power of that "fleshly mind" which is enmity against God, 
and under the weiofht of that wrath which will consiorn them 
to " everlasting destruction from the presence of the Lord, 
and from the glory of his power." 2 Thess. 1 : 9. 

Beloved reader, what think you of these things ? Be 
assured, that what has been said is no idle speculation. It 



ATONING BLOOD. U 

is truth of everlasting importance. It is your life. You 
are a sinner. You cannot deny the charge. You need 
forgiveness and sanctification. You must inevitably perish 
unless you obtain both. You can never obtain those bless- 
ings but " through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus ;" 
and you can have no interest in that redemption without 
feeling your need of it, and cordially receiving it as the 
ground of your hope, and the life of your soul. Have you, 
then, received Christ, and are you resting in him? Have 
you good evidence that you have been pardoned through 
the atoning blood, and renewed by the Spirit of the Lord 
Jesus ? Or does your conscience bear witness that you are 
"yet in your sins," and of course have no part nor lot in 
the salvation of the Gospel ? reader, these are questions 
in comparison with which all others are trifling. 

Many hearers of the Gospel are daily busying themselves 
in vain speculations concerning the origin of evil, and the 
philosophy of our depravity ; while the melancholy fact, 
and the proffered deliverance from it, occupy but little of 
their attention. when will infatuated mortals be per- 
suaded to renounce this folly, and to " consider their ways ?" 
Impenitent reader, while you speculate and cavil, you per- 
ish. Behold, through Christ, is preached unto you the for- 
giveness of sins. ** He that cometh to him shall in no wise 
be cast out." He is " able to save them to the uttermost, 
that come unto God by him." Hebrews 7 : 25. Let no 
sinner, then, either wilfully or carelessly neglect to embrace 
the offer of mercy so freely and graciously made. If any 
are excluded from the cleansing power of the Saviour's 
blood, it will be because they exclude themselves. Yes, fel- 
low-mortal, if you perish, it will not be on account of any 
insufficiency in the blood of Christ to make you clean ; but 
solely because of your voluntary and unbelieving rejection 
of a proffered deliverance, the most effectual, blessed, and 
glorious, that was ever presented to a creature's acceptance. 

Nor let the awakened, anxious sinner, who has been 



12 ATONING BLOOD. 

made in some measure to see the number and aggravation 
of his sins, indulge the fear that his sins are too great to be 
washed away even by a Saviour's blood. Were it the blood 
of a mere man, or of a mere exalted creature, sinner, to 
which we direct your attention and your confidence, you 
might Avell despair. But it is the blood of him who was 
truly God, as well as truly man, in the same mysterious 
person. It is no extravagance to say, that it is the blood 
of an infinite sacrifice. "Wherefore he is able to save them 
to the uttermost, that come unto God by him." Heb. 7 : 25. 
Blessed be his holy name for that precious word, the ut- 
termost. It covers the worst cases. It extends to every 
possible degree of guilt. Though your sins were the black- 
est that ever disgraced the annals of rebelhon, yet, if you 
humbly apply to this blood of atonement, if you come with 
faith and penitence to this " fountain opened for sin and 
uncleanness," you will not be rejected. Has the Saviour 
pledged his almightiness as well as his love ? Has he said, 
" Look unto me, and be ye saved, all ye ends of the earth ; 
for I am Jehovah, and there is none else ?" Isa. 45 : 22. 
And can you still doubt whether he is able as well as will- 
ing to save all that come unto God through him ? 

Let those who have already taken refuge in the Saviour, 
and who desire more and more to be cleansed from sin, re- 
member whither they are to go for the attainment of this 
blessing. Yes, believer, if you wish daily to mortify cor- 
ruption, to overcome the world, and to grow in grace, be 
much employed every day in believing contemplations of 
Christ, his redeeming love, his atoning sacrifice, his 
cleansing blood, his holy example, and the holy joys of 
his presence. Meditate much on these objects, and you 
will be able to say, with the apostle, "I live; yet not I, 
but Christ liveth in me ; and the life which I now live in 
the flesh, I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved 
me, and gave himself for me." Gal. 2 : 20. 



rVo. 363. 

UNIVERSALISM 
UNSCRIPTURAL AND ABSURD. 



The Bible speaks of a time when the Lord Jesus Christ 
will appear in glory with the holy angels, will have all 
nations assembled before him, and will there separate the 
righteous from the wicked — saying to the righteous, ** Come, 
ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for 
you from the foundation of the world ;" and to the wicked, 
*' Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared 
for the devil and his angels." And the history closes with 
this tremendous declaration, "These shall go away into 
everlasting punishment, but the righteous into life eternal." 
Matt. 25 : 31-46. Agreeably to what seems the obvious 
import of this scripture, the great body of Christians in all 
ages have believed that those who live and die impenitent 
suffer endless punishment. On the other hand, many, 
commonly denominated Universalists, have held that no 
one will thus suffer, but that all the children of Adam will 
be eventually and for ever happy with God. 

Before entering directly upon the examination of the 
latter sentiment, it may be useful to state the essential 
principles of the divine government, as generally under- 
stood by evangelical Christians. What is needful to our 
present purpose may be embodied in the four following 
propositions. 



2 UNIVERSALISM UNSCRIPTURAL. 

1. God has placed men under a righteous law, Rom. 

2 : 12-15, whose penalty — according to its just value, the 
importance of the interests it guards, and the consequences 
of transgression — is eternal death. Ezek. 18 : 20; Rom. 
6 : 23. 

2. All men have broken this laAV, and are, therefore, 
righteously condemned. Rom. 3 : 11-19. 

3. The Lord Jesus Christ has offered himself a pro- 
pitiatory sacrifice, Rom. 3 : 25, for the sins of men, Heb. 
10 : 12 ; so that whosoever will repent and trust in him for 
pardon, shall be justified and receive everlasting happiness. 
John 3 : 15, 16 ; Rom. 3 : 24-26. 

4. Those who will not turn from their transgressions, 
nor comply with the reasonable conditions of the Gospel, 
during the present season of probation, will be driven away 
in their wickedness, to endless suffering and shame. John 

3 : 5, 36 ; 2 Thess. 1 : 7-9. 

Universalists generally allow that all men are subject to 
the moral law, and are sinners ; but they maintain that the 
salvation which is through Christ, is not only sufificient for 
all, and within reach of all, and freely offered to all, but 
that it will be absolutely secured to all. Their error ap- 
pears to originate mainly in very low views of the nature 
and value of God's commandments, and in practically re- 
garding sin as a small matter. Hence, they suppose the 
penalty of the divine law to be a mere trifle in comparison 
with what has been stated above. Most of them maintain 
one of the two following positions : Either, 1 . That the 
proper and just punishment of sin is moral and spiritual 
death, {%. e. destitution of holiness,) remorse of conscience, 
and the varied ills of the present life, including the death 
of the body — and that there is nothing after death but a 
pure and blessed immortality ; Or, 2. That punishment is 
commenced in the mental and bodily sufferings of this life, 



UN I VERBALISM UNSCRIPTURAL. 3 

and continued in a future temporary hell, where the wicked 
suffer as much as their sins deserve, are purified, and taken 
to heaven. Those holding this opinion are comparatively 
few in number, and are generally known as " Restora- 
tionists." 

The inconsistency and folly of this latter scheme may 
be thus evinced : 

1. There are no passages of Scripture which show how, 
and when, and where the sinner is delivered from hell, if 
once he falls into it ; and it seems impossible to doubt that, 
had our Saviour designed to teach the doctrine in question, 
so momentous a fact would have been clearly and explicitly 
revealed. Luke 16 : 26. 

2. If the scheme of final restoration be true, prophets 
and apostles are chargeable with such weakness and ob- 
scurity in their waitings as would destroy all confidence in 
the sacred volume. No author, of modern times at least, 
has ever found difficulty in writing so as to make men un- 
derstand that he did not believe in endless punishment ; 
but conceding the truth of Universalism, inspired men have 
written so strangely as to lead a great majority of all serious 
and learned persons, who study the original Scriptures, or 
the different translations, to believe what is false in regard 
to the character and government of God, and the hopes 
and destiny of man. See Psalm 11 : 6; Matt. 10 : 28; 
Mark 3 : 29 ; John 5 : 29 ; 2 Peter 2 : 12. 

3. It is irrational to affirm that mere suffering or pun- 
ishment would ever win to loyalty and love the heart that 
had remained impenitent amid rich and varied exhibitions 
of paternal chastisement, forbearance, and mercy. Rev. 
16 : 9-11. Nor is it conceivable that the companionship of 
sorcerers, whoremongers, murderers, idolaters, and liars, 
Rev. 22 : 15, should have any tendency to make men holy 
and fit them for heaven. 



4 UNIVERSALISxM UNSCRIPTURAL. 

4. The scheme of restoration destroys the whole doc- 
trine of salvation by grace. The Bible declares, that there 
is no other name through which we can be saved, except 
that of Christ, Acts 4 : 12, and that we have redemption 
through his blood, the forgiveness of sins. Ephes. 1 : Y. 
But if the wicked suffer the just punishment of their sins 
in hell, and are there purified, they can be just as well 
saved without Christ as Avith him. Indeed, they neither 
want a Saviour nor can they have any. Moreover, it is 
manifest that, upon this scheme, sinners can neither receive 
forgiveness through the blood of Christ, nor in any other 
way ; for having suffered the proper penalty of the law, 
they have a right to deliverance on the footing of justice. 
It is mere mockery to say to a culprit that he receives for- 
giveness ''according to the riches of grace," while at the 
same time he has paid in his own person '' the wages of 
sin." 

5. The doctrine of restoration teaches — what, indeed, 
Universalists generally affirm — that God punishes no sinner 
except for his individual good ; that the penalty for all 
transgression is fatherly correction, designed to reclaim and 
bless. Hence, whenever a man sins, he receives as penalty, 
goodness, in some form, at the hand of the Lord. Upon 
this hypothesis, the more men sin, the richer experience 
will they continually have of God's goodness ; and the soul 
that shall receive the highest possible manifestations of 
divine favor, will be the most outrageous and heaven-daring 
rebel on earth. This follows inevitably from the doctrine 
that God inflicts upon sinners only that which is for their 
good ; and who can help seeing that this is little else than 
for the Almighty to offer a premium for blasphemy and 
rebellion ? According to this doctrine also, God's raining 
upon the wicked "snares, fire, and brimstone," is synony- 
mous with sending upon them sanctifying mercies ! And 



UNIVERSALISM UNSCRIPTURAL. 5 

the threatening against the ungodly, of "indignation and 
wrath, tribulation and anguish," refers to the distribution 
of different sorts of blessings ! The Scripture expression, 
"fierce wrath of God," means simply, fierce goodness of 
God ; and the " fiery indignation which shall devour the 
adversaries," jneans fiety mercy which shall save the adver- 
saries ; and " the smoke of their torment which ascendeth 
up for ever and ever," must be understood as the smoke of 
the salvation of the damned ! 

6. If the penalty of the divine law be disciplinary and 
purifymg punishment in a future state, then hell is a most 
desb-able home. According to the doctrine in hand, it fits 
multitudes for heaven who were incorrigible upon earth ; 
it is a kind of hospital, where the deeply diseased with sin, 
and otherwise incurable, are restored to perfect soundness. 
Hence, no one need fear the " damnation of hell," nor in- 
dulge a mistaken wish to " escape" it. It is a place of 
mercy. Hell is designed to secure the eternal salvation of 
the ungodly, and the sooner they feel its purifying flames, 
the sooner will they have paid the wages of sin, and be 
cleansed for the joys of heaven. 

The absurdity of supposing that. hell, or the proper 
punishment of sin, is in this life, may be thus evinced : 

1. If remorse of conscience, etc., be the penalty of the 
dinne law, then it follows, that the more men sin, the less 
they are punished ; for every one knows that forebodings 
of evil and the stings of conscience cease to be distressing 
just in proportion as men become habituated to work wick- 
edness. All that sinners need do to " escape the damna- 
tion of hell," and what it would be wisdom for them to do, 
according to this sentiment, is, simply, to sin with such a 
high hand as that conscience shall become seared, and they 
be " past feeling," then their happy souls will be almost if 
not altogether prepared for eternal glory. 

VOL. X. 8 



6 UNIVERSALISM UNSCRIPTURAL. 

2. If the just punishment of sin immediately and 
necessarily follow its commission, in mental and bodily 
sufferings, then all the inflictions of parents upon rebellious 
children, and of magistrates upon the state criminal, are 
most imjustifiable tyranny, as Avell as an impious invasion 
of the divine prerogative. Universalism maintains that God 
has so constituted us, that the commission of crime draws 
after it its full reward of suffering, immediately and with- 
out the possibility of escape. This being so, who shall dare 
add to the righteous penalty which heaven ordains, and the 
culprit has suffered ? On this scheme of morals, an abused 
people would be fully justified in demolishing every jail, 
penitentiary, and gallows in the land, and in treating judges, 
jurors, and sheriffs as the worst of nuisances and the most 
flagitious oppressors. 

3. This scheme of Universalism gives perfect and un- 
limited license to the ungodly and the scoffer. It says to 
the infidel, whose breath is poisoning the very fountain of 
morals, and to those who are rotting within the precincts 
of the brothel, and to those who curse and stagger under 
the influence of intoxication, *' You are now suftering the 
penalty of God's law — there is no hell for the wicked be- 
sides the one you are now in — after death is no sin, no 
suffering — nothing for the soul but a pure and blessed im- 
mortality." Who does not see that the most abandoned 
wretches can desire no greater impunity than this doctrine 
affords them? And what intelligent mind can resist the 
conviction that, if this view of the divine government were 
to prevail, personal safety and social order would no longer 
exist, but anarchy, confusion, and blood would overspread 
the land ? 

4. This doctrine destroys the entii'e substance of the 
Gospel, and is also contradictory to itself. Universahsm 
professes to believe that the Lord Jesus suves all men : yet 



UNIVERSALISM UNSCRIPTURAL 7 

he cannot save from a fitture hell, for the doctrine affirms 
that there is none : he saves none from a liresent hell, or 
from the just demerit of their sins, for the doctrine affirms 
that a righteous retribution immediately and irresistibly 
follows every transgression. It will not be seriously pre- 
tended that our Lord saves all from sin, for it is notorious 
that great multitudes live and die in iniquity ; nor will it be 
alleged that the grace of Christ, in some unimaginable way, 
changes men^s hearts so as to fit them for heaven, for Uni- 
versalism maintains that death produces this change. Hence, 
it is demonstrably true, that this heresy not only destroys 
the Gospel of Christ, but actually subverts itself. 

5. The doctrine that sin and suffering exist only in this 
present life, would make it a dictate of prudence and piety, 
for some individuals at least, to commit suicide. The Bible 
warns sinners to '' flee from the wrath to come," and reason 
strongly urges men to become holy and happy. Let any 
one, then, Avho pants after the joys of heaven and com- 
munion Avith God, just put an end to his own life, and he 
will inherit immortality and bliss in a moment. Especially, 
if Universalism be true, ought those who are deeply 
conscious of sin, and all who are oppressed with poverty 
and sickness, as well as those who are daily vexed with the 
fanatical zeal of the "orthodox," to call in the aid of pistol, 
or razor, or laudanum — for either of these instruments 
would secure a comparatively easy death — and glide 
quickly into paradise, where they would receive the plau- 
dit, " Well done, good and faithful servant, enter thou into 
the joy of thy Lord." If the doctrine under discussion be 
according to Scripture, no reasoning can set aside this 
conclusion. 

6. Conceding the truth of Universalism, it can be 
proved that the pirate executed at New York for having 
killed some two hundred of his fellow-men, lived a most 



8 UNIVERSALISM UNSCRIPTURAL. 

useful life ; for he hurried great numbers, with but little 
pain, from sin and sorrow, to the joys which are at God's 
right hand. And allowing that sin and suffering exist only 
in this life, and that beyond the grave is a bright and bless- 
ed state of existence for all, this robber of the seas might 
have plead before his judges that in all he did he was ac- 
tuated by the purest benevolence : and no one can gainsay 
his declaration. *' I saw my fellow-men," he might allege, 
" toiling and suffering, almost continually falling into sins 
that dishonored God, and haunted with gloomy remem- 
brances and forebodings — exposed, moreover, to a death of 
uncertain and dreadful anguish : my compassionate heart 
yearned over them, and longed to do them good : it was 
plain, yea, certain, that glory and blessing was prepared 
for all after death ; and that many fearful souls would not 
* escape the damnation of hell,' in which they were suffer- 
ing in this life ; accordingly I devoted my life to the simple 
and (who shall deny it) benevolent business of aiding my 
brethren, my kinsmen according to the flesh, up to paradise, 
by the quickest and gentlest means." 

And this is a picture of Universal ism : not drawn with 
any wish to caricature or misrepresent, but to exhibit the 
true features and relations of this most monstrous and 
deformed of all the progeny of error. Isaiah 28 : 15-20. 
Reader, beware of it : make not its lies your refuge or your 
hope. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



Xo. 363. 

COME TO JESUS; 

OR, 

HOW TO FIND REST. 

A TRUE NARRATIVE. 



A CLERGYMAN was One morning sitting in his study, when 
Mrs. A., a coachmaker's wife, called on him in great distress 
of mind. Upon her entering the room, a conversation took 
place, of which the following is the substance. 

" Good morning, Mrs. A. ; I hope I see you quite Avell ?" 
" Gluite well, I thank you, sir, in body, but I am wretched 
in mind," answered Mrs. A., weeping. "Indeed," said Mr, 
R., "what is the cause of your distress?" "0, sir, I am 
such a sinner." "How long have you been in this state? 
How long have you been suffering in mind on account of 
your sins?" "About four years, sir." " And what have 
you done to obtain relief ? " "Sir, I have done every thing 
I can think of." " Have you attended the appointed means 
of grace ? What church have you been in the habit of fre- 
quenting ?" " Sir, I have gone to every church in the town." 
" And have you found no comfort, no benefit ?" "A little, 
sometimes ; but it soon goes away again, and leaves me as 
wretched as before. Sir, I am a miserable woman." Here 
Mrs. A. again wept bitterly. 

Mr. R. now began to suspect that poor Mrs. A. was one 
of those persons who, neglecting the private means of grace, 
and having itching ears, run about from church to church to 
hear different preachers, but who neglect the admonition, 
" Take heed how ye hear." He therefore continued : " Have 
you searched the Scriptures ? Do you read the Bible at 
home?" "Sir, I am always reading the Bible. I cannot 
but read it; it is my only hope." "Have you derived no 
comfort from its invitations and promises?" "I think 1 
VOL. X. 8* 



2 COME TO JESUS. 

have got a little comfort sometimes, sir ; but it soon leaves 
me, and I become as w^retched as before." 

Still Mr. R. thought that Mrs. A., whilst diligent in 
searching the Scriptures, might be neglecting prayer, the 
true index of the soul. He proceeded, and said, " Have you 
prayed for peace ? " " Sir, I am praying all day long. " " And 
have you received no answer to your prayers ; have you ob- 
tained no consolation ?" " Sometimes, sir, I get a little peace 
after I have prayed, but it soon goes away again. 0, sir, I 
am a miserable woman." And here, again, the tears, which 
the poor woman shed abundantly, showed the deep anguish 
of her soul. 

Mr. E-. was now satisfied that she was a sincere inquirer 
after salvation. He inwardly rejoiced at her state. He felt 
assured the Holy Spirit was leading her, though through 
deep waterfloods, to the feet of Jesus. But for a while he 
was at a loss to discover why the peace which she so ear- 
nestly desired, and so diligently sought, was withheld from 
her. At length he thought he could see the rock on which 
she was splitting. He therefore, after a pause, continued : 

" I think I can see wherein you have erred." " Indeed, 
sir," replied Mrs. A., "I shall be very thankful if you can 
point out my error, and tell me how I can find rest for my 
poor soul." " Will you, then, candidly answer two or three 
questions ? When you attended the house of God, read your 
Bible, and prayed, did you rely on these means to give you 
comfort?" " I think I did, sir," answered Mrs. A., looking 
surprised at the question. " And when you prayed, to whom 
did you pray ?" "To God, sir," said Mrs. A., looking still 
more surprised than before ; "to whom else could I pray ?" 

Mr. R. was now satisfied that he had discovered her 
error : that she had not with simple faith looked to the 
LoE-D Jesus Christ, through whom alone we have access 
to the Father ; that she had not duly " considered Him" as 
bearing our nature in union with his own, being " touched 
with the feeling of our infirmities," and " able to save them 
to the uttermost that come unto God by him, seeing he ever 
liveth to make intercession for them." " I think," said he, 



COME TO JESUS. 3 

•' I see why you have not found abiding rest for your soul. 
"Will you read this verse?" pointing her to the 28th verse 
of the 1 1th chapter of Matthew. Mrs. A. read, " ' Come unto 
me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give 
you rest.'" "Who spoke these words?" asked Mr. R. — 
"read the 25th verse, just before; what does that say?" 

" ' At that time Jesus answered, and said .' " " Now, 

who is the speaker?" "Jesus, sir." "Now tell me, in 
your distresses, have you not used the means you have 
named — attending church, reading the Bible, and prayer — 
and rested upon them for comfort, and not upon the Lord 
Jesus ? And in your prayers, have you accepted the invita- 
tion of Jesus ? Have you gone to him for rest ? Have you 
prayed to him ? Have you closed with the invitation, and 
hung upon the promise of Jesus, ' Come unto me, and I will 
give you rest?' " 

Mrs. A. looked amazed ; she paused for a few moments, 
and then, whilst tears filled her eyes, exclaimed, " 0, sir, I see 
my mistake. I see where I have been wrong. 0, how 
could I so long have overlooked the Lord Jesus. He prom- 
ises rest, but I never went to him. Now I see it. I won- 
der at myself that I never saw this before." 

Mrs. A. had, till now, been ignorant of the true charac- 
ter of God. The being of whom she had conceived, was not 
the God of the Bible, not God manifest in Jesus Christ, the 
God of infinite love and pity. Till now, she had overlooked 
the all-important declaration of Jesus, " I am the Way, and 
the Truth, and the Life : no man cometh unto the Father, 
but by me." John 14 : 6. She had overlooked Christ as 
" God manifest in the flesh." She, like Peter, had looked at 
the storm rather than at the Saviour, and began to sink. 
But now a flood of light burst upon her mind, and discovered 
to her burdened soul, that God has revealed himself as the 
God of all grace and consolation in Jesus Christ. The Holy 
Spirit had now, " in the day of Christ's power," taken of the 
things of Jesus, and shown her, that according to the terms 
of the everlasting covenant, Jesus is the appointed Mediator 
between a holy God and the sinner, who, possessing the hu- 



4 COME TO JESUB. 

man as well as the divine nature, can " lay his hand upon 
us both," Job 9 : 33 ; that he alone is the way to the Father, 
and that no man cometh to the Father but by him, John 
14 : 6 ; and moreover, that he has received from the Father 
all saving g-ifts for his people. Eph. 4 : 8. 

" Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh;" 
and Mrs. A. quoted from a well-stored mind, many pas- 
sages of Scripture in proof of her past error. And the tears 
which a fcAV minutes before indicated the anguish of an op- 
pressed spirit, now flowed in the channel of grateful and 
peaceful joy. 

Mr. K,. having commended her to that Saviour, that 
redeeming God, in whom she now confided for rest, she 
hastened home to gladden the heart of her husband with 
the joyous tidings of her discovery. 

A short time elapsed before Mr. R. had an opportunity 
of seeing her again. When he called at her house, he found 
her " rejoicing in a reconciled God through Jesus Christ." 
" What have you been doing with my wife, sir?" said her 
grateful and happy husband ; " for since she saw you, she has 
been quite another w^oman. She always used to be going 
about the house sighing and mourning, but noAV she is sing- 
ing hymns all day long." 

The recital of this instructive incident has been blessed 
to the conversion and comfort of more than one individual. 

In a village in B , Mr. R., the brother of this clergy- 
man, was in the habit of visiting a poor woman, and read- 
ing the Scriptures to her. She received his visits with but 
little pleasure, and would often, as she afterwards confessed, 
feign herself "not at home," when she was aware of his 
coming. On one occasion the above narrative occurred to 
his mind, and he related it to her. She listened with more 
than usual attention, but gave no evidence of any deep im- 
pression. 

When Mr. R. visited her again, he noticed a marked 
change in her deportment ; the cloud which had hitherto 
darkened her features had been dispelled, and serenity and 



COME TO JESUS. 5 

joy could be traced upon her fine and open countenance. 
"0, sir," she said, whilst tears filled her eyes, " I was just 
like that woman you told me about the other day. I never 
took my sins and troubles to Jesus till you told me that story. 
But now I have prayed to him, and found rest to my soul." 
This woman, like the first named, had approached God 
without relying on the atoning merits of Christ. So soon as 
she was led to discern the God of the Bible, the God who 
pardons sin through the blood of the Lamb, and who de- 
hghteth to pardon, her heart was softened, and her con- 
science found peace. She gave satisfactory evidence of the 
saving change wrought in her soul. She became indeed " a 
new creature," and a consistent and humble follower of the 
Lamb. She was enabled, to a remarkable degree, to obey 
the injunction given to all true believers whose " faith work- 
eth by love," " Rejoice in the Lord alway." 

Having found peace and happiness herself, her heart was 
set upon, and yearned for the salvation of her husband. Her 
prayers and labors on his behalf were oviTied of God, who 
blessed her in this " work of faith and labor of love," and 
made her the honored and happy instrument of leading him 
to the foot of the cross. 

Another instance of the blessing attending the narration 

of this incident, occurred in the city of . Mr. R. was 

asked by his sister, a district visitor, to address a few poor 
people in a room in which she was accustomed to assemble 
them, and read to them the Scriptures. He was informed 
that a Roman Catholic was in the habit of attending ; but 
he was not aware, till afterwards, that she was one of his 
hearers. The subject selected was the parable of the Prodi- 
gal Son, Luke 15. He took occasion to remark, that as the 
prodigal did not go to his father's servants, and ask them to 
intercede for him, but " arose and went to his father" direct, 
and found a welcome in his bosom ; so the repenting and 
returning sinner may go directly to Christ the " one Media- 
tor between God and men," and will find, without the in- 
tercession of the virgin Mary or any other saint, the freest 



6 COME TO JESUS. 

acceptance and the fullest pardon. The Holy Spirit carried 

conviction to the heart of Anne B . Her sleep was 

broken during the following night. Her mind could not 
rest, for her sins pressed upon her conscience. 

A few days after the lecture, Mr. K,., having been ap- 
prized that Anne B had been one of his hearers, and 

that she seemed impressed by what was then said, called to 
see her. She occupied a small back room, on a first floor, 
and supported herself by shoe-binding. She was reclining 
on the bed when Mr. E-. entered the room, as for some time 
she had been suffering from severe indisposition. She 
evinced much pleasure at seeing him. In directing her to 
look to Jesus for rest, and assuring her that no man know- 
eth " who the Father is, but the Son, and he to whom the 
Son will reveal him," Luke 10 : 22, Mr. R. related the an- 
ecdote of the coachmaker's wife. His visit was short, and 
he left her with but little encouragement that the truth had 
entered her soul. 

A second visit, however, proved that the word of the 
Lord had not returned unto him void, but had prospered in 
the thing whereto he sent it. " 0, sir," she exclaimed, 
whilst her pallid countenance flushed with joy, " my lips 
were sealed when you came here before. I was just like the 
coachmaker's wife. I could not sleep during the night, and 

1 rose three times and prayed, not to the virgin, as I used to 
do, but to God ; yet I did not then find comfort, for I over- 
looked Jesus Christ as the way to the Father. But since you 
told me that story, and directed me to Jesus, to God giving 
his Son to die for sinners, I have found peace." 

Peace Anne B had evidently found. It reigned in 

her heart, and did not forsake her to the day of her death. 
She had found that " God was in Christ, reconciling the 
world unto himself, not imputing their trespasses unto them." 

2 Cor. 5:19. Her illness increased, and her sufferings were 
great, but her consolations were greater. Her placid coun- 
tenance indicated the peace of her miind. She was not only 
a monument of grace, but an example of patience and meek- 
ness. A visit to her bedside was both refreshing and edify- 



COME TO JESUS. 7 

ing. She seemed to recline, like the disciple whom Jesus 
loved, on her Saviour's bosom. She lingered a few months, 
and after having given satisfactory evidence of the saving 
change wrought in her heart, she fell asleep in Jesus 

Let me ask the reader, "What have you done with your 
sins ? To whom have you carried them ? Have you ac- 
cepted Christ's gracious invitation, " Come unto me, and I 
will give you rest." In vain will you seek saving and abid- 
ing rest till you come unto him. Let the following reasons 
convince you of this. 

1 . God the Father has committed to the Son all " power," 
Matt. 28 : 18 ; all " grace," John 1 : 16, compared with Col. 
1:19; all pardon. Matt. 1:21; John 5 : 22, 23 ; all sal- 
vation. John 1 : 12. He has treasured up " all things," 
even the knowledge of himself, in Jesus. Matt. 11 : 27. And 
as Pharaoh directed the famishing Egyptians to go to Joseph, 
to whom he had committed the storehouses of corn ; so the 
Father directs all who hunger and thirst after righteousness 
to go to Jesus, to whom he has committed the treasures of 
grace. " This is my beloved Son," he said, when his voice 
was heard out of the cloud on the mount of transfiguration, 
" This is my beloved Son ; hear ye him." You will, there- 
fore, obey and honor the Father, John 5 : 23, by obeying and 
honoring the Son ; by hearing his voice, and accepting his 
invitation, " Come unto me, and I will give you rest." 

2. The gift of the Holy Ghost is purchased by the blood, 
and bestowed by the grace of the Lord Jesus. John 15 : 26. 
The Father sends him to regenerate and dwell in the hearts 
of his people in the name of his Son, John 14 : 26. He 
comes only in the name of Jesus ; he does not speak of him- 
self, but reveals the fulness and sufficiency of Jesus ; his 
things only he takes, and shows unto his people. John 
16:7-15. 

Has the Holy Spirit revealed the Lord Jesus to you as 
the source of all rest, and the fountain of all peace ? Has 
he led you by his gentle influences to the cross, and there 
enabled vou to repent of your sins, to unburden your soul, 



8 COME TO JESUS. 



and to close with the gracious ofier, " Come unto me, and I 
will give you rest ?" 

3. Jesus himself has given many great and precious 
promises of" rest to all who come to him. " The testimony 
of Jesus is the spirit of prophecy," Rev. 19 : 10 ; and the 
Scriptures bear full testimony to his power, grace, and suffi- 
ciency. He quickens dead souls. John 5 : 21, 25. He 
cleanses them from all sin. Isa. 1:16; 1 John, 1:7. He 
robes them in spotless righteousness. Jer. 23 : 6. He gives 
light. John 1 : 9. He refreshes. John 6 : 35 ; 7 : 37, 38. 
He strengthens. 2 Cor. 12 : 9. He preserves. John 10 : 27, 
28. He gives saving rest here, and an " eternal weight of 
glory" hereafter. 2 Cor. 4 : 17. 

Come, then, fellow-sinner, to Jesus. "And the Spirit 
and the bride say, Come. And let him that heareth say. 
Come. And let him that is athirst come. And whosoever 
will, let him take the water of life freely." Rev. 22 : 17. 
Come, bring all your sins, doubts, fears, and cares to him. 
Diligently and prayerfully use all ; but do not stay thy soul 
upon any of the means of grace. Means are only means — 
Jesus is all in all. Cast your heavy burden upon him. He 
will receive you. He rejects none who truly and sincerely 
come to him. John 6 :37. Arise, and come then at once 
to him, leaning upon his infallible word, " Come unto me, 
all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you 
rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me ; for I am 
meek and lowly in heart ; and ye shall find rest unto your 
souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." Matt. 
11 : 28-30. 



PUBLISH F.D BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



]Vo. 364. 

HOW TO MAKE 
THE MOST OF LIFE. 



On this winged hour eternity depends. Both the kind 
and degree of eternal retribution will be determined by 
present conduct : " Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall 
he also reap," How then shall a man make the most of life ? 

Know yourself. Self-knowledge is first in order. The 
prodigal first "came to himself," and then to his father. 
The royal Psalmist says, " I thought on my ways, and turned 
my feet unto thy testimonies." If you would gain correct 
knowledge of yourself, you must receive the Scriptural 
account of human nature as true of you. 

Know God. He maintains your fife. From him all 
goodness flows. To know him as revealed in Christ Jesus, 
is eternal life begun on earth. " Acquaint thyself with him, 
and be at peace ; thereby good shall come unto thee." Honor 
the Son, even as you honor the Father. Receive the Holy 
Ghost. To the sacred Three in One consecrate all you 
have, and are, and hope for. 

Devote your life to doing good. Your obligations 
to usefulness are perpetual, indissoluble, and mighty. Noth- 
ing can remit them. They result from your nature, and 
your relations to God and man. In doing good, 

Discern the nature of things. Make a careful selec- 
tion. Squander nothing on unworthy objects, or in unwor- 
thy pursuits. Learn to judge of both men and things. 

Watch for opportunities. Henry Martyn, with all 
his zeal, says he lost, through inattention, the best oppor- 
tunity of usefulness which he had for many months in India. 
*' Oh that our heads were waters," exclaims Cotton Mather, 
" because they have been so dry of all thoughts to do good. 
Oh that our eyes were a fountain of tears, because they 
have looked so little for occasions to do good," "As we 
liave therefore o-pijortunity , let us do good unto all men." 

Let your ability be the rule of your efforts. " Get 
all you can, save all you can, give all you can," do all you 
can. "If there be first a willing mind, it is accepted ao 

VOL. X. 9 



HOW TO MAKE THE MOST OF LIFE. 



cording to what a man hatli, and not according to what he 
hath not." "Withhold not good from them to whom it is 
due, when it is in the power of thy hand to do it." 

Never quit certainty for hope. Never abandon a 
sure way of doing good for some doubtful scheme. Con- 
form your plans to the rules of God's providence, and the 
dictates of a sober mind. Beware of the habit of originat- 
ing devices which you do not intend to execute. 

Persevere. When you have made a good beginning, 
do not think the work done. Call not a commencement the 
completion. *'Let not him that girdeth on the harness 
boast himself as he that putteth it off." Have ''long pa- 
tience," and you shall have "precious fruits." 

Be impartial. Never favor one good cause or object 
of charity to the prejudice of another. It was a shame for 
the early Christians to wrangle about the comparative merits 
of Paul, Apollos, and Cephas. They all had excellent gifts 
and more excellent graces. 'Tis a mark of folly, yea, it is 
a sin to undervalue objects merely because we are not en- 
gaged in promoting them. Therefore encourage whatever 
promises substantial good. 

Defer not. To assiijn to the future what God assio-ns 
to the present, is very hazardous. One would not give an}'' 
until he could give a large sum : when he had a large part 
of the desired sum, he lost it by fire. Another deferred, 
for one hour, a warning which he intended to give an un- 
converted friend : at the end of the hour, the unconverted 
man was in eternity. " Say not unto thy neighbor, Go, and 
come again, and to-morrow I will give, when thou hast it 
by thee." To-morrow is not thine. 

Act from principle. What you do, do not from per- 
suasion, or fancy, or ostentation, or to avoid importunity. 
You have a rational soul. Make use of it. Be fully per- 
suaded and firmly established in good princqdes. 

Live by rule. Be systematic in your charities and 
efforts. If there be irregularity in your life, let it come 
from the overflowings of your benevolence breaking over a 
well- constructed system of usefulness. 

Be hearty in all your labors. Let not your head, 
and hands, and tongue be busy, and your heart idle. Re- 
sults by their greatness will surprise the truly engaged, 
while the double-minded will wonder that so little good is 



HOW TO MAKE THE MOST OF LIFE. 3 

done. When the walls of Jerusalem went up rapidly, it 
was because " the people had a mind to build." " The 
sluo-orard desireth, and hath nothincr." 

Enlist others, " Iron sharpeneth iron ; so a man sharp- 
eneth the countenance of his friend." "Two are better 
than one." " Woe to him that is alone when he falleth." " A 
threefold cord is not quickly broken." " One shall chase a 
thousand, and tioo shall put ten thousand to flight." De- 
spise not the services of any in their appropriate sphere. A 
little captive maid knew more about the man of God in 
Palestine, than did the king of Israel, and was the means 
of savinsc her master Naaman. 

Especially enlist God. His foolishness is wiser than 
men, and his weakness is stronger than men. He charges 
his angels with folly. His word is power. His will is vic- 
tory. He makes the feeble like David, and David like the 
angel of God. "Except the Lord build the house, they 
labor in vain that build it." He who prays aright, wins the 
heart that wields the arm that moves the world. 

Be determined. Timidity aAvakens opposition from the 
cowardly. Men will not rally around him whose heart is 
not fixed. But let a man himself be intrepid and unwaver- 
ing, and his friends will be ; and difficulty will vanish. 

Aim high. Desire great things, meditate great things, 
attempt great things ; then let your eflforts correspond, and, 
with God's blessing, you will accomplish great things. Yet 
undertake not too much. Be not grasping after things be- 
yond your reach, or above your strength. 

Be mindful of little things. Nothing is of little im- 
portance Avhich possesses, even in its results, the attribute 
of eternity. Despise not the day of small things. " Sands 
form the mountains, minutes make the year." 

• Spare not thyself. The greatest good is only accom- 
plished by the greatest pains. " He that soweth sparingly, 
shall reap also sparingly ; and he that soweth bountifully, 
shall reap also bountifully." 

Maintain cheerfulness. The demon of melancholy 
unnerves religious effort. Be joyful in the Lord ; for the 
joy of the Lord is strength. Rarely will you find a better 
motto than this : " Serve God, and be cheerful^ 

Be of good courage. In the Christian course, coward- 
ice alone is the loss of nearly every victory. It is needless, 



4 HOW TO MAKE THE MOST OF LIFE. 

it is wicked. "The voice that rolls the stars along, spake 
all the promises." 

Be not faithless. Have faith in God. The greatest 
good is generally done in the face of the greatest discour- 
agements. It was a saying of Andrew Fuller, " Only let 
us have faith in God, and we shall not lack the means of 
doing good." "Lord, increase our faith," is perhaps the 
best prayer the disciples offered during Christ's ministry on 
earth. 

Hope against hope. Nothing is too hard for God. 
Eliot used to say, " Prayer and pains, through faith in Jesus 
Christ, can accomplish any purpose." Paul said, "I can 
do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me." 

Let your charity abound. Be it your meat and your 
drink to do good. 

" Wouldst thou from sorrow find a sweet relief? 

Or is thy heart oppressed with woes untold ? 
Balm wouldst thou gatlier for corroding grief .-^ 

Pour blessings round thee like a shower of gold. 
'Tis when the rose is wrapt in many a fold, 

Close to its heart the worm is wasting there 
Its life and beauty : not wlien all unrolled, 

Leaf after leaf, its blossom rich and fair 
Breathes freely its perfumes throughout the ambient air." 

Be humble. " When you have done all, acknowledge 
that you are nothing, that you deserve nothing, and that 
God has a right to do Avith you as seems good to him." If 
you attain or accomplish any thing, say, " It was not I, but 
the grace of God." 

Never forget the judgment-day. Keep it always in 
view. Frame every action in reference to its unchanging 
decisions. 

And now may you be blessed of God, who " is able to 
make all grace abound towards you ; that you, always hav- 
ing all sufficiency in all things, may abound to every good 
work; being enriched in every thing to all bountifulness, 
which causeth," through the saints, " thanksgiving to God." 
Thus shall you make the most of life. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



j¥o. 3Co. 



THE 



ISLAND PLANTER. 



AN AUTHENTIC NARRATIVE. 



A LITTLE isLind at the south designates the late residence 

of J M , a man of integrity and influence, kind, 

amiable, and afl:ectionate, but radically hostile to the relig- 
ion of Christ. He had accumulated a handsome estate, and, 
though past the meridian of life, was intent on still more 
splendid accessions. He neglected all the ordinances of 
religion, and habitually desecrated the Sabbath, yet he 
would not interfere with the religion of others ; he allowed 
members of his family to unite with the church, and even 
contributed to the support of the Gospel, though he put 
not himself in the way of having its truths impressed upon 
his own heart. 

No occurrence had awakened into vigorous action his 
hostility to vital religion, till at length some of his early and 
familiar associates were arrested by the power of divine 
truth, and took sanctuary in the blood of atonement. The 
effect of this entire revolution in their whole character, in- 
stead of leading him to consideration, was rather to harden 
his heart and give viperous expression to its latent enmity. 
At times he affected pity for their delusion, and then again, 
contempt for their hypocrisy. And when they drew near, 
as new converts are wont to approach their former asso- 
ciates, with the tender of salvation, he indignantly repelled 
the overtures of mercy, and gave those who bore them, dis- 
tinctly to learn, that they must not confer with him upon 
this hated subject. From their knowledge of his character, 
rather than goad to madness the already enraged opposer 
of Christ, they thought it better to let him alone, and pour 
out their continual prayer on his behalf in the ear of Him 
in whose hands are the hearts of all, that he might manifest 

VOL. X. 9* 



2 THE ISLAND PLANTER. 

the exceeding riches of his grace in the salvation of their 
neighbor and their friend. 

Meanwhile his spirit was troubled. The conflict within 
was severe and increasing. Conscience woke up with energy, 
and broke his rest. The enmity of his heart, which had till 
now been under partial restraint and smothered by a worldly 
spirit, put on a giant's strength, and assailed the church 
with which his former associates had united. That church 
was now the Mordecai in the king's gate Avhich excited his 
wrath, and drove him to a desperate resolve. But instead 
of warring against it by direct attack, he confederated with 
others in the establishment of another church- — a church 
which he had never attended, and for which he had neither 
partiality nor affection.. His object was to "divide and 
conquer ;" to weaken the society, which, united, could 
barely sustain the regular administration of the Gospel, and 
thus effect the removal of the pastor through whose instru- 
mentality the church had been gathered ; anticipating, as 
the ultimate result, the total dispersion of the flock. The 
edifice was erected under his superintendence. He "lav- 
ished gold out of the bag" to complete it, and when finished, 
he abandoned the spot, lest there also he should hear the 
hated doctrines of the cross. 

It had been his previous custom to be present on fu- 
neral occasions. But these at length brought him so fre- 
quently into contact with the truth of God, as to be past 
endurance. When his neighbors fell around him, and the 
sympathizing group, with the officiating minister, assembled 
in the house of mourning, he could no longer join in the 
affecting solemnity, but hastened to his farms and drowned 
reflection by plunging deeper than ever into worldly pur- 
suits. But God sent his plagues still nearer. Death en- 
tered his own habitation at the successive intervals of a 
year, till four of his children, three having been committed 
to the dust at an earlier period, expired in his arms. And 
thus did decency compel him to hear the Gospel once a 
year at funerals in his own house. While he mourned his 
dead, the living appeared more lovely than before, and he 
clung to them with still stronger affection. The last of the 
four was an only daughter, now near the stature of woman- 
hood, and possessing those attractions which render a bloom- 
ing daughter, in the eyes of a doting father, something 



THE ISLAND PLANTER. 



approaching the angelic. When she sickened, rebelUous 
murmurings struggled within him, and in broken accents 
trembled upon his lips. But when death came, he had 
some misgivings, under the impression that God had been 
dealing with him in judgment — in terrible judgment, for 
his contempt of the Gospel. 

But the shock thus given to his unbelief became still 
more severe, when at length a pious neighbor, in whom, as 
a physician and friend, he had great confidence, Avas laid 
upon a bed of death. This physician had been the associate 
of his earlier years, and was one of those who sought in 
vain to present to his mind that blessed truth which had 
proved effectual in his own salvation. When he heard that 
his friend ''was sick nigh unto death," he came not into 

" The chamber where the good man meets his fate," 

that privileged spot, " quite on the verge of heaven," but 
sent to inquire his views on nearing the judgment. From 
the messenger to whom he had given this commission, he 
ascertained that hope brightened as death approached, 
that the terror of the grave had fled apace, and that with 
feeble but joyous accents he could employ his expiring 
breath in singing, 

" Hallelujah to the Lamb 
Who hath purchased my pardon." 

When J M heard this affecting narrative, he 

mused for a while in deep and troubled thought, and then 
exclaimed with unwonted energy, "Let me die the death 
of the righteous, and let my last end be like his." An arrow 
was now deeply lodged in his heart, and like a stricken 
deer he pined in solitude, his flesh wasting away and his 
strength becoming feeble as infancy. When he said, ''My 
bed shall comfort me, my couch shall ease my complaint," 
Job 7 : 13, he was constrained to add, "Then thou 
scarest me with dreams, and terrifiest me through visions ; 
so that my soul chooseth strangling, and death rather than 
my life." Believing that he had committed the unpardonable 
sin, often did he say, " the harvest is past, and the summer 
is ended ;" and full often did the fiery darts of the tempt- 
er pierce him in his master- passion, his love of wealth ; 



4 THE ISLAND PLANTER. 

producing, in a state of high prosperity, the dread of im- 
pending Avant. 

A poor maniac one day, who had escaped from a neigh- 
boring asylum, strayed in vacancy of thought near his hab- 
itation. A summer's sun was beaming on his bare head, 
and his uncombed locks were sporting in the breeze. The 
sight of an object so pitiable, with a visage excessively 
haggard, and with a gait, and gesture, and attire that told 

his ruin, deeply affected J M , and made him tremble 

in every joint. To one standing near he said, with terrible 
emphasis, pointing to the maniac, " There, there is my image. 
But mine is the deeper misery — ruin within, ruin around, 
and endless ruin in prospect." It was fearful to mark the 
horror displayed in bis countenance, and attitude, and voice. 
His pious wife, feeling all his wretchedness, attempted in 
vain to console him. His Christian friends, sympathizing in 
his anguish, pointed him to the hopes of the Gospel, but 
with no effect. When told that with God there is mercy, 
he responded with amazing emphasis, ''With God there 
was mercy ; but now it is hid from mine eyes. Twelve 
YEARS AGO I might have repented — I might have believed ; 
but now, alas, all hope is gone. I am lost — lost for ever." 

Why he fixed upon " twelve years ago" as the period 
of mercy, I could not ascertain. He doubtless referred to 
some conviction, some warning, some peculiar impression 
of the Holy Spirit upon his heart, which he then efiectually 
resisted and subdued. Ah, how many now in hell, and 
how many on their way thither, will look back to some 
awful " twelve years ago," or to some other remembered 
period, and wail out the hopeless lamentation, " I might 
have been saved ; for to me the Gospel was offered — freely, 
fully, affectionately, and sincerely offered ; but I deferred 
accepting the gracious tender. I slighted the counsel of 
God ; I rejected, often and agaiji, the only terms of salva- 
tion ; and now I have exchanged for ever the hope of heaven 
for the agonies of despair !" Will the reader pause a 
moment to inquire whether he did not, some twelve years 
ago, quench the Spirit. Mercy slighted, how bitter ! It stings 
as the scorpion — it bites as the adder — it is " hell moving 
beneath to meet them at their coming !" 

While in this state of terrible conflict, a kind minister, 
whose praise is in all the churches, came in to help gather 



THE ISLAND I'LANTER. 



the perishing harvest. On his arrival, the friends of J 

M resolved, if possible, to bring him to the sanctuary 

of God. "It may be," said they, " that the waters of the 
pool will be troubled by the angel of the covenant." In 
the very spirit of the men who once let down a paralytic 
through the tiling, Luke 5 : 19, with much entreaty they 
brought him to the threshold of the sanctuary, where he 
lingered, and for a while resisted every motive to proceed. 
A's one in terrible apprehension of danger pauses and trem- 
bles and grows pale, so he, riveted to the spot, shook with 
terror, and a deadly paleness mantled his visage. At length 
they caused him to be seated in the assembly of worship- 
pers, where he felt as a fallen angel amid the sons of light, 
"damned, but not destroyed." For a while he listened 
with fixed attention to the preacher's voice, but it aggra- 
vated rather than assuaged the anguish of his soul. There 
was nothing to console him in the provisions of a rejected 
Gospel. His distress, already verging on despair, was now 
awakened to still keener intensity, with no other prospect 
before him but the " fearful looking for of judgment." And 
when he quit the house, which he did in the midst of the 
services, it was with the determined resolution never again 
to expose himself to the searching appeals of divine truth. 
Weeks and months passed away, leaving him still in this 
state of unalleviated wretchedness. When assured that 
God was merciful, and could forgive — that Christ had died 
for sinners, even the chief, and that none were too guilty to 
be pardoned, he was wont to reply, " Others can be for- 
given, but to me is reserved the blackness of darkness. For 
others there is hope, but my day of grace has closed — my 
sun has set in everlastino- nio-ht." 

An incident now occurred which throws light as well 
upon his general character as upon the peculiar state of his 
mind. A female friend, *'a mother in Israel," had selected, 
as a balm for his wounded spirit, a little Tract which de- 
scribed the case of an unbeliever who was neither the kind 
husband, nor the affectionate father, nor the faithful friend ; 
who neither attended the sanctuary himself, nor suffered his 
family to attend ; and yet, notwithstanding his outbreaking 
hostility to the cross of Christ, became at length a rich 
trophy of grace, and spent the residue of his days a con- 
sistent, humble, and happy Christian. When she read that 



6 THE ISLAND PLANTER. 

part of the narrative where its subject was described as 
playing the tyrant in his house, and shutting up the kingdom 
of heaven from his family, he cried, " It is not I ! It is not 
I ! That I never did — no, never. Did I, E ?" address- 
ing his wife. " Did I ever prevent your going to the house 
of God ? No, never did I. Thank God, this is not num- 
bered among my manifold offences." And it was true, 
otherwise his anguish had perhaps been past endurance. 

About a year after he was first awakened, on an occa- 
sion when the thronging multitudes assembled around the 
man of God in the open field, he was again prevailed upon 
to attend. And it is a delightful thought, that the promise 
of God to be with his people, respects alike "the broad 
waste" and "the city full" — when assembled under the 
arched canopy of heaven, or in a consecrated temple. His 
blessing is not confined to place, nor circumstance, nor form. 
Wherever he is worshipped in spirit and in truth, is the 
temple where his power and glory are displayed. Here 
again he heard the voice of the living herald publishing 
salvation ; but to him it seemed louder than ever a mes- 
sage of wrath — "a savor of death unto death." He was 
overwhelmed by the pressure of truth upon his soul. Still, 
incessant supplication was offered on his behalf. He was 
pointed to the bleeding Lamb — to his sufferings in the gar- 
den, and his agonies on the cross ; and especially was he 
reminded, that however intense his anguish, or insupportable 
his grief, there was still One able and willing to save, who 
had been " touched with the feeling of our infirmities, being 
in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin." This 
was tidings which, till now, he could not understand. He 
seemed never before to have heard of the Saviour's tempta- 
tion and of the Saviour's agony. Now, for the first time, 
the voice that published salvation was lovely — sweet to his 
ear as angel music. And though only a single ray of mercy 
was let into his soul, just enough to render heavenly things 
indistinctly perceptible, it was the bearer of relief, how 
amazing ! of consolation, how unspeakable ! It lighted 
up his face with a smile — the first smile that had played 
upon his lips for a score of months — a smile indicative of 
joy within, tranquil, not transporting; calm, not ecstatic. 
And from that time forth he has indulged the " hope that 
maketh not ashamed," and that has increased in brightness. 



THE ISLAND PLANTER. 7 

In his distress, he had feared that God could not forgive, 
and that his Christian friends could not forgive ; but now 
he knew, from the testimony of his own conscience, that 
there is, in very deed, forgiveness with God for the chief of 
sinners, himself the chief; and that they who had the Spirit 
of Christ, could also forgive. With him old things had 
passed away ; and " Lo, I make all things new," was a 
precious truth, the import of which he could realize in liis 
blessed transition from darkness to light. Nor did he fail 
to ascribe to the unspeakable riches of grace his Avondrous 
deliverance — to him more wondrous than to those who had 
witnessed the power of God in plucking such a brand from 
the burning. Need I add as the result, that there was joy 
in his family, in the chu.rch, and among the angels of God. 

Still, he had his trials and his conflicts ; nor was it till 
months after he had indulged the hope of forgiveness, and 
manifested in his conduct a childlike docility, that he could 
venture to take the place of a professed believer in the 
church of God, because, in his own estimation, he was so 
much less than the least of all saints as to debar him from 
the privilege. But at length, by the grace that bringeth 
salvation, he received strength to come out from the world, 
and avouch the Lord Jehovah his covenant God : he has 
since been growing in grace and the knowledge of Christ ; 
giving by his conduct, as well as by his lips, most unequivo- 
cal evidence that he has passed from death to life. 

So have we seen the enraged beast of prey held in vexa- 
tious restraints, till at length he crouched tamely at the feet 
of his master. And so the time will assuredly come when, 
there being nothing to hurt or destroy in all the holy moun- 
tain of the Lord, "the wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and 
the leopard shall lie down with the kid ; and the calf and 
the young lion and the fatling together." 

Would it were with all as with the subject of this nar- 
rative. But, ah, how many copy his rebellion, but not his 
repentance ! How many refrain from the sanctuary of God, 
and desecrate his Sabbath, and grasp the world with insa- 
tiable eagerness, without suspecting that they are " treas- 
uring up to themselves wrath against the day of wrath !" 

How few who pass the awful meridian of life in unbelief, 
are ever brouglU to see, confess, and forsake their sins ! A 
conversion at fiftv is a rare event. 



8 THE ISLAND PLANTER. 

The forbearance of God, how amazing! That sinners 
are suffered to hve, what a wonder ; and hve when, year 
after year, they have rejected the Gospel ! But it furnishes 
an exhibition of the endurance of God towards those who 
perish, and of the exceeding riches of his grace in them 
that are saved. 

The remembrance of past mercies slighted and trampled 
on, what pungent reflections does it awaken ! What remorse 
accompanies the thought, that years ago I might have been 
saved ! Let the reader who has hitherto resisted the striv- 
ings of the Spirit, be spared, God of mercy, from the 
deep damnation of interminable remorse. Give him repent- 
ance now, even now, before thy mercies are clean gone for 
ever. 

How manifest that infidelity is generally the result of 
disobedience to the divine injunctions ! It was to justify 
himself for his worldly spirit, and for the desecration of the 
Sabbath, that J M became an infidel. And infi- 
delity and some prominent vice are usually in close and 
wedded connection. 

What a blessing, when a sinner is the subject of Chris- 
tian solicitude ! J M would most probably have 

perished, had not a pious wife and pious neighbors hedged 
up his way to ruin, grappled him as in a death- struQ^^le, 
and brought him in faith as well as in person, and laid him 
at the feet of Jesus. 

What encouragement for Christians to labor and pray 
for the salvation of the most hardened of men ! The grace 
that conquered such obstinacy as was displayed by the 
subject of this narrative, should be devoutly adored. It 
can reach and subdue guilt ever so crimsoned — depravity 
ever so inveterate. 

Every sinner must one day awake to his lost condition. 

And if J M had such a conflict, and endured such 

agony here, how terrible the conflict, and how amazing the 
agony of all who enter unforgiven upon the retributions of 
eternity ! 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



JVo. 360. 

THE 



BEGINNINGS OF EVIL. 



The influence of a single thought, word, or action, may 
be incalculable in forming the character and deciding the 
destiny of the soul. 

1. A THOUGHT — what does it ? In its unpretending char- 
acter, it enters with a common train, and intrudes upon the 
leisure or unsuspecting relaxation of the mind. But once 
admitted, it may whisper rebellion, infuse moral poison into 
the lifeblood, inflame the passions, bewilder the brain, intoxi- 
cate, madden, destroy the soul. It ivas, at first, only a thought. 
In its maturity, it is language, speech, action, rebellion. In 
the end, it becomes crime and death. 

It was only a thought which at first entered the mind 
of an angel of light, that, in the end, laid the deep founda- 
tions of hell, built its adamantine walls, forged its chains, 
kindled its fires, and changed the whole character of that 
bright angel, with others who now feel those quenchless 
fires, and wear those eternal chains. 

A thought, whispered in the ear of our first mother, 
blasted Eden, and " brought death into the world, and all 
our woe." How often, in the history of the human soul, is 
a thought made the starting-point of diverging lines, which 
shall run parallel with eternity, widening as they stretch 
their eternal course, one through fields of light, the other 
into deeper and darker shades. 

There is no truant like the mind. Constitutionally 
active, it is now the constant and willing servant of an evil 
heart. The heart can never exercise its aff'ections, or covet 
unlawful gratifications, without leading captive the mind ; 
and unless this wandering heart be strongly confined by a 
stern habit of virtue, and disciplined to law, the mind be- 
VOL. X. 10 



2 THE BEGINNINGS OF EVIL. 

comes incapable of control, and walks on the boundary-line 
of madness and despair. " Out of the heart," says our 
Lord, " proceed evil thoughts," and all uncleanness. 

Again, we are surrounded by temptations, which are all 
originating and sustaining their appropriate trains of thought 
in the mind, through the medium of the senses. By these 
means the heart easily fixes its affections, and becomes the 
subject of an ill-directed desire. It is difficult to think of 
an evil action without becoming contaminated with the evil 
itself, and a partaker of its guilt. 

It is often said, we cannot help our thoughts, and are 
not accountable for them. But this is very far from the 
fact, as a little attention to the subject will readily show. 
Although associated trains of thought are unbroken links 
in the great chain of the mind's existence, binding it in 
its self- consciousness to its past history, yet these associa- 
tions are, to a great extent, under our own control. We 
can, at will, dismiss one set of ideas and call up another. 
We dwell at pleasure on business, or religion ; on worldly 
cares, or on the cross. This is true in the experience of all, 
whether in relation to internal or external sources of thoucfht. 

With this power to control the subjects of its thought, 
the mind is responsible for the thoughts it entertains. Al- 
though an evil thought may have intruded, unbidden and 
unwelcome, a vigilant and Avell- disciplined mind will readily 
detect, and promptly exclude it. The original suggestion 
may have been attended with no guilt. It may find admis- 
sion even to a pure mind, as the history of the revolt both 
in heaven and Eden testifies. Guilt attaches to the mind 
not in the conception, but in the entertainment of the 
thought. 

The simple admission of impure or evil thoughts may 
imply a state of mind not wholly innocent, where the ac- 
cess has been made easy by that mental lassitude and want 
of discipline which ever attend a state of intellectual idle- 
ness or dissipation. Here, as in every thing else, we form 
habits, and these habits decide our characters. 



THE BEGINNINGS OF EVIL. 3 

The elements and principles of all character exist in 
the thoughts. They are the essential forms, which are 
bodied forth in speech and action. Theij form the man, 
to be exhibited in the world of spirits disembodied, a trans- 
parent existence of thought, glowing with undying fires of 
love, or burning with the quenchless flames of passion and 
hate in the dark regions of hell. This character is formed 

o 

here, and its starting-point is a thought, and all its linea- 
ments are trains of thought, and all its immortal sources of 
pleasures or pains, are thoughts. 

By indulging one train of thought, a man may become 
an egotist ; by another, a miser ; by a third, ambitious ; by 
a fourth, sensual. By suppressing these, and entertaining 
an opposite class, the same man may become disinterested, 
liberal, public-spirited, or self-denying. He dwells, as it 
were, in heaven, by cherishing thoughts of heaven. He 
treasures up a knowledge of God by thinking of God. The 
soul is prepared by knowledge for the graces of the Spirit, 
where the mind has long been disciplined, and accustomed 
to dwell, in its thoughts, on divine things. 

How important, then, in directing, framing, and con- 
trolling the character and eternal destiny of the soul, may 
be a single thought. Guard well thy thoughts. There the 
true action lies. There is the portal through which every 
heresy and unworthy sentiment will seek a familiar inter- 
course with the heart, and there lies the active agency 
through which all the internal sources of corruption and 
error will be acted out and become flagrant. Well did the 
apostle commend the most excellent grace of charity, when 
he said, " It thinketh no evil." 

2. Next, let me turn your attention to your habits of 
conversation. How insignificant is a word ! Yet the Saviour 
said, *' For every idle word that men shall speak, they shall 
give account thereof in the day of judgment." A word ! 
What does it ? In a moment of thoughtless mirth or anger, 
it fell from unadvised or hasty lips. It oftended a friend. 
It unlocked the arms and sundered the bands of friendship, 



4 THE BEGINNINGS OF EVIL. 

dried up the kindly affections, opened the fountains of pas- 
sion, hatred, mahce, and revenge. Those friends are alien- 
ated. They leave the domestic circle, where the wife, the 
sister, the daughter, the babes mingle their influence, and 
bless the scene. They separate. After a season of awful 
preparation, they meet on some desolate spot, where justice 
has not arrived, and law cannot speak ; where mercy is not 
permitted to enter; where the spirit that reigns in hell 
holds undisputed empire. With this spirit in their hearts, 
they meet. They fight. There, by the hand of one friend, 
the other falls. He dies. The murderer flies, a felon under 
the laws of God and of man. He flies — the victim of un- 
dying thought, his friend made the victim of his murderous 
passion. That happy family is dismembered. The wife is 
a widow. The children are orphans. The aged parent is 
bereft of his staff", and his gray hairs are brought down 
with sorrow to the grave. Yesterday, that house was filled 
with joy; every heart bounded with hilarity. To-day, the 
bright sun rises upon them solitary, and in their weeds. It 
reflects its glories dimly upon the dejected eyes of a widow 
and her orphans, through floods of tears. Every counte- 
nance is sad. There is public sorrow. The laws have 
been broken, justice is defeated and dishonored in the death 
of a citizen, a statesman, dishonored in his fall. What has 
produced this train of evils ? A word — an unadvised, a 
hasty word. 

The ruler of a people, the ambassador of a nation con- 
ducts the most intricate and complicated subject of litiga- 
tion with another nation to an amicable and happy termina- 
tion. The principles of justice are all mutually applied to 
the case, and conceded. A question involving great inter- 
ests and lasting results is settled. But on the very eve of 
completion, this harmony is suddenly interrupted. Nego- 
tiation is broken oflf. Each assumes a hostile attitude. 
They are at war. History records a protracted conflict. 
Thousands were slain in battle. Their substance was eaten 
up, their wealth wasted ; the land mourns, the temples of 



THE BEGINNINGS OF EVIL. 5 

worship are desolated, widows and orphans are multiphed, 
and the moral, physical, and pecuniary losses to both sides 
are irreparable. What mighty agent has effected this sud- 
den change, and spread this wide desolation ? It was a 
word. It involved no principle in the controvers}^, but, 
being excepted to by one party, was insisted on by the 
other. 

A great captain once went forth to battle. He was 
victorious over his foes ; and, elated with success, he re- 
turned in triumph with his army. The glory of his deeds 
had gone before him, and the people participated his joy. 
Every heart was glad, and every mother and sister stood to 
welcome the soldier at their thresholds. There was a daugh- 
ter of that chieftain, the joy of her father's heart, the pride 
of her family, the heir to a people's gratitude, and to all 
her father's glory. Her young heart bounded with exulta- 
tion. Her filial devotion urged her forward to greet and 
give the family salutation to the happy father, the victorious 
chief. But instead of pressing that daughter's hand with 
a father's love, instead of bending to receive the filial em- 
brace of those eloquent arms with a paternal benediction, 
he gave the order, as appears from the history, for her 
execution. That threshold was stained with blood. It 
filled that house with mourning. It hung its chambers with 
curtains of black, spread consternation through the land, 
obscured the glory of that bright day, and has drawn tears 
from the eye of sympathy in every age at the recital of the 
story of Jephtha's daughter. And what was the cause of 
all this ? It was a word, an unadvised word of that father. 

There was once a holy man who preached before a 
wicked ruler, and that adulterer trembled before the preach- 
er. But, under convictions that, suitably cherished, might 
have resulted in his salvation, he was induced by the wick- 
ed woman whom he had unlawfully married, to imprison, 
and afterwards to behead that holy man. John the Baptist 
was killed by order of Herod, and his head brought in a char- 
ger, and delivered to the daughter of Herodias, his brother 
VOL. X. 10* 



^ THE BEGINNINGS OF EVIL. 

Philip's wife. How could he do it ? It was for a hasty- 
word. 

What is a zvord ? It is but breath modified by muscular 
action. It is a vibration of the air, that settles back quickly 
to its original repose. But not so with the thought which 
moved those muscles, and the thought, too, which is awak- 
ened by that vibration. That thought is identified with the 
character of the man who has uttered it ; and that wave of 
air which was too feeble to waft a feather, has conveyed a 
sentiment from soul to soul, and excited a passion that may 
burn perhaps, or an affection that may glow to all eternity. 

Words are the medium of intercommunication between 
immortal minds. They are the motive engines by which 
thoughts and feelings are communicated from heart to heart. 
Thus do they often become the means of binding closer the 
cords of friendship and love, or of alienating and imbitter- 
ing the enemies of a depraved heart. " Therewith bless we 
God, even the Father, and therewith curse we men, who 
are made after the similitude of God." "With the mouth 
confession is made unto salvation." By a word, expressive 
of the sentiments of the heart, we are brought into union 
with the Saviour, and by a word expressive of another sen- 
timent, we blaspheme the Holy Ghost, and transcend the 
limits of divine mercy ! Oh, how important in its results 
often, is a word spoken. Truly did an apostle say, an un- 
governed tongue " defileth the whole body, and setteth on 
fire the course of nature, and is set on fire of hell." And 
again, " If any man among you seem to be religious, and 
bridleth not his tongue, that man's religion is vain." 

3. Now, consider your actions. It is principally impor- 
tant to do this in order to bring to view a part of conduct 
which is not commonly regarded as attended by any serious 
consequences — I mean that which consists in trijies. Great 
crimes we revolt at, but we sometimes forget how near the 
least is to the greatest, the same in kind, leading directly 
to others, and serving, in its measure, to disease and weaken 
the moral energies of the soul that entertains it. Tasting a 



THE BEGINNINGS OF EVIL. 7 

forbidden fruit, perhaps the eating of a common apple, 
ruined all our race. It was the transgression of the law. 
That is the most that can be said of any sin. A healthy- 
constitution of moral habits can be attained only by a watch- 
ful care of every part of our conduct. It is vain to close 
our house against the thief, while one avenue is left un- 
guarded. It is folly to order an infected ship on quaran- 
tine, while we embrace one of the infected crew in the 
bosom of society. Equally vain is it to regulate the great 
lines of our conduct, if we" neglect the small points, which 
will "grow with our growth, and strengthen with our 
strength." Attainments in guilt are gradual. No man 
ever became a prodigy of wickedness at once. 

If we examine the histories of prisons, and the annals of 
the gallows, we shall uniformly find that the tenants of the 
one, and the victims of the other, have once been harmless, 
irreproachable men, women, or children, and have come 
gradually to their end from small beginnings. In the his- 
tory of human depravity, we should probably find that the 
confirmed drunkard was once a fashionable tippler ; the 
remorseless thief a decent gambler; the bold blasphemer 
an idle talker; the dishonest spendthrift one who began 
with a restricted profusion; and the exhausted profligate 
might be traced back to a conflict of conscience, where he 
consented for once to sin, and resolved never to repeat the 
commission of the crime. 

It is melancholy to hear from the haunts of wickedness 
and excess, the story of those who, wasted by disease, yield 
at last a remaining skeleton to the hands of the surgeon for 
dissection, as the only and scant remuneration for his pro- 
fessional attendance. The wretched ^dctim of seduction, 
now the discarded subject of a murdered reputation, once 
blushed at the whisper of reproach, and shuddered at the 
thought of impurity. The hardened and emaciated debau- 
chee was once a youth, who listened to the counsels of a 
pious mother, and shrunk from the "way of the strange 
woman." The bankrupt, whose midnight revels have wasted 



8 THE BEGINNINGS OF EVIL. 

his estate and impoverished his family, will tell you that 
he commenced his career at a decent card-party, and only 
staked his change to give an interest to the game. The 
expiring drunkard, in his rags and wretchedness, will admit 
that he began at the social board, where gayety led to ex- 
cessive mirth, and mirth to intoxication. The bold blas- 
phemer, brought to reflection, will confess that he first 
trifled with sacred things in a frolic, and then profaned the 
name of God without remorse. The wretch, whose scathed 
and seared visage shows already the inward mahce of a 
spirit damned, perhaps twenty years before was a father's 
pride, smiling in a mother's arms, furnishing to the pencil 
of the painter, or the fancy of the poet, the original picture 
from which he drew his portrait of bliss and innocence in 
Eden. And the apostate, now branded and excommuni- 
cated, is the man who, a few years ago, wept at the sacra- 
mental table, but from mistaken policy or irresolution, yield- 
ed to popular custom or private convenience, still resolved 
to maintain his hope, now withered and dead. Truly, that 
man only is safe, who '* abstains from all appearance of evil." 
I can now, in conclusion, only direct your vigilance to- 
wards the dangers which arise from three sources, namely, 
from the company you keep, the business you engage in, and 
the subjects of thought you entertain. I solemnly say, then, 
separate from your companionship all those whose prin- 
ciples, example, or conversation, are injurious or unprofit- 
able. Abandon at once, and for ever, all business which you 
cannot pursue with safety to the cultivation and maintenance 
of a high religious character. And admit no subjects of 
thought, cherish no mental associations, which sensuahze or 
degrade the soul. These rules, faithfully applied, may make 
a great change in your afi'airs, and require great sacrifices ; 
but be assured they will also be attended with great results, 
whose record may be read by you in heaven instead of hell. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



IVo. 367. 



LIVE FOE THE WORLD. 



BY THE GRACE OF GOD, I WILL HENCEFORTH LIVE FOR THE 

WORLD." 



That is a strange and bold avowal. Very few men form 
such a purpose, and still fewer live according to it. A man 
ought to be careful how he promises ; for *' it is better not 
to vow, than to vow and not pay." To act agreeably to such 
a purpose would make one very singular. It will also be 
expensive. I shall not be able to lay up much, if any thing. 
Neither shall I be able to call any thing my own. And I 
shall be worn out with constant care and labor for the benefit 
of others. I shall not have a day for myself in the whole 
year. What did I say ? " / ^o'lll henceforth live for the 
world .^" The world is very large. This is a great deal to 
undertake. I must give my reasons for such a resolution. 

The fact that God made the world is a reason why I 
should feel an interest in it according to his design in 
creating it. I will regard the operation of his hands. The 
same God who made me, made all men. Why should I 
not seek the good of all ? Having a common Creator and 
Father of all, we ought to have a common interest. 

All men are mortal, yet immortal. They will soon be 
dead, yet shall they live for ever. Time is but an introduc- 
tion to eternity. Life is the first link in immortality. Men 
shall henceforth exist as long as the God that made them. 
This is the destiny of all. All men, therefore, are worth 
living for. Jesus Christ, who knew the worth of souls, de- 
clared one of more value than all the treasures of earth. 
How can I then decline livino- for a world of souls ? 

The world needs help, for the whole of it lies in wicked- 
ness. Men's dwellings are on fire, and they are sunk into 



I 
LIVE FOR THE WORLD. 



sound sleep. They have lost their way. They have lost 
their vision. They have a race to run, yet they cannot walk. 
Unless they hear, their souls shall not live, and yet their 
ears are dull of hearing. 'Tis enough to break one's heart 
to see how much is justly required of men, and yet how 
unprepared they are to meet any requirement — to think 
how much they have to do, and how long and late they are 
in beginning any duty. *' The whole creation groaneth until 
now." Its wailings and its crimes wrung the heart of the 
incarnate God. Unless its present tribes be speedily saved, 
they will for ever writhe under the fell gnaw of the undying 
worm. I know not that the cry of despair has in it one more 
melting or piercing note, than has the cry of the perishing 
millions of earth. ^Necessities could not be more urgent. 

Besides, in all the earth are some souls willing to be 
helped. Everywhere the sighing of the prisoner is heard, 
and to him the preaching of ''the acceptable year of the 
Lord " would be music. The shivering Greenlander, the fair 
Georgian, the bloody Tartar, the caste-ridden Hindoo, the 
inhabitant of the freezing and of the burning zones, the wild 
man and the polished citizen in many lands, 

" Call us to deliver 
Their souls from error's chain." 

I will live for the world because many are living against 
it. There is " that old serpent the Devil, and Satan, who 
deceiveth the whole world." And besides him, "many de- 
ceivers are entered into the world." Wherever on all the 
earth there are souls, there also are wicked men and wicked 
angels plotting and essaying their ruin. Doth Satan accuse 
them before God ? I will intercede with God for them. Do 
wicked men disseminate writings and sentiments to draw 
them down to the pit ? I will send them books and speak to 
them words whereby they may be saved. Shall the mali- 
cious never tire in deeds and plans of darkness and death, 
and shall I grow weary in works of love and devices of 



LIVE FOR THE WORLD. 3 

mercy ? Doth Satan go to and fro, seeking whom he may- 
devour? Then I will imitate Him who, bruising Satan un- 
der him, "went about doing good." Where there is much 
zeal for evil, indifference to good is a great crime. 

Many of those whose care for others might avail, live 
wholly unto themselves ; therefore I must do my part in fill- 
ing up this lack of service. If others hold back, I will go 
forward. If others linger, why should I become a pillar 
of salt ? Because there was no man like-minded, who would 
naturally care for the Ephesian converts, therefore Timothy 
must be their pastor. If others would not, he must care for 
them. All the good that is done in this world is done by a 
few. By the grace of God, I will be one of the little com- 
pany. 

Moreover, God "hath made of one hlood all nations of 
men to dwell on the face of the earth." If all are of one 
blood, it is as great an honor to save the soul of a slave as 
that of a prince. All men are bone of my bone, and flesh 
of my flesh. And no man ever yet hated his own flesh. 
But he who does not love, hates ; and he who loves all he 
does know, loves all he does not know. And " he that 
dwelleth in love, dwelleth in God." 

I will live for all, because all are my neighbors. So 
Christ Jesus has taught me by a most beautiful parable. 
Difference in manners, complexion, age, rank, fortune, na- 
tion, politics, or religion, shall never chill my charity. 
Every sinner who is not in hell is my neighbor. If I can 
reach him in no other way, I may by prayer. I must love 
my neighbor as myself, or dwell with everlasting burnings. 

To live for all would make me like the best men. One 
said, " Oh, let the wickedness of the wicked come, to an 
end — rivers of water run down ray eyes, because they keep 
not thy law." Another said, " Oh that my head were wa- 
ters, and mine eyes a fountain of tears, that I might weep 
day and night for the slain of the daughter of my people." 
Another saw an angel with an inkhorn at his side, putting 



4 LIVE FOR THE WORLD. 

a mark on all that did sigh and cry for all the abominations 
done in the land. Afterwards, when the middle wall of 
partition was broken down, Paul said, " Who is weak, and 
I am not weak ? Who is offended, and I burn not ? I will 
very gladly spend and be spent for you, though the more 
abundantly I love you, the less I be loved." Richard Bax- 
ter said, " There is nothing in the world that lies so heavy 
upon my heart, as the thought of the miserable nations of 
the earth. I cannot be affected so much with the calamities 
of my own relations, or of the land of my nativity, as with 
the case of the heathen, Mahommedan, ignorant nations of 
the earth. No part of my prayers is so deeply serious, as 
that for the infidel and ungodly world." Dr. Nevins, as 
he was falling asleep in Jesus, said, " I would like to have 
it known, that the nearer I get to heaven, the dearer is the 
cause of missions to my heart." 

" Oh that on me with rays divine 

His countenance would turn ; 
1 too would then arise and shine, 

Arise and shine and burn !" 

To keep my resolutions, will make me UTce God ; for 
'' he is not willing that any should perish, and he will have 
all men to be saved. God so loved the world, that he gave 
his only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him 
should not perish, but have everlasting life." Shall I not 
be " a follower of God," especially when commanded to 
be ? Did God love the world, and shall I love none but 
myself? Rather let my benevolence run round the earth. 
If God gave his Son, shall I withhold the fruit of my body ? 
And if with his Son he freely giveth all things, then 

" I'll love my God with zeal so great, 
That I will give him all." 

I will henceforth live for the world, because I have hith- 
erto lived very much to unworthy ends and objects. Much 
of my time has been spent in sin, much in folly, much in 



LIVE FOR THE WORLD. 5 

unproductive efforts to do good. " The time past may suf- 
fice for" these things. The time to come I will devote, 
little as it may be, to the glory of God in the salvation of 
the world. 

I will keep my resolution, because Christ prayed for the 
salvation of the ivorld ; yea, he is in heaven ** from hence- 
forth expecting " until all the earth shall bow to his gracious 
sceptre, and all the dying be filled with his saving health. 
If my Lord prays for it, shall not I ? If he expects it, may 
I not dare to look for it ? 

There is sufficient merit in Christ to save all ; then will 
I seek the salvation of all, "The Lamb of God taketh away 
the sin of the world. He is a propitiation for the sins of 
the whole world." If Christ has made such ample provis- 
ion, I cannot keep silence until all know it. I must seek 
to bring all to Christ, whom he is ready and able to save. 

God calls on all to he saved. " Ho, every one that 
thirsteth." "Whosoever will" — "Look unto me and be 
ye saved, all the ends of the earth." Who dares to limit 
this invitation? "Let him that heareth " it, "say, Come!" 
If Jehovah calls all, I will call all too, and I will call on 
Jehovah in behalf of all. 

It is promised, that the heathen shall he Chrisfs inher- 
itance, and the uttermost parts of the earth his possession. 
Yea, God hath sworn, and he will not repent, " that all the 
earth shall be filled with his glory." Of this none may 
safely doubt, for "the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it," 
I may therefore properly live for an object which shall 
assuredly be gained. My purpose shall be accomplished 
in the fulfilment of God's word and oath. There is no 
fanaticism in believing all that God has spoken and sworn 
to, for his word and oath are " two immutable things." 

I must act on my resolution, for the only commission 

under which I may attempt any thing demands the most 

enlarged action. The very texts which authorize any efforts 

to save souls, command to " preach the Gospel to every 

VOL. X. 11 



Q LIVE FOR THE WORLD. 

creature — to the end of the world." He who wilfully acts 
on but half his commission, is unfit to hold it. 

Unless such be my constant aim, there will be a sad 
discreimncy hetiveen my jirayers and my life. Every day 
I ask that God's will may " be done on earth as it is in 
heaven" — that there may be rebellion in no part of earth. 
Unless my benevolent plans and efforts correspond to this 
prayer, I am a hypocrite. And unless I sincerely use the 
Lord's prayer now, he will not hear my prayer in the day 
of my distress. 

Acting thus, I shall best secure my own religious com- 
fort and growth. " The liberal soul deviseth liberal things, 
and by liberal things shall he stand. The liberal soul shall 
be made fat. He that soweth bountifully, shall reap also 
bountifully." Much exercise of rehgious graces will im- 
part great vigor, which is but another name for great hap- 
piness. Walking in the ways of God's commands, is soon 
followed by leaping and praising God. To work righteous- 
ness is to rejoice. 

I will live for the world, because in this way alone can 
I avoid a twofold curse. The people shall curse him who 
withholds corn in the time of famine ; and shall not they 
curse him who withholds the bread of life from the famishr 
ing, the cup of the Avine of consolation from the dying, the 
water of life from lips parched with the fever of sin, and 
"goodness from such as are bound in affliction and iron?" 
Yea, God himself will send a curse, the bitter curse of Me- 
roz, on all who come not to the help of the Lord against 
the mighty. 

I will take large views, because if I attempt hut little, 
I shall prohahly do less. Even if small plans are fully ac- 
complished, and small expectations fully realized, but few 
are benefited. My soul must dilate with love until it com- 
prehends the human race. Then, if I attempt much, I 
shall probably do more. Nothing is more common than for 
men of expanded views and warm hearts to accomplish 



LIVE FOR THE WORLD. 7 

more than they at first thought of. Read the history of 
every modem device of love. " We are able, if we think 
so," was the motto under which the whole world was con- 
quered to the sceptre of the Caesars. *' I can do all things 
through Christ which strengtheneth me," is a far better 
and more potent motto, by which we shall subdue the earth 
to Christ the King. 

I should be more criminal for declining such a resolution 
than my fathers luere, for ''all things are now ready." 
We have the books, the translations, the missionaries, the 
ships, the facilities of every kind. Even political changes 
are favorable. Every invention is auxiliary. Whatever is 
done for the world prospers. The most sottish and barbar- 
ous, the most cruel and superstitious, are proved to be 
within the renovating grasp of God's benevolence. A na- 
tion is wellnigh born in a day. The ploughman overtakes 
the reaper. Before we call, God answers ; and while we 
are yet speaking, he hears. The prophecies are big with 
unborn blessings. Even the heathen are expecting a change. 
Every system of error is in its dotage, and is sinking under 
accumulated infirmities. And the sound of a going is heard 
in the tops of the mulberry-trees. 

I will live for all, because all must go to the judgment. 
God will "judge the world in righteousness. We must 
all appear before the judgment-seat of Christ." As we 
shall all have a Judge, we shall all need an Advocate. 
What would I not do or suffer in the last great day, if 
thereby I might save one soul of those on whom I shall 
see the vials of wrath poured out? I will now do and 
suffer all I can, that may tend to save souls, ere it is too 
late. A soul saved now, will be saved for ever. 

For these reasons I conclude, that my resolution, though 
to many it seem strange and bold, is not rash. It can be 
justified. There are the best reasons for it, and many of 
them. I have assigned more than twenty. Others can 
add to the number. My conscience is satisfied ; yea more, 



8 LIVE FOR THE WORLD. 

she is firmly and sweetly bound. Thanks be to God for 
putting such a thought into my mind, and for giving me 
grace to shape it into a solemn purpose. 

And now, lest I should spoil the whole, I will record 
what I mean. I mean, that I will not be selfish, idle, taking 
narrow views, and having narrow foelings. I mean, that I 
will not live for pleasure, for gain, for ease, for honor. I 
mean, that I will not delude myself by romantic notions of 
some good I may do, I know not how. My charity shall 
hegin at home — in my family, and with my neighbors ; for 
if I love not my brother whom I have seen, how can I 
love my brother whom I have not seen ? But my charity 
shall not end at home. I will day and night seek the 
salvation of others more remote. Yea, I will inquire for 
avenues of sending light and love to the ends of the earth. 
I will inform myself of the wants and miseries of the world 
I will cordially listen to every appeal in behalf of every 
good object. I will then do all I can, by money, time, 
influence, prayer, example, and personal effort. This is 
what I mean by ray resolution. 

" Lord, can a feeble, helpless worm 

Fulfil a task so hard ? 
Thy grace must all the work perform, 

And give the free reward." 

for grace to redeem my pledge. Lord Jesus, increase 
my faith, enlarge my heart, fortify my determination, be 
thou my strength, out of weakness make me mighty, let 
me not basely fail and flee : thine shall be the glory through 
eternal ages. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



r 



^o. 368. 

DON'T PUT IT OFF. 



Most men agree that something; must be done in this hfe. 
It is not enough to know, and purpose, and promise some- 
thinff. It must be done. 

Nor is it generally doubted but every man has something 
to do. Every man must die, and every man must give ac- 
count of himself to God. Should not every man, then, pre- 
pare to die and be judged ? 

Nor is it impossible for us to learn ivhat we must do. 
In all essential things our duty is exceedingly plain. To 
forsake wicked ways, and words, and thoughts ; to repent 
of all sin ; to believe with the heart in Jesus Christ ; to be 
led by the Holy Spirit ; to love God's name, people, Sab- 
bath, word, and worship ; to be humble, meek, gentle, con- 
tented, forgiving, and holy — are duties so plain that few 
intend to leave this world without attending to them. Men 
are kept from embracing religion by deferring it. To such 
I say, Don't put it off. 

Don't put it off — for, decide as you may, others will be 
likely to follow your example. When Zaccheus, and Lydia, 
and the jailer embraced Christ, salvation came to their 
households. Christ notices it as a mark of peculiar guilt 
in the Pharisees not to repent, when they saio the publicans 
and harlots believing John. " One sinner destroyeth much 
good." No man perishes alone. 

Don't put it off — for the appropriate husiness of time can 
not be done in eternity. " To every thing there is a season, 
and a time to every purpose." It would be as wise to ex- 
pect harvest in midwinter, as to suppose that the next life 
would afford opportunity for doing the business of this. 
This life is in order to that which is to come. This is the 
seed-time ; the next is the harvest. Now we run a race : 
if successfully, we shall in the next world wear the unfading 
crown ; if unsuccessfully, we shall fall into shame and ever- 
lasting contempt. 

The work to be done is great. A soul is to be saved, 
countless sins are to be pardoned, vicious propensities eradi- 

VOL. X. ll=i<^ 



2 DON'T PUT IT OFF. 

cated, bad habits broken up, good habits established, Jesus 
Christ to be formed in the soul, God to be pleased, the fear 
of death to be expelled, hell escaped, and heaven won. In 
building the ark, Noah did a great work. This work, *' the 
mighty work of life," is greater. 

Time is short. Like a post, time travels night and day ; 
like a weaver's shuttle, it flies so fast that it cannot be seen ; 
like the shadow of a cloud falling on the earth, it goes on 
the wings of the wind ; like a vapor, it vanishes, none can 
tell how. 

" A point of time, a moment's space 
Removes you to yon heavenly place, 
Or shuts you up in hell." 

Life is uncertain. One man died in the midst of a dem- 
onstration, another in the midst of an argument, another 
reading the newspaper, another walking in his garden, 
another laughing at a ludicrous picture. Many fall asleep 
and never awake in time. Many, in health one hour, are at 
God's bar the next. Rest not thy soul's eternal well-being 
on such an uncertainty. 

Now is the best time. Even if you should live half a 
century, you will have no time so good as the present. 

There is much at stake. A deathless soul, an eternity 
of bliss or woe, the withering frown or life-giving smile of 
Jehovah are concerned. No cherub or archano-el can com- 

O 

pute the worth of that which you risk by dela3^ 

It may become disagreeable. Religion thought of, but not 
embraced, will make you very unhappy; languidly or re- 
luctantly attended to, nothing is more unprofitable. Its first 
and great demand is, Give me thy heart. Until this is done, 
the ways of wisdom are irksomeness. Hope deferred, makes 
the heart sick. Religion deferred, is death to the soul. 

Religion delayed, is religion rejected. To postpone the 
matter a day, is to postpone it indefinitely. To hesitate 
about receiving Christ, is to despise him. All pretences of 
obeying God by and by, are hypocritical. To yield imme- 
diately to his claims, is as much a duty as to yield at all. 
Who would think him sincere, who, in promising amend- 
ment in habits of honesty, or sobriety, or truth, should pro- 
pose to begin his reformation a month hence ? 

The difficulty of your salvation is continually increasing. 



DON'T PUT IT OFF. 3 

Satan is always adding new chains or riveting old ones on 
all his captives. The world entwines itself around the soul 
by a new fold every day. The imregenerate heart is always 
waxing worse and worse. Especially does delay make it 
dreadfully hard. " To-day, if ye will hear his voice, harden 
not your heart." 

You ivill grieve the greatest goodness. To requite the 
Father's love with coldness, the Son's compassion with in- 
difference, and the Spirit's wooings with resistance, is to be 
a vile ingrate. Call me ungrateful, said a heathen, and you 
can call me nothing worse. 

The Bible warrants no delay. "What thy hand findeth 
to do, do it with thy might." " Behold, now is the accepted 
time ; behold, now is the day of salvation." In a matter in- 
volving eternal interests, be not so daring as to act without 
scriptural warrant. 

Dont put it off, lest you he lost. None ever got to 
heaven by delaying the surrender of their hearts to God. 
Waiting to become better or less wicked, never does any 
good. Delay is disobedience, disobedience is sin, and sin 
can never fit the soul for being saved. 

Dont put it off, and you shall he saved. This was the 
way in which the thief on the cross, Saul of Tarsus, and all 
the redeemed have come to Christ. Yea, before the coming 
of Christ, this was the way men were converted, " I thought 
on my ways, and turned my feet unto thy testimonies. / 
7nade haste, and delayed not to keep thy commandments." 
Thus did David, and success attended his holy speed. They 
•who hasten after another god, multiply their sorrows. But 
they who hasten after the true God, shall have more abun- 
dant joys than sinners have when their corn and wine abound. 
They shall be saved from sin, and guilt, and hell, and raised 
to heaven, and holiness, and eternal bliss. 

Do7i't put it off; for God, who now ivaits to he gracious, 
may withdraw his Spirit. Christ says, " Behold, I stand 
at the door and knock ; if any man hear my voice and open 
the door, I will come in to him and sup with him, and he 
with me." 

" Admit him ere his anger burn, 
His feet, departed, ne'er return: 
Admit him, or the hour's at hand 
You'll at his door rejected stand." 



4 DON'T PUT IT OFF. 

God's Spirit, on whose agency your salvation depends, 
■svill not always strive with man. Had not Bartimeus called 
just when he did, and earnestly as he did, he would have 
remained blind for life. The opportunity of repentance, 
once gone, is gone for ever. 

Don t put it off, and you ivlll never regret it ; hut delay 
will, sooner or later, fill you with the most poignant grief. 
" I am dying," said one who has just left the world, " but I 
am happy. I am going to Jesus. Thanks to God, who did 
not let me put it off." " I am dying," said a youth recently, 
" and I am going to hell. Tell them all from me, that it is 
a dreadful thing to die a sinner. Tell them not to put it 
off, as I have done." Very recently another said, "In the 
midst of the terrors of dissolution and despair, I say, God 
will punish the wicked. 0, if I had taken good advice when 
it was given me — but now it is too late." Yield now to 
God, " 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, and have not obeyed the 
voice of my teachers, nor inclined mine ear to them that 
instructed me." Pull not away the shoulder, nor refuse to 
hearken. More mournful words are not to be found than 
those which delaying sinners will use in the end : '' The 
harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved." 
Oh, what words ! — not saved — we are not saved ! 

Dear reader, decide. Decide now. How long will you 
hesitate ? Let not thy death decide thy case. Choose life, 
that you may live. God invites, hell threatens, conscience 
urges, thy soul is perishing. Oh, Don't put it off. 



r'UBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



JVo. 369. 

THE 



TIME NOT COME. 



When the Jews were carried away to Babylon, their 
temple, the most splendid building in the world, was laid 
in ruins. After the captivity, they were commanded by 
God to rebuild it, and to restore the rites of the ceremonitd 
worship. Accordingly, they commenced the work with a 
zeal so earnest and vigorous as to promise its speedy com- 
pletion. Being engrossed, however, at first by the opposi- 
tion of their enemies, and afterwards by their own selfish 
pursuits, they began to be satisfied that God's house should 
remain waste ; and not only so, but glad of any pretence 
by which they might plausibly excuse their guilty negligence 
in omitting to rebuild it. They did not positively refuse to 
engage in the work : tliis they hardly dared to do ; but 
they endeavored to satisfy their consciences with the quiet- 
ing and plausible plea, " The time is not yet come — the time 
that the Lord^s house should he built.'' 

Alas, the children of Judah are not the only ones 
chargeable with the folly and the guilt of postponing duty. 
The same procrastinating spirit still exists, all around us, to 
the injury of the cause of Christ — to the ruin of multitudes 
of souls. There are many, very many duties, which we 
admit are duties, which we dare not refuse ever to perform, 
and yet which we are prone to defer to some future season ; 
neglecting them for the present, on the plea that we will 
attend to them hereafter ; saying to ourselves, in the lan- 
guage of a self-deceiving heart, " The time is not yet come^ 

Let me fix your attention, for a few moments, on some 
INSTANCES evincing this spirit, and on a few of the many 
MOTIVES which should urge you to avoid it. It is on this 
plea that, 

1. Multitudes of the impenitent are deferring the great 
work of personal salvation. You not only acknowledge, but 
to some extent /eeZ, that the concerns of eternity are of the 
highest importance. Perhaps you are the child of pious 



THE TIME NOT COME. 



parents, or surrounded by Christian friends. You often 
think, and hear the Gospel, or read the word of God. And 
you know that you must be converted, or you can never see 
the kingdom of heaven. The truth is impressed on your 
conscience by sober reflection, by affliction, by the prospect 
of death, or by some alarming providence. At such seasons, 
when God is very near, it is not unusual for you to resolve 
that you will forsake your sins — that you will attend, in 
serious earnest, to your soul. You feel that this is right, 
and wise, and best ; that your present course is at war with 
reason, and gratitude, and conscience, and all your better 
feelings, and all your nobler prospects ; that you must and 
will forsake it, and that delay is folly, presumption, mad- 
ness, death ! And yet you rest satisfied now, with the reso- 
lution to do in future. You will not forswear religion for 
ever : you will merely postpone it just for the present. 
And having thus soothed the voice of conscience, and com- 
promised with the pressure of instant obligation, you are 
satisfied to dismiss the subject till some more convenient 
season : satisfied I as if it were any less hazardous to neglect 
heaven, than to reject it — to disregard damnation, than to 
brave it. 

So it may be with you, if in youth. You often feel that 
religion is important, and important now. The promises to 
the young sound powerfully on your ears. Conscience 
urges you to repentance, or upbraids you for its neglect. 
But your heart is averse from duty and from God, and is 
fixed with relentless, though perhaps not thoughtless grasp 
on folly, and self, and sin. You are not willing to renounce 
Christ /o?' ever, but you would be excused /or the present — 
for a few more years — for a little more of worldly and sinful 
enjoyment — to rivet still faster upon your own soul the 
shackles of despair and death. 

And so it may be, if you are grown up to manhood. Now, 
business, ambition, pleasure, Avealth, may have taken the 
place of youthful folly, but, alas, to the continued exclusion 
of religion from your present acceptance. There are times 
when you are obliged to think — when your aspirations flit 
for a little season above the world ; when conscience, now 
in whispers, and now in thunders, chides you for living in 
sin ; and when death, and judgment, and your own future 
destiny, are pressed upon your mind with intense and mourn- 



THE TIME NOT COME. 3 

fill weight. And what is your refuge ? Do you repent, 
and fly to Christ ? No ; you do not even promise to do this 
7101V. You merely resolve that when this or that pressing 
business is over ; when so much is accumulated ; when this 
plan is perfected, or that end gained, then you ivill seek the 
favor of God ; not thinking, heedless mortal, that before 
you reach that point, death may fix an impassable gulf be- 
tween it and your immortal soul. Thus you go on from year 
to year, perhaps to old age, still evading the claims of con- 
science and of God ; Avasting probation, steeling your soul 
against offered mercy, and gathering wrath, and closing your 
eyes to the prospect, while you madly rush on to the cer- 
tainty of endless woe. To all the overtures of reason, and 
conscience, and God, your reply is, " The time is not yet 
corned And that cry you seem likely to continue till your 
voice is hushed in death, and you learn the extent of your 
folly in the bitterness of despair. While replying to every 
heavenly demand and invitation, *'the time has not come," 
beware lest you find in your own fearful experience, that 
the time has come which has sealed your endless doom, and 
made you an outcast from God for ever. This plea also, 

2. Extends its influence more or less to many of the 
duties of the Christian life. In almost every department 
of duty, instead of regarding obstacles as designed for the 
trial of your sincerity and faith, and instead of resolving in 
God's strength to overcome them, not by delay, but by im- 
mediate effort, you are prone to wait for their removal — 
prone to imagine that you will be better fitted, or more dis- 
posed for effort in future than you now are. The impeni- 
tent are to be warned, or the erring Christian reproved, and 
from fear of giving off'ence, you defer the duty. The cause 
of benevolence is to be advanced, or the tide of guilt to be 
rolled backward, but you are content for the present to leave 
the work to others. The duty requires time, and selfishness 
suggests that it cannot be spared from business. It demands 
expense, and avarice whispers, " wait a little longer, till your 
riches are increased." It needs united effort, and from dread 
of opposition, or reproach, or singularity, you suffer the 
cause of truth to languish, till all shall be of one mind, which 
can never be expected. 

So too with numberless specific duties to yourself, to 
friends, to society, and to God. You are neglectful of fam- 



4 THE TIME NOT COME. 

ily or secret prayer, of self-examination or self-denial ; your 
example is inconsistent, your spirit unhumbled, your conduct 
marked by austerity or folly — and you rarely or never speak 
for God and religion to those who are neglecting or despis- 
ing both. 

And now I ask, as in God's name, " Are you living as in 
soberness and truth you know you ought to live ?" You 
admit that you are not. ''And when," I ask, *'do you 
intend to change your course ; when live the life of the 
devoted Christian ; when be more prayerful, and zealous, 
and self-denying, and holy ; when make growth in grace 
and the highest usefulness the great end of your being; 
when be more spiritually minded, more diligent in self-exam- 
ination, more decidedly the friend of God, more conformed 
to the example, and imbued with the spirit of Jesus ?" 
Alas, the answer of your conduct is, '* The time is not yet 
comey And thus temptation adds strength to her grasp, 
and the prince of darkness power to his chains ; and you 
are preparing yourself either to be scourged back to duty 
by some fearful judgment, or to be left of God to slumber 
on in hardness of heart and negligence of duty, till you are 
waked by the fires of perdition, to find that your hope was 
that of the hypocrite, which shall perish like the " spider's 
web," when God shall take away the soul. 

3. This spirit also very frequently operates to prevent 
full 2oreparatioii for death. Whoever you are, reader, you 
are not as fully prepared for death as you could wish to 
be. You look forward to the hour when the king of terrors 
shall call you hence — when friends shall surround you in 
weeping silence — when strength shall be weakness — when 
paleness shall gather upon your brow, or fever scorch your 
cheek — when the brain shall throb with its last agony, and 
the heart with its last pulsation — when the spirit shall be 
torn from its tenement of flesh, and borne away to the 
judgment. You look forward to these things, and if im- 
penitent, you shrink back with shuddering dread ; and even 
if a Christian, you think it would be well to be more es- 
tranged from the world than you now are, before that hour 
shall come. You resolve that you luill be. But still you 
put off the evil day, and treat death as far distant, and think 
all men mortal but yourself. Though commanded by Christ 
to be ever ready, as you know not the hour of his appear- 



THE TIME NOT COME. 5 

ance, you still persuade yourself that *' the time is not yet 
come." Like the evil servant, you say, '' My Lord delayeth 
his coming-;" and while, in consequence, you delay prepar- 
ing to meet him, he comes, and finds you unprepared. 
Instead of having your loins girded about, and your lamps 
trimmed and burning, you are as much engrossed in busi- 
ness and the world, as though " eternity" were stamped 
upon all around you, and you had a title to its full posses- 
sion. 

Such are a few of the many instances which may illus- 
trate the evil influence of procrastination in matters of relig- 
ion. Let me now present some of the motives luhich urge 
you to avoid it. 

1. The spirit of procrastination is directly opposed to the 
plain commands of God. The entire scope of Scripture 
injunctions is, that you attend to duty at once, and without 
delay. "Seek fiist the kingdom of God." "Work while 
it is called to-day." " To-day, if you will hear his voice." 
" JVow is the accepted time." " Whatsoever thy hand fin'deth 
to do, do it with thy might ; for there is no work, nor device, 
nor wisdom, nor knowledge in the grave, whither thou goest." 
These injunctions are not only binding in general, but they 
are to be carried out and obeyed in all the jmrticulars of 
life. If trials and difficulties beset your path, still the com- 
mand is unchanged. You are at once to deny yourself, and 
take up the cross and follow Christ. Whatever your con- 
dition, that is the post of duty assigned you by God, and 
in it he calls upon you now to serve and glorify him : if 
in poverty, by contentment ; if afflicted, by patience ; if 
bereaved, by submission ; if persecuted, by meekness ; if 
opposed, by firmness ; if injured, by forgiveness ; if tempted, 
by denying yourself for his sake. Nor can these duties be 
performed at other times, and when your circumstances are 
changed. They must be attended to now ; and to defer 
them to some future and uncertain season, is a virtual refu- 
sal to perform them at all — is direct opposition to the plain 
command of God. 

2. To put off to the future the duties that now claim 
your attention, implies a lurking dislike to the duties them- 
selves. Whatever aftbrds you delight, you are eager at once 
to seek or do. You give yourself no rest till it is gained 
or accomplished. If the hearts of the Jews had been fixed, 

VOL. .\. VZ 



6 THE TIME NOT COME. 

bent, set upon building the temple, they would never have 
urged that the time was not come. And if your heart is 
fixed supremely upon doing the will of God, you will never 
plead for delay. With you, as with them, postponement of 
duty must flow from secret dislike to it — from alienation of 
heart from God, which is deeply offensive in his sight. 

3. Such delay ivill subject you to many inevitable and 
irretrievable losses. Time is wasted, which can return no 
more — grace is wasted, for it is neglected or abused to your 
own hurt. And opportunities of doing and getting good, 
are recklessly squandered for ever. You delay the refor- 
mation of little errors in conduct, and soon you are marked 
by the community as an inconsistent Christian. You neg- 
lect for a season the religious education of your children, 
and before you are aware they are fixed in wickedness. 
You neglect to control them, to train them to obedience, 
and soon they have grown up with turbulent, and unsub- 
missive, and unkind tempers, to be sources of constant un- 
happiness to themselves, and of pitying regret to others. 
You hesitate noiv to stem the inroads of infidelity and Sab- 
bath-breaking, and soon they gather boldness, and walk 
abroad with reckless hand and unblushing front. You post- 
pone the discipline of your own spirit, and soon you are 
known as the creature of wayward and sinful impulse — of 
fitful and useless effort. You allow the presence of impure 
thoughts, and soon your soul is a living brothel. You in- 
dulge for a little the risings of envy, and soon your bosom 
is an earthly hell. You defer attending to religion till some 
future hour, but ere it arrives, death has stopped your 
breath, and consigned your body to the sepulchre and your 
soul to perdition. You put off the commencement of se- 
rious effort to grow in grace, and in a little while your stand- 
ard of Christian character becomes fixed, and that at an 
elevation far below your privilege and your duty. You 
hesitate to admonish that errino- Christian, and soon he goes 
on to disgrace his profession. You delay to warn that 
thoughtless sinner, and soon he dies and his soul is lost ; 
and as he is tossed through a long eternity upon the billows 
of burning wrath, he may for ever curse you, as the guilty 
cause of his ruin and woe. 

Now, in all these things you did not intend to incur such 
immense, irretiievable loss. You did not intend to neo-lect 



THE TIME NOT CO.ATE. 7 

effort for ever. You merely said to the demands of duty, 
" The time is not yet come f and thus you have brought 
upon yourself results of woe, which will either aggravate 
your anguish in the world of despair, or the remembrance 
of which, if there were grief in heaven, would cause you 
to weep bitter, scalding tears, even before the throne of 
God. 

Would you avoid such results ? Then let me urge you 
to do, and to do at once, and to do with your might, what- 
ever your hands find, and your conscience, or the word of 
God, commands you to do, for your God, for yourself, for 
a world lying in wickedness. 

Christian — If you cire delaying duty, you are living 
at war with profession, and privilege, and interest, and con- 
science. You are taking the most effectual course to destroy 
your comfort, and disgrace your profession, and limit your 
usefulness, and blight your hopes. Remember, I beseech 
you, that the eye of God, and the vows of God are upon 
you. Waste not, then, your only day of usefulness, your 
only day of action for Christ your Redeemer, and for man 
your brother : waste it not in idle, sinful, ruinous delay, 
when "upon every passing moment are hanging the glory of 
God, and the destiny of immortal souls. 

Ye too who are thoughtless in sin, I beseech you, 
be warned to awake to the claims of God — to the interests 
of your own souls. Trifle no longer w^th your deathless 
spirits — no longer with time — time, which is so uncertain 
in continuance, so brief in duration, so swift in its flight, so 
soon at its end. Waste, waste not your probation ; the 
turning point, the crisis of your existence ; the only season 
in which sin can be pardoned, God's favor be secured, hell be 
escaped, and heaven be won. Soon it will all be gone ; and 
if misimproved, you will be lost — for ever lost. And 0, 
how indescribably keen the reflection, as you look back 
. from the shores of a wretched eternity, to see that on earth 
every means of salvation was wasted upon you — wasted, to 
your own endless ruin — wasted, because when God was 
calling you to the skies, your answer to every overture of 
mercy was, *' The time is not yet come.'' How bitter in 
perdition will be the reflection, that your time, your time of 
salvation never came ; and that then the time of God's lorath 
came, and that you are sinking under its endless, its ever- 



8 THE TIME NOT COME. 

gathering weight, and that from it there is, there can be no 
escape ! 

You have gone, with a company of friends, down into 
the crater of a slumberino- volcano. Presumino- on the con- 
tinuance of its present quiet and stillness, you all recline 
yourselves to rest, and soon fall asleep. But the slumbers 
of the flaming gulf beneath are suddenly broken. Its rum- 
blings are heard — its vapors and smoke ascend — its suftb- 
catino; heat is felt. Your friends are waked from their 
sleep — they see their danger, and they rush to rouse you, 
with them to flee for life. But their eftorts are in vain. 
You will have a little more sleep, a little more slumber ; 
and the result is, that your companions escape, while you 
are left to perish. How fearful your situation ! And as you 
should sink in the fiery waves, how would you curse 
that love of ease which led you to indulge yourself a little 
longer — that delaying spirit which led you to sleep on, 
when the billows of burning death were rising, and gather- 
ing, and dashing to overwhelm you ! 

But what is ruin like this, to the ruin of a lost soul ? 
Nothinp- — less than nothino-. The time is comino- when 

O o O 

even the volcano's flames would be a refuge — when to be 
crushed by rocks and mountains would be a mercy — a 
mercy to be desired : desired in vain ! Yes, in vain ; for, 
to those Avho neglect the great salvation, there will then be 
no escape from the overwhelming wrath of God and of the 
Lamb. To-day then, reader, I entreat, I beseech you, 
awake to duty. Fly to Jesus : seek his pardoning mercy 
before it be for ever too late, " Kiss the Son, lest he be 
angry, and you perish from the way when his wrath is 
kindled but a little," 

" So shall that curse remove, 
By which the Saviour bled, 
And the last awful day shall pour 
His blessings on your head !" 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TR.4CT SOCIETV. 



I¥o. 370. 
MEMOIR 



OF 



DR. JOHN D. GODMAW, 

PROFESSOR OF ANATOMY, AUTHOR OF " ANATOMICAL ILLUSTRATIONS," ETC. 



FROM AN INTRODUCTORY LECTURE, 

BY THOMAS 8EWALL, M. D., 

PROFESSOR OF ANATOMY AND PHYSIOLOGY IN THE COLUMBIAN COLLEGE, 
DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA. 



There are occasions when it is proper, when it is prof- 
itable, to pause in the career of life, not only to mark the 
progress of things, but to observe the character of men, and 
more especially of men distinguished for eminent success or 
signal failure, that we may emulate the examples of the one, 
and shun the misfortunes of the other. The present is such 
an occasion ; and if properly improved, cannot fail to instruct 
as well as to gratify. 

There has recently appeared among us a man, so remark- 
able for the character of his mind and the qualities of his 
heart ; one whose life, though short, was attended with such 
brilliant displays of genius, and such distinguished success 
in the study of the medical profession and the kindred sci- 
ences, that the history of his career, and the prominent 
traits of his character as exhibited in the important events 
of his life, constitute one of the noblest examples of the age. 

Professor Godman was born in the city of Annapolis, 
'Maryland. He was early deprived of the fostering care 
which flows from parental solicitude and affection. His 
mother died before he was a year old, and his father did not 
long survive. On the death of his mother, he was placed 

VOL. X. 12^ 



2 MEMOIR OF DR. GODMAN. 

■under the care of an aunt, then residing at Wilmington, in 
the state of Delaware — a lady who, from the superiority of 
her intellect and education, as well as the sweetness of her 
disposition and her elevated piety, was eminently qualified 
to unfold, impress, and direct the youthful mind. Under 
such culture he received the first rudiments of his education 
and his earliest moral impressions. His alphabet was taught 
him upon the knee of his grandmother, and before he was 
two years old he was able to read in the Psalms. 

At the age of four his aunt removed from Delaware to 
Chestertown, upon the eastern shore of Maryland, and here 
she first placed the interesting orphan at school. He had 
already become the idol of the family, but now he mani- 
fested such a precocity of intellect, such a fondness for 
books, and an aptitude to learn, and withal evinced so much 
sensibility, frankness, and sweetness of disposition, that he 
gained the afiection and excited the admiration of all. His 
reverence for truth was such, even from his infancy, that he 
was never known to equivocate. At the age of six his aunt 
died, and he was left Avithout any suitable protector or 
guide, exposed to the adversities of fortune and the snares 
of an unfriendly world. But it appears that the moral and 
religious impressions which had already been made upon 
his mind, though obscured for a time, were never Avholly 
obliterated. During his last illness he was often heard to 
speak in raptures of his aunt, and say, " If I have ever been 
led to do any good, it has been through the influence of her 
example, instruction, and prayers." His father had lost 
the greater part of his estate before his death, and that 
which remained never came into the hands of his children. 
Young Godman, therefore, was early taught to rely on his 
own talents and industry. In this situation he was indented 
an apprentice to a printer in the city of Baltimore ; but the 
occupation was not congenial to his taste, and after a few 
years he left the business in disgust, and at the same time 



MEMOIR OF DR. GoDMAN. 3 

entered as a sailor on board the flotilla, which was then, the 
fall of 1814, stationed in the Chesapeake Bay. At the close 
of the war, having arrived at the age of fifteen, he was per- 
mitted to pursue the inclination of his own mind, and imme- 
diately commenced the study of medicine. So indefatigable 
was he in the acquisition of knowledge, that he left no op- 
portunity of advancement unimproved, and notwithstanding 
the deficiencies of his preparatory education, he pressed 
forward with an energy and perseverance that enabled him 
to rival all his fellows, and graduated before he was twenty 
years old, in the University of Maryland, with the highest 
honors. 

He settled for a short time in the practice of medicine ; 
but was soon called to the professorship of anatomy in the 
Medical College of Ohio. After one year he left the West, 
and opened a school of anatomy in Philadelphia, for the 
benefit of the medical classes of the University of Pennsyl- 
vania. 

After he had here prosecuted his anatomical studies for 
four or five years, his reputation as an anatomist became so 
generally known, that the eyes of the profession were 
directed to him from every part of the country ; and in 1826 
he was called to fill the chair of anatomy in Rutgers' Medi- 
cal College, in the city of New York. This situation, as 
well as every other in which he had been placed, he sus- 
tained with a popularity almost unparalleled. He never 
exhibited in public but he gathered around him an admir- 
ing audience, who hung with delight Aipon his lips. But 
the duties of the chair, together with his other scientific 
pursuits, were too arduous, and the climate too rigorous for 
a constitution already subdued by labor and broken by dis- 
ease ; and before he had completed his second course of 
lectures, he was compelled to retire from the school, and 
seek a residence in a milder climate. He repaired with his 
family to one of the West India islands, and remained till 



MEMOIR OF DR. GODMAN. 



the approach of summer, when he returned and settled in 
Germantown. Here and in Philadelphia he spent the 
remainder of his life, which was principally devoted to com- 
posing works for the press. 

The productions of Dr. Godman's pen, and the fruits 
of his labor, are too numerous to be specified. Among- 
them will be found, " Anatomical Investigations, compris- 
ing a Description of various Fasciae of the Human Body ;" 
" An account of some Irregularities of Structure, and Mor- 
bid Anatomy ;" " Contributions to Physiological and Path- 
ological Anatomy;" ''A System of Natural History of 
American Quadrupeds;" "An Edition of Bell's Anatomy, 
with Notes ;" " Rambles of a Naturalist ;" and several arti- 
cles on natural history, for the American Encyclopedia, be- 
sides numerous papers which have appeared in the periodi- 
cal journals of the day. At one time he was the principal 
editor of the "Philadelphia Journal of the Medical and 
Physical Sciences." Some time before his death he pub- 
lished a volume of Addresses which he had delivered on 
different public occasions. Most of these admired produc- 
tions have been before the public for a considerable time ; 
have been received with high approbation, and several of 
them have been favorably noticed, and even republished in 
foreign countries. 

His intellectual character was very extraordinary. He 
possessed all the characteristic features of a mind of the 
highest order. Naturally bold, ardent, and enterprising, 
he never stopped to calculate consequences, so far as they 
regarded himself ; but rushed forward with impetuosity to 
perform whatever he undertook. Great and lofty intel- 
lectual purposes seemed to be the natural element in which 
he lived. His perception was quick and accurate ; his mem- 
ory exceedingly retentive ; and he possessed an uncommon 
facility of abstracting his attention from surrounding objects, 
and of concentrating all his powers upon the subject of his 



MEMOIR OF DR. GODMAN. 5 

pursuit. It was this latter trait of mind, no doubt, which 
gave such effect to all his efforts ; while he was indebted to 
the power of his memory for the remarkable facility he pos- 
sessed of acquiring languages ; for although his early edu- 
cation had been exceedingly limited, he acquired such a 
knowledge of the Latin, Greek, French, German, Danish, 
Spanish, and Italian languages, as to read and translate 
them with fluency, and to write several of them with ele- 
gance. His quick and discriminating powers of observation 
naturally inclined him to notice the habits and economy of 
animals, and gave him his taste for the study of natural 
history. 

His powers of description and illustration imparted fresh- 
ness and splendor to every thing he touched. All his con- 
ceptions were strong, clear, and original ; and he possessed 
the power of holding before him whatever object engaged 
his attention, till all its parts and relations were brought to 
view. By those who have listened to his extemporaneous 
discussions, it is said, that while he was speaking, a thou- 
sand images seemed to cluster around the subject, and that 
he had just time to select such as imparted beauty, or fur- 
nished the happiest illustration of the object he wished to 
explain. Yet, while he possessed all this richness and fer- 
tility of mind, taste and judgment ever controlled its opera- 
tions. 

He was a laborious and untiring student, and possessed 
in a high degree the requisites of all true intellectual great- 
ness — the habit of patient investigation, long-continued 
attention, and a singular love of labor. " How often," says 
one to whom he unbosomed the secrets of his heart, " have 
I entreated him, while poring half the night over his books 
and papers — how often have I begged him to consider his 
health ; but his ambition and thirst for knowledge were 
such, that having commenced an investigation, or a language, 
no difficulty could stop him ; and what he had no time to 



6 MEMOIR OF DR. GODMAN. 

accomplish in the daj^, he would do at night, instead of 
enjoying that rest of which he stood in so much need." 

It has been truly and happily said by one who knew 
him intimately, that his eagerness in the pursuit of know- 
ledge seemed like the impulse of gnawing hunger and an 
unquenchable thirst, which neither adversity nor disease 
could allay. Variety of occupations was the only relaxa- 
tion which he souo-ht or desired. 

He composed Avith rapidity, but not without a high 
degree of intellectual excitement, and the most abstracted 
attention. Under such an influence, some of his best essays 
were sent to the press as they first came from his pen, Avith- 
out the smallest correction. 

There haA^e been but feAv men more variously gifted by 
nature, or more nobly distinguished by industry and zeal, 
than Dr. Godman. Notwithstanding all the disadvantages 
under which he labored, he became " one of the most ac- 
complished general scholars and linguists, acute and erudite 
naturalists, ready, pleasing, and instructive lecturers and 
writers of his country or era. He prosecuted extensive and 
diversified researches, composed superior disquisitions and 
revieAvs, and large and valuable volumes," and he imparted 
a freshness and vigor to every thing he touched. 

But there remains another vieAv of Dr. Godman — his 
MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CHARACTER, which Avas SO admirable, 
so strongly draAvn, and so worthy of imitation, that it can- 
not be Avithheld, and Avhich proved his solace in sickness, 
cheered him as he approached the valley of death, and shed 
light and immortality around his dying bed. 

Unhappily he had formed his philosophical and religious 
opinions after the model of the French naturalists of the 
last century, the most distinguished of Avhom Avere deists 
and atheists ; and such is man in his natural, his fallen con- 
dition, that even while surrounded by the most magnificent 



MEMOIR OF DR. GODMAF. 7 

displays of divine power and wisdom, and with his eyes 
directed to those very objects, and his attention arrested by 
those very hiws which prochiim the existence and the pres- 
ence of an almighty power, he overlooks and passes by the 
evidences they furnish of the existence of a Deity ; and this 
often under the specious but delusive pretext of casting off 
the shackles of prejudice and superstition, and of giving the 
reins to free, enlightened, and philosophical inquiry. It 
was the case with Dr. Godman ; for while assisted by such 
lights as these, and guided alone in his investigations by 
perverted reason, he became, as he tells us, an established 
infidel, rejecting revelation, and casting all the evidences of 
an existing God beneath his feet. 

It was not till the Avinter of 182Y, while engaged in his 
course of lectures in New York, that he was arrested in 
his career, and brought to an experimental knowledge of the 
truth. At this time an incident occurred which led him to 
a candid perusal of the gospels, as contained in the New 
Testament. It was a visit to a death-bed — the death- bed 
of a Christian — the death-bed of a student of medicine. 
There he saw what reason could not explain, nor philosophy 
fathom. He opened his Bible, and the secret was unfolded. 
From this time he became a devoted student of the Scrip- 
tures. How far they were made the efficient cause of his 
conversion to Christianity will best appear from his own 
eloquent pen. 

To a medical friend. Dr. Judson, of Washington cit}'-, 
a surgeon in the navy of the United States, who was at that 
time in the last stage of consumption, he wrote as follows : 

" Germantown, Dec. 25, 1828. 

" In relation to dying, my dear friend, you talk like a 

sick man, and just as I used to do when very despondent ; 

death is a debt we all owe to nature, and must eventually 

ensue from a mere wearino; out of the machine, if not from 



8 MEMOIR OF DR. GODMAN. 

disease. The time when, makes no difference in the act of 
dying to the individual ; for after all, it terminates in corpo- 
real insensibility, let the preceding anguish be never so 
severe. Nature certainly has a strong abhorrence to this 
cessation of corporeal action, and all animals have a dread 
of death who are conscious of its approach. A part of our 
dread of death is purely physical, and is avoidable only by 
a philosophical conviction of its necessity ; but the greater 
part of our dread, and the terrors with which the avenues 
to the grave are surrounded, are from another and a more 
potent source. ' 'Tis conscience that makes cowards of us 
all,' and forces us by our terrors to confess that we dread 
something beyond physical dissolution, and that we are ter- 
rified, not at merely ceasing to breathe, but that we have 
not lived as we ought to have done, have not effected the 
good that was within the compass of our abilities, and neg- 
lected to exercise the talents we possessed to the greatest 
advantage. The only remedy for this fear of death is to be 
sought by approaching the Author of all things in the way 
prescribed by himself, and not according to our own foolish 
imaginations. Humiliation of pride, denial of self, subjec- 
tion of evil tempers and dispositions, and an entire submis- 
sion to his will for support and direction, are the best pre- 
paratives for such an approach. A perusal of the gospels, 
in a spirit of real inquiry after a direction how to act, will 
certainly teach the way. In these gospels the Saviour him- 
self has preached his own doctrines, and he who runs may 
read. He has prescribed the course ; he shows how the 
approval and mercy of God may be won ; he shows how 
awfully corrupt is man's nature, and how deadly his pride 
and stubbornness of heart, which cause him to try every 
subterfuge to avoid the humiliating confession of his own 
weakness, ignorance, and folly. But the same blessed hand 
has stripped death of all the terrors which brooded around 
the grave, and converted the gloomy receptacle of our mor- 



MEMOIR OF DR. GODMAN. 9 

tal remains into the portal of life and light, 0, let me die 
the death of the righteous, and let my last end and future 
state be like his. 

" This is all I know on the subject. I am no theologian, 
and have as great an aversion to priestcraft as one can 
entertain. I was once an infidel, as I told you in the West 
Indies. I became a Christian from conviction, produced by 
the candid inquiry recommended to you. I know of no 
other way in which death can be stripped of its terrors ; 
certainly none better can be wished. Philosophy is a fool, 
and pride a madman. Many persons die with what is called 
manly firmness ; that is, having acted a part all their lives, 
according to their prideful creed, they must die game. They 
put on as smooth a face as they can, to impose on the spec- 
tators and die firmly. But this is all deception ; the true 
state of their minds at the very time, nine times out of ten, 
is worse than the most horrible imaginings even of hell 
itself. Some who have led lives adapted to sear their con- 
science and petrify all the moral sensibilities, die with a kind 
of indifference similar to that with which a hardened con- 
vict submits to a new infliction of disgraceful punishment. 
But the man who dies as a man ought to die, is the hum- 
ble-minded, believing Christian ; one who has tasted and 
enjoyed all the blessings of creation, who has had an enlight- 
ened view of the wisdom and glory of his Creator ; who has 
felt the vanity of merely worldly pursuits and motives, and 
been permitted to know the mercies of a blessed Redeemer 
as he approaches the narrow house appointed for all the 
living. 

*' Physical death may cause his senses to shrink and fail 
at the trial ; but his mind, sustained by the Rock of ages, 
is serene and unwavering. He relies not on his own right- 
eousness, for that would be vain ; but the arms of mercy 
are beneath him, the ministering spirits of the Omnipotent 
are around him. He does not ' die manfully,' but he ' rests 
VOL. X. 13 



10 MEMOIR OF DR. GODMAN. 

in Jesus ;' he blesses his friends, he casts his hope on One 
all-powerful to sustain and mighty to save, then sleeps in 
peace. He is dead, but liveth ; for He who is the resur- 
rection and the life has declared, ' Whoso believeth in me, 
though he were dead, yet shall he live : and whosoever 
liveth, and believeth in me, shall never die.' " 

This letter, which so truly contrasts the death-bed scene 
of the infidel with that of the Christian, so beautifully por- 
trays the history of the change which had been effected 
in Dr. Godman's own sentiments and affections, and so 
clearly points the benighted wanderer to the true source 
of life and light, was not lost upon his friend to whom it 
was addressed. It described his condition, and it reached 
his heart. 

Dr. Judson, though religiously instructed when young, 
having a pious clergyman for his father, and another for his 
elder brother, the distinguished and devoted missionary to 
Burmah, yet had long since freed himself from what he 
called the prejudices of education, the shackles of priest- 
craft, and was ranging the fields of infidelity. He had ac- 
quired wealth and reputation, was an estimable man in all 
the domestic relations of life, and a highly respected mem- 
ber of our profession ; but the self-denying doctrines of the 
Saviour were too humbling to his proud spirit, and he could 
not submit to their influence. At the time he received Dr. 
Godman's letter, however, he was gloomy and despondent ; 
looking forward with fearful forebodings to the period of 
his dissolution, which seemed not far distant. He had no 
confidence but that of the sceptic — no hope but that of 
ceasinof to be. Aware of the fatal nature of the disease 
under which he had lingered for years, he had long been 
arming himself to meet the king of terrors with composure, 
that he might die like a philosopher — " with manly firm- 
ness ;'' but as he drew nearer to the arrave, the clouds and 



MEMOIR OF DR. GODMAN. H 

(f^arkness thickened around him, and he began to fear that 
there might be something beyond this narrow prison. He 
had hitherto refused all religious intercourse, but now his 
infidelity began to give way, and he inquired with solicitude, 
" Is there such a thing as the new birth ; and if so, in what 
does it consist ?" He was directed to the gospels for 
the answer. He at length consented to make the investi- 
gation recommended by Dr. Godman. He took up the 
New Testament, and read it in the spirit of candid inquiry. 
A conviction of the truth of its doctrines fastened upon him. 
He now solicited the advice and prayers of a pious clergy- 
man. Yet he could not consent to relinquish the senti- 
ments which he had so long cherished, without the clearest 
proof, and he disputed every inch of ground with great 
acuteness and ability ; but the truth was exhibited by the 
venerable divine with such force and simplicity, that it over- 
came every argument he could produce, and he saw clearly 
the folly of his sceptical opinions. The clouds were dissi- 
pated, light broke in upon his mind, and he was enabled to 
take hold of the promises. The remaining days of his life 
were devoted to fervent prayer and the constant study of 
the Scriptures, which filled his soul with divine composure, 
and enabled him to rely with undoubting confidence on the 
infinite merits of his Redeemer, and with his last breath to 
cry, " Peace, peace." If he did not die with " manly firm- 
ness," he "rested in Jesus." 

The exercises of such a mind as Dr. Godman's, durinsr a 
long period of affliction, cannot fail to be interesting as well 
to the philosopher as to the Christian, and more especially 
as expressed by himself. I shall therefore present a few 
brief extracts from some of his correspondence of that pe- 
riod. 

"Philadelphia, February 17, 1829. 
" My dear Friend — Since my last to you, my health 
has suffered various and most afflicting changes. The unu- 



12 MEIVIOIR OF DR. GODMAN. 

sual severity of the weather, and other scarcely perceptible 
causes, induced an attack of inflammation in the diseased 
lung, which, in my enfeebled condition, required more of 
depletion and reduction of diet than could be readily borne ; 
hemorrhage ensued on the third or fourth day, which re- 
lieved the local affection considerably, and by the aid of 
blistering frequently, and perfect rest, I gradually amend- 
ed ; still the great suflfering, caused by the mental and cor- 
poreal debility, was beyond any thing ever before expe- 
rienced by me, even after the active condition of disease was 
checked. But thanks to the mercies of Him who is alone 
able to save, the valley and shadow of death were stripped 
of their terrors, and the descent to the grave was smoothed 
before me. Relying on the mercies and infinite merits of 
the Saviour, had it pleased God to call me then, I believe 
I should have died in a peaceful, humble confidence. But 
I have been restored to a state of comparative health, per- 
haps nearly to the condition in which I was when I wrote 
to Dr. Judson ; and I am again allowed to think of the ed- 
ucation of my children and the support of my family. 
*' Believe me truly your friend, 

'J. D. GODMAN. 
"Professor Sewall." 

In answer to a suggestion which I made to him of the 
propriety of leaving behind him a memoir of his life, he 
says, " It has long been my intention, as my life has been 
a curious one, to put a short account of it together for the 
benefit of my children and others." 

It appears, however, from some lines he wrote at a later 
period of his life, that he never accomplished this object ; 
for in a manuscript volume which he sent to a friend, and 
which he intended to fill with original pieces of his own 
composition, he writes as follows. 

" Did I not in all things feel most thoroughly convinced 
that the overruling of our plans by an all- wise Providence 



MEMOIR OF DR. GODMAN. 13 

is always for good, I might regret that a part of my plan can- 
not be executed. This was, to relate a few curious incidents 
from among the events of my most singularly guided life, 
which, in addition to mere novelty or peculiarity of charac- 
ter, could not have failed practically to illustrate the impor- 
tance of inculcating correct religious and moral principles, 
and imbuing the mind therewith from the veiy earliest dawn 
of intellect, from the very moment that the utter imbecility 
of infancy begins to disappear. May His holy will be done, 
who can raise up abler advocates to support the truth. 
This is my first attempt to write in my token — why may it 
not be the last ? 0, should it be, believe me that the Avill 
of God will be most acceptable. Notwithstanding the life of 
neglect, sinfulness, and perversion of heart which I so long 
led before it pleased him to dash all my idols in the dust, 
I feel an humble hope in the boundless mercy of our blessed 
Lord and Saviour, who alone can save the soul from merit- 
ed condemnation. May it be in the power of those who 
chance to read these lines, to say. Into thy hands I com- 
mend my spirit, for thou hast redeemed me, Lord, thou 
God of truth." 

On my communicating to Dr. Godman an account of the 
last moments of his friend Dr. Judson, he responds in the 
following feeling and beautiful manner. 

" Germantowi^, May 21, 1829. 

*' My dear Friend — I feel very grateful for your atten- 
tion in sending me an account of our dear Judson's last 
moments. After all his doubts, difficulties, and mental 
conflicts, to know that the Father of mercies was pleased to 
open his eyes to the truth, and shed abroad in his heart the 
love and salvation off"ered through the Redeemer, is to me 
a source of the purest gratification, and a cause of the most 
sincere rejoicing. The bare possibility of my having been 

VOL. X. 13* 



14 MEMOIR OF DR. GODMAN. 

even slightly instrumental in effecting the blessed change 
of mind he experienced, excites in me emotions of gratitude 
to the Source of all good which words cannot express. 

" My health has been in a very poor condition since my 
last to you. My cough and expectoration have been gener- 
ally bad, and my body is emaciated to a very great degree. 
The warm weather now appears to have set in, and possibly 
I may improve a little ; otherwise, it will not be long before 
I follow our lately departed friend. Let me participate in 
the prayers you offer for the sick and afflicted, and may 
God grant me strength to die to his honor and glory, in the 
hopes and constancy derived from the merits and atonement 
of the blessed Saviour. With my best wishes for your 
health and prosperity, I remain sincerely yours, 

"J. D. GODMAN." 

" Philadelphia, October 6, 1829. 

'* My dear Friend — My health is, as for a considerable 
time past, in a very tolerable condition ; that is, I can sit up 
a great part of the day, writing or reading, without much 
injury. My emaciation is great, and though not very rapid, 
is steady, so that the change in my strength takes place 
almost imperceptibly. On the whole, though I suffer great- 
ly, compared with persons in health, yet so gently have the 
chastenings of the Lord fallen upon me, that I am hourly 
called upon for thankfulness and gratitude for his unfailing- 
mercies. Equal cause have I had for rejoicing that I have 
learned to put my whole trust in him ; as he has raised me 
up help and fiiends in circumstances which seemed to ren- 
der even hope impossible, and has blessed me and mine 
with peace and content in the midst of all afflictions, trials, 
and adversity. 

" Knowing experimentally the value of implicit submis- 
sion of all thoughts and desires to his most holy will, it is 
no small source of distress to me, to see how many of my 



iMEiMOIR OF DR. GODMAN. 15 

most valued friends live in the habitual neglect of a happi- 
ness so pure, so attainable, and admirable." 

Dr. Godman's religious feelings, though ardent, were 
not bigoted. In him religion was not that cold, selfish, and 
narrow principle which shuts out from one's confidence all 
not of his own faith ; nor did it consist in a loud profes- 
sion of a particular doctrine or creed. It was the religion 
of the heart, deep, sincere, and as comprehensive as the 
charity of Heaven ; embracing all the humble, faithful, and 
really excellent of every denomination of Christians. 

In the concluding part of the above letter, after speak- 
ing of the different religious denominations in terms of great 
liberality and candor, he says, 

** However, I find all really religious persons to be of 
one mind. Those who have drunk at the undefiled spring 
of truth, as set forth in the New Testament, Avithout ob- 
scuration of human creeds or tradition, I have never found 
to differ in any respect that was of the slightest importance ; 
and therefore with such persons, however called, I can 
always communicate advantageously. 

" Sincerely your friend, 

"J. D. GODMAN." 

His strong and practical views of the authenticity of 
Christianity are clearly exhibited in the following extract 
which he wrote not lonor before his death. 



'& 



"■ Is proof wanting, that these gospels are true ? It is 
only necessary for an honest mind to read them candidly to 
be convinced. Every occurrence is stated clearly, simply, 
and unostentatiously. The narrations are not supported by 
asseverations of their truth, nor by parade of witnesses : the 
circumstances described took place in presence of vast multi- 



16 MEMOIR OF DR. GODMAN. 

tudes, and are told in that downright, unpretending manner 
which would have called forth innumerable positive contra- 
dictions, had they been untrue. Mysteries are stated without 
attempt at explanation, because explanation is not necessary 
to establish the existence of facts, however mysterious. Mir- 
acles also, attested by the presence of vast numbers, are 
stated in the plainest language of narration, in which the 
slightest working of imagination cannot be traced. This 
very simplicity, this unaffected sincerity and quiet affirma- 
tion, have more force than a thousand witnesses — more effi- 
cacy than volumes of ambitious effort to support truth by 
dint of argumentation. 

*' What motive could the evangelist have to falsify ? 
The Christian kingdom is not of this world, nor in it. 
Christianity teaches disregard of its vanities, depreciates 
its honors and enjoyments, and sternly declares, that none 
can be Christians but those who escape from its vices and 
allurements. There is no call directed to ambition — no 
gratification proposed to vanity ; the sacrifice of self — the 
denial of all the propensities which relate to the gratification 
of passion or pride, with the most humble dependence upon 
God, are invariably taught, and most solemnly enjoined, 
under penalty of the most awful consequences. Is it then 
wonderful that such a system should find revilers ? Is it 
surprising that sceptics should abound, when the slightest 
allowance of belief would force them to condemn all their 
actions ? Or is it to be wondered at, that a purity of life 
and conversation so repugnant to human passions, and a 
humility so offensive to human pride, should be opposed, 
rejected, and contemned ? Such is the true secret of the 
opposition to religion — such the cause inducing men who 
lead unchristian lives to array the frailties, errors, weakness, 
and vices of individuals, or sects, against Christianity, hop- 
ing to weaken or destroy the system by rendering ridiculous 
or contemptible those who profess to be governed by its 



MEMOIR OF DR.GODMAN. 17 

influence, though flieh' conduct shows them to be acting 
under an opposite spirit. 

" What is the mode in which tliis most extraordinary- 
doctrine of Christianity is to be diffused ? By force — tem- 
poral power — temporal rewards — earthly triumphs ? None 
of these. By earnest persuasion, gentle entreaty, brotherly 
monition, paternal remonstrance. The dread resort of 
threatened punishment comes last — exhibited in sorrow, 
not in anger ; told as a fearful truth, not denounced with 
vindictive exultation ; while, to the last moment, the beamy 
shield of mercy is ready to be interposed for the saving of 
the endangered. 

" Human doctrines are wavering and mutable ; the doc- 
trines of the blessed and adorable Jesus, our Saviour, are 
fixed and immutable. The traditions of men are dissimilar 
and inconsistent ; the declarations of the Gospel are harmo- 
nious, not only with each other, but with the acknowledged 
attributes of the Deity, and the well-known condition of 
human nature. 

" What do sceptics propose to give us in exchange for 
this system of Christianity, with its ' hidden mysteries,' 
'miracles,' 'signs and wonders?' Doubt, confusion, obscu- 
rity, annihilation. Life, without higher motive than selfish- 
ness ; death — Avithout hope. Is it for this that their zeal 
is so warmly displayed in proselyting ? Is such the gain 
to accrue for the relinquishment of our souls ? In very 
deed, this is the utmost they have to propose, and we can 
only account for their rancorous efforts to render others 
like themselves, by reflecting that misery loves company." 

In the last letter which I ever received from him, he 
observes, " My time is so exceedingly occupied by the lit- 
erary business I am engaged in, that it is with great diffi- 
culty that I can attend to any other affairs. However, I 
have always intended to leave behind me the sort of mem- 



18 MEMOIR OF DR. GODMAN. 

oranda you wish for, which my friends' may use at their 
discretion. I have to-day, as above mentioned, concluded 
one book, which leaves me at liberty to write some long-de- 
ferred letters. To-morrow I must resume my pen to com- 
plete some articles of zoology for the Encyclopaedia Amer- 
icana, now preparing in Boston. It shall be my constant 
endeavor to husband my strength to the last ; and by doing 
as much as is consistent with safety, for the good of my 
fellow- creatures, endeavor to discharge a mite of the im- 
mense debt I owe for the never-failing bounties of Provi- 
dence." 

He did husband his strength, and toiled with his pen 
almost to the last hours of his life ; and by thus doing, has 
furnished us with a singular evidence of the possibility of 
unitinof the hicrhest attainments in science, and the most 
ardent devotion to letters, with the firmest belief and the 
purest practice of the Christian. But the period of his 
dissolution was not distant : the summons arrived ; and 
conscious that the messenger who had been long in waiting- 
could not be bribed to tarry, he commended his little fam- 
ily in a fervent prayer to Him who has promised to be the 
" Father of the fatherless, and the widow's God ;" and then 
with uplifted eyes and hands, and a face beaming with joy 
and confidence, resigned his spirit into the arms of his Re- 
deemer, on the morning of the lYth of April, 1830, aged 
thirty-two years. 

A friend who was his constant companion during his 
sickness, and witnessed his last moments, writes me thus : 

** You ask me to give you an account of his last mo- 
ments : they were such as have robbed me of all terror of 
death, and will afford me lasting comfort through life. The 
same self-composure and entire resignation which were so 
remarkable through his whole sickness, supported him to 



MEMOIR OF DR. GODMAN. 19 

the end. 0, it was not death — it was a release from moi'tal 
misery to everlasting happiness. Such calmness when he 
prayed for us all — such a heavenly composure, even till the 
breath left him, you would have thought he Avas going only 
a short journey. During the day his sufferings had been 
almost beyond enduring. Frequently did he pray that the 
Lord would give him patience to endure all till the end, 
knowing that it could not be many hours ; and truly his 
prayers were heard. Lord Jesus, receive my soul, were 
the last words he uttered, and his countenance appeared as 
if he had a foretaste of heaven even before his spirit left 
this world." 

I might enlarge, but I forbear. Allow me only to add, 
that there are those who feel that in the death of Dr. God- 
man the strongest ties of nature are torn asunder. While 
we mingle our sighs with theirs, let us delight to dwell upon 
those traits, and emulate those virtues, which we admired 
while he lived, and which death can never efface from the 
memory. 



TRIBUTE FROM ROBERT WALSH, ESQ. 

"The tributes which have been paid to the late Dr. 
Godman, were especially due to the memory of a man so 
variously gifted by nature, and so nobly distinguished by 
industry and zeal in the acquisition and advancement of 
science. He did not enj^oy early opportunities of self-im- 
provement, but he cultivated his talents, as he approached 
manhood, with a degree of ardor and success which sup- 
plied all deficiencies ; and he finally became one of the most 
accomplished general scholars and linguists, acute and eru- 
dite naturalists, ready, pleasing, and instructive lecturers 
and writers of his country and era. The principal subject 
of his study was anatomy in its main branches, in which he 



20 MEMOIR OF DR. GODMAN. 

excelled in every respect. His attention was much directed 
also to physiology, pathology, and natural history ; with an 
aptitude and efficiency abundantly proved by the merits of 
his published works, which we need not enumerate. 

" We do not now recollect to have known any individ- 
ual who inspired us with more respect for his intellect and 
heart than Dr. Godman ; to whom knowledge and discov- 
ery appeared more abstractly precious ; whose eye shed 
more of the lustre of generous and enlightened enthusiasm ; 
whose heart remained more vivid and sympathetic amidst 
professional labor and responsibility always extremely se- 
vere and urgent. Considering the decline of his health for 
a long period, and the pressure of adverse circumstances, 
which he too frequently experienced, he performed prodigies 
as a student, an author, and a teacher — he prosecuted ex- 
tensive and diversified researches ; composed superior dis- 
quisitions and reviews, and large and valuable volumes ; and 
in the great number of topics which he handled simultane- 
ously, or in immediate succession, he touched none without 
doing himself credit, and producing some new development 
of light. 

" He lingered for years under consumption of the lungs ; 
understood fully the incurableness of his melancholy state ; 
spoke and acted with an unfeigned and beautiful resigna- 
tion ; toiled at his desk to the last day of his thirty-two 
years, still glowing with the love of science and the domes- 
tic affections." 



IVo. 371. 

THE 

SINNER HIS OWN DESTROYER. 



Many think that if they could be sure there is no place 
of future punishment, they should not be afraid to die. The 
word Hell, which they find in the Bible, troubles them ; 
and the awful descriptions, drawn by the pen of inspiration, 
make eternity dreadful. They cannot look forward to the 
judgment without distressing apprehensions that they must 
be condemned. If they could tear from the Bible the 25tli 
chapter of Matthew, and erase all the passages Avhich 
threaten the wrath of God, and describe the eternal condi- 
tion of the wicked as one of "torment," "the smoke of 
which ascendeth up for ever ;" of pain and anguish, " where 
their worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched ;" and 
of "everlasting punishment," "prepared for the devil and 
his angels;" their fears would be quieted, and they would 
look upon death only as the termination of this earthly 
scene. 

To such it is proper to remark, that the wish to 
change God's word, even in one jot or tittle, is utterly vain. 
As well might you stop the motion of the earth, or pluck 
down the stars from heaven. The same hand that formed 
them erected the prison-house of hell, and wrote the law ; 
and "it is easier for heaven and earth to pass, than one 
tittle of the law to fail." Luke 16 : 17. 

But even if you could blot from the Bible every line 
that excites your fears, or satisfy yourself that its threat- 
enings all relate merely to the sufferings of the present 
life ; if you could prove that there really will be no sen- 
tence of condemnation from the throne of God — that there 
is no hell for his enemies, or evil spirits to torment them, 
would you be sure of hap2nness ? The declaration of our 
Maker would still stand in all its force: "There is no peace 
to the wicked." This he uttered, not as a judicial sentence 
against individual offenders, but as the fact, founded in the 
very constitution of man, that sin destroys his hapinness. 

DeatJi makes no clianye in the moral character. It dis- 
engages the soul from the trammels of the body, and gives 
VOL. X. 14 



2 THE SINNER HIS OWN DESTROYER. 

expansion to its powers ; but he that was " unjust" will 
be "unjust still," and he that was ''filthy" will be "filthy 
still," though removed from earth to the world of spirits. 
The passage through the dark valley is but a single step, 
and in its agony and gloom there is no such, mighty effi- 
cacy as to convert a hardened sinner into a saint ; a work 
which the Almighty Spirit alone can accomplish. Nor will 
death divest the soul of any of its passions and propensities. 
Those which belong to the body, Avill of course accompany 
it to the silence of the grave; but all that belong to the 
soul, as anger, malice, revenge, will not only be retained in 
the disembodied state, but acquire greater capacity and 
power for action. 

In this world a man's happiness depeiids chiefly upon 
the state of his 7nind. Wealth, honor, friends, and every 
external good may be possessed, and yet the man be 
wretched ; or he may be poor, and afflicted, and despised, 
and yet be happy, because his mind is tranquil and con- 
tented. If the emotions of our hearts conform to the stand- 
ard of the Bible, nothing can make us miserable ; but if 
unholy passions reign, they destroy our happiness, what- 
ever else may promote it. And as all the passions of the 
soul accompany it into the other world, and form a part of 
its very being, they will tliere have the same influence upon 
our happiness as here ; and if evil passions predominate, 
they will utterly destroy it. Consider the influence of, 

1. Disappointment. You expect to be admitted to 
heaven and participate its bliss. But if there were no day 
of judgment and no hell, would you be sure of heaven? 
None but holy beings are there, and you are not holy. 
This you now confess, and then you will feel the dread 
reality. If no voice forbade your entrance, and no flaming 
sword enforced the prohibition, you would of your own 
choice retire, when you learned that no kindred spirits are 
there; that pot one unsanctified sinner is found in all its 
mansions ; and that not a soul in heaven would receive you 
as a companion, or admit you to share in his employments 
and pleasures. 

Your oivn aversioji to the service of God and the spirit- 
ual and holy exercises of divine worship, would quicken 
your determination to withdraw from a place where you 
would be neither welcome nor happy ; and thus you would 



THE SINNER HIS OWN DESTROYER. 3 

take an everlasting farewell of the paradise of God, and of 
all your former hopes. Though they were built upon the 
sand, you expected by some means they would be realized, 
and that ''glory," and "honor," and " eternal life" would 
be yours. But the morning of eternity blasts all your ex- 
pectations. Heaven is not yours ! You have lost it ! Its 
*'joy unspeakable and full of glory" fills the ever-expand- 
ing souls of the saints, but not a ray of it can reach your 
dark spirit. Things which ''eye hath not seen, nor ear 
heard, nor have entered into the heart of man," await 
them ; but your eye can never behold those glories ; your 
ear can never enjoy those celestial melodies; your heart 
can never understand those wonderful mysteries of divine 
knowledge, nor feel the elevating influences of that society 
of saints and angels, seraphim and cherubim, and "Him 
that sitteth on the throne, and the Lamb !" Those pleas- 
ures you can never, never enjoy. As long as you exist, 
this reflection will be your companion : Heaven was once 
within my reach, and I turned awaij and lost it. There 
too will be, 

2. Envy. Have you ever felt this passion ? When 
you have seen your neighbor more prosperous and happy 
than yourself, have you disliked him and regarded him with 
suspicion ? Would it have given you satisfaction to see his 
good fortune reversed, and himself brought down to a level 
with you? As often as you met him, envy was excited 
and your peace disturbed. The mention of his name would 
raise a storm in your breast, and the recollection of his 
prosperity intrude upon your sleeping hours. Whenever 
you thought of him you were miserable. 

This passion is not often felt here so keenly as some 
others, for pride persuades us that though our neighbor 
may be superior in some respects, we surpass him in oth- 
ers ; but in the spiritual state it will be fully developed. 
You will then contrast the condition of the saints in glory 
with your own. Once, you and they lived in the same 
neighborhood, met in the same social circle, and assembled 
in the same place of worship. Now, they have taken pos- 
session of "an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that 
fadeth not away;" they are clothed in robes of white, with 
" everlasting joy upon their heads," and the smiles of God's 
countenance pour an enduring flood of delight upon their 



4 THE SINNER HIS OWN DESTROYER. 

enraptured spirits ! But where are you ? A voluntary 
exile from heaven ; poor and forlorn ; a Avanderer from the 
abodes of bliss ; having no capacity for the enjoyment of 
paradise, and no means of ever acquiring it. And as you 
advance in eternity, and appreciate more and more the 
treasures they have gained and you have lost, will you not 
envy them more and more, and consequently be more and 
more wretched ? The reflection will be 

" like a wave of wormwood o'er the soul 

Rolling its bitterness." 

3. Revenge will also be enkindled there. You have 
seen a man under the influence of this passion. He had 
received an injury, and he was determined on revenge. 
His face was pale, his frame trembled, and his eye beamed 
fire. His soul was lacerated and agonized. An angry 
man is wretched ; but revenge tears the heart, as with a 
hundred barbed arrows. And when the first paroxysm 
has subsided, and given place to the meditated means of 
vengeance, peace is banished, and every gentle and virtuous 
affection driven from the heart. 

Let this passion take complete possession of one's soul, 
and reign without restraint, and he will need no hell to ren- 
der him miserable. It will be a fire in his bosom and a 
gnawing worm upon his vitals. How then will it rage in 
the outcast from heaven ! He will meet those who have 
influenced him to reject Christ, and led him in the hroad 
road. But for their evil example, or persuasions, or ridi- 
cule, he would have become a Christian, and an heir of 
God. They cast from him the "pearl of great price" he 
was about to purchase, and dashed from his hand the cup 
of divine mercy he was about to receive. They cheated 
him out of heaven, while they seemed to be his friends ; 
and under pretence of ministering to his pleasures, led him 
in the paths of sin, until every prospect of peace and hap- 
piness was for ever blasted. Will he not hate the authors 
of his irreparable loss ? Will he not reproach them, and 
endeavor to aoforavate their wretchedness in retaliation for 
his own ? As Voltaire lay on his dying bed, aware of the 
everlasting ruin that awaited him, and surrounded by his 
companions in infidelity, he would often curse them, and 



THE SINNER HIS OWN DESTROYER. 5 

exclaim, ** Retire! It is you that have brought me to my 
present state." There also will be, 

4. Remorse. While he casts the blame of his eternal 
ruin upon others, and his heart burns with enmity, he will 
be tortured with the reflection that they had no power to 
compel him to sin. He did it voluntarily. Their course 
Avas agreeable to his inclinations. He preferred it to the 
narrow way of piety. When they interposed to banish his 
seriousness and dispel his religious impressions, he made no 
resistance ; he readily dismissed the Holy Spirit till a con- 
venient season, and yielded himself to their baneful influen- 
ces. Conscience will make him feel this. He may blind, 
and stifle, and sear his conscience now ; but then it will rise 
with giant might, and reproach him with all his sins. It 
will bring to his recollection all his past offences, and show 
him how each one contributed to corrupt his soul and dis- 
qualify him for heaven. It will array before him the many 
invitations of divine mercy, and favorable opportunities for 
repentance off"ered to him, and rejected. It will present to 
his view those points of his life, when he was " not far from 
the kingdom of heaven," and show him the fatal step which 
turned him away. It will call up the remembrance of the 
many kind but unavailing prayers and eff'orts of pious 
friends ; and that solemn and awful scene when the Spirit 
of God was present with him, and being grieved and re- 
sisted, departed for ever. 

Conscience will make him feel that his exclusion from 
heaven is his own ivork ; that it is the necessary conse- 
quence of the life he chose to live ; that whatever anguish 
he bears, and whatever bliss he has lost, all, all is produced 
by sin ; as naturally as pain is produced by wounds, or hun- 
ger by abstinence. He will see that he has been his oivn 
destroyer ; that his own folly rendered the provisions of 
infinite mercy unavailing ; that he bartered an inheritance 
of endless felicity for ''a dream" of happiness ; that he 
''sold his birthright for a mess of pottage." He will look 
upon himself as his worst enemy ; and feel, while he expe- 
riences the pangs of " the second death," that his own hand 
inflicted the fatal wound. He will see how stupid and fool- 
ish he has been ; how treacherous to his best interests ; 
how unworthy to have had the keeping of an immortal 
soul ! He will be ashamed of himself and of his whole 
VOL. X. 14* 



6 THE SINNER HIS OWN DESTROYER. 

life, liate himself, abhor his very being, curse the day 
that he Avas born, and call on annihilation to hide him from 
himself and his misery. 

But there he is — an outcast from heaven — hopelessly 
disappointed — burning with envy towards its happy inhab- 
itants, and with malice and revenge towards his compan- 
ions in exile — and oppressed and buffeted by most mortify- 
ing and agonizing reflections of his own sad follies and fatal 
errors ! 

Where will he find relief? He cannot now resort to 
the business and pleasures of the world to divert his 
thoughts. Will he try to amuse himself by recalling his 
past history ? Every period of it will afford food for re- 
morse and self-abasement. Will he go to his companions 
in exile ? " Miserable comforters" he finds them all. 
Will he look for the return of night to bring sleep and for- 
getfulness ? Alas, there is neither day nor night there : 
and the disembodied soul neither slumbers nor sleeps. 
Will lie, after having been long tossed on the billows of his 
tempestuous passions, cast his eye once more towards the 
heaven of holy rest, and implore compassion from him 
whose name is Love ? What could He do for him ? If he 
admit him to heaven, he must banish saints and angels, for 
he and they cannot dwell together. And if he were there, 
all its joys would be insipid, and all its pleasures disgusting. 
Must He give his only Son again to die ? The same feel- 
ings that led him to reject the salvation of Christ when 
offered, still reign in his soul, and would lead him again to 
reject it. Is not his case, then, utterly hopeless, and his 
condition completely miserable ? Now comes, 

5. Despair. Once there might have been hope of alle- 
viation, but now the last remnant of it is scattered and 
destroyed. There is no eye to pity, and no arm to bring 
deliverance. Despair spreads its dark wings over the soul, 
and fastens its poisonous talons upon the vitals. Who can 
tell its dismal power ? Who can describe its blasting, 
withering, sickening influences ? Of all the feelings of the 
heart, this is the most dreadful. Its unfortunate victims 
are miserable — supremely and completely miserable. 

This, my impenitent friend, Avill be your constant attend- 
ant if you die in your sins. You may think that I have 
exaggerated the sufferings to be expected from the other 



THE SINNER HIS OWN DESTROYER. 7 

sources I have mentioned, though I am confident the half 
has vot been told ; but who can exaggerate the wretched- 
ness of despair? I leave you to form your own estimate 
of it, and doubt not, whatever that may be, it will fill you 
with horror and dismay to look at it one half hour, under 
the impression that it is to be your eternal portion. But I 
must not omit, 

6. The emotions w^ith which the ungodly will re- 
gard Jehovah. How do you feel towards him now ? 
Do you love him, and love his government ? Does not 
your heart sometimes rise up against his authority and 
providence ? Do you not feel disposed to murmur when 
he sends adversity upon you, and prosperity upon others ? 
Do you like to think of his presence, and draw near to him 
in prayer? Is the thought pleasant, that the eye of God 
is upon you ? Do you desire to feel that you are alone 
with him, and by meditation and prayer to obtain the most 
enlaro-ed and correct views of his character and attributes ? 

The same feelino-s which the knowledo-e of his character 
here produces, will be excited in the other world. There 
you will not be able to banish Him from your thoughts, 
and live as though he were not present, for you will see 
and feel that he is everyivhere. Wherever you turn you 
will see him. Above and beneath, on the right hand and 
on the left, before and behind, and even within your very 
soul, the Almighty Spirit will be present. Wherever you 
may be, God will be there, in all his majesty and glory. 
If now you cannot endure the very faint conceptions of the 
divine Being which you have reluctantly formed, if you 
are unhappy when these are brought to your recollection, 
how will you be able to bear that full display of his per- 
fections which eternity will unfold before you, and which 
will constantly fix your attention, notwithstanding all your 
efforts to prevent it ? 

What is it in Jehovah that now makes you wish to 
avoid his presence, and renders you unhappy when you 
reflect that his eye is upon you ? Is it his great power ? 
You will witness much more awful exhibitions of it when, 
by his command, "the heavens shall be rolled together as 
a scroll, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat." 
Is it his sovereign authority over mankind, by which he 
makes some to rise and others to fall ; bestows his restrain- 



8 THE SINNER HIS OWN DESTROYER. 

ing and converting grace upon some, and leaves others to 
reap the fruits of their iniquity ? If this excites your 
aversion to God, you will find that aversion vastly increased 
in the other world, as you become more acquainted with 
his plans and purposes. Is it because he knows all your 
actions and all your thoughts, while you desire to conceal 
them ? His knowledge of your character will not be 
bounded by the end of time ; and if you now are ashamed 
of yourself, how much more will you be ashamed when the 
light of eternity shall give you a full view of your moral 
deformity? Or is the presence of God disagreeable, be- 
cause you have sinned against his holy law, and know that 
he is offended with you ? In eternity you will know much 
more than you can at present, of the purity of that law, 
of the heinousness of violating it, and of the anger of the 
Almighty. If the transient thought of his displeasure 
makes you unhappy, how will you feel when he appears 
before you continually *'« consuming fire,''^ and fastens 
upon you his withering look of wrath, as much more dread- 
ful than man's, as his power and holiness are greater ? 

If there ivere no day of judgment and no hell, must you 
not, continuing the enemy of God, be lost and wretched ? 
You carry in your own bosom the elements of woe ; and 
the circumstances in which you will be placed will call 
them into action. An}^ one of the feelings and passions we 
have considered, will be enough to make you wretched. 
And what is to hinder them all from beating, like fiery 
waves, one after another, upon your poor soul, while the 
eye of the Almighty, like the southern sun at midday, in- 
cessantly pours its rays upon it, and you plead in vain for 
one drop of water to cool your parched tongue ? *' There 
IS NO PEACE, saith my God, to the wicked." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



JVo. 373. 

JOY IN SORROW, 



OR 



COMFORT FOR THE BEREAVED. 



My afflicted Friend — I come not to deny your grief : 
the cause of it is a sore and grievous wound. Nor can I 
pretend to comfort you by saying that your grief will do 
no good : its greatest aggravation is, that no tears will bring- 
back the light of your eyes. Nor can I so far forget your 
woes, as merely to say that sorrow is the common lot of 
man. How can it but add to the grief of a benevolent mind, 
to know that others endure the same ills ? Nor dare I de- 
clare your present feelings unreasonable. There is, too, a 
sacredness in your sorrow, which I would not rudely touch. 
I therefore come not impertinently to meddle with another's 
feelings, or harass you with vain words. Yet let me say a 
few things. They are for your good. They may prove 
inestimable blessino-s. 

O 

Your present affliction is from God, the good, the just, 
the wise, the holy. Your bereavement came not by chance, 
nor from the power of wicked men, or wicked angels. God 
has not consigned the world over to the uncontrollable sway 
of a blind fortuity, nor to the reign of devils. Look not 
much at the mere instruments of your affliction. To lament 
that something else ivas not done, when you did all that at 
the time seemed proper, is to lament that you have not as 
much knowledge as the prophets of God, or the God of 
prophets. 

Beware of spending time in reflection on seco7id causes. 
One important end of God in this affliction, is, to fix the 
thouQfhts on him. Defeat not this desio-n of love. Thouoh 
the Sabeans and Chaldeans took away Job's oxen and asses 
and camels, and murdered his servants, yet he said not a 
word of their wicked robbery, but declared, " The Lord 
hath taken away." Perhaps a message of deeper alarm 
never wrung a father's heart, than that Avhich Samuel bore 
to Eli. With one thought the venerable man quieted him- 
self : " It is the Lord : let him do what seemeth him good." 



2 JOY IN SORROW, OR 

There are reasons for all your affilctlons. They are good 
and sufficient. They satisfy God. If known, you would 
see them' to be such as should satisfy you. 

In the absence of the principal of a grammar-school, his 
pupils formed two societies for mutual improvement. Their 
meetings were held in the only commodious vacant house 
in the village. A letter informed the teacher of what had 
been done. He immediately wrote, positively forbidding 
all further meetings. His order was strictly, though with 
pain, obeyed. It required all his good standing among his 
devoted young friends to restrain them from believing this 
act tyrannical. So painful was the state of their minds, 
that on his return, all preferred a respectful request for 
explanation of this mysterious conduct. Reminding them 
of his former and known kindness, he inquired if that, united 
with his declaration that he had good reasons, Avas not suf- 
ficient. They promptly expressed their confidence both in 
his kindness and veracity, but said it would relieve their 
minds to know his reasons. " Then," said he, *' I have 
several. One is, that a feAV days before I left you, three 
men, having been secretly lodged in the house where your 
meetings were held, had died of the smallpox. Are you 
satisfied ?" All assented. 

So, child of sorrow, God is trying you. He spoils your 
plans, he crosses your wishes, he takes away your delights ; 
but he has good reasons for all he does. Yet he frequently 
conceals the cause of all these trials. He says, ''What I 
do, thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter." 
It is both folly and wickedness to doubt his love or his 
wisdom in the mysteries of providence. 

Good may come out of this affliction. You should be 
far more desirous of obtaining that good, than of getting 
rid of the evil under which you suffer. It is not necessary 
that your sorrow cease. It is necessary that it be sancti- 
fied. God has brought you into the house of mourning, 
that "by the sadness of the countenance, the heart may be 
made better." See to it, that you here gather some of the 
ripe clusters of "the peaceable fruit of righteousness." 
Nothing but dreadful unbelief and wickedness can hinder this 
affliction from beino- one of God's choice and rich blessings. 

Take heed that you sin not. The least sin, an unAvorthy 
thought of God, is a far greater evil than all your sorrows. 



COMFORT FOR THE BEREAVED. 3 

The kindest wish any can now have for you is, that in all 
your trials, you may not sin, nor charge God foolishly. 
Sin is the greatest of all evils. Siu is your worst enemy. 
Hell is not so terrible. Sorroiv may be a friend : the cup in 
Benjamin's sack was the forerunner of Benjamin's portion. 
The^^ who suffer with Christ shall also reign with him. 

" The path of sorrow, and that path alone, 
Leads to the land where sorrows are unknown." 

God has had on earth one Son without sin, but never one 
without aj^iction. The road to heaven is soaked with the 
blood of fifty millions of martyrs. Rivers of water ran 
down their eyes. Yet they all, even when on earth, re- 
garded sin as the worst evil in the universe. 0, avoid the 
very appearance of evil. God has a right to expect that 
you will now honor him. Do it, and he will honor you. But 
if you now sin against him, you shall be lightly esteemed. 

Suffer not to pass unheeded the mercies which attend 
this affliction. Does your heart faint under the suddenness 
of the stroke ? Perhaps nothing but a revelation from God, 
attested by miracles, or severe and protracted sufferings in 
the deceased, could have fully prepared your mind for it. 
The former you could not expect. The latter you could 
not wish. Besides, God has told you to be always ready 
for any death: "All flesh is grass." He lent you your 
beloved only to remain loith you at his will. Let the thought 
of murmuring be rebuked by the following beautiful story 
from the Mishna of the Rabbins. 

During the absence of the Rabbi Meir, his two sons 
died — both of them of uncommon beauty, and enlightened 
in the divine law. His wife bore them to her chamber, 
and laid them upon her bed. When Rabbi Meir returned, 
his first inquiry was for his sons. His w^ife reached to him 
a goblet ; he praised the Lord at the going out of the Sab- 
bath, drank, and again asked, ''Where are my sons?" 
"They are not far off," she said, placing food before him 
that he might eat. He was in a genial mood, and when 
he had said grace after meat, she thus addressed him : 
" Rabbi, with thy permission, I would fain propose to thee 
one question." "Ask it then, my love," replied he. "A 
few days ago a person intrusted some jewels to my custody, 
and now he demands them : should I mve them back to 



4 JOY IN SORROW. 

him ?" " This is a question," said the Rabbi, " which my 
wife should not have thought it necessary to ask. What, 
wouldest thou hesitate or be reluctant to restore to every 
one his own?" "No," she replied, ''but yet I thought it 
best not to restore them, without acquainting thee there- 
with," She then led him to the chamber, and stepping to 
the bed, took the white covering from the dead bodies. 
"Ah, my sons, my sons," loudly lamented their father; 
"my sons ! the light of my eyes, and the light of my un- 
derstanding : I was your father, but you were my teachers 
in the law." The mother turned away and wept bitterly. 
At length she took her husband by the hand and said, 
"Rabbi, didst thou not teach me that we must not be re- 
luctant to restore that which was intrusted to our keeping ? 
See, ' the Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken awa}^, and 
blessed be the name of the Lord,' " " Blessed be the name 
of the Lord," echoed the Rabbi, "and blessed be his holy 
name for ever." 

-Besides, had you known all you now know, perhaps you 
could not have done your duty to the dear deceased. There- 
fore, think of the mercies attending this whole affliction, 
count them up. It is a mark of ah ignoble mind to pervert 
any conduct, especially that of our best fi'iend. 

Lastly : your present situation is not without its ajypro- 
priate duties. Is any afflicted, let him pray ? Cast your 
care upon God, for he careth for you. Earnestly inquire 
why God has afflicted you. Be patient. Be quiet. Be 
gentle. Be tender-hearted. Weep with those who weep. 
Do your duty to those who still live. Labor for the salva- 
tion of souls. Especiall}^ rely on Jesus Christ and his rich 
grace ; and even you shall soon say, "It is good for me 
that I have been afflicted. Blessed be the name of the 
Lord. My choicest blessings flow from my severest trials." 

" Therefore lift up the hands which hang down, and the 
feeble knees." " Be strong in the Lord, and in the power 
of his might." Flee to the promises. Make God your ref- 
uge ; and when you "pass through the waters, he shall be 
with you, and through the rivers, they shall not overflow 
you ; for Jehovah is yovir God, and your Saviour, Fear 
not. He will be with you." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



IVo. 373. 

DECLARATIONS OF A DEIST. 

A NARRATIVE OF FACTS. 



BY REV. HERMAN NORTON, 

OF CINCINNATI. 



On the morning of January 10, 1837, a young man 
called at my door and said that Mr. Isaac Baker, residing 
at the corner of Court and Elm streets, desired to see me. 
In about half an hour I went to the house, and found him 
on his bed. He had been a stranger to me ; but those who 
knew him intimately, speak of him as a gentleman, upright 
in his transactions with his fellow-men, and sustaininof a 
good moral character. I inquired how long he had been 
sick, and what were his prospects of recovery. He said he 
had been sick three or four weeks, and added, " I am better 
than I have been, and expect to be about again in a few 
days." This remark should be observed, as it shows that 
he was not now excited by the fear of death. Death, in 
his own view, was not near. 

Then taking my hand, he said, " There are one or two 
points, sir, on which I have desired to converse ; therefore 
I have sent for you. In the first place, I wish to know 
what evidence there is that there ever was such a being as 
Jesus Christ in this ivorld. For twenty years past, I have 
advocated the belief that there never was such a being-. I 
now wish to know the truth. If there never was such a 
being as Jesus Christ, the Bible is not true ; and if there 
was such a being, it is true. If the question respecting 
Jesus Christ is settled, that decides many others, or every 
thing else in my mind." 

His apparent sincerity seemed to require a candid 
answer. In reply, I stated that we lived in 1837, that is, 
eighteen hundred and thirty-seven years after the birth of 
Christ, according to the dates of all documents in Christian 
countries. Infidels as well as Christians must admit the 

V^OL. X. 15 



2 DECLARATIONS OF A DEIST. 

fact of such a date. Now the question arises, How came 
this to pa«s, if there never was such a person ? How could 
the world be so deceived and deluded ? 

A pause was made for his reply, but he was silent and 
absorbed in deep thought. I then stated, that I was that 
morning reading a passage from Lucian, a Greek writer of 
the second century, an enemy of Christianity, who speaks 
of Christians, and says their Master was crucified. "Per- 
haps God turned my attention to that account, that I might 
speak of it to you, although I knew nothing of your sick- 
ness, or of your sentiments." 

He was then referred to Celsus and many other oppo- 
sers of Christianity, Avho admitted that Jesus Christ lived 
in Judea, and was crucified there, but said he was an im- 
postor. 

The testimony of Infidels who have been converted to 
Christianity was brought forward, and also the dying testi- 
mony of some who left the world in unutterable despair. 

Finally, I remarked that I knew not how to take the 
other side of the question, and to prove there never was 
such a being as Jesus Christ. 

After this there was silence for several minutes, when 
he seemed to be engaged in intense thought. Very soon 
he said, ''Do you know, sir, of our bereavement this morn- 
ing?" I replied that I did not. "My eldest son," said 
he, " died this morning, and is a corpse in the room below." 
Some conversation followed on the cause and design of 
afflictions, when he requested me to pray. 

After prayer, he said that he desired to make a decla- 
ration. No one understood what he designed to do. The 
curiosity of all present being excited, they rose and ap- 
proached his bed, when, with the deepest solemnity, he 
expressed himself as follows : 

" I wish to make a declaration in the presence of my 
family and of these witnesses. I now declare before you 
all, that I am convinced of the error of the sentiments I 
have advocated for twenty years past. I believe there is 
such a being as Jesus Christ. I believe he is the Son of 
God. I believe he is the only name by which we can be 
saved." 

Referring to the uncertainty of life, although he ex- 
pected to recover, he added, "Whether I shall survive my 



DECLARATIONS OF A DEIST. 3 

present sickness or not, such I wish you to understand is 
my full belief. / re2)ent of my error. I wish you, sir, to 
use this, my declaration, to comfort or strengthen Christians 
as you may judge best. If there is joy in heaven over one 
sinner that repents. Christians on earth will rejoice also. / 
do repent. Such are the sentiments I believe, and mean to 
support and defend while I live." 

He made this confession with such unaflfected sincerity, 
so important in his own view was this transaction, that he 
spoke as a man who believed that the eye of God was upon 
him. . Every eye filled with tears, and his wife wept aloud. 
She afterwards said that she wept for joy. Mr. Baker had 
often said that his sentiments would be unchanged in death, 
and that he was not afraid to die. This had been the 
cause of her deepest grief, which at times she feared would 
sink her in the grave. He was so deliberate and so fixed 
in his opinions, that it seemed to her he would never be 
shaken. He had never suffered religrion to be introduced 
into his family. Up to that very morning when his child 
died, no one had been permitted to point his dying son to 
that " Lamb of God who taketh away the sin of the 
world." 

Calling the next day, and inquiring into the state of his 
mind, he said he trusted in Jesus Christ for salvation, and 
added with deep emotion, " I am thankful to God, that I 
am alive to offer my body a living sacrifice to Jesus 
Christ." 

Some plain conversation was held with him on the na- 
ture of experimental religion. He saw clearly the difference 
between the mere conviction of the understandings and feel- 
ing the holy power of truth on the heart, and appeared to 
enter into the spirit of this distinction. How fatal is the 
mistake of many who think an orthodox head is unquestion- 
able evidence of an humble and holy heart. 

On the 12th of January he was apparently better. He 
said he had rested more during the night, and thought he 
should be out of his chamber in a few days. This occasion 
was seized as the most favorable yet presented, to converse 
with him about his future course. He said he designed, 
if God spared his life, to devote it to the Lord Jesus 
Christ ; and as soon as he could, to profess his faith in 
Christ publicly, that men might know that he was not 



4 DECLARATIONS OF A DEIST. 

ashamed of that Saviour he had so long denied. This was 
spoken not in the rashness of self-confidence, but appar- 
ently under a deep sense of gratitude and obligation to 
Jesus Christ. 

This was the only time I saw him weep. A simple 
question started the tears in streams. The question was 
this : " Mr. Baker, how do you feel when you review your 
past life ?" Instantly his cheeks were wet, he seized his 
handkerchief, shook his head, and only said, " Very un- 
pleasantly." 

Remorse was too keen for utterance. His soul was 
agonized. What must have been the anguish of a father's 
heart, who had so often ridiculed the very existence of a 
Saviour before his children, who had robbed his family of 
their immortal interests, and had suffered his first-born son 
to pass into eternity uninstructed and unwarned ? 

The next day Mr. Baker sent for me, with a message that 
he should not probably live through the day. He was 
greatly changed, and appeared to be near the hour when 
his soul would be summoned to the bar of God. He said 
he was not able to converse much, but he had expressed 
his desires to Mrs. Baker, and she would communicate 
them to me. She then said that Mr. Baker requested, if 
it could be done, that the LorcVs supper might be admin- 
istered to him before he died. 

This was to me a startling request. I was fearful that 
he had wrong views of the nature of this ordinance, and 
like many others, might think, through its influence, to ob- 
tain the pardon of sin. Some questions were proposed to 
him for the purpose of drawing out his views of this insti- 
tution. Immediately he drew my head down and whis- 
pered in my ear, as he was unable to speak aloud without 
much eff"ort and pain. He said that he regarded the Lord's 
supper simply as a symbol of the Saviour's sufferings — he 
did not think there was any efficacy in it to save from sin, 
and that he did not expect by it to receive forgiveness of 
his sins, for he trusted only in the blood of Christ for sal- 
vation. But his reasons for desiring to receive this ordi- 
nance were as follows : 

For twenty years he had denied publicly that there 
ever was such a being as Jesus Christ. Had he lived, he 
designed to have made a public profession of his faith in 



DECLARATIONS OF A DEIST. 5 

Dim, and thus undo, as far as possible, the evil he had 
done. But now he was about to die without the privilege 
of making a public profession of religion. He therefore 
desired to make as public a manifestation of his faith in 
Christ as he could in his situation, and once before he died, 
if it could consistently be done, to partake of the Lord's 
supper. 

His views were so much in accordance with the word 
of God and the experience of Christians, and his motives so 
proper, that the writer was not Avilling to assume the re- 
sponsibility of saying that he should not partake the memo- 
rials of a Saviour's sufferings before he died. 

The table of the Lord was then spread in his dying 
chamber, where he had often denied the Saviour. The 
voice of prayer broke the silence of that memorable hour, 
when all felt that we were at the place where tAvo worlds 
meet. 

He then gave his assent to the essential articles of the 
Christian faith, and for the first and last time received the 
emblems of the great sacrifice for sin. This was done with 
the deepest solemnity, and apparently under the influence 
of feelings highly devotional. 

At 2 P. M. I called again. He was sinking rapidly in 
the arms of death. You may judge of the state of his 
mind, from the prompt answer to the following, among 
other questions. 

**Mr. Baker, have you now any fears of death?" 

*' No, not any." 

** How long is it since you began to doubt the truth of 
your sentiments?" 

" At times I have doubted for many years." 

*' Mr. Baker, do you wish your former associates and 
friends to know that you have renounced your former sen- 
timents, and now die in the full belief of the declaration 
that you have made?" 

" Yes, I do." This was said with much emphasis. 

" Did you think, a few years ago, that you should ever 
believe and feel as you now do ?" 

"No, I did not." 

*'Is your faith in Jesus Christ now strong and unwa- 
vering?" 

'' Yes, it is." 

VOL. X. 15* 



6 DECLARATIONS OF A DEIST. 

*' Do you feel willing to submit yourself wholly into the 
hands of God, and are you now willing to die ?" 

He bowed assent, and then said, " I am." 

These were the last words I heard him utter. 

At 7 P. M. I was again at his bedside. But no voice 
disturbed him. Nothing around attracted his attention. 
His eyes were fixed, looking upward. He breathed freely. 
All was peaceful. He fell asleep so gently, we knew not 
the moment when he ceased to breathe. 

In view of this history, a few thoughts may be sug- 
gested. 

1. No confidence can be placed in what is called a 
death-bed rejpentance. 

From a number of such instances which the writer has 
attended, he could not select one in which he has much or 
any confidence. It may not be very extravagant to say, 
that in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, where persons 
profess repentance in view of death, but unexpectedly 
recover, they become worse than they were before they 
professed to repent. 

Mr. Baker's case was the reverse of all this. He ex- 
pressed no anxiety about his salvation until, in his own view, 
he began to recover. If he exercised any repentance or 
faith, it was when death was viewed at a distance. What- 
ever was the real state of his bodily health, he did not think 
death near until a few hours before he died. 

The fears awakened in the prospect of immediate death, 
have their origin in the selfishness of the heart, and entirely 
overlook the character and claims of God. The man who 
begins to repent only when he thinks he can sin no longer 
with impunity, will be the first to plunge into sin when he 
believes the punishment he dreads is suspended for a time. 
If you, beloved reader, are postponing the time of repentance, 
you must expect soon to be numbered with those who repent 
not of their deeds, but blaspheme the God of heaven. 

2. Christians should be excited to lahor and in ay er for 
the salvation of scej)tical men. 

The unbelief and timidity of the church often induce 
them to think that the case of such men is hopeless. Hence, 
Christians do not pray for them, but suffer them to go down 
to hell unwarned. Thus, doubtless, many thought of Mr. 



DECLARATIONS OF A DEIST. 7 

Baker. But how rich the grace of God appears in rescuing 
the guilty man from infidehty, and as he beheved, from 
eternal death. How offensive to God is it in Christians to 
neglect the souls of such men. Think of the efficacy of 
atoning blood, of the power of the Holy Ghost, and of the 
willingness of God to hear prayer, and then tell, if you can, 
the guilt of unbelief. Have you no reason to believe, 
Christian reader, that the blood of an infidel friend or 
neighbor will be found in your skirts on that day when 
Christians and Infidels " will part to meet no more ?" 

3. The history of Mr. Baker should both reprove par- 
ents and encourage them to be faithful to their children. 
He had been consecrated to God in parental faith and love, 
and was trained, under the rigid discipline exercised in New 
England forty years since, by a mother who publicly pro- 
fessed her faith in Christ at the early age of seven, and was 
a devoted Christian for half a century. This, in connection 
with the declaration, " Train up a child in the way he should 
go, and when he is old he will not depart from it," fur- 
nished him an argument against the Bible. He often re- 
ferred to this passage in his course of infidelity, and brought 
himself forward as evidence that it was false. Alluding to 
his strictly religious education, he would inquire trium- 
phantly, "Why, then, have I departed ?" 

His frequent allusions to his strictly religious education, 
and to the Scripture quoted above, fully prove that his 
early impressions were not entirely erased, nor his early 
instructions wholly forgotten. These might have originated 
those doubts that were darting across his pathway of infi- 
delity, and were so fatal to his peace. 

How is it with you, parent ? " Is it well with thee ? Is 
it well with the child ?" Do your children know that you 
are faithful to them ? Are they converted to God ? Does 
God approve of your conduct ? 

Finally, this account appeals to the conscience of the 
Deist and the sceptic. 

The gentleman whose history is before you, said that 
he had " doubted for many years." To others he appeared 
to be immovably intrenched in deism. But they knew noth- 
ing of the fearful doubts which were waging an intestine 
and perpetual war against the bulwarks of infidelity that 
he had thrown around him. 



8 DECLARATIONS OF A DEIST. 

How is it with you, sceptical reader? Have you no 
doubts about your sentiments ? Is your mind at rest, both 
day and night ? Do you hear from within no whispers of 
alarm — no forebodings of trouble yet to come ? 

Whence did you learn that the Bible is false, and Jesus 
Christ an impostor ? Did you from the death-bed of the 
Deist, or of the Christian — from the despair and horror of 
tlie one, or from the joy and triumph of the other ? Are 
you CERTAIN that the Bible is false? If you are not, beware. 
If it is not false, the certainty of your eternal perdition as 
a sceptic, is as unquestionable as your existence. Only 
lodge the thought in your heart that you may be on a false 
foundation, and then judge for yourself of the prospect 
before you. 

Perhaps another reader respects the Bible, and says he 
believes it, but is unconcerned. Have you no fears about 
your salvation ? Are your nerves firm when you look up- 
ward to the judgment-seat ? Do you desire to depart from 
this world of sin, to be with Christ ; or do you tremble 
when you think of the hour of departure ? Remember, 
my dear friend, '' the fear of the wicked, it shall come upon 
him." 

Fly, then, from these fears — instantly fly to the Lord 
Jesus Christ. He only can save you. But if you will not 
repent, and believe in Christ, then sit down and weep, and 
forget not your eternal inheritance : " The fearful and unbe- 
lieving," says the immortal God, " shall have their part in 
the lake which burnetii with fire and brimstone, which is 
the second death." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TBACT SOCIETY. 



IVo. 374. 

SHORT METHOD 
WITH THE SCEPTIC. 



By sceptics is intended all those, of every name, who 
reject the essential doctrines of Christianity : as the exist- 
ence of one infinitely perfect Creator and Moral Governor 
of the universe ; the divine original of the Christian Scrip- 
tures ; salvation by atoning blood which they reveal ; the 
immortality of the soul ; the necessity of holiness of heart 
and life, and future eternal rewards and punishments. An 
exposition of the causes of scepticism would doubtless be a 
sufficient answer to most of the reasonings by which it is 
defended ; but there are men who have been drawn into 
scepticism by the pressure of unhappy influences, who 
would be glad to know, that they may obey, the truth ; 
and who, finding every scheme unsatisfying at the present, 
and gloomy in the prospect, would be glad to see solid evi- 
dence of the truth of Christianity, if it exists, that they 
may calmly and peacefully repose their all upon its blessed 
promises. Let such consider the following propositions. 

Proposition I. It is greatly to be desired that there 
should be a righteous Moral Governor, of infinite wisdom, 
power, and goodness, to control the affairs of this world, 
and that he should vouchsafe to men a revelation, explaining 
their destiny and their duty. 

It is not seen how any serious mind can affirm against 
this proposition. The history of our world shows that men 
will have some kind of religion, and will worship some sort 



2 SHORT METHOD WITH THE SCEPTIC. 

of deities. Where a God of holiness is not known, loath- 
some and ferocious objects have been deified ; and the human 
mind has uniformly sunk under tyranny, superstition, and 
most debasing vice. The wisest of ancient philosophers 
taught that a revelation was needed, and would be a great 
blessing. As none but the lawless and profligate object to 
equitable rule in families or in states, none but such can 
dislike the administration of a righteous government over 
the universe. 

Proposition II. The Bible delineates the character of 
an infinitely perfect Creator, and enjoins upon all men such 
actions and such tempers of mind as might be expected if 
it were actually from God. 

In this, all serious readers of the Bible, of all ages, have 
concurred : wherever this book has been spread, it has over- 
turned and banished every other system of belief in regard 
to Deity, nor have the wise and good been able to discover 
the least defect in this revelation of Jehovah, or to add a 
single word that could render it more perfect or glorious. 
The sayings and actions of very wicked men are indeed 
recorded, and the sins of the righteous unsparingly revealed ; 
yet no one has ever found precepts which were not wise, 
equitable, and good. The entire code of Scripture morals, 
or, in other words, the rule of human action, is contained 
in a few sentences, commonly called the ten commandments , 
which are seen at a glance to form a standard, simple, com- 
preliensive, and just, to perfection. The same perfect rule 
is summed up, by one of the prophets, in this beautiful 
sentence : " He hath showed thee, man, what is good ; and 
what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and 
to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God ?" And 
the Lord Jesus has embodied the preceptive parts of the 
Old and New Testaments in these words : " Thou shalt 
love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy 
soul, and with all thy mind ; this is the first and great 



SHORT METHOD WITH THE SCEPTIC. 3 

commandment : and the second is like imto it, Tliou shalt 
love thy neighbor as thyself ; on these two commandments 
hang all the law and the prophets." 

That the morality of the Christian Scriptures is per- 
fect, and worthy of infinite Wisdom, distinguished infidels 
themselves allow. Lord Herbert, one of the earliest Eno^- 
lish deistical writers, says, that " Christianity is the best 
religion, and that his own universal religion of nature 
agrees with Christianity, and contributes to its establish- 
ment." Lord Bolingbroke, who wrote largely against the 
Bible, confesses that ** such moral perfections are in God 
as Christians ascribe to him ; that Christianity is a repub- 
lication of the religion of nature, and that its morals are 
pure." Admissions substantially like these are made by 
the Earl of Shaftsbury, Chubb, Tindal, and other distin- 
guished infidels of Great Britain. The French sceptic, 
J. J. Rousseau, says, " If all Avere perfect Christians, indi- 
viduals would do their duty ; the people would be obedi- 
ent to the laAvs ; the chiefs just ; the magistrates incorrupt; 
the soldiers would despise death, and there would be 
neither vanity nor luxury in such a state." Thomas Paine, 
with all his daring denial of facts and gross ribaldr}^ re- 
specting the Scriptures, concedes that the books of Ezra, 
Nehemiah, Ezekiel, and Daniel, are genuine ; not perceiving 
that this admission inevitably establishes the truth of nearly 
the whole of the Old Testament, for the books here men- 
tioned accredit most of the prophetical writings. Mr. Paine 
also declares, that our Saviour was *'a virtuous and amiable 
man, and that the morality he preached and practised was 
of the most benevolent kind." 

From these facts, who can avoid the conclusion that the 
Bible embodies just such precepts as a holy God would 
enjoin — ^just such precepts as conduce to universal peace 
and happiness, and therefore may most safely be obeyed, 
and ought to be most faithfully followed? 



4 SHORT METHOD WITH THE SCEPTIC. 

Proposition III. Christianity produces precisely the 
same effects upon communities and individuals, as might 
be expected if the system were really from heaven. 

Not a state or community can be found in the whole 
world oppressed with ignorance or tyranny, where the 
religion of the Bible is embraced by the people ; and not 
a nation or tribe has been ever found, in which science, 
social happiness, and civil freedom were enjoyed by the 
mass of the citizens, except where the Bible was read and 
reverenced. The boasted republics of ancient time form no 
exception to this universal fact. Not an instance is known 
to have ever occurred, where a ferocious, or dishonest, or 
licentious man, truly set himself to obey the Scriptures, 
without becoming an amiable, useful, and happy citizen. 
Great numbers who have called themselves Christians, have 
doubtless been hypocrites, and some even monsters of wick- 
edness ; but this fact can in nowise affect the truth of the 
Bible, nor render doubtful its real tendency, since almost 
every thing valuable or pure has been corrupted and coun- 
terfeited by those who were wilfully ignorant, and espe- 
cially by those who would appear to be what they were 
not. Moreover, sceptics themselves evince their belief in the 
purifying and ennobling tendency of Christianity, for they 
uniformly demand of its professors a holier life than they 
themselves maintain ; and are very ready to condemn, as 
arrant hypocrisy, every appearance of selfishness or vice in 
the church. 

Proposition TV. None have honestly and persever- 
ingly sought to know the truth in regard to Christianity, at 
the same time living pure and useful lives, without gaining 
assurance of its divine origin, and realizing to themselves its 
power. 

Let the history of every distinguished sceptic of other 
days be appealed to, and of every infidel now upon the 
stage. The Scripture account of the origin of infidelity 



SHORT METHOD WITH THE SCEPTIC. 5 

may be easily and most thoroughly confirmed : '' Men loved 
darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil ; 
for every one that doeth evil hateth the light, neither Com- 
eth to the light, lest his deeds should be reproved." 
Men naturally dislike that which rebukes and threatens 
them ; of course those who love sin, will turn away from 
the Bible. From neglect of divine truth, and a cherished 
hope that its denunciations against them may not be real, 
come the beginnings of scepticism. A few years' neglect 
of religious instruction will leave men in such darkness as 
may make them confident in errors which at first were too 
gross to be embraced. The testimony of thousands proves, 
that w^hen men are ready heartily to forsake all vice and sin 
in every form, they find no difficulty in gaining an assur- 
ance of the truth of the Christian religion. 

Proposition V. No individual is known ever to have 
regretted living a devoted Christian life ; or to have found 
the promised consolations of religion delusive in adversity, 
or in the near prospect of death. 

How can it be accounted for, that the Gospel of Christ 
is adapted to every emergency, and satisfies every need ; 
and that the more it is tried and proved by sincere obedi- 
ence, the more it is found to be " the wisdom of God, and 
the powder of God ?" How is it that the believer, on a sick 
bed or in a dying hour, never regrets his devotedness to 
Christ, nor complains of the insufficiency of religion to sus- 
tain him ; Avhile great numbers in such seasons have re- 
nounced their scepticism, and prayed and mourned for the 
Christian's hope ? 

Proposition VI. It is irrational, and must be danger- 
ous, to reject a religion which is essentially safe, which is 
ennobling to human nature, which enjoins loyalty and love 
to supreme excellence, and which seeks to diffuse happiness 
through the whole earth. 

VOL. X. 16 



6 SHORT METHOD WITH THE SCEPTIC. 

Here let the sceptical reader pause and reflect. It can 
never be unsafe to live a humble, prayerful, benevolent life. 
It cannot but be ennobling to strive after purity of heart, 
and to labor for the greatest good of the whole human 
family. It is plain that Christianity is true to our individ- 
ual interests, wants, and hopes ; true to the interests of the 
world ; true to all our superior relations ; and without the 
evidence which would prove the Gospel true to history, may 
it not be well affirmed that the infidel has nowhere solid 
foundation upon which to rest ; and that the sceptic is 
driven by the calm exercise of reason from the last refuge 
of his wicked disbelief ? 

As a REMEDY FOR SCEPTICISM, then, we say, let an indi- 
vidual set himself in earnest to live as his better judgment 
teaches that a man ought to live who is under the watchful 
care of a merciful, just, and holy God ; and with this tem- 
per let him seek after truth. If his mind has been long- 
poisoned by exposure to malign influences, let him, in addi- 
tion to some treatise on the authenticity of the Scriptures, 
as Paley's, Soame Jenyns', Bogue's, or Bishop Watson's, 
read the memoirs of such men as John Newton and Edward 
Payson, and especially let him make himself a careful stu- 
dent of the Bible. Let no sceptic, who is unwilling to 
forsake his sins and live a life of practical godliness, pretend 
that reason or philosophy justify him in his impious course. 
It is not so. 

The Bible promises. Proverbs 2 : 3-5, that those who 
seek for heavenly wisdom with all their heart, shall find. 
It proff'ers, also, a divine influence, Luke 11:13, and James 
1 : 5, to those who feel their need, and ask of God. It even 
declares, John V : 17, that if men will do the will of God 
as revealed, they shall " knoiv " whether the doctrine be 
eternal truth. Let the declarations in these passages be 
tested, and let no man, Avho is unwilling to honor and obey 
a rule of perfect rectitude, attempt to sustain himself by the 
deceits and falsehoods of infidelitv. 



SHORT METHOD WITH THE SCEPTIC. 7 

THE TESTIMONY OP AN INFIDEL. 

A TRUE NARRATIVE. 

Mr. B. lived in London ; lie was a man of good abilities, 
successful in business, and possessed considerable property ; 
his manners were gentlemanly, and being lively and gay, 
as well as good-tempered, his company was much sought. 
With these advantages, to which may be added very excel- 
lent health and an agreeable person, it is not surprising that 
he was what the world usually calls a happy man, but we 
must add that he was, in the fullest sense of the word, an 
infidel and blasphemer. His greatest pleasure was to laugh 
at religion, and to burlesque the Bible. In company he 
eagerly seized every opportunity of declaring his sentiments, 
and of laughing at and deriding any person who professed 
religion. The blasphemies he uttered upon these occasions 
frequently were such as to strike with horror, not only the 
persons who were the subjects of his jokes, but also the 
rest of the company ; and to such lengths did he proceed, 
that the more moderate of his friends, when inviting him to 
their parties, would sometimes require him to promise that 
he would, for the time, refrain from profane discourse ; 
which promise, when given, he would strictly observe. 

Thus he went on for several years, enjoying strong health, 
and every circumstance which could contribute to his worldly 
gratification. At length he was attacked by a severe illness. 
In a few days the progress of the disease was rapid ; he 
was alarmed, and eagerly inquired whether he was supposed 
to be in danger. His friends, observing his alarm, and fear- 
ing a knowledge of the real state of the case would hasten 
his end, concealed from him his danger, endeavoring to 
assure him that his illness would soon abate. Some days 
passed ; the disease increased, and he continued these anx- 
ious inquiries still more frequently. At length he was con- 
sidered as decidedly past hope of recovery, and it became 
necessary to acquaint him with his danger. His friends did 



8 SHORT METHOD WITH THE SCEPTIC. 

this in the mildest manner, still endeavoring to buoy up his 
hopes, and to prevent him from being alarmed ; but the 
truth could be no longer concealed ; he now saw his awful 
state. 

Instantly he broke out in the most dreadful exclama- 
tions, crying out that his soul was lost, and, for some hours, 
continued to repeat similar expressions ; at the same time 
groaning deeply. After a short interval he renewed his 
exclamation, declaring he was now convinced the Bible was 
true, and that there was reality in religion, and expressed 
the most earnest desire that his life might be spared for a 
year, for a month, or even for a iveek, that he might declare 
he was convinced of the falsehood of his former opinions. In 
this state he continued for some time ; when feeling his end 
approaching, he renewed his earnest wishes, that if he could 
not be spared for a week, a day, a single day might be 
granted, that he might warn others, as he himself '' was 
going to hell." At length he cried out, "/ am sinking 
into hell f — Oh, the burning — the hurning — the torments of 
hell/" This, and similar exclamations, he continued to 
utter while life lasted, (for about thirty hours longer,) 
shrieking and groaning so dreadfully that his friends all fled 
his bedside, and even the nurse, accustomed as she was to 
death-bed scenes, could scarcely be induced to continue in 
the room. At length he expired, on the third day after his 
danger was communicated to him : the whole interval hav- 
ing been a continued scene of horror and despair, Avhich the 
pen fails to describe, and the imagination is unable fully to 
conceive. 

There are several persons now living (1819) who bear 
testimony to the truth of this narrative. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



No. 375. 

A FEW THOUGHTS. 



BY A MEMBER OP THE BAR. 



EXTRACT FROM A LETTER ADDRESSED BY ONE MEMBER OF THE 
BAR TO ANOTHER, AND TO A^HICH THESE PAGES MAY BE RE- 
GARDED AS AN ANSWER. 

" You too, it seems, have joined the church. What does this 
mean ? I have been inclined to think, that men of business could 
find better employment. 

" Give me your honest thoughts on the subject." 

About eighteen hundred years ago, a small tract of 
country bordering on the Mediterranean sea, and commonly 
known by the name of Palestine, or the land of Judea, and 
which now forms a part of Asiatic Turkey, was inhabited 
by a peculiar race of people, called the Jews. The north- 
ern and most barren province of this country, in conse- 
quence of its frontier position, was called Galilee of the 
Gentiles ; and although the inhabitants were principally 
Jews, yet their habits, their language and accent, differed 
so essentially from those of their southern and more pol- 
ished neighbors, that they were generally esteemed the 
most simple and ignorant part of the Jewish nation. 

In the interior of Galilee there was a small lake of fresh 
water, about twelve miles in length, by some three or four 
in breadth, near the head of which was situated a small 
village called Capernaum, and which was supported chiefly 
by the fisheries on the borders of the lake. Shortly after 
the Roman empire had extended itself over the entire civil- 
ized world, and Herod, through the joint interest of Caesar 

and Mark Antony, had been appointed king of Judea by 
VOL. X. 1(5* 



2 A FEW THOUGHTS. 

the senate of Rome, a person about thirty years of age 
made his appearance in the obscure village of Capernaum, 
as a public teacher in religion ; or, as was supposed by 
some of his contemporaries, as a founder of a new religious 
sect. Of his early life little is known, except that he was 
born of poor and illiterate parents, who resided in the small 
town of Nazareth, about fifteen or twenty miles distant from 
Capernaum. His father was a carpenter, and it is probable 
that the son followed the same occupation, until about the 
time he removed to Capernaum, where he first commenced 
his public instructions in religion. As he travelled from 
place to place, on the shores of lake Gennesaret and its 
vicinity, he collected about him a few poor, illiterate fisher- 
men and tent-makers, whom he called his disciples ; a com- 
mon appellation, in that age, for the followers of any sect 
in religion or philosophy. In the space of about three 
years, in company with his disciples, he visited most or all 
of the towns and villages in Palestine ; but the doctrines 
he taught, and the principles he inculcated, Avere almost 
everywhere spoken against, and himself and his disciples 
were most commonly ridiculed and despised by the wise 
and learned men of that day. He at length came to Jeru- 
salem, the metropolis of the Jewish nation, then one of the 
most populous and beautiful cities of the East, where he 
was arrested upon a charge of high treason against Ceesar, 
and of blasphemy against the Jewish religion, and was put 
to death as a malefactor. His disciples forsook him, and 
fled ; and thus there seemed to be an end of the religion of 
Jesus Christ. 

His disciples, however, within a few weeks after his 
death, reassembled at Jerusalem ; and having made some 
preliminary arrangements, undertook to carry into execu- 
tion one of the last commands of their Master — that, ** be- 
ginning at Jerusalem," they should *'go into all the world. 



A FEW THOUGHTS. 3 

and preach his Gospel to every creature." The conse- 
quence was, that the rehgion of Christ revived and spread 
■with renewed vigor, not only in Judea, the soil that gave it 
birth, but throughout Asia, Africa, and Europe ; and it has 
ever since prevailed, to a greater or less extent, in most or 
all of the civilized nations of the earth ; and at the present 
day, we see it exerting no small influence over quite a large 
portion of the human family. 

In tracing the history of this system of religion, a fact 
somewhat remarkable presents itself at every step in our 
progress. It is, that in every age, and in every country 
where the religion of Jesus Christ has prevailed, his true 
disciples are, generally, found among the common and 
humbler classes of mankind ; while few men of wealth and 
rank have embraced his principles, or submitted to his au- 
thority. That such was the character of the early Chris- 
tians, we have authority much less questionable than that of 
Tacitus, the Roman historian of that period. Among the 
converts to Christianity in the first century, was a learned 
Jew, a contemporary of Tacitus, and a native of Tarsus, in 
Cilicia. He was a Roman citizen by birth, and resided in 
the city of Rome about two years, during the reign of the 
emperor Nero. He travelled throughout Asia, visited 
Spain, and, as some think, the southern parts of England ; 
and from his writings, several of which are still extant, he 
appears to have been a man of talents, and an accurate ob- 
server of human character. In one of his letters, written 
at Ephesus, a city of Asia Minor, to his friends at Corinth, 
in speaking of the Christian religion, and of the character 
of its professors, he says, " Not many wise men of the 
world, not many mighty, not many noble are called." This 
character, drawn by one of the ablest advocates of Chris- 
tianity, has been confirmed, by the experience of every suc- 
ceeding age, throughout a period of eighteen hundred years. 



4 A FEW THOUGHTS. 

It is true, that the wise men of the world have bestowed 
their honors upon the Christian name. In about three cen- 
turies from the death of Christ, not only the city of Rome, 
which Tacitus, in the first century, considered as polluted by 
the mere introduction of Christianity, but the whole Roman 
empire, with all its dominions, principalities, and powers, 
had renounced their national superstitions, and adopted the 
religion of Jesus Christ. The inhabitants of the earth have 
assumed the Christian name by nations ; and Christian na- 
tions have congregated themselves into one vast dominion 
under the general name of Christendom. The rights of 
property, of reputation, and of life, have been made to de- 
pend upon the sacredness of an oath administered upon a 
book purporting to contain his history and the principles 
of his religion ; and instead of the Olympiads of Greece, 
and the foundation of the '* Eternal City," Anno Domini 
has become the landmark in the history and chronology of 
the world. 

But how does it happen, that Christianity has so long- 
been the prevalent religion among the most refined and op- 
ulent nations of the earth, and yet so few men of talents, 
wealth, and distinction, have embraced its principles, or 
acknowledged its authority ? 

The first inquiry obviously is, What is Christianity/? 
What are its pretensions ? Is it based upon the principles 
of common- sense ? Does it open a field for thought and 
the exercise of intellect ? Or is it adapted only to men of 
uncultivated minds, like the illiterate fishermen of Galilee, 
to whom it was first promulgated ? Is it consistent with 
human reason and the dignity of human nature ? Or is it, 
like the religious systems of Egypt, Greece, and Rome, a 
mere instrument in the hands of the crafty and the ambi- 
tious, to keep an ignorant and unruly populace in subjec- 



A FEW THOUGHTS. 5 

tion? Will it stand the test of a sound, discriminating 
judgment ? Or is it, like the Pagan and Mohammedan su- 
perstitions of our own day, grounded upon the fears of the 
timid and the passions of the sensualist ? Is it based upon 
the principles of truth and justice ? Or is it an imposture, 
palmed upon the credulous and superstitious by a cunning 
and ambitious priesthood ? 

In order to obtain a more satisfactory answer to these 
questions, it may be well to take a brief survey of ourselves, 
as rational and intelligent beings. Let a man, for a few 
moments, turn his thoughts upon himself. He finds that 
he has a body evidently material, but which assumed its 
form and advanced to maturity by the operation of causes 
over which he had little or no control. Within this body 
there is a mysterious something, called the soul, conscious 
of its own existence and identity, and possessed of powers 
capable of improvement and expansion beyond any assign- 
able limits. It is the arbiter of all his movements, and 
uses the various members of the body, like instruments in 
the hand of a mechanic, to execute the purposes of its own 
"will. It is the seat of a constant restlessness and solici- 
tude ; dissatisfied with what it has, and ever grasping for 
what it has not ; and oftentimes, from its own action upon 
itself, it feels an agony of suffering almost beyond endur- 
ance. There was a time when it began to exist, and to be 
conscious of its existence ; but w^hether that existence shall 
ever end, whether that consciousness shall ever cease to be 
felt, what was its origin, and w^hat shall be its destiny, are 
questions not to be solved by any exertions of its own 
powers. It exists, it thinks, it feels — all beyond is doubt 
and mystery. 

If he directs his attention to other objects than himself, 
he finds them equally mysterious and incomprehensible. 
He is located upon the surface of a globe many thousand 



6 A FEW THOUGHTS. 

miles in diameter, and which, by the aid of certain instru- 
ments of his own construction, he finds to be one of a vast 
number of worlds, at immense distances from each other, 
and moving with inconceivable velocity around a common 
centre, which centre is itself supposed to be moving through 
unknown regions of space. He occupies this globe as a 
tenant in common with a multitude of other beings of like 
powers and faculties with himself, divided into numerous 
families, and kindreds, and tongues, and nations, capable of 
a mutual interchange of thoughts, and feelings, and sympa- 
thies ; actuated by a thousand different motives, and in 
pursuit of a thousand different objects ; but whose origin 
and destiny, like his own, and that of the universe around 
him, are beyond the comprehension of the human intellect. 
Among these mysterious objects there is one calculated 
above all others to arrest his attention and concentrate his 
thoughts. By the operation of some unknown cause, one 
of his companions is seized with a weariness, and anxiety, 
aand Issitude. His bodily powers gradually become disor- 
ganized, and cease to perform their ordinary functions. At 
length his limbs and trunk become motionless. His blood 
stagnates at the heart — his breath ceases — he loses what is 
called his life — his body, if left to itself, soon becomes a 
mass of putrefaction ; and his friends and neighbors, from 
motives of self-preservation, are compelled to remove him 
from their sight, and deposit him in the earth, where he 
moulders into dust, and his name and memory are forgot- 
ten. Nor is this a phenomenon of rare occurrence. The 
whole population of the globe varies but little from ten 
hundred millions : and of this number, not less than eighty- 
six thousand four hundred every day, or three thousand six 
hundred every hour, become thus motionless and lifeless, 
and are either committed to the flames, plunged into the 
deep, or buried beneath the earth by their survivors. Nor 



A FEW THOUGHTS. 7 

does this happen for a single hour, or a single day. From 
very remote periods it is found, that upon an average the 
whole globe has been depopulated by this mysterious agen- 
cy called death, and repeopled by another agency scarcely 
less mysterious, once in about every thirty years ; and thus 
generation has succeeded generation, like the waves of the 
sea, from the time whereof the memory of man runneth not 
to the contrary. 

And is this the destiny of all who now inhabit the eai-th ? 
Is this immense throng, with all its bustle, and business, 
and luxur}'', and dissipation, and sport, and folly, to close 
its career in the silence and solitude of the tomb ? Is this 
the common portion of the young and the old, the high and 
the low, the rich and the poor ? And am I too included in 
this general doom ? Is it a fact, that I too must leave for 
ever all my present employments and pleasures ? Is it a 
fact, that the places which now know me, will know me no 
more for ever ? Is it a fact, that these active and vigorous 
limbs will become cold, and stiff, and motionless ? Is it a 
fact, that the time will come when this heart of mine, which 
has so long and so faithfully circulated the current of life, 
must exhaust itself in its own struggles, and cease for ever 
from its labors ? Is it a fact, that the time will come when 
I too, in the agonies of dissolving nature, must breathe 
forth that last, convulsive groan, which proclaims that 
death has won another victory ? Is it a fact, that this body 
which I have so long and so carefully fed, and clothed, and 
nourished, must lie buried beneath the earth, and there in 
silence and solitude moulder into dust, and be remembered 
no more for ever ? And is this the end of my being — the 
end of consciousness — the end of thouofht ? Is this lone:- 
ing after immortality — this inward dread — this startling 
and shrinking back of the soul upon itself, at the thought 
of its own annihilation, the dream of a disordered fancy ? 



8 A FEW THOUGHTS. 

Or will this mysterious something within me rise above the 
ruins of its earthly tabernacle, and enter upon some un- 
known and untried state of being ? What then shall be 
my employment, and where shall be my home ? Shall I 
be still myself ? Shall I mingle with other kindred spirits, 
and unfold new energies, and find new employments, new 
joys, and new sorrows ? Or is death an endless sleep ; 
and will the soul, faithful to the tenement which it has so 
long inhabited, sink with the body into one common grave, 
and for ever cease to feel — cease to think — and cease to 
be? 

And is it a fact, that these momentous questions are 
still open — still undecided ? Has nothing occurred in the 
history of our race to tell us what we are, or what we shall 
be ? Did the progenitor of our race, if progenitor we had, 
leave no record behind him to tell his posterity how and 
whence he derived his being, and what should be their final 
destiny ? Of the innumerable millions of our race, which 
for so many ages have been thronging the regions of the 
dead, has no one ever returned to tell us what there may 
be beyond the dark confines of the grave? And is this 
the-state of man, with all his wisdom, and forethought, and 
mighty intellect ? Must he live, and die, and sink into the 
grave, in the midst of such uncertainties — so ignorant of 
himself, of his being and destiny ; with such startling 
doubts whether, To be, or not to be — happiness or woe — 
life eternal or death everlasting, is to be his portion beyond 
the tomb ? No — the mystery is solved. Glad tidings 
have reached us from beyond the grave. Jesus of Naza- 
reth — the despised, the rejected, the crucified Jesus of 
Nazareth — has solved the mystery. Jesus of Nazareth, 
the Sun of the moral universe, has risen over the night 
of the grave, with healing in his beams, and revealed the 
most momentous truth that ever can be brought within the 



A FEW THOUGHTS. 9 

range of the human intellect, that the soul of man shall 

LIVE FOR EVER. 

The question then recurs, What is Christianity ; and 
what does it tell us of our being and our destiny ? 

It tells us, that there is one great, invisible, self-existent 
Being — infinite in wisdom — infinite in power — a spirit, infi- 
nitely pure — infinitely holy — the Maker and Ruler of the 
universe, and whose existence is from everlasting to ever- 
lasting — without beginning, and without end. That at some 
remote period in the eternity of his existence, this great 
and good Being saw fit to create the earth we now inhabit, 
gave it a place in the magnificent system of worlds of 
which it continues to form a part, and subjected its move- 
ments to those great laws which regulate and control the 
material universe, That about six thousand years ago, God, 
out of the dust of the earth, created Man in his own moral 
image, breathed into him an immortal soul, and fixed his 
habitation in the plains of Asia, then a paradise, with 
directions to dress, and cultivate, and people the earth. 
That Adam, as he came from the hands of his Maker, was 
pure and holy, with all the affections of his heart centered 
upon God, and his supreme delight to worship and adore 
his great Creator and Benefactor. That to Adam, thus 
created and thus blessed, God, as his Sovereign, gave cer- 
tain laws, holy, just, and good — the sum of whose require- 
ments was, that man should continue to obey and love his 
Creator supremely ; and, to the violation of which, not only 
death, or the dissolution of the body into its original dust, 
but banishment of the soul from the presence and favor of 
his Maker, and consequently misery and woe, without limi- 
tation and without end, were annexed as penalties. That 
Adam was fully endowed by his Creator with a capacity 
either to obey or disobey the divine law, according to the 
free, voluntary determination of his own will. That in the 

VOL. X. 17 



10 A FEW THOUGHTS. 

exercise of this absolute, unqualified freedom of choice, 
Adam did wilfully and deliberately transgress the divine 
law, and thereby lost at once the moral image of his Maker, 
all actual enjoyment of him, and all true desires to know 
and serve him. That upon this act of disobedience the 
earth was cursed by its Maker, and Adam was cast out of 
paradise, a fugitive and a wanderer, justly exposed to the 
tremendous penalties of the violated law. That this same 
Adam became the progenitor — the common father of the 
whole human family ; and that all his posterity, from gen- 
eration to generation, have continually followed in his foot- 
steps, wandering far from God, disliking to retain him in 
their thoughts, loving supremely other and unworthy ob- 
jects, and living in continual disobedience to his holy com- 
mandments ; and thus all are guilty, and consequently 
deserving the fearful retributions of divine justice. That 
man being thus lost and ruined, God, in his infinite mercy, 
devised a plan which preserved inviolate the purity and in- 
tegrity of his law, and at the same time opened a way by 
which Adam and all his fallen race might be pardoned and 
restored to the love, and favor, and presence of their Ma- 
ker. That by this plan it was provided that at some future 
time God the Son would descend upon the earth, and take 
upon himself a human form ; and by a perfect obedience to 
the holy law of God, and by his own personal sufferings 
and an ignominious death upon the cross, make an atone- 
ment for the sins of the whole world. That the atonement 
thus to be made is sufficient to cover all the sins of all man- 
kind ; but that in order to receive its benefits, and secure 
the salvation of the soul, every man must exercise a genuine 
sorrow for having violated the laws of God, and place his 
entire reliance for salvation upon the atonement thus made 
by the Son of God ; in the just performance of which, the 
heart, under the influences of the Spirit of God, becomes 



A FEW THOUGHTS. H 

renewed, and all its affections restored to God as the su- 
preme object of love and gratitude. That the life of man 
is a state of trial or probation, during the continuance of 
which the terms of salvation are freely offered to his 
acceptance. That death, the great crisis in our being, ter- 
minates for ever this state of probation ; and upon the dis- 
solution of the body, the soul enters at once into the world 
of spirits, and there receives its doom according to the 
character it formed while an inhabitant of this earth. If it 
has truly repented of its sins and led a life of holiness, it 
receives the approbation of its Maker, takes up its everlast- 
ing abode in his presence, feels no more pain, no more sor- 
row, no more trouble ; mingles with other kindred spirits 
of just men made perfect, and lives and expatiates for ever 
in the enjoyment of such blessings ** as eye hath not seen, 
nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man 
to conceive :" but if, on the other hand, life has passed 
away without repentance, and without reconciliation to 
God through the atonement, the soul is banished from the 
presence of its Maker ; and, overwhelmed with a conscious- 
ness of its own guilt, sinks into the world of despair, where 
hope never comes, and where those dreadful agonies which 
are sometimes felt in this life, take complete possession of 
the soul, and become " the gnawings of a worm that never 
dies, and the burnings of a fire that is never quenched." 

Christianity also tells us, that at the appointed time the 
Son of God did descend upon the earth, and in the person 
of Jesus of Nazareth dwelt among men for the space of 
thirty years. That he was a man of sorrows, and acquaint- 
ed with grief ; was despised and rejected of men ; was 
mocked, and buffeted, and spit upon ; and at length, press- 
ed down and overwhelmed with the accumulated load of 
human guilt, he was crucified between two thieves : an 
event which filled all heaven with wonder and amazement. 



12 A FEW THOUGHTS. 

and the contemplation of which will swell the bosoms of 
redeemed spirits with love and gratitude throughout the 
never-ending ages of eternity. That he was buried, and 
on the third day rose from the dead ; that he ascended into 
heaven, and now sits on the right hand of God the Father 
Almighty, the Prince and Saviour of the world. That the 
earth is not to remain for ever the habitation of man ; but 
that a day is fixed by Him who made it, when the Son of 
God shall again descend from heaven in his glory, and all 
the holy angels with him ; that at his presence the earth 
and the heavens shall flee away, and no place be found for 
them ; that all who are in their graves, both small and 
great, shall stand before him, and he shall separate them 
as a shepherd divideth his sheep from the goats; and he 
shall set the sheep on his right hand, but the goats on the 
left : then shall he say unto them on his right hand, Come, 
ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for 
you from the foundation of the world : and then shall he 
also say unto them on his left hand, Depart from me, ye 
cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his 
angels ; and these shall go away into everlasting punish- 
ment ; but the righteous into life eternal. And thus shall 
end this world's eventful history ; and the destiny of every 
son and daughter of Adam being thus irrevocably fixed, the 
ages of eternity will again roll onward, and this earth, with 
all its concerns, will be numbered among the things that 
have been, but are not. 

Such, Christianity tells us, is the origin, and such the 
final destiny of our race. Nor need we stop to show that 
what Christianity tells us is true, and entitled to our con- 
fidence. No : the foundations of the Christian reliafion are 
laid too deep and too broad ; its evidences are too clear 
and too convincing; its provisions are too kindly adapted 
to the wants, the necessities, the longings of an immortal 



A FEW THOUGHTS. 13 

mind, ever to be rejected by the sincere inquirer after truth 
and happiness ; and it may be asserted, without the fear of 
contradiction, that no man ever yet hved, in any age or 
country, and remained an infidel, who read the Bible with 
an honest heart, and a sincere desire to know the truth. 

The question then recurs. Why is it that so few men of 
wealth, of influence, of rank, are found among the true dis- 
ciples of Jesus Christ ? 

The answer may be given in a few words. They will 
not take time for serious rejection. Look abroad through- 
out the length and breadth of our land. How many of our 
lawyers, and physicians, and statesmen, have ever examined 
the evidences of the Christian religion with any degree of 
faithfulness ? How manv have ever read the Bible with a 
sincere desire to know whether its contents are true or 
false ? How many who may charice to read these lines, 
have ever spent one single hour in the serious contempla- 
tion of death, and its moftientous consequences ? How 
many have ever permitted the mind to dwell, for a single 
hour, upon that great truth, that the soul is immortal ; that 
this life is but the dawn of its existence, and that it yet has 
an eternity to spend in some imknown and untried state of 
being beyond the grave ? Not that religious thoughts are 
entirely excluded from the mind. At some leisure moment 
a superficial view is taken of the Christian world as divided 
into sects, regulated by various forms and ceremonies, gov- 
erned by different constitutions and laws, and, alas, too 
often distracted by sectarian and theological controversies. 
Without stopping to notice the great and important fact, 
that all Christians harmonize upon the fundamental prin- 
ciples of Christianity ; that all unite upon the essential 
requisites to fit man for happiness in this world and the 
world to come ; the hasty inference is drawn, that religion 
is nothing more than opinions and disputes, or a talk about 

VOL. X. 17* 



14 A FEW THOUGHTS. 

outward .duties, alike beneath the serious regard of a culti- 
vated and an intelligent mind. 

It is true, the claims of Christianity are sometimes more 
closely pressed upon the heart and conscience. Take, for 
instance, the lawyer.* It is Saturday night. Court has 
adjourned late. He returns home weary and exhausted in 
body and mind. He seats himself in his office. ** To what 
purpose is all this labor, and Aveariness, and anxiety ? 
What real advantage do I hope to derive from all these 
struggles, and projects, and speculations ? Suppose I ac- 
quire wealth and reputation, can they make me happy? 
Alas, I am weary of them even now. I know and feel 
that this soul of mine was created for nobler purposes. 
My possessions too I must soon leave. Leave ? — and 
where shall I then go ? To a world for which I have made 
no preparation. To a world of disembodied spirits, where 
nothing of all that I value here will be of the least use to me. 
Why, then, this labor and anxiety ? What folly ! What 
madness ! Why not at once follow the dictates of reason and 
common-sense, and begin to live for something better ?" 

To one ignorant of the human heart, it would seem that 
this man was almost a Christian : but mark the result. A 
thought connected with the transactions of the day strikes 
his mind — an important cause just decided — a bad debt 
secured — a speculation — a motion in court — and thus 
thought after thought drops into the mind and expels at 
once all serious reflections. He plunges deeper than ever 
into his business ; and the consequence probably is, that 
the same scene will be repeated again and again with simi- 
lar results, till at length death dissolves the spell, and 
ushers his immortal spirit, unprepared, into the presence 
of his God. 

* A similar train of thought is found in AbhoWs Magazine^ 
Vol. 1, No. 12. 



A FEW THOUGHTS. 15 

Take the physician. He has just witnessed the last mo- 
ments of a Christian. During the progress of the disease 
nothing remarkable Avas observed, except a somewhat more 
than usual degree of patience and resignation, accompanied 
with a uniform feeling of thankfulness for all the little 
kindnesses bestowed upon him by his friends. Once, upon 
receiving some little refreshment tendered by the kind hand 
of some one of the family, there was seen on his counte- 
nance an expression of anxiety amounting almost to an- 
guish. It was the thought that he was so soon to go 
away, and leave behind him those who were so kind to him, 
and whom he so tenderly loved. But the cloud soon 
passed away, and his countenance resumed its wonted 
calmness and serenity. At length the hour of his depart- 
ure arrives. There is no wild commotion — no enthusiastic 
extravagance. His features are much wasted, and his eye, 
though somewhat sunk in the socket, is full of calmness 
and hope. His countenance beams with unwonted serenity, 
and a kind of mysterious energy comes over him which is 
felt by all about him. *' I am going," says he, " the way 
of all the earth. I feel that the hand of death is upon me, 
and that I am about entering upon the realities of the 
eternal world. But I am willing to go. I have tried to 
love and serve my Saviour ; and 0, now he does not for- 
sake me. Wife and children, grieve not for me. Be dili- 
gent — be faithful ; and after a few more days of sorrow 
and affliction, we shall all meet again — root and branch — all 
gathered home — a family in heaven." A long, deep res- 
piration announces that the soul has gone to Him who 
made it. 

The physician retires, and proceeds slowly towards 
home. " This certainly was not a nervous affection, nor an 
affection of the brain, nor any thing of a spasmodic nature. 
What was it? He was a Christian : that is the secret — 



16 A FEW THOUGHTS. 

and I too am determined to become a Christian. I will set 
about a preparation for another world. Nothing else is 
comparatively of any importance. To be ready and willing 
to die ! 0, let me have the Christian's hope. Let me 
die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like 
his." Such are his reflections : and does he become a 
Christian ? Alas, these serious thoughts and serious 
promises are all chased out of the mind by the bare 
recollection of some unusual symptom which manifested 
itself in the progress of the disease, or by some trifling 
inquiry of a neighbor ; or else the consideration of the 
whole matter is postponed /or the 2^resent. 

Incidents like these are of daily occurrence. Men of 
business, professional men, politicians, men of intelligence, 
have not time to think seriously on the subject of religion. 
Wealth, reputation, intellectual gratification, are paramount 
objects ; and such indeed is their influence over the human 
heart, that it is noticed as a remarkable fact, that few men 
ever become truly pious after they arrive at the age of 
thirty years. At or about this period in life, almost every 
man experiences a kind of constitutional change — a change 
in his intellectual faculties — a change in his feelings — a 
chanofe in his views of men and things. If he be not a 
Christian, the mind settles down composedly and firmly 
upon the acquisition of wealth, or honor, or pleasure, or 
whatever else is fixed upon as the great leading object of 
life. The heart becomes harder, and colder, and more 
selfish. The ruling passion grows and strengthens. The 
admonitions of conscience are less and less regarded, till at 
length he is cut down, and sinks into the PTave, without 
God, and without hope — lost, and lost for ever. 

Besides, Christianity treats of some matters, the serious 
consideration of which is not congenial to the natural feel- 
ings of the human heart. To one who is not a Christian, 



1 



1 



A FEW THOUGHTS. 17 

no three words in the English language convey more re- 
pulsive ideas than Death, Judgment, and Eternity. 
Whatever may be his professions — whatever may be his 
philosophy — whatever may be the strength of his intellect, 
there is a kind of mysterious meaning — a kind of indistinct 
foreboding of evil to come, connected with these terms, as 
used in the Christian religion, at the serious contemplation 
of which his mind almost instinctively revolts. The lan- 
guage of the heart, if not of the lips, is, ** Go thy way for 
this time ; at a convenient season, I will call for thee." 

Such are some of the main reasons why so few men of 
intellie^ence and influence become Christians. 

It sometimes happens, however, that men of this char- 
acter are led to examine the subject of religion with a very 
considerable degree of care and attention. They become 
satisfied of the general truths of Christianity, and think and 
speak well of its institutions, and entertain a kind of indefi- 
nite hope that all will be well with them in another world. 
They perhaps regularly attend public worship, and lead 
moral lives, and do many things. But there are parts of 
the Christian religion which are mysterious, and which they 
do not comprehend. " Our clergymen tell us — and the 
Bible seems to warrant the assertion — that in order to be 
happy in another world, a man must be born again ; must 
be born of the Spirit of God. Now I do not understand 
this. To be hovQi agaiji ! To be horn of the Spirit of God ! 
What does this mean ? How can these things be ?" 

o 

There is nothing unnatural, or contrary to the soundest 
principles of human reason, in the supposition that the soul 
of man may be operated upon by an unseen and supernatu- 
ral power. The death of a Marshall can awaken emotions 
of sorrow and reofret in the bosoms of millions of his coun- 

o 

try men. A few threatening words in the message of the 
President of the United States, can excite the apprehen- 



18 A FEW THOUGHTS 

sions, and concentrate the thoughts of three of the most 
populous nations of the earth. The brief military order of 
a Napoleon, in the shape of a Berlin or Milan decree, can 
shake the very foundations of civil society, and change the 
occupation, if not the destiny, of half the civilized world. 
If the mind of man can be thus wrought upon by human 
agency, it surely is not imreasonable to suppose, that there 
may be such an intercommunication between man and his 
Maker — between the infinite, eternal Mind, and created 
intellect, as to produce in the latter a change, not inaptly 
called a spiritual regeneration, or new birth. 

This difficulty is not of modern origin. Soon after the 
spirit of prophecy had ceased, and when there were no 
inspired persons to whom the Jews could apply to decide 
their religious doubts and settle their disputes, a body of 
men in Judea associated themselves together under the 
name of the " Pharisees" — an association which existed in 
the time of our Saviour, and which embraced most of the 
learned and influential men of that day. Of this number 
was a certain Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews, a man of 
sound judgment and great acuteness of mind. He had 
watched the movements of our Saviour from his first en- 
trance into public life — had seen him give sight to the blind, 
cleanse the lepers, make the dumb to speak, and raise the 
dead. The possession and exercise of such powers satisfied 
the cool and reflecting mind of Nicodemus, that whether 
this Jesus of Nazareth was the long-expected Messiah or 
not, he was certainly clothed with supernatural energies, 
and had in fact been sent from God into this world for some 
important purpose. Nicodemus therefore, believing this to 
be a fit opportunity for acquiring some satisfactory know- 
ledge of the world of spirits, and the place and mode of 
our existence after death, determined to gratify his curi- 
osity, and seek a private interview with our Saviour. Ac- 



A FEW THOUGHTS. 19 

cordingly, on a certain night, shortly after the celebration 
of the passover at Jerusalem, he came to our Saviour, 
when the following conversation took place : 

** Nicodemus saith unto him. Rabbi, we know that thou 
art a Teacher come from God : for no man can do these 
miracles that thou doest, except God be with him. Jesus 
answered and said unto him. Verily, verily, I say unto thee, 
Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of 
God. Nicodemus saith unto him, How can a man be born 
when he is old? Can he enter the second time into his 
mother's womb, and be born? Jesus answered, Verily, 
verily, I say unto thee, Except a man be born of water, and 
of the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God. 
That which is born of the flesh, is flesh ; and that which is 
born of the Spirit, is spirit. Marvel not that I said unto 
thee, ye must be born again. The wind bloweth where it 
listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not 
tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth : so is every one 
that is born of the Spirit, Nicodemus answered and said 
unto him. How can these things be ? Jesus answered and said 
unto him. Art thou a master of Israel, and knowest not these 
things ? If I have told you earthly things, and ye believe 
not, how shall ye believe if I tell you of heavenly things ?" 

This conversation was had more than eighteen hundred 
years ago, and the question, "How can these things be ?" 
has been repeated in every succeeding age, and still remains 
unanswered. The world has been inundated with scholastic 
controversies ; theologians have disputed, and lost their 
temper; councils have decreed, and synods adjudicated; 
and after all, the question remains precisely where our Sav- 
iour left it : " The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou 
hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it com- 
eth, and whither it sfoeth : so is every one that is born of 
the Spirit." 



20 A FEW THOUGHTS. 

But it is to be remembered, that the manner of opera- 
tion is one thing, and the matter of fact another. The wind 
may be felt, and we may hear the sound thereof, though we 
can neither tell whence it cometh, nor whither it goeth. The 
inquiry of the husbandman is, Is it a fact that the earth, 
by proper culture, will bring forth and bud, and give seed 
to the sower and bread to the eater ? not, hoiu is the pro- 
cess effected ? The merchant intrusts his fortune upon the 
ocean, because he knows it to be a fact that the needle is 
true to the pole ; not because he can tell ivhy it is so. The 
lawyer appeals to the sympathies of a jury, because he 
knows that such feelings exist in the human breast ; not 
because he can tell how, or in what maimer, they exist. 
Physicians may disagree in opinion as to the manner in 
which the body is nourished by food — they may perplex 
each other with hard words, and argue themselves into a 
quarrel ; while the plain, honest countryman eats his meal 
in quietness, and gives God thanks for it. So here, the 
proper inquiry is, Is it a fact that men are born again ? 
Is it a fact that men are born of the Spirit of God ? Let 
the reader for a moment look into his own neighborhood, 
and among his own acquaintances. There is an individual, 
who, for some reason or other, forsakes the company of his 
former friends and associates, and attaches himself to a 
body of professing Christians. He abandons his former 
evil practices — becomes the friend and supporter of the 
religious and benevolent institutions of the day — is honest 
and upright in his dealings, and apparently at least, is gov- 
erned by right principles and right motives. He is a regu- 
lar attendant upon the public worship of God, participates 
with his brethren in the social prayer-meeting, and is regu- 
lar and constant in family and private devotions. Thus far, 
as to his outward actions ; but look into his heart. You 
there find a thorough conviction of the evil of sin. That 



A FEW THOUGHTS. 21 

in wliicli he once delifj:hted is now loathsome to him. He 
no longer hears the reproof of sin as words of course, but 
the mention of his sin comes home to his very heart and 
conscience. He is convinced, too, of his own misery by 
reason of sin. He once read the threatenings of God's law, 
as he did the history of some foreign war ; but now he sees 
and feels that his own everlasting welfare is at stake. He 
feels, too, the absolute necessity of pardon. Neither credit, 
nor riches, nor pleasures can heal his wounded conscience. 
"Jesus Christ and him crucified" is now his only hope of 
happiness and salvation. These are the real feelings of 
the heart — the genuine convictions of a man that thirsts ; 
and not merely a change in opinion or theory. The spon- 
taneous, unsophisticated breathing forth of his soul is, '' As 
the hart panteth after the water-brooks, so panteth my soul 
after thee, God." Now this man has been horn again — 
has been horn of the Spirit of God. He may not be able 
to tell you the time, or the place, or the manner, or the or- 
der of these workings of the Spirit ; all this may be involved 
in uncertainty ; but in point oifact, the very foundations of 
his heart have been broken up, and he has come forth into 
the world a new creature, with new hopes and new fears, 
new joys and new sorrows — an heir of the kingdom of God. 
Not that new faculties or greater intellectual powers have 
been implanted in the mind ; but simply, the great leading 
object of his pursuit is changed. All the affections — all 
the better feelings of the heart, have been taken away 
from the things of this world, and elevated, and purified, 
and fixed upon God. The great business of his life now is, 
to love and obey God, and to do good to his fellow-men. 
He is as enterprising as ever in all his plans ; as persever- 
inof and as industrious ; but he no lono-er labors for himself. 
He now acts for God. He is an agent, not a principal ; 
and he feels and realizes that he must one day render an 

VOL. X. IB 



22 A FEW THOUGHTS. 

exact account of his stewardship to God. Nor is this an 
irksome employment, and one which he would gladly 
avoid. No ; it is his daily food — his pleasure — his delight. 
He knows and feels that he is fulfilling the great end of his 
being ; and in all his trials, and in all his troubles, he en- 
joys a peace of mind, an inward satisfaction, such as this 
world can neither give nor take away, and with which a 
stranger intermeddleth not. His treasure is in heaven, and 
to heaven he looks for a final resting-place, when the 
storms of this life shall have passed away. Such is the 
man who is ho7'n again — who is horn of the Spirit of God. 

Nor are cases of this kind so rare in society, as to leave 
in the mind a rational doubt as to their true character. In- 
stances occur within the range of every man's observation ; 
and it seems to be a part of the general providence of God, 
that in all places, and in all grades of society, there shall 
be men of known integrity and uprightness, who have felt 
in their own hearts this great moral change, and who not 
only with their lips, but in their lives, say to all about 
them, There is a reality in this thing called the religion of 
the heart. 

But what are the means necessary to be used on the 
part of man, in order to effect this great change ? As in 
most other cases where God makes provision for the real 
happiness of his creatures, the means are plain and simple. 
The pride of the heart is to he humbled. The prodigal son 
must arise, and go to his father, and say unto him, " Father, 
I have sinned against heaven and before thee, and am no 
more worthy to be called thy son." There must be this 
humbling of one's self before God and man. From a bro- 
ken and a contrite heart, there must ascend that humble, 
penitential cry, " God be merciful to me a sinner." There 
must be this absolute, unqualified giving away of one's self, 
soul and bodv, mind, might, and strencrth, to God and his 



A FEW THOUGHTS. 23 

service. This done, and a man is born again : this don'' 
and a man is a Christian. 

There is yet another objection, which sometimes em- 
bodies itself in hinguage like this : The Bible represents/ai^^ 
in Jesus Christ as alone necessary to salvation. I have 
examined the evidences of the Christian religion, and I do 
believe in Jesus Christ. I believe he came into this world, 
and suffered, and died, to make an atonement for the sins 
of mankind : now, what more is necessary ? 

It is obvious, that the assent of the understanding to any 
abstract truth, is one thing ; and that such a belief in the 
same truth, as to excite feeling and action, is quite another 
thing. The philosopher in his closet, may demonstrate and 
fully believe the truth of some mathematical principle ap- 
plicable to the science of navigation ; but who does not see 
the diff'erence between his faith and the faith of the ship- 
master, who, amidst the perils of the ocean, is constantly 
reducing the same principle to actual practice, and thus 
brings the ship and her crew home in safety ? The princi- 
ple is all the while the same ; but in the one case it is ab- 
stract and merely intellectual, while in the other it is used, 
practised upon, and felt to be true. The latter illustrates 
the faith of the Gospel ; one of the fruits, or rather a con- 
stituent part of spiritual regeneration. 

A father and his son, late in the day, come to the banks 
of a stream swollen. by a heavy rain. The fears of the boy 
are excited. Night is at hand. Thoughts of home rush 
into his mind. He casts an anxious look, first upon the 
dark and rapid stream, and then upon his father's face. At 
length the father says to him. The stream is too deep for 
you, my son. I must carry you in my arms. Be not afraid. 
I have crossed the stream before. Hold fast to your father, 
and we shall soon be safe at home. Now, as the son silent- 
ly clasps his arms around the neck of his kind and affection- 



24 A FEW THOUGHTS. 

ate father, is there on his part nothing more than the mere 
assent of the understanding — nothing more than a simple, 
cold belief, that the father has bone and muscle sufficient 
to carry him safely across the stream ? Far from it. His 
heart is overflowing with that sincere affection, that warm 
and filial confidence, which great waters cannot quench, 
nor floods drown ; and as they approach the middle of the 
stream, and he feels the waters rising upon him, he clings 
the closer to his father's bosom, and soon is carried beyond 
the reach of danger, and safely arrives at home. ' So, too, 
with the Christian. The days of his pilgrimage draw to a 
close, and he approaches the cold stream of death, which 
all must pass. He looks upon the dark and turbid waters 
with fear and apprehension. But soon he hears the cheer- 
ing language, " Let not your heart be troubled — Put your 
trust in me — Fear not — I will never leave thee, nor forsake 
thee." Nor are these mere unmeaning words. No. They 
lie as a cordial at his heart ; and as he sinks into the stream, 
and its waters close over him, he feels beneath him the ev- 
erlasting arms of his heavenly Father, and is soon carried 
to those mansions of rest which remain for the people of 
God. 

A day is appointed by law for the session of the supreme 
judicial tribunal — a court of the last resort. Among other 
matters waiting a trial, is the cause of a plain, ignorant man, 
occupying a small tract of land left him by his father, and 
from the cultivation of which, by the use of great economy, 
he obtains a scanty liv^elihood. This little tract of land 
adjoins the possessions of a rich, and powerful, and avari- 
cious neighbor, who having discovered some supposed de- 
fect in the title, has commenced a legal prosecution to 
recover the possession, and the cause now stands for final 
hearino' at the head of the trial docket in the court of the 
last resort. Now, the citizens generally, in common with 



A FEW THOUGHTS. 25 

this poor man, believe that this court will sit. They have 
read it in the statutes, or newspapers, or it is so understood 
in the neighborhood. A large proportion of the people, 
however, feel little or no interest in the matter, and give 
themselves no trouble about it. It is true, they fully believe 
the court will sit ; but with them all is well, and they go 
in peace and quietness about their ordinary vocations ; one 
to his farm, and another to his merchandise. Not so, how- 
ever, with the man who feels that his little all is at stake. 
Many a day you will see him laboring in his fields with a 
sad and heavy heart. He is sowing, but he knows not who 
may reap. His little inheritance, which has hitherto fur- 
nished him and his children with food and raiment, may 
pass into other hands. His thoughts are continually recur- 
ring to the day of trial. He talks of it with his neighbors 
and friends. All his plans, all his domestic concerns, are 
arranged in reference to it. To him it is a day above all 
other days. His counsel advise him to be on his guard, to 
be constantly preparing for his defence ; that he has a subtle 
and powerful adversary ; that the contest will be a severe 
one, and that without constant watchfulness he will be 
overcome. At length the day arrives, the cause is opened, 
the testimony is heard, the opinion of the court is pro- 
nounced, and the sentence of the law recorded, " That the 
defendant go hence without day." The poor man goes 
home with a heart full of joy, and spends the residue of his 
days in peace and happiness upon his little patrimony, en- 
deared to him a thousand-fold by the trials and troubles it 
has cost him. 

So, too, the Christian. God has appointed a day in 
which he will judge the world in righteousness ; when the 
secrets of all hearts shall be laid open, and every man shall 
be rewarded or punished according to the deeds done in 

the body. This, too, is a matter of public notoriety. It is 
VOL. X. 18* 



26 A FEW THOUGHTS. 

promulgated in the Bible, the statutes of God's kingdom, 
from the pulpit, by missionaries, by Sunday-schools, by 
prayer-books, by Tracts, and in a thousand other forms. 
And even in our courts of justice, we daily and hourly wit- 
ness the appeal made to the '' Searcher of all hearts," for 
the truth, as it shall be answered for at the same " great 
day." The fact, too, is believed by a great proportion of 
mankind. Indeed, few men express any serious doubts 
upon the matter. But, like the session of the supreme 
judicial tribunal, the great mass of mankind feel little or no 
interest in it. It is yet a great way off. They have not 
time to think of it. They must make provision for their 
families. The Judge, too, is a merciful being, and they 
hope all will be well with them. Besides, religion is a ra- 
tional thing. " The best of Beings did not send us into the 
world to go weeping through it ; nor will he call us to a 
severe reckoning because we have snatched at some of its 
fugacious pleasures." Not so, however, with the real Chris- 
tian. In the book of God's law — and which is to form the 
rule of final judgment — he finds language like this : 

" Strive to enter in at the strait gate ; for many will 
seek to enter in, and shall not be able. Whatsoever thy 
hand findeth to do, do it with thy might ; for there is no 
Avork, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave, 
whither thou goest. Work out your own salvation with 
fear and trembling. Give diligence to make your calling 
and election sure. If the righteous scarcely be saved, 
where shall the ungodly and the sinner appear?" 

He not only believes, but he feels, that the well-being of 
his immortal soul, throughout the ages of eternity, will 
depend upon the decision of that great day ; and he acts 
accordingly. It occupies his thoughts — enters into all his 
arrangements. His family and neighbors all bear witness 
of his care and watchfulness. In short, he makes it the 



A FEW THOUGHTS. 27 

great business of his life to prepare to meet that searching 
glance of the eye of Omniscience, which he knows will 
penetrate the inmost recesses of his soul. He, too, has his 
troubles and his trials, his doubts and his fears. He, too, 
has a subtle and a powerful adversary, who is continually 
seekinor his destruction. "Without are fio:htino:s — within 
are fears ;" and oftentimes there bursts forth from his trou- 
bled heart the involuntary cry, " wretched man that I 
am! who shall deliver me from the body of this death?" 
But he, too, has an Advocate ; his name is " Wonderful, 
Counsellor, the Mighty God, the everlasting Father, the 
Prince of peace." His language is, " Son, be of good 
cheer. Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy 
laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, 
and learn of me ; for I am meek and lowly in heart ; and 
ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, 
and my burden is light." And when the great and notable 
day of the Lord shall come ; when the Son of man shall sit 
upon the throne of his glory, and the assembled universe 
shall stand up in final judgment before him, there will fall 
upon his ear in the same kind accents, " Come, ye blessed 
of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from 
the foundation of the world:" and then with all those who 
have come out of great tribulation, and have washed their 
robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb, with 
joy unspeakable and full of glory, he enters upon an inher- 
itance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away, 
eternal in the heavens. Who ivould riot be a Christian ? 

Say not, then, that there is want of evidence, or want 
of ability. " If any man will do my will, he shall know my 
doctrine," No earnest, hiunhle inquirer ever yet failed in 
the search. If you will believe with the heart what the 
mind knows to be true, and will faithfully act after the con- 
victions of conscience ; if you will unite the affections and 



28 A FEW THOUGHTS. 

the will, with all the faculties of the mind, in doinc what 
you know and feel to be right, the way of truth Avill open 
broad before you, and you will find that all her ways are 
ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace. 



Nature with open volume stands, 
To spread her Maker's praise abroad, 
And every labor of his hands 
Shows something worthy of a God. 

But in the grace that rescued man, 
His brightest form of glory shines ; 
Here, on the cross, 'tis fairest drawn, 
In precious blood and crimson lines. 

Here I behold his inmost heart, 
Where grace and vengeance strangely join ; 
Piercing his Son with sharpest smart. 
To make the purchased pleasures mine. 

0, the sweet wonders of that cross, 
Where God the Saviour loved and died ; 
Her noblest life my spirit draws 
From his dear wounds and bleeding side. 

I would forever speak his name, 

In sounds to mortal ears unknown ; 

With angels join to praise the Lamb, 

And worsliip at his Father's throne. vvatts. 



]¥o. 376. 

THE 



INFIDEL'S CREED; 



OR, 



THE CREDULITY OF INFIDELITY. 

FROM LETTERS ON CHRISTIANITY. 



BY OLINTHUS GREGORY, LL.D. 



We cannot suppose the advocates of Infidelity, as idol- 
izers of reason, to reject the Christian rehgion, and adopt 
the notions of Deism, without thinking they have found 
sufficient reasons for the preference. Let us, my friend, 
by instituting a short comparison, see if we can discover 
them. Can a Deist arrive at his convictions by any thing 
like the following gradation ? 

Christianity reveals a God, glorious in holiness : deism, 
though it acknowledges a God, yet in a great measure 
OA'erlooks his moral character; therefore I prefer deism. 
Christianity contains a professed revelation of the will of 
God : deism leaves me in perfect darkness as to his will ; 
therefore I prefer deism. Christianity exhibits palpable, 
obvious, and simple marks of the nature of virtue and vice : 
deism envelopes the nature of virtue and vice in the great- 
est doubt and perplexity ; therefore I prefer deism. Chris- 
tianity furnishes the strongest possible motives for virtuous 
conduct, and the most cogent reasons for abstaining from 
vicious conduct : deism appeals only to some vague no- 



2 THE INFIDEL'S CREED. 

tions relative to the fitness of things, or to moral beauty, 
or to expediency, which makes a man's own sentiments 
and feelings, however fluctuating, his ultimate guide ; 
therefore 1 prefer deism. Christianity o/^m reforms profli- 
gate and vicious men : deism never ; therefore I prefer 
deism. Christianit}^ frequently prompts men to schemes 
of the most extensive philanthropy, and compels them to 
execute those schemes : deism scarcely ever devises any 
such schemes ; therefore I prefer deism. Christianity 
imparts principles that support men under all the trials 
and vicissitudes of life : deism can have recourse to no 
such principles ; therefore I prefer deism. Christianity 
assures me of eternal existence beyond the grave ; and 
that, if it is not to me an eternal portion of felicity, it will 
be my own fault : deism leaves me perfectly ignorant, let 
my conduct here be what it may, whether I shall live be- 
yond the grave or not — whether such existence, if there 
be any, will be limited or infinite, happy or miserable ; 
therefore I prefer deism. Christianity will support me 
under the languishments of a sick-bed, and in the prospect 
of death, with the ''sure and certain hope," that death is 
only a short, though dark passage into an "inheritance 
incorruptible, undefiled, and which fadeth not away, re- 
served in heaven for God's people :" deism will then leave 
me sinking in an ocean of gloomy apprehensions, without 
one support — in trembling expectation that the icy hand 
of the king of terrors is about to seize me ; but whether 
to convey me to heaven, to hell, or to a state of annihila- 
tion, I know not ; therefore I prefer : no, my friend, 

it is impossible that any man capable of correct reflection 
can, after tracing this contrast, say, deliberately and sin- 
cerely, therefore I prefer deism. 



THE INFIDEL'S CREED. 3 

The reasons, then, which weigh with a Deist, must be 
different from the above. Perhaps you may be told, that 
the difficulties attending the belief of Christianity are very 
numerous and great ; while the mere reception of the prin- 
ciples of deism is, in a considerable degree, free from diffi- 
culty, or at least presents no difficulties against which one's 
mind can strenuously revolt. To ascertain the force of 
this assertion, let us endeavor to collect into one point of 
view the chief propositions which must necessarily be in- 
cluded in the creed of a Deist ; and I am much mistaken, 
if they will not furnish us with some cogent motives for 
wishing Christianity may be true, independent of all those 
that result from its own intrinsic beauty, value, and excel- 
lency. 

Here, again, we will suppose a Deist speaking ; deliv- 
ering, if I may so call it, " A confession of his faith " in 
his own person. And after you have attended to his dec- 
laration, I think you will coincide with me in opinion, that 
the credulity of zinhelievers is the most marvellous thing 
imaginable — that the rejecters of the Gospel are the most 
resolute believers in the world ; or with Soame Jenyns, 
that they " must be possessed of much more faith than is 
necessary to make them declared Christians, and remain 
unbelievers from mere credulity." The creed of a Deist, 
so far as I am able to comprehend his principles, would 
run thus : 

1. I believe that God is a being of matchless holiness, 
wisdom, power, and benevolence ; that in consequence of 
his holiness, he " cannot look upon iniquity with satisfac- 
tion ;" that his wisdom would enable him to contrive, his 
power to execute, and his benevolence stimulate him to 
accomplish the most effectual plans for the establishment 



4 THE INFIDEL'S CREED. 

of virtue and the suppression of vice — for the extinction of 
mental and moral darkness, and the diffusion of mental and 
moral light ; and yet, that God has suffered mankind in 
every age, and in almost every country, to remain in the 
grossest ignorance and darkness for nearly 6,000 years — to 
struggle with prejudices, to immerse themselves in the 
blackest and most dismal crimes, to perform the most hor- 
rid and murderous rites, and fancy them religious services ; 
that he makes the being who possesses the finest faculties, 
to be the greatest enemy to his species, and thus to plunge 
himself and others into the deepest miseries : and all this 
in consequence of his never affording them the remotest 
aid — never supplying them with any invariable principles 
as preservatives against error, or any specific rules by 
which they should shape their conduct. That is, I believe 
this palpable contradiction, that the goodness of God has 
allowed this horridly miserable state of mankind to continue 
for so many centuries, and has all along prompted him to 
refuse them any effectual aid or direction. 

2. I believe that what is called the Mosaic account of 
the creation of the world and the fall of man, is a mere 
fable ; and therefore I believe that God, the wisest and the 
best of beings, created man with the most noble, refined, 
and extraordinary faculties of body and mind — faculties 
infinitely superior to what are possessed by other living 
creatures ; that while they eat, and drink, and sleep, uncon- 
scious of what shall befall them, he may indulge the doubt- 
ful anticipation, intermingled with frequent dread of future 
occurrences ; and that while they are supplied with all that 
is necessary for their subsistence, without either " toiling 
or spinning," man, the lord of the creation, is so circum- 
stanced, that, " by the sweat of his brow," the labor of his 



THE INFIDEL'S CREED. 5 

hands, and the anxiety of his mind, he shall earn and " eat 
bread :" I also believe that the same infinitely wise and 
benevolent Being formed woman with delicacy of percep- 
tion, sweetness of disposition, tenderness of heart, and 
beauty of frame, far above all we could conceive, did we 
not witness them, in order that " her sorrow shall be greatly 
multiphed," that **she shall bring forth children in sorrow ;" 
and that she shall be formed exquisitely susceptible of all 
the emotions of love, in order that " her desire may be to 
her husband, and that he may rule over her." That is, I 
will not believe that these are the effects of just punish- 
ment, but will believe that they are marks of hard treat- 
ment from the wisest and best of Beings towards the most 
exalted part of his visible creation. I know there is no 
possible medium between these alternatives; but I reject 
the former, because it is reasonable, and revealed in the 
Bible ; and adopt the latter, because it is unreasonable, and 
revealed nowhere. 

3. I believe that the book called the Bible was, every 
word of it, invented and written by men who had no help 
from God : that what are called prophecies were not such ; 
that what are denominated miracles were either tricks of 
art, or never occurred ; and that though the precepts are 
often admirable, and the morahty pure, it proceeded from 
impostors, and not from God. The whole book being a 
collection of delusions and deceptions, which God never- 
theless suffered to be accompanied by such evidence to 
gain it belief, as is not possessed by any other book. 

4. I believe that bad men are often made better through 
the influence of this strange system of lies, delusions, and 
impostures ; and that those who were good men, often be- 
come bad as soon as they are wise enough to free them- 

VOL. X. 19 



Q THE INFIDEL'S CREED. 

selves from sucli influence, and to cast off the shackles with 
which this system encumbered them. 

5. I believe that several of the best scholars, the ablest 
disputants, the most acute lawyers, the subtlest metaphy- 
sicians, the most cautious investigators, and the most pro- 
found philosophers that ever lived, such as Sir Thomas 
More, Grotius, Hale, Bacon, Barrow, Locke, Hartley, 
Boyle, Pascal, Euler, Newton, and many others, were 
never able to detect the cheat, but lived as much under 
the influence of this system of blood and blasphemous de- 
ception, as the most vulgar and illiterate peasant could 
do ; and were, the majority of them, very excellent men 
notwithstanding. 

6. I believe that the different persons who employed 
themselves at various times, and in different places, to 
compose the Bible, which avows itself by a thousand most 
solemn and explicit declarations, to be a collection of com- 
munications from heaven, were not madmen — for that sup- 
position is untenable — but all shocking liars, and deceivers ; 
that these wicked men, who thus impiously pretended to 
be employed by God, when they were not so employed, 
did, notwithstanding, with an amazing energy, resolution, 
and perseverance, go about doing good, and delivering the 
most important moral precepts — braving and often sustain- 
ing the greatest present evils ; not one of them ever re- 
canting or discovering the fraud, but supporting them- 
selves in the daily diffusion of their noble precepts and 
detestable impostures, and the terrible sufferings which 
they thereby had to sustain, by the conviction that they 
had no hope but of experiencing further hardships here, 
and the vengeance of the God whom they had insulted 
hereafter. 



THE INFIDEL'S CREED. 7 

Lastly, I believe that the great Being of infinite perfec- 
tions, who sits enthroned at the head of the universe, has 
seen this horrid delusion prevail more and more for nearly 
two thousand years ; and yet, instead of interposing to 
stay its progress, has suffered it to be accompanied with 
the most remarkable apparent sanctions, and has often 
accelerated its promulgation by surprising operations and 
occurrences. That is, I believe that the God of truth has, 
with regard to what is called the Christian religion, most 
astonishingly aided imposture. All this, I acknowledge, is 
perfectly incomprehensible, and totally irreconcilable with 
the obvious attributes of deity ; but it is consistent with 
the principles of deism, however repugnant it may be to 
common- sense, and therefore I believe it. 

If these and similar absurdities, my friend, result from 
the rejection of revelation — and as far as I am able to 
judge, they are not merely fair, but necessary consequences 
of such rejection — your deistical acquaintances cannot have 
so much reason as they suppose to pride themselves on 
that noble exercise of their understanding which has freed 
them from vulgar prejudices and sordid restraints. Is 
there not, hence, too much reason to fear, that in nineteen 
instances out of twenty, deism springs more from the state 
of the heart, than from the operations of intellect ; and 
that it is not so much because Christianity offends the rea- 
son, as because it condemns the conduct of men, that they 
affect to despise it ? They commence their progress with 
a carelessness respecting their future interests ; in the lan- 
guage of Young, they 

"Give to time eternity's regard, 



And, dreaming, take their passage for their port." 



g THE INFIDEL'S CREED. 

Gliding along thus carelessly, it is natural enough that 
they should sink, first into error, next into vice. In such 
a situation, an inquiry into the evidences of revealed relig- 
ion is not instituted under very favorable auspices ; for the 
inquirer has his mind overgrown with the worst of all 
prejudices, those that are rooted in interest. How should 
a man be indifferent as to the truth of a system, which, if 
true, must condemn him ? Though his life may not be 
grossly immoral, he knows that the tenor of his conduct 
is incompatible with the renunciations and requirements 
of real religion. He comes, therefore, to the trial, not as 
an impartial judge, but as a party deeply interested in the 
issue. He, in consequence, wishes that Christianity may 
not be true ; and Avhat a man fervently wishes, he can easily 
persuade himself to believe, though he should involve 
himself in a thousand absurdities in consequence of that 
persuasion. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



]¥o. 377. 

FIFTY REASONS 



FOR 



ATTENDING PUBLIC WORSHIP. 



1. God, your Creator, Preserver, and Benefactor, is 
worthy of your worship. 

2. God says, ''Bring an offering and come itito his 
courts ; worship the Lord in the beauty of hoHness." 
" Not forsaking the assembhng of yourselves together." 

3. God's command, "Remember the Sabbath-day to 
keep it holy," includes this as part of a proper keeping of 
the Sabbath. 

4. God proposes, through the public preaching of the 
Gospel, "to ^ave them that believe;" therefore, come to 
the sanctuary, and hear it. 

5. Consider the condescension of God, that he will 
receive the worship of a sinful creature like yourself; and 
do not so ungratefully requite him as to refuse the perform- 
ance of this duty. 

6. Public worship is ?i privilege too great to lose. 

I. It is necessary to you, as an immortal, but sinful being ; 
to your preparation now, to glorify and enjoy God in eter- 
nity. 

8. The sanctuary is the place, and the Sabbath the time, 
to get that knowledge which "giveth life unto the soul." 

9. You profess to seek happiness ; seek that which is 
rich, real, and eternal, through the right use of the privi- 
leges of the sanctuary. 

10. Jesus Christ, his apostles, the prophets, and good 
men in all ages, have given you an example of this practice. 

II, Christ has purchased for you the privileges of pub- 
lic worship at an infinite price — his own "precious blood." 

12. Are you at the head of a family ? And do you re- 
gard your influence on them ? Be faithful in this duty. 

13. Are you in early life ? You owe it to God, to your 
companions, and to your own soul, to live in this habit. 

14. Self-respect, regard for your own character in the 
estimation of all virtuous and Christian men, should lead 
you to practise this duty. 

VOL. X. 19* 



FIFTY REASONS 



15. Habits of church-going are a strong and salutary- 
bond of influence on civil society, which you should promote. 

16. They humanize and refine men by the very neatness, 
cleanliness, frugality, good order, decency, and respecta- 
bility of deportment which they^ promote. 

17. They also promote good morals, personal comfort, 
and correct sentiments on all subjects, social and civil, as 
well as moral and religious. 

18. Preaching, prayer, and sacred music, tend to subdue 
the ruder feelinq-s, awaken humane and tender associations, 
suppress the violent passions, and promote in a man s char- 
acter the things which are lovely, and of good report. 

19. The more you attend on public worship, with a 
proper spirit, the more you will love to do it. 

20. You will grow in tenderness of conscience, be with- 
drawn from temptations to violate the Sabbath by worldly 
business, improper reading, vain thoughts and conversation, 
and frequenting places of idle and vicious resort. 

21. You will have increased reverence for God, that 
grand regulating principle of character. 

22. By habitual and serious attendance on the public 
worship of God, you will encourage ministers of the Gos- 
pel, and all other good men, in their efforts to be useful. 

23. The prevalence of habits of attendance on public 
worship, among all the people of this country, would be 
one of the best features of our national character, and one 
of the surest guarantees for our national safety and prosperity. 

24. Whatever, then, your station, private citizen or ruler, 
constituent or legislator, you ought to honor God and seek 
the public good, by maintaining public luorship. And, 

25. Consider this seriously, that as far as you under- 
value and neglect this means of public benefit, so far you 
contribute your example and influence towards injuring the 
moral character and interests of your country. 

26. God has highly honored public Avorship in past 
ages, as the grand means of sustaining Christianity, and all 
else which is good in this world. Therefore, 

27. If you undervalue and neglect it, you practically 
deny God's wisdom in appointing it, and thus commit a 
high offence against him. 

Other EVIL things you do, and will do, by neglecting 
public worship ; we mention a few of them. 



FOR ATTENDING PUBLIC WORSHU'. 3 

28. You show yourself to be far from God, holiness, 
and hope of heaven. 

29. You cut yourself loose from many salutary re- 
straints, and lay yourself open to the temptations of the 
devil and your own sinful heart, to go astray from God and 
to destruction. 

30. You will probably neglect the Bible, prayer, serious 
meditation, and preparation for death and eternity. 

31. You will dislike and shun the society of Christians. 

32. You will increasingly dislike,yea, /m^e public worship. 

33. You will try to disbelieve in and neglect all religion. 

34. You will grieve and quench the Holy Spirit, and 
shut him from your soul as a Renewer and Sanctitier. 

35. You will separate yourself from two of the most 
powerful means of good influence on your conscience and 
manner of life — prayer and preaching. 

36. You will probably violate the Sabbath by business, 
labor, travelling; or by pleasure-seeking, visiting, hunting, 
fishing, vicious company, drinking, and like things ; in short, 
if the devil finds you neglecting the service of God, he will 
certainly decoy you into his oivn. 

37. Being in a Christian country, but neglecting Chris- 
tian worship, you will make yourself a more absurd character 
than the very heathen ; for they profess to worship some god 
or gods, but you worship no God, true or false. Of course, 

38. You forfeit your claim to be considered even ^nom- 
inal, much more a real Christian. 

39. You place yourself among those most thoughtless 
of God, and fearless of the scenes of a coming eternity. 

40. You help to promote practical atheism, and to curse 
the world with irreligion. Particularly, 

41. You contribute your example and influence towards 
heathenizing your family, neighborhood, town, district, state, 
and country at large. 

42. You show yourself capable of the most base ingrati- 
tude to a merciful God, in return for one of his kindest and 
richest provisions for your good, temporal and eternal. 

43. You slight and throw away privileges, for want of 
which, millions perish, and for your doing which, they will 
**rise up in the judgment and condemn" you. And here, 

44. Remember, that for neglecting this solemn duty and 
precious privilege, " God loill bring thee into judgment^ 



4 FIFTY REASONS, ETC. 

45. And in eternity, you will mourn and weep, and curse 
yourself at the recollection of your Sabbaths and sanctuary 
privileges here slighted, despised, thrown away. 

46. If there is any thing which, as a decent member of 
society, you should avoid, it is roaming about from one place 
of worship to another. Belong to some one congregation : 
be not a hanger-on upon half a dozen. Also, 

47. If the Gospel is worth your hearing one Sabbath, it 
is worth your hearing everg Sabbath. 

48. If a holy God is worthy of your worship one Sab- 
bath, he is Avorthy of it everg Sabbath. 

49. An itnsteadg and infrequent attendance on public wor- 
ship is little better than none ; for there is no regular recur- 
rence of religious ordinances steadily to counteract the temp- 
tations and unholy influences which surround you, and the 
sinful propensities within you. You thus lose ground, in all 
moral and spiritual respects, faster than you gain it. 

50. By such an attendance, you expose yourself to the 
mortification of its being noticed as a new or strange thing 
when you do attend. Better be in such habits, that your absence 
shall be noticed as the strange thing, rather than your prese7ice. 

Have you certain luise reasons, or excuses, many years 
old, for not attending public worship ? All we will say is, 

51. Put to yourself one question — enough to silence the 
whole of them : " Will this answer my purpose before the 

JUDGMENT-SEAT OF ChRIST," '^AT THE LAST DAY?" AlsO, 

52. Be well aware of this, that a righteous God will not 
give you much time to waste in reasoning against so plain a 
duty, and in inventing vain excuses for your neglect of Sab- 
bath and sanctuary privileges. They will very soon be for 
ever beyond your reach. "What thou doest, do quickly." 

More reasons we might give ; but are not these enough ? 
Will joncandidlg and seriously consider these ? Will you es- 
tablish for yourself the practice of regular and conscientious 
attendayice on the public iDorship of God ? Will you begin 
NEXT Sabbath ? The Lord incline your heart to do it, bless 
you in it, and prepare you, by his grace, for the services of 
the Sabbath which is everlasting ; for the worship of that 
sanctuary " not made with hands, eternal in the heavens." 



PUBLISHED BT THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



]¥o. 378, 

THE FALSE HOPE. 

BY REV. RICHARD KNILL, 

OF ST. FETERSBURGH. 



God often produces great effects from little causes. 
This has seldom been more strikingly displayed than in the 
circumstances about to be narrated. 

Many years ago, I was addressing a strange congrega- 
tion, and took for my text the words of the apostle, " Good 
hope through grace." In opening the subject, I introduced 
the following narrative. 

A student for the Christian ministry was brought, in the 
course of providence, into the company of a young lady 
who was just recovering from a dangerous illness. She 
was still very weak, but liked, as most persons do when 
recovering, to tell how much she had suffered, and how 
wonderful was the preservation of her life. 

Among other things she said, " At one time I sent for 
my aged parents, and my beloved brothers and sisters ; and 
took, as I thought, my last farewell of them. Both the 
physicians had given me up, and my friends expected to 
see me no more." 

As she finished this sentence, the young man said to her, 
*' We seldom meet with a person who has been so near to 
death as you have been. Pray, tell me what were your 
feelings when you were on the verge of eternity ?" 

"L was happy," she rephed. 

** And will you please to tell me what were your pros- 
pects?" 

"1 hoped to go to heaven, of course." 

**Had you no doubts, no fears, no suspicions?" 

*'iVowe." 

" Perhaps almost all hope to go to heaven. But I fear 
there are very few who have a good foundation for their 
hope. Pray, on what was your hope founded ?" 

"Founded?" she replied; ''why, I have never injured 
any one, and I had endeavored to do all the good in my 
power. Was not this sufficient?" 



2 THE FALSE HOPE. 

"It is a delightful reflection," said the student, "never 
to have injured any one ; and still more delightful to think 
of having done all the good in our power. But even this is 
a poor foundation for a sinner to rest upon. Was this the 
foundation of your hope?" 

She seemed quite astonished at this question, and eager- 
ly inquired, " Was not this sufficient ?" 

The young man did not give her a direct answer, but 
observed, " I am very thankful that you did not then die." 

" What, do you think I should not have gone to heaven ?" 

" I am sure you could not in the way you mentioned. 
Do you not perceive, that according to your plan you w^ere 
going to heaven tvithout CJu'lst? This is what no sinner 
has done since Adam fell, and what no sinner will be able 
to do while the world stands. Be very thankful that you 
did not go out of life resting on this delusive foundation. 
Jesus says, ' I am the way, and the truth, and the life ; no 
man cometh unto the Father but by me.' " 

God carried home this word to her soul. Lio-ht broke 
in upon her mind. From that day a decided change took 
place in the young lady's views ; and a corresponding holi- 
ness, and love, and zeal, and usefulness, have adorned her 
future life. 

Before I had finished this short narrative, there was a 
mild, sedate-looking person in the congregation deeply af- 
fected. The tears were streaming down his placid cheeks, 
and although he tried to conceal them, yet he could not. 
He was unknown to me at that time, but he has since 
proved one of my most affectionate and devoted friends. 
Not many weeks passed before I received a visit from this 
friend, when the following conversation took place. 

" I am come, sir, to tell you what the Lord has done for 
my soul." 

" Welcome, welcome. There are no visits so much to 
be desired as those which refer to eternity. Then tell me 
what the Lord has done for your sovd." 

"0," rephed the happy man, "he 'hath done great 
things for me, whereof I am glad.' My experience is much 
hke that described by St. Peter, ' Whom having not seen, 
ye love ; in whom, though now ye see him not, yet believ- 
ing, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory.' " 



THE FALSE HOPE. 3 

" This is happiness, indeed, sir ; may it ever continue. 
Have you been long favored with it?" 

"Not long," said he. ''Alas, more than forty years 
passed away before I knew any thing about it. I often had 
serious thoughts of eternity. I often meditated on the char- 
acter of God. 1 often thought of the state of man ; and 
I saw such infinite perfection in the Creator, and felt that 
there was so much evil in myself, that at last I concluded 
it was impossible for man — polluted, guilty man, to be ad- 
mitted into heaven ; and I sought for peace in the doctrine 
of annihilation — I say, I sought for peace in this doctrine, 
but I found it not. The thought would often occur, * Sup- 
pose, after all, you should be mistaken ; suppose there 
should be a resurrection of the dead ; suppose you should 
be judged for the deeds done in the body; what then? 
What will become of you?' These thoughts, and thoughts 
like these broke up the delusion in a moment, and made me 
uneasy ; and it is very strange that all this while the doc- 
trine of Christ's atonement was hid from my eyes. I must 
have heard of it, and read of it, times innumerable. My 
parents were religious people, and brought me up in the 
nurture and admonition of the Lord. When I was young, 
I regularly attended the ministry of the word ; and all the 
grand outlines of the Bible have been familiar to me from 
my childhood ; and yet I was as ignorant of the way of sal- 
vation as if I had never seen a Bible. I had no conception 
how * God could be just, and yet the justifier of him that 
believeth in Jesus.' Yes, it was on this point I was com- 
pletely in the dark ; and so it remained until the morning 
w^ien you related the anecdote about the young lady." 

"And what effect did the relation of that anecdote 
produce ?" 

" Indeed, sir, it was wonderful. While you were show- 
ing the fallacy of her hope, and declaring that Jesus Christ 
is the only hope of the lost ; that none can come unto the 
Father but by him ; a flood of light burst upon my mind. 
I saw the whole plan of salvation with as much distinctness 
as if I had studied the subject for a thousand years. All 
that I had read and heard on the subject, seemed to rush 
on my memory at once. I could have explained it to all 
the world. I Avas overwhelmed with joy. 1 saw the ful- 
ness, the freeness, the all-sufficiencv of Christ, in such a cleai 



4 THE FALSE HOPE. 

and glorious manner, that if I had possessed ten thousand 
souls, I could have committed them all into his hands, and 
I did embrace him with joy unspeakable. Indeed, I could 
have rejoiced that moment to have escaped from this earth- 
ly tabernacle, and to have entered the happy world * where 
Jesus is incessantly adored.' " 

Such impassioned language coming from a young man 
of warm temperament would have almost excited our fears ; 
but here I saw a model of meekness, and prudence, and 
thoughtfulness, and sedateness — a Christian opening his 
mind for the first time in his life on the subject of experi- 
mental religion, and in such a way as filled my soul with 
praise. 

Reader, is there not a power, secret, invisible, omnipo- 
tent, which often accompanies pious conversation and the 
preached word ? 

Pause — consider. Hast thou felt it ? 

Is not this power absolutely needful to drive the sinner 
from delusive hopes, and to bring him to rest entirely on 
the merits of Jesus ? Dost thou see the need of it as it 
regards thyself and all thy dealings with the souls of oth- 
ers ? Then ask it of God, with a living faith. 

May it not be feared, that many will read this paper 
whose hope of heaven is not better than the young lady's 
was at the moment when she said, " I hoped to go to heav- 
en, of course ;" and why ? Because she had not injured 
any one, and because she had endeavored to befriend her 
fellow-creatures. 0, reader, away with all such hopes. 
" Behold," saith the Lord God, " I lay in Zion for a foun- 
dation a stone, a tried stone, a precious corner-stone, a sure 
foundation, and whosoever helieveth on Him, shall not be 
ashamed." This foundation is Christ. Rest here, and you 
are safe. 

Why is it that even pious people have not more joy in 
their experience ? Because their views of Christ are not 
sufficiently clear ; or else their faith in him is mingled with 
some secret trusting to a broken reed. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



]¥o. 379, 

SOME MEMORIALS 



OF 



ED¥ARD LEE. 

AN AUTHENTIC RECORD. 



When the grace of God in tlie heart of man appears 
clearly in humble life, it shines with peculiar brightness. 
It was so with the subject of the present notice. He was 
born in the secluded village of Manchester, on the sea-shore, 
in the state of Massachusetts, November 30, 1729, and died 
December 22, 1793. It is therefore now more than forty 
years since his departure, and yet in his native village his 
memory is fresh and blessed, and " his name is as ointment 
poured forth." For that region, he is one of the ''great 
cloud of witnesses ;" and it is a happy thing for a neigh- 
borhood, a church, or a village, to recognize in that heav- 
enly train a particular bright star, that went up on high 
from amidst their own society ; for it exerts a sort of heav- 
enly attraction over all who saw its brightness, and who 
beheld, or were told by others of the glory of its transla- 
tion to heaven. 

Edward Lee's conversion did not occur till he was more 
than thirty years old, and apparently hardened in sin. He 
lived a sailor from his early life, Avith a sailor's recklessness, 
and what was then, peculiarly, a sailor's profaneness. He 
had been blessed with a pious mother, of whom it is related 
that often in the winter season she broke a pathway through 
the drifted snow from her little cottage to the house of God, 
for herself and her fatherless children. Her prayers fol- 
lowed her beloved son amidst all his profaneness, and in 
the midnight storm he seemed to hear her warning voice ; 
and many a night, amidst the terrors of the ocean, he dared 
not close his eyes in sleep, because he feared he might awake 

V VOL. X. '-^O 



2 SOME MEMORIALS OF EDWARD LEE. 

in hell. He was in Lisbon at the time of the great earth- 
quake which destroyed a large portion of that city, and by 
that solemn event was especially alarmed and terrified. 

But all these terrors of soul and convictions of con- 
science wore off, leaving him exceedingly hardened and 
blinded, till, in 1763, a glorious revival of religion was en- 
joyed in a neighboring congregation, so glorious as to attract 
many from his native village, and among others his own 
wife, who became a follower of Christ. For himself, he 
derided the work, declaring that he wanted not a religion 
that had so much noise and excitement ; and he went to the 
scene where the Spirit of God was thus poured out, re- 
solved with his whole heart to oppose it. He " went to 
scoff," but God in mercy met him, and he returned "to 
pray." His convictions of guilt were deep and pungent, 
but for several weeks he remained unreconciled to God, 
though all the while attending meetings, reading his Bible, 
and very earnest in prayer. It was the mere dread of hell 
that led him to these duties, and not the spirit of submission 
and love. 

At length one night, amidst the agony of his convic- 
tions, he resolved to throw himself upon the mercy of his 
Saviour. He arose from his bed, determined that, if he 
must perish, it should be pleading at the feet of Jesus, and 
crying out in the deepest abasement, " Lord, save me, I 
perish ;" " God be merciful to me a sinner." He had no 
sooner done this, than he found peace, even while upon 
his knees in prayer : the moment he ceased from his self- 
righteous efforts, and came to the point of entire submis- 
sion at the foot of the cross, throwing himself on the mercy 
of his Saviour, that moment the Saviour began to appear 
lovely to his soul, his heart was broken, the burden of sin 
removed ; and the night which began almost with the wail- 
ings of despair, was ended in the praises of his Redeemer. 

From that time the life of Edward Lee was one of humil- 
ity, self-denial, gratitude, and prayer. He could scarcely 
ever speak of his conversion without tears ; so deep and 



SOME MEMORIALS OF EDWARD LEE. 3 

vivid was the remembrance of his hardened, guilty, and 
lost condition, and so powerful his sense of the infinite love 
of Christ to his wretched soul. Those things were ever in 
his mind, exciting him to a consecration of all his powers to 
tlmt blessed Being who by his own precious blood had 
redeemed him from such fearful guilt, and saved him from 
such intolerable wrath. His business thenceforward was 
the service of his Saviour, and his supreme anxiety and hap- 
piness was to seek, by all means in his power, to win souls 
to Christ. It was a thorough change, wrought in him by 
the power of the Holy Spirit ; a new creation : from that 
time it might be truly said, that his " life was hid with Christ 
in God," and from that time he entered on the delightful 
work of publishing the goodness of his Saviour. He was 
like blind Bartimeus : 

" Now, methinks, I hear him praising, 
Publishing to all around, 
' Friends, is not my case amazing ? 
What a Saviour I have found !' " 

He went first to his reckless seafaring hretliren ; and we 
may easily conceive with what astonishment they would 
see Edward Lee, that hardened scoffer, now a humble be- 
liever, pleading with them to flee to the Lamb of God ; 
assuring them, from his own blessed experience, of the 
preciousness of Christ, and the glory, the fulness, and the 
freeness of salvation. 

After uniting with the church of Christ, he followed his 
occupation as usual for the support of his family, and dur- 
ing a voyage in a fishing vessel, spent so much of his time 
in exhortation and prayer, that his shipmates thought him 
mad. He did not, however, remain with them long, for he 
began to feel as if he were out of the path of duty at sea, 
and his soul panted with such earnestness after the privi- 
leges of the sanctuary and the salvation of souls, that he 
longed to be again on shore, and to go from place to place 
with the messages of mercy. Accordingly, when they fell 



4 SOME MEMORIALS OF EDWARD LEE. 

in witli a homewardbound vessel, the captain consented that 
he should- return home,, rejoicing, perhaps, to be delivered 
from his holy faithfulness and importunity. 

When he got back, he speedily made known the state 
of his feelings to his minister, and his panting desires to go 
forth into the highways and hedges in pursuit of sinners, and 
"compel them to come in." His pastor very judiciously 
advised him to labor to do good in the little neighborhood 
where God in his providence had fixed his sphere ; and the 
course he took on receiving the advice was a proof of the 
depth and humility, as well as the fervor of his piety. He 
went away to a place in the forest knoAvn only to himself, 
to seek counsel of God by fasting and prayer ; and he ex- 
perienced the truth of the declaration, that God is the guide 
and "rewarder of them who diligently seek him." 

He had a pious sister, a widow, who lived in a little 
cottage not far from the borders of the forest. Just as the 
sun was setting her brother Edward came in, his eyes 
swollen and red with weeping, while his face shone as 
from immediate communion with God. "Rejoice with 
me," said he, " my dear sister, for Christ has been with 
me ;" the Saviour, he said, had accepted the desires of his 
heart to plead in his name with perishing sinners. At the 
same time he expressed himself fully satisfied with the 
advice of his good minister, and willing to use his "one 
talent " at home, and to do with his might whatever God 
in his goodness might give him opportunity of doing. 

His holy desires for usefulness were no wild uncertain 
impulse, but the work of the Holy Spirit in his heart; 
and from this time till the period of his death, for more 
than thirty years, he was " a burning and a shining light," 
irradiating with a steady, and steadily increasing lustre, the 
sphere of life he occupied. His course was consistent as 
well as fervent, and every year he gained a greater influence 
as a man of God. He owned a house, with a barn and a 
few acres of land attached to it ; and after the day described 
above as spent in fasting and prayer in the forest, he estab- 



SOxME MEMORIALS UF EDWARD LEE. 5 

lished a ''conference meeting'' in his oion cottage — every 
Thursday afternoon being consecrated to the worship of 
God, even if none but his own family attended — a practice 
maintained till his death, and in which, as the priest in his 
own household during the long period of thirty years, he 
must have found great enjoyment, and accomplished much 
for God. Even to this day, though the house he inhabited 
is no lono-er standing, yet the spot where it stood, and the 
fields around it, look like holy ground to those who remem- 
ber the character of its tenant. It was indeed a Bethel for 
all who visited it ; and such was his love towards those of 
every denomination, in whom he could trace the image of 
his divine Master, and such the open hospitality of his httle 
store, that his house might be truly called the pilgrim's 
home ; and many a weary traveller has left its lowly roof 
with tears of gratitude for its blessed refreshment. His 
homely fare was seasoned with cordial love ; but, with a 
sort of jealousy for the Lord's goodness, he would never 
allow an apology to be made over the food upon his table, 
but would mildly and affectionately reprove his wife and 
children if they made any, by saying, " 0, do not say so ; 
it is all better than we poor sinners deserve, and is given to 
us sinners only through the mercy of Christ." 

" The little that a righteous man hath is better than the 
riches of many wicked." Edward Lee's family thought 
that he gave away at least an eighth of his little income ; 
and yet, with all this, he left enough for the support of his 
widow for twenty years or more after his death. He was 
industrious, frugal, and temperate in all his habits: "dili- 
gent in business, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord;" obey- 
ing as faithfully and consistently the one precept as the 
other. And he was so conscientious in all his dealings, and 
at the same time so anxious to embrace every opportunity 
of winning souls to Christ, that if, when on his way to a 
day's work, he stopped to converse with any person, as was 
often the case, he would run to regain the time, that he 
micrht not wronjr his em plover. It was said of him, that he 
VOL. X. 20* 



6 SOME MEMORIALS OF EDWARD LEE. 

always walked " like one that doetli the kmg's business, 
that requixeth haste." Such, also, was his scrupulous ten^ 
derness of conscience, that once, when he thought he had 
not given enough by a penny to some fishermen with whom 
he had been dealing, he went back and insisted upon their 
taking fourfold. After his conversion he never used any 
intoxicating drink ; and even the habit of tobacco-chewing, 
to which, like all sailors, he was idolatrously devoted, he at 
once renounced, nor ever again used that pernicious weed 
in any way. 

His habits in regard to the Sabbath illustrated his piety, 
for he was a strict observer of its holiness, would never 
suffer any unnecessary work to be done in his family on that 
day ; and if he saw any one pass who he thought was vio- 
lating its sacredness, would go out of his house and with 
tears expostulate Avith the individual. His soul was greatly 
grieved by the carelessness of man)' professors of religion 
in resrard to the Sabbath, and he Avas said often to have 
spent the Avhole night of that sacred day in prayers and 
weeping on account of their unholy observance of it. Tlie 
intermission season between the morning and afternoon 
services, he Avas accustomed to spend in the house of God, 
exhorting and praying Avith his brethren. He Avas ahvays 
early at the sanctuary, and Avas Avont to stand up from the 
commencement of its sacred services till their end : his 
whole appearance in the house of prayer, his silver locks, 
his heavenly smile, his holy attitude, forming a delightful 
image of the happiness of the Christian in the worship of 
God. 

The communion Sabbath Avas doubly sacred and dear to 
him ; and in preparation for its solemn and affecting ordi- 
nances he Avas most assiduous. The Friday before the 
Lord's supper he always spent, in his favorite Bethel in the 
Avoods, in fasting and in prayer ; and that he might not 
appear unto men to fast, he Avould bring home at night, as 
usual, a burden of Avood upon his shoulders. Thus diH- 
gently waiting upon the Lord, the sacred feast could not 



SOME MEMORIALS OF EDWARD LEE. 7 

well be otherwise to him than a season of great refreshment 
and spiritual jo}^ preceded as it was by such earnest and 
humble prostration of soul in preparation for its observance. 

His habits of conversation and expostulation with the 
impenitent were a portion of his life and character too 
remarkable not to be particularly noticed. He might emi- 
nently be said to be a living commentary on that exhorta- 
tion of the apostle, to " walk in wisdom towards them that 
are without, redeeming the time." He accounted the sea- 
son of probation as unutterably precious — the seedtime of 
eternity, and he would not waste a moment. Indeed, like 
the apostle, he " ceased not to warn every one night and 
day with tears." He never walked far in the street Avith 
any person, whether a stranger or an acquaintance, without 
asking if the individual's peace were made with God. 

It was his custom to visit every family in the village 
once a year, to inquire after their spiritual Avelfare ; and the 
houses of affliction and death were at all times sure of his 
visits and prayers. A pious lady recollects his visiting in 
her family one day, when he observed that he felt it as 
much his duty to come there that afternoon, as if an earthly 
parent had bid him go upon some special errand. The love 
of Christ, and a near view of eternity, rendered him supe- 
rior to the fear of man ; and he would speak as freely of 
heaven and hell in the parlor of the rich, as in the cabin of 
the poor. 

Calling once upon a family of high repute in his native 
village, he began, in his usual fervent manner, to speak of 
the wonders of redeeming love ; and upon the lady of the 
house reproving him for speaking so loudly, " Oh, madam," 
said he, " to what Avorld can you go where there are not 
loud voices? In heaven the saints and ano-els sins: the 
songs of glory aloud, and in hell the devils and damned 
spirits weep and wail aloud." 

When pleading with the unconverted, he seemed like a 
tender father who sees his house on fire, with his children 
asleep under the falUng roof; and though his appearance 



8 SOME MEMORIALS OF EDWARD LEE. 

was always cheerful and happy, yet he might be said, with 
Paul, to have " great heaviness and continual sorrow of 
heart" on account of perishing sinners around him. 

The year before he died, he made a visit to some friends 
in the country, and one night put up at an inn where a 
country hall had commenced. He asked to be admitted 
into the ballroom, and they gave him admission, not a lit- 
tle curious to see what would be the result, and probably 
expecting a triumph on their own part ; but no sooner had 
he entered, than he began to speak on the one theme that 
absorbed his soul, with such fervency and power, that the 
music ceased, the dancing was suspended, the place, which 
had resounded with merriment, became silent and solemn ; 
and the evening, which commenced in thoughtless gayety, 
was spent in holy exhortation, and closed with prayer. 

In the month of May, 1*780, there was a very terrific 
dark day in New England, when all faces seemed to gather 
blackness, and the people were filled with fear. There was 
great distress in the village where Edward Lee lived, men's 
hearts failing them with fear that the judgment- day was at 
hand ; and the neighbors all flocked around the Inoly man, 
for his lamp was trimmed, and shining brighter than ever 
amidst the unnatural darkness. Happy and joyful in God, 
he pointed them to their only i-efuge from the wrath to 
come, and spent the gloomy hours in earnest prayer for the 
distressed multitude. His nephew, who was then a little 
child, in after-life retained a lively recollection of that scene ; 
and his childish feelings are an interesting exhibition of the 
manner in which Mr. Lee was regarded, for he felt not the 
least alarm in his presence, thinking that he was perfectly 
safe where his good uncle was, even if the day of judgment 
had come. 

The children of the village all loved him, and rejoiced 
if they could do him a kindness. He had always a most 
humbling sense of his own unworthiness, and a lively grat- 
itude for any favor conferred. He would bless his bene- 
factors with tears, and would say, " I hope my God will 



SOME MEMORIALS OF EDWARD LEE. 9 

reward you a thousand- fold from the upper and the nether 
springs, for your kindness to one so sinful and unworthy." 
Always, in answer to every salutation, he made mention of 
the divine goodness. He Avas chastised with many afflic- 
tions, for our Lord hath said, "as many as I love, I rebuke 
and chasten," and God is not a father who will spare the 
rod and spoil his children. Sanctified afflictions are one of 
the sweetest, surest proofs of adoption and sonship. 

Within a few months, Edward Lee was called to mourn 
the loss of two beloved sons at sea ; but amidst his keenest 
sorrows, he felt that God Avas doing it all ; and while he 
wept, he said, that if the mere turning of his hand would 
reverse the decision of Providence, and bring them both 
to life again, he could not do it. God, Avho gave, had taken 
them, and it was right, and blessed be his name. 

The most remarkable feature in the life of this holy man 
is yet to be mentioned — his habits of prayer. Here was 
the secret of his power — his close walk Avith God. A great 
while before day, he Avould arise and retire to a solitary 
place to commune Avith God. His spirit of prayer Avas 
seen in his family Avorship ; and in the day, besides the de- 
votions of the morning, he Avould labor the harder, that he 
might have time to retire aAvhile, both forenoon and after- 
noon, for secret prayer. Then, too, at midnight he Avas 
Avont to arise and give thanks to God, and agonize in prayer 
for the Avorld's evangelization. A fcAv days before he died, 
some of his Christian friends being around his bed, he 
pointed them to a spot on the floor, and obserA'ed, that for 
more than thirty 5'ears, Avith the exception of ten days' 
severe illness, he had risen from his bed every night and 
knelt on that spot, and prayed for a dying Avorld's salva- 
tion. Happy man in such faithfulness ! 

His power in prayer made him eminently useful in 
seasons of reviA^al. It Avas said of him, that he Avas at all 
times dear to saints, but at such times he Avas sougrht out 
by anxious sinners. His minister often used to say, " I am 
but a babe to brother Lee ; I prize his prayers more than 



10 SUME MEMORIALS OF EDWARD LEE. 

gold." He loved and prayed much for the ministers of 
Christ. He prayed in faith, and watched and expected an 
answer from God. Before his death, he told his family of 
the spiritual joy he had received in prayer for a number of 
persons, who, he doubted not, would be heirs of salvation, 
and who have been converted years since the holy man 
went home to glory. He seems to have had an inward 
assurance or token of the acceptance of his prayers. He 
prayed much for seamen, and ''wrestled" in prayer for 
doors to be opened for the spread of the Gospel in heathen 
lands. In reference to his own family, he had the happi- 
ness to see his prayers answered in the conversion of three 
of his daughters. 

The examidle of such a man, the spectacle of his life 
and conversation, could not be otherwise than powerful. 
The most hardened infidels would always acknowledge that 
Edward Lee was indeed a Christian ; and the present min- 
ister of the church in Manchester often has occasion to allude 
to his memory. His nephew, who spent his life as a sea- 
man, but died in the hope of Christ, declared, at the close 
of life, that he thought he should have reason to bless God 
through eternity, that, in his youth, he had an uncle Edward 
Lee ; for, after seeing the different religions of other na- 
tions, and the inconsistent lives of many in his own country 
who professed to be followers of Christ, had it not been for 
the impressions made upon his youthful mind of the reality 
of the religion of Christ by the godly life of his uncle Lee, 
he should probably have lived and died an infidel. The 
limits of these pages will not permit the mention of numer- 
ous instances in which his labors were blessed to the con- 
version of souls. Without doubt many are with him in 
glory, and doubtless others will yet be brought in, by whom 
his happy soul will be encircled in the day of the Lord 
Jesus, recognized as the children whom the Lord hath given 
him as the seals of his faithfulness and crowns of his rejoic- 
ing- 

The scene of his death was deeply interesting. He was 



SOME MEMORIALS OF EDWARD LEE. 1 1 

daily visited by the people of God, each one hoping to catch 
the falling mantle, and listening to the words of fervent 
exhortation, encouragement, warning, and triumph, that fell 
from the lips of this departing saint. It was a chamber 
privileged far beyond the common death-bed of the Chris- 
tian. He still pleaded with the unconverted to flee from 
the wrath to come, and with the followers of Christ that 
they would live near to God, and labor for the world's sal- 
vation. His joys were very great, and as he drew near to 
the river of death, the borders of eternity, at times he had 
such views of the celestial city as would quite overpower 
his feeble frame. The atoning blood, the pardoning love of 
Christ was all his hope and all his theme, ascribing the 
whole glory of his salvation to the riches of infinite grace in 
the Redeemer of sinners. He died, breaking forth in an 
ecstasy of joy so strong, that his voice was heard for some 
distance from the cottage : " Farewell, vain world ! I long 
to drop this sinful, dying body ! I long for death, for my 
Saviour has taken its sting from my never-dyino- soul. I 
would not be translated as Enoch and Elijah Avere for a 
thousand worlds. Oh, no ; I long to lie down in the grave, 
for there my Saviour has lain, and I know that my Re- 
deemer LIVETH !" 

The character of an eminently good man is always 
written on high, but not always in this world. If the life 
of Edward Lee could be written, it would be a spiritual 
record — the record, as we have intimated, of a life ''hid 
with Christ in God.^^ Its events were not many, but when 
a man's life is so hidden, it shines very brightly. The 
world. do not see its inward, hidden processes ; but they see 
its outward shinings, and are constrained to admire them. 
And it is just as impossible for a man to be thus inwardly 
united to Christ, and not outwardly live to his glory, as it 
is for a diamond to be placed in the sun and not shine. 

The life of Edward Lee is a bright example of the 
power of holiness. It shows the vast amount of usefulness 



X2 SOME MEMORIALS OF EDWARD LEE. 

which the humblest private Christian may be the means of 
accomphshing through the holy activity with which he can 
adorn his profession. The power of Edward Lee's charac- 
ter, humble as he was in life, Avas very great. Bold blas- 
phemers feared him ; the thoughtless and the gay were 
sober and silent in his presence ; the good revered and 
loved him, and many of the bad were brought to repent- 
ance. So Qfreat is the influence of holiness. A man of 
many miracles could not gain a greater power than that 
perpetual miracle, eminent holiness — a close walk with God 
long maintained — will confer upon the Christian. 

Again, his life is an eminent example of tJie power of 
prayer. He spent much time in prayer, and seems to have 
wrestled with God habitually ; and this was the secret of 
all his attainments. that all who love the Lord Jesus 
would walk as closely with their God ; how rapidly would 
the kingdom of our Saviour then be advanced ! Indeed, 
when the church has many such praying saints in her 
ranks, the world will speedily be converted. For, it is not 
the bustling, but the praying Christian, who does the work, 
and is honored bj the Lord as his successful instrument in 
performing it. Prayer will certainly lead to external labor, 
but exte2-nal labor is nothing without prayer. Let us then 
remember our entire dependence on the Holy Spirit, and 
pray without ceasing. So shall we have the blessed privi- 
lege of doing something for our risen Lord, who is infinitely 
worthy " to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and 
strength, and honor, and glory, and blessing, for ever and 
ever." 



No. 380. 

THE 

SPIRIT GRIEVED. 

A NARRATIVE OF FACTS. 



In January, 1825, Mr. H , of S , New York, 

where I was preaching, called upon me, and taking me by 
the hand, said, " Sir, do you think there is any mercy in 
heaven for a man who has sinned more than eighty years?" 

"There is mercy," I replied, "for those who repent of 
sin, and believe on the Lord Jesus Christ." 

"But, sir, do you think it possible that God will forgive 
a man who has rebelled against him eighty-one years ?" 
This inquiry was made with a solemnity and earnestness 
that showed the deep and strong emotions of his soul. He 
was again directed to Christ as the only source of mercy, 
and exhorted to cast himself without delay on him. 

Still pressing my hand, while tears were flowing over 
his wrinkled cheeks, and his frame trembling, he more ear- 
nestly renewed his inquiry, "My dear sir, do you believe 
that God will forgive a man who has rebelled against him 
eighty-one years in this world?" Before a word was ut- 
tered in reply, he cried out in agony, " I know I shall not 
be forgiven — I shall die in my sins!" 

This caused me to ask how he knew, or what induced 
him to believe that God would never have mercy on him. 

He replied, " I will tell you, and disclose what I never 
uttered to any human being. When I was twenty-one, I 
was awakened to feel that I was a sinner. I was then inti- 
mate with a number of young men, and was ashamed to 
have them knoAv that I was anxious for my soul. For five 
or six weeks I read my Bible, and prayed every day in se- 
cret. Then / said in my heart one day, I will init this sub- 
ject off until I am married and settled in life, and then I 
will attend to my souVs salvation. But I Jcneio that I was 
doing wrong. 

" After I was settled in the world, I thought of 'the 
resolution I had made, and of my solemn promise to God 

VOL. X. 21 



2 THE SPIRIT GRIEVED. 

then to make my peace with him. But as I had no dispo- 
sition to do so, I again said in my heart, ' I will put off this 
subject ten years, and then prepare to die.' 

" The time came, and I remembered my promise ; but 
I had no special anxiety about my salvation. Then did I 
again postpone, and resolve that if God would spare me 
through another term of years, I would certainly attend to 
the concerns of my soul. God kindly spared me ; but I 
was still careless, and lived on in my sins ; and now I see 
my awful situation. I am lost. Now I believe that I sinned 
against the Holy Ghost when I was twenty- one, and that I 
have lived sixty years since my day of grace was past. / 
know that I shall not he forgiven.^'' 

This simple-hearted history of his life, and the deep and 
awful feelings exhibited, affected and alarmed me. It ex- 
cited deep compassion, find inexpressible interest for his 
spiritual welfare ; and called up the question. Is this man 
among the unhappy number who, Avhile on earth, have 
sinned away their day of grace ? 

I inquired if he was willing that we should pray with 
him. "Yes," he replied, "but it will do no good." The 
fearful certainty of destruction evinced by this repl}^ affected 
to tears all who were present, while it roused to deeper in- 
tensity the hope that his state was not what he believed it 
to be. 

He bowed the knee with us, and wept as prayer was 
made for him, and even continued our supplications in a 
few words from his own lips ; when he wept aloud, and 
rising, spoke in such a manner as to pierce every heart, "It 
will do no good, God will never hear me." 

This appalling declaration, made by a man in the vig- 
orous exercise of all his mental faculties, and of his bodily 
powers, and made with so much tenderness and apparent 
conviction of its truth, spread a gloom over the mind inder 
scribably awful. Yet I still had hope of his salvation. 

After this, for weeks and months, I had frequent inter- 
views with him. I always found him in deep distress. He 
would request me to pray for him, or was willing to be the 
subject of prayer when it was proposed. But this blight- 
ing sentiment was always foremost in his thoughts, "It will 
do' no good." The Saviour was often held up to his view, 
and he v/as told of the efficacy of the blood of Christ in 



THE SPIRIT GRIEVED. 3 

cleansing from sin, and urged to accept of salvation freely 
and sincerely offered ; but it was all in vain. The hope of 
salvation could not be awakened within him. 

His very distress alarmed me. It w^as not contrition, or 
repentance for sin, but the anticipation of wrath to come. 
This filled him with horror. He looked back and saw what 
he had done. Then, with the rapidity of lightning, his 
mind darted forward to the eternity of misery before him. 
With no disposition to repent of his sins, he always antici- 
pated and dwelt upon the horror and anguish of his irre- 
versible doom. Often did his fearful forebodings remind 
me of those concerning whom the apostle affirms, " There 
remaineth no more sacrifice for sins, but a certain fearful 
looking for of judgment and fiery indignation^ 

Towards the close of the year which opened upon him 
with such dark and cheerless prospects, he was seized with 
sickness that soon removed him to the world of retribution. 
During the intervals of reason, he had the most fearful an- 
ticipations of the future, and said he expected the wrath of 
God in eternity. On the night he died, he still believed 
that, at the age of twenty-one, he grieved the Holy Spirit 
away for ever. He left the Avorld under the awful convic- 
tion, as he said, that his soul was sinking into hell. We 
follow him no farther ; we attempt not to lift the curtain 
that hides him from our view ; but his departure made a 
most fearful and gloomy impression on my mind, and has 
always been associated with the words of Christ, " The last 
state of that man is worse than the first." 

This history, which is strictly a. narrative of facts, may 
appeal not only to the aged, but to the young. 

Your day of grace, dear reader, may not extend to the 
close of life. It may already have passed. Think not this 
suggestion too alarming to be true. God has said, " My 
Spirit shall not always strive with man." " I will hide my 
face from them, I will see what their end shall be." " Fill 
ye up, then, the measure of your fathers." 

These passages, and many others, assure you that some 
sinners are abandoned of God, and yet live for years, in 
which they only prepare for a deeper perdition. Do you 
Tcnoiu that you are not among the number ? How infinitely 
momentous the inquiry, " Am I given up of God ? Have 
I grieved away the Spirit for ever?" Remember, my dear 



4 THE SPIRIT grievf:d. 

friend, that unbelief and indifference to this subject are 
among the "evident tokens of perdition." That man, of 
whom you have now read, said, that until a few hours be- 
fore the conversation above narrated, it did not occur to 
him, during sixty years, that he Avas forsaken of God. 
Have you not been an awakened sinner ? Has not the 
Spirit striven with you ? Have you not grieved him away, 
and can you say, It is not for ever? 

Nothing will be more fatal to your hopes than to in- 
dulge the confidence that your time of mercy will extend 
to the end of life. Alas, your day of grace may be passed, 
and yet you may be secure in sin. " When they shall say. 
Peace and safety, then sudden destruction cometh upon 
them, and they shall not escape." 

Let it be imprinted on your memory, that to postpone 
the day of repentance, is to destroy your soul. 

Perhaps you say, " I do not mean to postpone for ever." 
Who ever did ? But have you not secretly deferred this 
subject to a definite, or to an uncertain time ? The unhappy 
man, Avhose history is before you, 7iever designed an eternal 
'postponement. To have resolved to defer repentance until 
his death- bed, or until his day of grace had gone by, would 
have been horrible in his view. But mark the deceptive 
influence of delay. Did not his brief delays cover the whole 
field of mercy, and extend far beyond the time when God 
said of him, ''He is joined to idols, let him alone." Was 
not the blow of eternal death struck when he was yet a 
young man ? During those sixty years of indiff"erence, and 
yet of hope in his view, could angels have wept, w^ould not 
their tears have fallen over this delaying and ruined sinner? 
Awake, then, immortal reader ! awake at the call of the 
Holy Ghost, and speedily take refuge in Jesus Christ ! To 
delay is to destroy yourself. His arms will not always be 
stretched forth to save ; he will not always wait to be 
gracious. '' To-day,^' saith the Holy Ghost, "if ye will 
hear his voice, harden not your heart." " Whereas ye 
know not what shall he on the morroio.^^ 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



]\o. 381. 

"WE ARE ALL HERE." 



And that we are so, is surely a cause of great astonish- 
ment to angels, and of envy and wrath to devils. Yes, 
blessed be God, "we are all here" — here in health and 
■fetrength — hei'e in the enjoyment of ten thousand blessings 
of a kind Providence — here in possession of the inestimable 
means of salvation — all of us here, and out of hell. 

Yes, '' ive are all here'' — here in the land of the living, 
and in the enjoyment of a day of salvation. But on the 
HOLY Sabbath, when God sends his servants to speak to us 
in his name all the things he has commanded, as he sent 
Peter to Cornelius and his friends, where are we ? Answer, 
Sabbath -breaker, to your own conscience answer. Are 
you in that place where you know the servant of the Most 
High God shall come ? Where God, in infinite love, shall 
send his messengers of mercy and grace to men ? Alas 
for you, you are not ; your empty pew, your own accusing 
conscience, your grieving minister, the angels of God, and 
God himself, being witnesses. 

But where are you '? At home, enjoying the company of 
a visitor, who, not to hinder business, his own or yours, on 
a week-day, dares himself to violate God's most holy Sab- 
bath, to neglect public worship and the salvation of his own 
soul, and to hinder you, through your false love or fear of 
him, from doing your duty to God, your own soul, the 
world, and the church of the Redeemer. Heaven-daring, 
soul-ruininof visits are these. You both are, but it is of the 
Lord's mercy that you are out of hell, and that you were 
not struck dead — he for his sinful visit, and you for being 
detained from the house of God for his sake. How will 
such a visit appear to you on your dying bed ? Would you 
desire to spend your last Sabbath so ? 

But lohere are you ? At home ; too indolent and too care- 
less of God, your soul, and eternity, to put yourself to the 
trouble of going to the house of prayer. Too indolent to 
obey God ; too indolent to secure the salvation of your never- 
dying soul. 0, if another treated your everlasting welfare 
as you yourself do, all the world would hear your com- 

VOL. X. 21*^ 



2 " WE ARE ALL HERE." 

plaints. But it is 7/ourseIf thai thus slight and neglect your 
own soul. And do death and judgment stand still to wait 
your leisure ? O no, the judgment of God *'lingereth not ; 
and your damnation," Sabbath-breaker, " slumbereth not." 
The day is hastening on, will soon be here, when your ref- 
uges of lies shall be swept away — " your covenant with 
death, and your agreement with hell " disannulled ; and 
what will you do in that day ? Reproach your minister 
because he did not warn you ? No, but you will curse your- 
self because you set at naught his warnings, and neglected 
the messages of salvation he brought to you from God. 
Your blood shall be upon your own head. 

But 2vhe7'e are you ? You started on Saturday afternoon, 
it may be, to 'pay a visit to your friend — there, however, to 
go to church on Sabbath morning, and return home in the 
evening. This is professedly robbing God of half his day ; 
but in truth, of the whole of it. What were the topics of 
conversation on the Lord's-day morning between you and 
your friend ? And how many little businesses of a worldly 
nature Avere settled, and how many engagements made, after 
you had returned from church, and just before you started 
for home ? Ah, you know, and God knows it was not ne- 
cessity, nor mercy, nor a desire to Avorship God, that took 
you there on his holy day, but some worldly, and sinful, and 
selfish motive. You may have gone to church to satisfy 
your own wounded conscience ; but the motives which took 
you from home not having been spiritual, but carnal, it is 
numbered among broken Sabbaths, for which you must give 
account. And are you a 2)rofessor of religion who do this ? 
What an example do you set, and Avhat a stumbling-block 
do you make yourself to others. 

But where are others ? We cannot tell. But God can ; 
and they are equally in his presence, and before him, when 
breaking his holy Sabbath, as when keeping it ; and he has 
written it in his book, and by and by he will inform an as- 
sembled world to their everlasting shame. Perhaps they 
are employed in posting their accounts, or in making them 
out, or in collecting their debts. Perhaps they are reading 
the news of the day, or sauntering in their gardens or fields, 
or riding out to enjoy country air and country scenery, or 
entertaining a gay party of friends and acquaintances, or 
sitting in the bar-room ; or, it may be, they are even now 



"WE ARE ALL HERE." 3 

tossing, in pain of body and agony of mind, upon a bed of 
death, oppressed with the guilt of broken Sabbaths, and 
with a " certain fearful looking for of judgment and of fiery 
indignation, which shall devour the adversaries ;" or being 
conveyed to the judgment ; or " lifting up their eyes in hell, 
being in torment." For "this shall be the portion of their 
cup" " who know not God, and who obey not the Gospel 
of our Lord Jesus Christ ; who shall be punished with ever- 
lasting destruction from the presence of the Lord, and from 
the glory of his power." " How shall we escape, if we neg- 
lect so great salvation?" 

" We are all here.'' Alas, Jiow few families can say, in 
the house of God on his holy Sabbath, "■ We are all here''' 
We speak not of those who are obliged to stay at home. 
No. Where there is necessity for us to be, there it is our 
duty to be. We speak of those only who stay away from 
choice. Here is the mother, but where is the father ? Here 
are the parents ; but, parents, where are your children ? 
Here are some of them, but where are the others ? Parents, 
you and all your house should be present before God in his 
sanctuary on the Sabbath-day. And if, with your consent, 
unrestrained and unwarned, they are loitering at home, or 
gone on a visit on this holy day, you have much to fear, 
both for them and yourselves ; and much, very much to 
account for to God. Of your family you ought to be able, 
every Sabbath, to say, with Cornelius, " Now are we all 
here present before God, to hear all things commanded thee 
of God." 

"We are all here." Who? All the members of the 
church? Surely they can say, every Sabbath-day, " We 
are all here present." We mean all who are not detained 
by absolute necessity. This is what ought to be, and no 
more than what ought to be, on every Sabbath-day. But is 
it so ? Can all the members of the church say in the house 
of God, every Sabbath-day, when they could and ought to 
be there, "We are all here present before God?" 

Would to God it were so ; but alas, the assembly of 
every Sabbath makes it manifest that it is not. And shall 
we wonder at men of the world absentin^r themselves from 
the house of God, and breaking the Sabbath, and trifling 
with their souls and eternity, with God, with the Saviour, 
with the Holy Spirit, with heaven and Avith hell, when the 



4 " WE ARE ALL HERE." 

very members of the church, by their example, teach them 
so? m.embers of the church, will you break your minis- 
ters' hearts, wound the minds of your brethren, and grieve 
the Holy Spirit, by making your own selves and your own 
conduct the very stones upon Avhich multitudes shall stum- 
ble into hell. Shall we wonder that men of the world are 
absent, when you are not present before God in his house 
on his holy day ? Should not you be the light of the world — 
the guides of them that are blind ? Will you then cause 
darkness to rest upon all around you, and guide those who 
take you for their example of goodness and piety, into " ever- 
lasting burnings ?" Are you not the only professed people 
of God? And are not many around you ready to justify 
their own evil ways by the lamentable inconsistency of yours ? 
While you live so, your ministers may preach and write 
as plainly and faithfully as angels would, but they will 
preach in vain so long as your example goes against the 
truth. Your neighbors will look to you, and refuse to hear 
them. members of the church of Christ, wash you, make 
you clean from this blood of souls. Be all of you present 
before God, in his house, on his holy Sabbath. Let no 
excuse keep you back, but such as would justify you before 
God for not purchasing an estate, or transacting the most 
important business, at the appointed time ; and most surely 
no trifling visit to a friend, no impertinent visitor at your 
house, no love of ease, no gayety nor society, neither the 
bad state of the roads, nor of the weather, would deter you 
from these. May they who read this, and who are guilty 
of misspending the holy Sabbath, humble themselves before 
God, and resolve, by his grace, to " remember the Sabbath- 
day to keep it holy," and to be " all here,'" in his house, 
"present before God." If they do not, this warning, so 
affectionately given, will witness against them in that day 
when, whether they will it or not, they too must be present 
before God. And better for them that they ''had never 
been born." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



I¥o. 38S, 

HAYE ME EXCUSED. 



Fellow-sinner, " Why will you die?^^ Know you not 
that you are under sentence of death ? " The soul that sin- 
neth, it shall die." How can you escape ? Jesus Christ 
ALONE can save you from eternal death : '' There is none 
other name whereby we must be saved." Through him 
you may be saved, if you will : " Whosoever will, let him 
take the water of life freely." A rich feast is prepared, and 
you are entreated to eat and live for ever : *' Come, for all 
things are now ready." Will you come ? Why not ? " 7 
pray thee have me excused ^ Excused ? Why ? 

1. "I AM TOO YOUNG." Bless God that you are young. 
"They that seek me early shall find me." If you are old 
enough to sin, you are old enough to repent of sin. If you 
have done wrong, you cannot be sorry for it too soon. Are 
you old enough to die ? Then you are not too young to 
prepare for death. The sooner you seek God, the easier it 
will be. That little twig you can pull up with your thumb 
and finger ; soon, the mighty oak will brave the storms of 
heaven. Wait not until sin has twined its roots around a 
rocky heart. " Remember noiu thy Creator in the days of 
thy youth, while the evil days come not." " But, 

2. *' I AM TOO FOND OF THE WORLD." And do you mean 
then to take your fill of the pleasures of the world before 
you repent ? Will you give your best days to Satan, and a 
miserable fraction of your life to God ? Will you thus put 
off your Creator? And for what? For the merest vanity. 
How often, as you have returned from the haunts of dissi- 
pation, from the theatre, the ballroom, or the party of 
pleasure, have you been forced to exclaim, " All is vanity 
and vexation of spirit ?" How often, like Colonel Gardiner, 
" the happy rake," have you groaned in the anguish of your 
spirit, and wished yourself a dog ? The time ivill come, if 
not now, when you will be sick of the world. How will the 
thought of time thus wasted, then torture your soul. Why 
prepare these thorns for a dying pillow ? 0, give up the 



2 HAVE ME EXCUSED. 

world before it is torn from you. *' Beware of the flat- 
terer." Let the empty bubble go. Seek " fulness of joy," 
and "pleasures for evermore." ''But, 

3. "Professors are such gloomy people." All are 
not. Some cannot describe their joy. All true Christians 
say, that they never knew joy until converted. Some will 
tell you, that they have had more happiness in one hour 
since, than in years before. Some, indeed, there are, " hav- 
ing a form of godliness, but denying the power thereof," 
that are gloomy enough. Others are Laodiceans, " neither 
cold nor hot." How can such be happy ? It is for want 
of piety that they are gloomy. Let them enter with all 
their hearts into the service of God, and they will be as 
happy as heart can wish. Do you doubt it ? Try it. 
God's word for it, you shall " rejoice with joy unspeakable 
and full of glory." But it may be, they are sad on your 
account. They see you dancing on the very brink of the 
bottomless pit, and how can they help weeping ? Let them 
see you turning to God, and their grief will be turned to 
joy. Will you turn and fill the heart of a dear parent, per- 
haps, with joy ? " Turn ye, turn ye, for why will ye die ?" 

4. " I HAVE NO TIME TO ATTEND TO IT." No time ? And 
what was time given for? To spend in pleasure ? To heap 
up riches ? And is this your home ? Can you say, " Soul, 
thou hast much goods laid up for many years ?" God may 
sa}^, " Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of 
thee," Yes, you 7nust die, and leave all behind. There are 
treasures in heaven worth seeking. " Palms of victory, 
crowns of glory," thrones on high, are set before you. 
Do you wait for a leisure day ? So did Felix : " Go thy 
way for this time ; when I have a convenient season I will 
call for thee." The convenient season may never come. 
Cares increase with years. And if it should come, it may 
not be convenient for God to attend to thee then. What 
does that mean : " Ye shall seek me, and shall die in your 
sins ?" Will you not take time to seek him now ? 

5. "There is time enough yet." Has God told you 
that ? How then do you know ? Have you made a " cove- 
nant with death ?" It " shall be disannulled." An " ao-ree- 



HAVE ME EXCUSED. 



ment with hell ?" It " shall not stand." Are you so sure 
that you have time enough, that you can venture to banish 
all thoughts of your conversion until a fixed day ? Why 
not, if there is time enough ? Can you ask God to let you 
sin as much as you wish till then ? Why not, if you have 
time enough ? And if he should hear such a prayer, are 
you sure that you will repent when that day comes ? Will 
it be any easier then ? What, when you have grown gray 
in sin ? Ask that old man if he has time enough. " 0, yes ; 
time hangs very heavy on my hands." Why don't you then 
repent? ''Ah, but my heart is too hard. / can't feel. '' 
Fellow-sinner, let me beg of you not to wait until your 
heart too is cased in steel. " 'Tis madness to defer," *' But, 

6. " I MUST TAKE MORE TIME TO THINK OF IT." To think 

of what ? Whether the Bible is true ? "I know that thou 
believest." Whether you are a sinner? You know it. 
Whether you must be lost forever if you should die as you 
are? You have not a doubt of it. Whether the Lord Jesus 
Christ can save you ? You cannot question it. Whether 
to become a Christian before you die? You have "no 
thought of dying" as you are. What then? "Why, to 
know whether I had better make it all sure nowT But you 
are sinking into the burning pit. The flames are spreading 
all around you. Soon escape will be impossible. There is 
but a step between thee and death. How can you escape 
too soon ? Would you ever have any reason to be sorry for 
it, if you should become a Christian this moment ? Then 
why delay another moment ? 

Y. " I AM NOT so BAD AS OTHERS." That may be. But 
why ? It is sovereign grace that has kept you from being 
a vile reprobate. And will you make that very grace a 
reason for continuing in sin ? Are these your thanks ? 0, 
why does God forbear to strike ? But you are bad enough. 
The very best sinner on earth is too bad for heaven. If 
you could plead, " / have sinned hut once,'' it would not 
save you. One sin ruined Adam. " Cursed is every one 
that continueth not in all things which are written in the 
book of the law to do them." After all, you are worse than 
you will allow. Let but God pour the light of eternity 
upon your naked heart, and you will wish for the deepest 



4 HAVE 3IE EXCUSED. 

darkness in which to hide 3^ourself, 0, that you would even 
now crv o.ut, " I am the very chief of sinners." Then there 
would be some hope. With the publican you might plead, 
'' God be merciful to me a sinner ;" and with him be freely 
justified. Do you, then, give up this plea? If so, what 
have you yet to say ? 

8. " I HAVE NOT MUCH CONCERN." And do you suppose 
that this relieves your case at all ? Your indifference — 
what is it but a contempt of God ? He calls you to him, but 
you heed the idle wind as much. If your friend should 
serve you so, how it would cut you to the heart. But why 
complain of so cold a heart ? Go and stand all night in the 
winter's storm — will you be warm ? Refuse, though nearly 
frozen to death, to come or be brought to the fire — whose 
fault will it be if you perish ? You have done this already. 
It is a wonder that you are not *• past feeling." Come to 
Christ before it is all over with you. 

9. " I MUST WAIT TILL God's TIME HAS COME." Are yOU 

in earnest ? Do you doubt whether God is ready to melt 
your heart ? Why, then, all that uneasiness — that sense of 
sin and of danger ? It is his Spirit that convinces of sin. 
What voice is that, that whispers so often in thy soul, 
"Turn, sinner, turn?" It is the Spirit's gracious voice. 
He tells you to "come, for all things are noiv ready." He 
says, " Behold, I stand at the door and knock ; if any man 
hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him." 
God's time to save is when you seek. " Ye shall seek me 
and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your 
heart." Ask the Christian, if God was not ready the very 
moment that he himself was ready. You are waiting your 
own time. God stretches out his hands all the day long, 
and you flee from him. He follows you ; tracks you 
through every lane of life, even to your most secret retreats. 
And yet you say, " I must wait God's time." Shame on 
you ! How can you treat so kind a Saviour thus. O, fall 
at his feet and beg for mercy. " But, 

10. "Professors are just about as bad as others." 
But what does this prove ? That they have too much relig- 
ion, or not enough ? The Saviour tells us that there will 



HAVE ME EXCUSED. 5 

be many such, to whom he will say in the last day, " I never 
knew you." But are all so'l You know better. Some 
are the very salt of the earth. No one asks you to be a 
hypocrite. If you know so well how Christians ought to 
live, come and show us by your example. But will many 
be deceived ? Then " strive to enter in at the strait gate : 
for many will seek to enter in, and shall not be able." 
Take care that you are not of this wretched class. Be in 
earnest. " Do with your might. Work while it is day." 
You may be left out. Come, and go with us. " But, 

11. "There are so many sects, I don't know which 
rs RIGHT." However that may be, you know that you be- 
long to a lorong sect now. No sect is so wrong as the un- 
godly. Forsake them as soon as you can for the sect of the 
righteous. They all belong to one class, though scattered 
among many denominations. First, be sure that you are 
among them. Christians do not differ as much as you think. 
They all agree in loyalty to the King of heaven, the Saviour 
of the world. Yield to him your heart ; take his word for 
tlie man of your counsel ; obey the teachings, and follow 
the leadings of his Holy Spirit ; then you cannot go astray. 
"■ If any man will do his will, he shall know of the doctrine 
whether it be of God." 

12. " I can't change my own heart." " Without me," 
said Christ, "ye can do nothing." But have you, then, 
nothing to do ? Regeneration is, indeed, the work of the 
Spirit, But can you not seek the Holy Spirit ? God has 
promised the Holy Spirit to them that ask him. And when 
the Spirit comes, have you then nothing to do ? Hear : 
" Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, 
FOR it is God that worketh in you both to will and to do 
of his good pleasure." You are not to do the Spirit's work, 
but your own. There is a work which can be done only 
by yourself. You cannot believe, repent, and obey, by 
'proxy, God will not do your work for you, though he 
works in you to do. If the Spirit, then, does not work, you 
are lost. And if you do not work, you are lost. When 
both work together, you will be saved. Do you still plead, 
" I can do nothing?" Then I would ask, Can you not yive 
'up the controversy with God ? A garrison may not be able 

VOL. X, 22 



6 HAVE ME EXCUSED. 

to hold out, but surely they are able to surrender. Are 
you, then, willing to make a full surrender? " But, 

13. ** If I AM TO BE SAVED, I SHALL BE SAVED, DO WHAT 

I WILL." And now, dear friend, be consistent, and say, 
" If I am to live, I shall live, do what I will," and so give 
up eating and toiling for food. Your duty has nothing to 
do with God's purposes. For them God only is responsi- 
ble. Your duty is to love and serve him Avith all your 
heart. If you do it, you will be saved. Election hinders 
no one : its only influence is to save. It is God's unaltera- 
ble purpose to save every believer. He that believeth shall 
be saved. The sooner you believe, the sooner you will know 
whether heaven is your portion. You can never know it in 
any other way. Will you believe ? 

14. "1 HAVE NOT CONVICTION ENOUGH." Do you cer- 
tainly know that you are a sinner ? That is conviction. 
Can nothing make you more certain of it ? Then you can- 
not have more conviction of that truth. Are you positively 
certain that you must perish imless you believe in Christ ? 
Then Avhat need of more conviction ? Do you wait for more 
distress ? Distress is neither conviction, nor the necessary 
fruit of conviction. Let the sinner cease struo^fflins^ with 
the Holy Ghost, and yield to conviction, and his trouble 
will be gone. But conviction does not melt the heart. The 
devils believe, but do not love. If you perish, you will 
have conviction enough in hell, but it will not soften your 
heart. Wait, then, no longer for more conviction. Yield 
at once. " If I should, 

15. " What will they say of me ?" " What is that to 
thee ? Follow thou me," saith Christ. Let them say what 
they will. Follow your own convictions. None of them 
can answer for you in the judgment. " Every man shall 
bear his own burden." Your dearest friend cannot take 
your place "■ before the judgment-seat of Christ." Why, 
then, be governed by what they say ? Ask, rather, what 
will God say. What will they say ! Every one, whose 
words are worth minding, will say, "You did well." The 
worldling may sneer, but can say nothing to hurt you. 
Christians will say all they can to help you. And Christ 



HAVE ME EXCUSED. 7 

will say at last, before men, angels and devils, " Well done, 
good and faithful servant ; enter thou into the joy of thy 
Lord." And now what will you say ? Are you ready to 
give up all for the blessed Redeemer ? 

16. " I AM AFRAID I SHALL NOT PERSEVERE." YoU never 

will, of course, unless you make a beginning. The first 
STEP is the great difficulty. Practice always makes duty 
easier. Your only duty is the duty of the present moment. 
The next is yet in eternity, and there you and I may soon 
be. Do present duty, and trust God's grace for future 
duty. He has said, " My grace shall be sufficient for thee. 
Take, therefore, no thought for the morrow, for the morrow 
shall take thought for the things of itself." Millions, as 
weak as yourself, have by God's grace persevered, and are 
now in heaven. " Whose faith follow." Make, then, a 
beginning now. What say you? ''Alas, 

17. "I HAVE DONE ALL THAT I COULD." All that yOU 

could ? What, spent all your time ? Sought with all your 
heart and soul, mind and strength ? All that you could ? 
Why, you have done more in one month for your poor 
house of clay, than in all your life for your precious soul. 
All that you could ? Have you forsaken every sin ? Are 
you doing every duty ? Have you come out from the 
world ? Have you given yourself, soul and body, to Christ? 
Have you made a full surrender ? " Ah, I fear not." Do 
it then now. Be in earnest. Time flies. While you read 
you are hasting to the grave. Why hesitate ? 

18. "I HAVE BEEN SUCH A GREAT SINNER, THAT I FEAR 

HE WILL NOT RECEIVE ME." Not receivc you? Who told 
you so? He says, "I will give you rest." What right 
have you to question it ? Take him at his word. Are you 
worse than Saul of Tarsus, or Mary Magdalen, or the thief 
on the cross ? He says, " Though your sins be as scarlet, 
they shall be as white as snow." Are you worse than 
those who crucified him ? For them he spent his latest 
breath, pleading, " Father, forgive them." Are you a great 
sinner noiu ? You will be a greater sinner to-morrow. But 
how do you know that lie will not receive you ? " Him 
that cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out." Have you 



8 HAVE ME EXCUSED. 

been cast out ? Has any one else ? Never, What more 
do you want ? You have his word for it, and the testimony 
of all that have come to him. Try him yourself. Try now. 
Will you come to him ? 

19. "I AM AFRAID THAT I HAVE COMMITTED THE UNPAR- 
DONABLE SIN," Is the Spirit now striving with you? Are 
you troubled about your guilt and duty ? Are you anxious 
for the favor of God ? If so, then the Spirit has not yet 
taken his final leave. He is yet striving to bring you to 
Christ. Look up, then, poor sinner, there is mercy for 
you. When you shall have committed that sin, you will 
be given over to blindness of mind, to hardness of heart, 
perhaps "to believe a lie." By all the horrors of that sin, 
which shall never be forgiven, I entreat you, '^ Quench not 
the Spirit." Yield while yet you may. Why not ? 

20. " I HAVE PUT IT OFF SO LONG." Then put it off no 
longer. He does not ask, " How long have you sinned ?" 
but, " Are you now willing to forsake sin, to trust in my 
blood, and to serve me ?" If so, you may be, you will be 
saved. Yes, even at the eleventh hour. 0, then, flee to 
his arms. Cast yourself at his feet. Delay not a moment. 
If you perish, perish at his feet and nowhere else. You can 
hut perish if you go. 

And noAv, fellow- sinner, what have you yet to plead ? 
Any more excuses ? None, Then surely you will halt no 
longer, " All things are now ready," The Saviour waits 
to wash you in his blood. The Father, to receive the 
long-lost child to his arms. The Spirit, to enter in and 
purify your heart. The angels are waiting to bear the glad 
news of your conversion to heaven. " All things are now 
ready.'' And you are ready. Are you not? *' 0, yes; 
* 'Tis Jesus calls ; I must — I will — I can — I do believe 
Then kneel down. Give yourself to Christ, Say, 

" Thee, my new Master now I call, 
And consecrate to thee my all ; 
Lord, let me live and die to thee, 
Be thine through all eternity." 



> >> 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



jVo. 383. 

CONVERSION OF AN AGED DEIST. 

A NARRATIVE OF FACTS. 



In the spring and summer of 1881, the beautiful village 

of A , in Georgia, was favored with a most interesting 

and powerful revival of religion. As usual, in such seasons, 
most of the subjects of the good work were the young- 
many of them young men attached to the literary institution 
in that place. But there were some exceptions. A few in 
middle life were hopefully converted ; and the case of one 
aged man excited a deep and universal intei-est. 

Mr. N P , though the child of pious parents, 

and trained under the influence of a godly mother, at mid- 
dle age was surrounded by infidels, and through the read- 
ing of a popular infidel work, became a settled Deist. He 
viewed the Bible as a fiction, and believed that death was 
an eternal sleep. For tkirtT/ years preceding his conversion, 
he was, probably, one of the most confirmed, undoubting 
Deists to be found in the world. His sceptical sentiments, 
however, were cautiously and prudently concealed, even 
from his own family, not a member of which knew that he 
was tinctured with infidelity. After he became a settled 
unbeliever, and before removing from Virginia to Georgia, 
he divulged his sentiments to an intimate friend, whom he 
knew to possess similar views. That friend, after hearing 
him, notwithstanding the coincidence of their sentiments, 
seriously charged him never again to open his lips upon 
that subject to a human being. With this injunction 
Mr. P., it is believed, strictly comphed, until the happy 
change took place which will now be related. Though 
VOL. X. 2i2* 



2 CONVERSION OF AN AGED DEIST. 

three or four of his sons and daughters became worthy 
members of the Presbyterian church, yet the father uni- 
formly maintained profound silence upon the subject of 
religion, and never appeared to be disposed to throw the 
least obstacle in the way of its pursuit and practice by his 
family. 

He was, however, a settled, deliberate, silent Deist ; 
slumbering, unconscious of his danger, upon the very brink 
of eternal ruin. He was frequently warned by the loud 
admonitions of divine Providence. He had followed to the 
tomb a beloved wife, a grown son, and a married daughter ; 
he had repeatedly been brought, apparently, to the very 
verge of the grave ; and when thus sinking under the 
ravages of disease, and kindly exhorted by friends to make 
his peace with God, that he might be prepared for his de- 
parture, he would calmly reply, that he was not in the least 
uneasy, that he had no doubt that all would he well after 
death. 

The year 1831 arrived, and the old Deist was yet alive, 
in health, and as hard as the adamant. Time with him 
was now far spent ; the day of life, in the course of nature^ 
was rapidly drawing to a close ; the shadows of death and 
of the tomb were gathering around him, and yet the aged 
slumberer did not awake. The spiritual sleep of seventy 
years, and the opiate of deism had paralyzed all his moral 
energies ; and it seemed as if nothing could awaken him 
but the voice of the archangel. But a gracious God had 
mercy in store for him Avho, during thirty years, had viewed 
the story of the cross as a cunningly devised fable. 

On a pleasant day, as Mr. P. was walking alone upon 
his plantation, he heard the voice of prayer. He listened. 
It was the voice of one of his servants, a pious old negro, 
who was holding communion with his God, alone in the 
grove. The master, without disturbing the praying ser- 



CONVERSION OF AN AGED DEIST. 3 

vant, walked to the house in a reflecting mood. He knew 
not why, but he was disturbed — he felt unhappy. His 
foundation now trembled a little, though it had lain un- 
moved, in the hard cement of infidelity, for thirty years. 
Without saying a word to any one, he took up " Fletcher's 
Appeal," and read it. His uneasiness increased, though 
he was, as yet, by no means convinced of the truth of the 
Scriptures. 

About this time his youngest daughter, who was pious, 
was inquiring in the bookstore for a devotional book which 
had been recommended to her by her pas|or. The book 
not being in the store, the gentleman in attendance handed 
her "Watson's Answer to Paine," saying, as he put it into 
her hands, " Mr. H., your pastor, says this is a very excel- 
lent book." She knew nothing of the nature of the work; 
but as she had failed to obtain the book desired, and this 
little volume had been recommended by the same friend, 
she bought it. When she retired from the store, and began 
to read the book, she felt disappointed, and remarked to a 
female friend that she would return it, as it was a treatise 
against infidelity, for which they had no special use in their 
family. But as God in his providence kindly ordered it, 
the book was not returned. The young lady carried it home, 
and having laid it by, probably neither said nor thought 
more of it. But the unbelievincc father, who knew nothino- 
of "Watson's Answer to Paine," and did not suspect that 
such a book was in the house, happened one day to lay his 
hands upon it. He sat down and deliberately read it through. 
And now his castle of infidelity, which had been trembling 
for some weeks under the gentle breezes of the divine 
Spirit, was so utterly demolished that not one stone was 
left upon another — all was in ruins. He stated to the writer, 
that when he had finished reading Watson, he was prepared 
to say that he believed every word of the Bible to be true. 



4 CONVERSION OF AN AGED DEIST. 

About this time a series of public religious meetings 
was commenced, which were signally blessed of God, and 
were continued in the different churches for about three 
weeks. Mr. P. at first attended with his family, but per- 
ceiving that his concealed mental distress was increased, he 
refused to attend more. 

As the good work of the Lord advanced powerfully, 
and many stout hearts were made to yield to the subduing 
influences of divine grace, the eldest daughter of Mr. P., a 
lady of ardent piety, could not endure her father's absence 
from the house. of God. Returning one day from the sol- 
emn services of the sanctuary, which was about two miles 
distant, she related to her father some interesting facts 
which had occurred relative to the conversion of other 
citizens, and then entreated him to accompany a member 
of the family that night to the meeting. The old gentle- 
man, whose burden was already as great as he knew how 
to bear, almost sunk under this affectionate but embarrass- 
ing request. He threw himself upon the bed, complained 
of indisposition, lay a short time, and then arose, and, with 
a firm step, Avalked away from his house, and out of sight 
of all his family, intending, probably, not to return until it 
should be too late for him to accompany them to the even- 
ing service. But the daughter, who was strong in faith, 
had every necessary preparation made for her father to 
attend church. At an early hour tea was prepared, the 
carriage was at the door, and all things were ready ; but 
still the father did not come. She anxiously waited, she 
looked, she prayed, and still dared to beheve, notwithstand- 
ing the long absence of her father, that he would return 
and go that night to the house of God. 

She was not disappointed. Just before nightfall Mr. P. 
returned, and in silent agony, took his seat in the carriage, 
and rode to the village to attend service. There the Spirit 



CONVERSION OF AN AGED DEIST. 5 

of God met him on that memorable night, and made fur- 
ther discoveries to him of his lost, his ruined condition. 
The Bible Avas now no longer a fable, but a record of the 
most solemn, momentous truths. He found that he had a 
soul destined to immortality, and, without speedy redemp- 
tion, to endless and hopeless perdition. His dreams of 
annihilation fled ; he saw that he was condemned by God's 
righteous and holy law, while, as yet, the Saviour was not 
revealed to his sinking, desponding soul. He reflected 
that once a godly mother had wept over him, and prayed 
for him. But she could do this no more, for she had long 
been with angels and with the spirits of just men made 
perfect before the throne of God and the Lamb. The 
voice of conscience he had hushed a thousand times ; the 
counsels of pious parents, and the affectionate entreaties of 
Christian brothers and sisters he had neglected, till seventy 
years had rolled over his head ; and now, when awakened 
to a sense of his condition, he seemed to view himself as 
an outcast, ruined, and undone for ever. His distress was 
truly awful. 

Early on the following morning he appeared in a 
prayer-meeting. An atheist could not have looked upon 
him there without emotion. He said but little, while to 
every spectator it was evident that his bosom was the seat 
of distress and agonies not easily described. This darkness 
was the harbinger of a bright, a glorious day. Soon, he 
who had been wandering a spiritual maniac among the 
tombs of infidelity for thirty years, was seen sitting, clothed 
and in his riorht mind, at the feet of Jesus. The chanofe 
was great, glorious, and visible to all. 

On the very first night after he had obtained peace of 
mind, Mr. P., in broken accents, commenced worship in his 
family ; and from that hour, during the remaining five 
years of his life, even to his last illness, there never was a 



6 CONVERSION OF AN AGED DEIST. 

day when business was so pressing that he could not find 
time to bow Avith his household around the family altar. 
Whatever else was omitted, that duty was not neglected. 

But his fidelity as a Christian was not limited to the 
discharge of any one duty. His whole life, walli, and con- 
versation, from the time of his conversion to the day of his 
death in 1836, were remarkably consistent, circumspect, 
and holy. The writer has been long in the ministry, and 
has mingled much among Christians of different denomina- 
tions, and he knows not that he has ever met a more holy 
and devoted Christian than was Mr. P. during the last five 
years of his life. In a few weeks after his conversion, he 
who had been " born when he was old," in company with 
forty others, most of them young people, came forward 
and united with the church, with which his connection con- 
tinued until he was called to join the church triumphant. 

His earthly pilgrimage was closed in a most calm and 
peaceful manner. Very soon after the attack of the dis- 
ease which terminated his life, he seemed to be strongly 
impressed with the idea that he should never recover. He 
said that he had no desire to live any longer; that he was 
dead to the world ; that his peace was made with God, 
and he was ready to go home. He spoke of his approach- 
ing dissolution with the utmost calmness and resignation. 
Just before he died, he requested one of his sons to sing 
the hymn, 

" Why should we start, and fear to die ? 
What tim'rous worms we mortals are : 
Death is the gate of endless joy, 
And yet we dread to enter there. 

Jesus can make a dying bed 

Feel soft as downy pillows are, 
While on his breast I lean my head. 

And breathe my life out sweetly there." 



CONVERSION OF AN AGED DEIST. 7 

He also requested his son to pray with him. It was evi- 
dent that he was calmly waiting for the hour of his depart- 
ure, which soon arrived, when he cheerfully bade farewell 
to weeping friends, and sweetly slept in Jesus. 

A few thoughts are suggested by this narrative. 

1. Though it is a solemn fact, that very few are con- 
verted at the advanced age of Mr. P., yet we do wrong to 
give iqy the aged, impenitent sinner, as if he were certainly 
doomed to eternal woe. Were ministers and Christians to 
do their whole duty to old, gray-headed sinners, would not 
more of them, by the grace of God, be brought in at the 
eleventh hour ? 

2. How dangerous is it, especially for an unguarded 
youth, to read corrupt books. The perusal of one small 
volume was the means of confirming Mr. P. in deism. Let 
the youth of our land be on their guard. Let them be as 
conscientious and particular in the choice of their books, as 
they should be in the choice of their company. 

3. How easy is it for God to render the smallest inci- 
dent the means of effectually awakening the most stupid, 
hardened sinner. Who Avould have imagined that he who, 
through the days of childhood and youth, had resisted the 
powerful influence of parental piety ; who, in a Christian 
land, had remained seventy years unmoved by a preached 
Gospel ; who had witnessed the conversion of three or four 
of his ovfXi children ; had been repeatedly admonished by 
the most alarming providences ; and who for thirty years 
had been a confirmed Deist, should have been aroused from 
his deep spiritual sleep by the distant, broken accents of 
a praying negro ? Truly, the ways of the Almighty are 
wonderful, and past finding out. Had the daughter of Mr. 
P., who purchased ''Watson's Answer to Paine," returned 
the little volume to the bookstore, as she was half deter- 
mined to do, to human view the loss to the father mio-ht 



e CONVERSION OF AN AGED DEIST. 

have been infinite. '* Behold how great a matter a little 
fire kindleth." 

4. Let pious parents, in humble reliance upon the di- 
vine blessing, labor faithfully and zealously for the salva- 
tion of their children. Let them, like the pious mother of 
Mr. P., sow the good seed in the morning, and in the 
evening withhold not their hand, as they know not which 
shall prosper, either this or that; or whether they both 
shall be alike good. 

Though this mother in Israel did not live to witness the 
answer to her fervent prayers in the conversion of her son 
N. ; though she was called to the rewards of the righteous, 
leaving him a hardened unbeliever, still walking towards 
perdition ; though seventy years had rolled over his head, 
and he was still found not only an impenitent sinner, but a 
confirmed Deist ; yet the happy day at length arrived when 
God remembered his covenant with his chosen. The prayer 
of faith is answered at last. The joyful tidings are com- 
municated to " the general assembly and church of the 
first-born " — ''Another sinner has repented." The angels 
rejoice anew, and in holy ecstasies of love, it may be, report 
to the glorified mother, " Behold, thy son, who was dead, 
is alive again ; he who was lost, is found." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



No. 384. 

THE 



DAY OF TRIAL. 



It is said of an illustrious queen of England, that, when 
dying, her agonizing language was, Millions of worlds — 
millions of worlds for another day of probation ! She felt 
that she could not " stand in the judgment." And can any- 
impenitent sinner stand in that day of trial ? 

All the testimony will be against him. His com- 
panions in sin will testify against him. Sinners, in this 
world, encourage one another in transgression ; and if one. 
is arrested, his associates may swear falsely to save him. 
But, at the tribunal of God, every mouth that would justify 
sin will be stopped. The false swearer, the liar, will feel it 
utterl}^ impossible to evade Omniscience. Thus every sin- 
ner will be constrained to bear witness to the truth, even 
though it expose his nearest companions to ''shame and 
everlasting contempf.^^ 

The exami^les of the righteous will also testify against 
him. He will not be able to plead that he could not help 
continuing in sin ; that he was urged on by a fatal necessity ; 
for he will see that others, who were once of like disposi- 
tions, have repented, and have broken oflf their iniquities by 
turning unto the Lord. 

His own awakened conscience and memory will testify 

against him. Conscience may now slumber. The sinner 

may impiously say, " Where is the promise of his coming ? 

What profit shall we have if we pray unto him ?" But very 

different will be his reflections on another day. When the 
VOL. X. 23 



THE DAY OF TRIAL. 



slumbers of death are broken, and the terrors of judgment 
burst upon the view, then, too, will the slumbers of con- 
science be broken, and heart-rending convictions fill the 
mind. Conscience will then testify how you here stifled 
conviction, resisted the truth, grieved the Holy Spirit. 
Memory, too, will on that day be amazingly quickened. 
All the privileges you have abused, and all the millions of 
your now forgotten sins, of thought, word, and deed, will 
come up in terrible array before you. 0, what an immense, 
dark, thick cloud, to break at once in thunder on the con- 
science ! And will not conscience thus be roused to fury, 
and declare you verily guilty ? But more. 

The sufferings of Christ will testify against the sinner 
at the judgment. That same Jesus who hung on the cross, 
will then fill the throne. But 0, how changed ! His coun- 
tenance, once marred, now glorious as ten thousand suns 
shining in their strength. His very appearance will say 
with emphasis, These arr)is were once extended for your sal- 
vation — for sinners like you, this head was crowned u)ith 
thorns — this body and soul bore the tremendous weight of a 
ivo7'ld's redemption. And this exhibition will furnish over- 
whelming proof of the ingratitude and guilt of him whom 
such love could not melt. 

All the instructions of Christ will also testify against 
him. " He that rejecteth me, and receiveth not my words, 
hath one that judgeth him ; the word that I have spoken, 
the same shall judge him in the last day." Yes, these 
glorious truths of the Saviour will be as noonday splendors, 
to render his ingratitude the more manifest — his persever- 
ance in sin perfectly inexcusable, and his damnation just. 

But cannot the law be set aside, and the sinner thus 
escape? "God is the Judge," and he cannot set aside 



THE DAY OF TRIAL. 3 

his own law. And when He shall exhibit its infinite purity 
in contrast with the sinner's vileness, then the poor wretch, 
if he have no Saviour to plead for him, must feel that he is 
indeed undone for ever. But, 

He will have no Advocate. At a human tribunal, 
when the culprit is arraigned, though all the witnesses be 
against him, and the judge inflexibly just, still he cher- 
ishes hope from the ingenuity and eloquence of his advo- 
cate. But for the sinner at Jehovah's bar, no advocate will 
be found. Not one of his boldest companions will venture 
a syllable in his defence ; not one of those foul spirits of 
darkness who beguiled him with lies, will now care for his 
safety ; not one of the bright and generous millions of 
angels will attempt to palliate his guilt ; and having re- 
jected the Saviour, he can have no part in his mercy. Thus 
he must bear his own burden. He must meet the con- 
demning witnesses, the violated law, and the eternal Judge, 
without any advocate. And, 

All the jurors will be perfectly holy. *' Know ye 
not that the saints shall judge the world ?" Yes, these 
happy spirits, themselves '* washed and made white in the 
blood of the Lamb," will then look on the wricked who 
have despised his mercy, just as they appear '* in the light 
of God's countenance," amid the splendors of the " great 
white throne ;" and in such circumstances they cannot but 
acquiesce in the sanctions of the holy law. Their part will 
then be, with Christ, to judge and condemn ; and not as 
now, to entreat and suffer wrong. Men of piety and moral 
worth are sometimes most cruelly treated in this world. 
"Wealth and intrigue may here succeed in a bad cause — 
** but 'tis not so above.^' 

sinner, when every witness shall be against you, 



4 THE DAY OF TRIAL. 

and your Judge inflexibly just ; when no kind advocate shall 
appear for' you, and all the jurors shall be perfectly holy — 
can thy heart endure, or thy hands be strong ? Ah, no. 
Every angel would say, No ; this controversy is with Om- 
nipotence, and no sinner " shall be able to stand," when 
" the great day of his wrath is come." 

"Agree, then, with thine adversary quickly, whilst thou 
art in the way with him." Fly to the Saviour. Accept 
his offered mediation. It is inexpressible madness as well 
as guilt, to remain unreconciled to God, and approach the 
judgment, without an advocate, without one favoring wit- 
ness, with no friend on the throne, nor one pitying saint or 
angel amono^ all the assembled millions. 

"The ungodly shall not stand." And recollect, from 
that fall there is no recovery. It settles your character 
and destiny for ever. And oh, eternity, eternity, eternity ! 
Who, that has now the offer of peace, would have the Holy 
One his eternal enemy ? Think, my soul, what it is to 
be condemned by the infinite Redeemer and Judge, and lie 
for ever under " the power of his anger !" Think of the 
amount of misery to be endured by a soul increasing for 
ever in guilt and remorse ! Think of the extent of eternity ! 
Send an angel forAvard on the awful deep, with lightning's 
speed, for millions of centuries, and the dread waves of per- 
dition are still rolling eternally beyond ! 

Dying man, what are your prospects? "Judge your- 
self now, that you may not be condemned with the world." 
" The prudent man foreseeth the evil, and hideth himself." 
"If thou be wise, thou shalt be Avise for thyself; but if 
thou scornest, thou alone must bear it." D. 



rUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



:^o. 385. 

CONVICTIONS STIFLED. 

A NARRATIVE OF FACTS. 



At a public religious service in R , Pennsylvania, on 

a Sabbath evening in 1829, a gentleman was present who 
had not been in the house of God for years. He was a man 
of wealth ; of a proud, independent spirit ; notoriously op- 
posed to religion and to ministers of the Gospel. 

He was not observed by the speaker, but some remarks 
made on the violation of the Sabbath, set one of his sins be- 
fore him, and he went homewards in a state of hio-h excite- 
ment ; saying to his daughter, " The preacher was very hard 
on the Sabbath-breaker this evening" — and again, ''I don't 
know but he spoke the truth." On reaching home, he 
began to walk the room, and to speak violently against the 
sermon ; and it was eleven o'clock before he ceased, and 
retired to rest. 

In the morning he again complained of the sermon, and 
walked the room in a^reat mental amtation. At breakfast 
he said he was sick ; that he had lost his appetite, and must 
have a physician. As the physician was not a Christian, 
the daughter, a young lady of devoted piety, dreaded his 
influence on her father's mind ; but as she could not dis- 
suade him from his purpose, she went herself to the physi- 
cian, told him she thought her father was not sick, but was 
distressed in view of his sins, and in the fulness of her ago- 
nized heart, begged to remind him of the responsibility of 
any influence he might exert in what she thought so critical 
a moment in her father's history. 

The physician came. After an examination of his patient, 
he said there were no symptoms of disease, and he knew 
not what to prescribe. 

"What shall I do, then," said the gentleman, "for I 
cannot live in such distress ?" 

^'Were I in your case," said the physician, "I would 
send for Mr. ," the preacher on the evening previous. 

" What," he replied, surprised and excited : " Doctor, I 
thought you were not one of these praying people." 
I'OL. X. 2'3* 



2 CONVICTIONS STIFLED. 

" I am not one of them, but I have known something 
about conviction within a few months ; and the truth is, Mr. 

C , you are under conviction for your sins." Having 

said this, he rose, and immediately left him. 

The gentleman was almost overwhelmed. His physi- 
cian, in whom he had the most implicit confidence, was "of 
no value " in the present crisis. Every resource had now 
failed. The hour was one of untold agony. It was a mighty 
conflict with pride. He could endure it no longer. He 
called his daughter, and requested her to " send for the 
minister." 

In a few moments I entered his room. He was lying 
on his bed. When he saw me, he said, " I am not sick, sir. 
I know not what is the matter. I have called a physician, 
but he says I have no disease. I have no appetite for food. 
I have sent for you, but I hardly know what to say to you." 

I inquired if he had any bodily pain — in his head, or 
side, or breast. " No, I have not." 

" Have you ever been subject to such feelings or 
attacks ?" 

" No, sir, I have never been in such a state before." 

" Your state, Mr. C , I think, is not pecuhar to your- 
self ; others have been affected in the same manner." 

" How is that, sir ? Did you ever see a man in such a 
state ? What do you think is the matter with me ?" 

" My opinion is, Mr. C , that the Spirit of God is 

striving with you, and is causing you to feel that you are a 
sinner." 

*' no, it cannot be so ; it is nothing of that kind." 

" If you will give your attention a few moments, I will 
attempt briefly to describe some of the views and feelings 
of a man when awakened by the Spirit of God, and then 
you may judge whether you are in that state." 

He listened for a while with intense interest, but sud- 
denly interrupted me by saying, " 0, that is not my case. 
I am not a sinner. What have I done ?" 

" You must surely know, Mr. C , that you are a 

sinner, for all are sinners ; and if you will suffer me to pro- 
ceed, I may help you to see that you are an aivakened sin- 
ner." 

" 0, I don't wish to hear any more. It distresses me 
to hear you. Do let me alone." 



CONVICTIONS STIFLED. 3 

His daughter, who, with a tearful eye, had silently heard 
every word, now said, very aflfectionately, '* Father, you are 

willing, I suppose, that Mr. should pray with you 

before he leaves us?" 

" no, I don't wish to hear prayer. Do leave me, Mr. 

, I wish to be alone. This distress, I hope, will soon 

pass away, and I shall then feel better." 

The agonized daughter now burst into tears. I rose to 
take my departure ; but at this solemn and critical moment 
I could not refrain from dropping on his ear, in Christian 
kindness, a few words of caution. 

" I cannot retire, Mr. C , without saying, that I be- 
lieve you are now an awakened sinner. The Spirit of God 
is striving with you, and you are resisting that Spirit. 
Should you now grieve him away, you have reason to fear 
he will not return to you again. If you do not now repent 
of your sins, and believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, you will 
probably yet be a hardened sinner. Your * last state * 
will be ' worse than the first ;' and the fearful probability 
is, that you will be taken from the world without any warn- 
ing of your end. These words are not uttered merely to 
excite alarm, but as the honest convictions of my own mind 
in view of your present state. Time will show whether 

they are true or false. Be entreated, then, Mr. C , to 

commit yourself to Christ, and make your peace with him 
without delay. I say this in view of our expected meeting 
at the judgment- seat of Christ. May God have mercy 
upon your soul." 

Soon after I left him, he was in an agony of feeling. He 
called his daughter, and asked her if she would pray foi 
him. They bowed together, while that daughter, whose 
prayers and religion had often been the subject of his ridi- 
cule and opposition, called upon the Lord for his salvation. 

The tidings soon spread over the town, that Mr. C 

had sent for the minister to visit him. Nothing could have 
been more unexpected and surprising. 

Early the next morning, a party of his old companions 
called upon him. They were men of wealth and influence, 
and brought a carriage in which they said he must ride. 
At first he declined ; but at length their importunity pre- 
vailed. 

He entered the carriage while the tears and prayers of 



4 CONVICTIONS STIFLED. 

his daughter besought him to remain at home. His cruel 
friends took him away, and did not return until ten o'clock 
that evening ; when — awful to utter — they brought him 
home in a state of intoxication. 

When he awoke from his protracted slumbers in the 
morning, he was again in great agony. He had never be- 
fore been intoxicated, and the recollection of this disgrace- 
ful sin enhanced his distress. But while his soul was thus 
keenly smarting under the lash of bitter remorse, his com- 
panions again presented themselves, requesting him to ride ; 
and immediately on entering the house, began to laugh at 
him for turning Christian. 

Their ridicule had more influence than the authority of 
God and his own danger of eternal destruction. Like so 
many demons, they beset him and persuaded him to ride 
with them on the second, and then again on the third day, 
and each night hrought him home intoxicated. 

After this he did not require the guardianship of his 
wicked friends to secure him in a course of sin. Their wit 
and opposition, aided by the palsying influence of the intox- 
icating draught, seemed to have seared his conscience, and 
to have swept away all conviction of his sin or danger. 

For months after this, I saw him daily in the streets, 
but had no opportunity of personal conversation with him. 
He never again visited the house of God. He was known 
to be a bold blasphemer. He spoke publicly and with 
much apparent enmity against ministers of the Gospel and 
professors of religion. 

About nine months after my introduction to him, I re- 
ceived a letter from a lawyer residing in R , stating that 

early one morning Mr. C had ordered his carriage, that 

he might ride to Pottsville. The driver not being ready as 
soon as he expected, he went to his carriage-house to hasten 
him. Returning towards his house, he beckoned to his 
brother, who was standing in the door, to come to him, and 
immediately fell upon the earth. His body Avas taken up, 
but the spirit had departed for ever. 

" He that, being often reproved, hardeneth his neck, 
shall suddenly be destroyed, and that without remedy." 



IVo. 386. 

SKETCH 



OF 



MISS HARRIET PATTERSON, 

DAUGHTER OF COMMODORE PATTERSON, OF THE U. S. NAVY. 



The natural disposition of Miss Patterson Avas uncom- 
monly amiable, and her personal appearance interesting- and 
commanding. To these were added all the improvements 
of the most polished education which Philadelphia could 
afford, under the special guidance of devoted parents and 
aunts. Her education completed, she removed to Wash- 
ington, where her father held a high military command, and 
where, for several years, she had every opportunity of grat- 
ifying her desires for the follies and vanities of the world. 
In this metropolis of pleasure, fashion, rank, and splendor, 
she was flattered, admired, caressed, and thus became still 
more enamored of the Avorld. Nor Avas Washington, with 
its gayeties and pageantry, to be the only theatre on which 
she was to seek for this Avorld's happiness. Her father 
being ordered on a cruise in the Mediterranean, determined 
to take his family with him, consisting of Mrs. Patterson, 
tAvo sons, and three daughters, of Avhom the subject of this 
notice Avas the eldest. In full health, and in the bloom of 
youth, Avith an inquiring and highly cultivated mind, and a 
heart full of this Avorld, she left her native land to visit the 
most interesting places in the old Avorld, and still more per- 
fectly to cultivate the accomplishments already acquired. 

"When she joined the ship," said one who Avas well 
qualified to speak, " she was in fine health, and so continued 
for tAA^o years. Cheerful in disposition, Avith a mind Avell 
stored, and features so beautiful as to excite admiration 
wherever slie Avcnt ; kind in her feelings toAvards all, and 
blending feminine modesty Avith great sociableness, she soon 
became a favorite Avith all of us. We arrived in the Medi- 
terranean in September, 1832, and during that and the fol- 
lowing year visited nearly all the cities along its shores, 



2 SKETCH OF MISS HARRIET PATTERSON. 

including Athens and Constantinople. The summer of 1834 
was spent chiefly in visiting Egypt and Syria. While the 
ship remained at Alexandria we proceeded to Jaffa or Joppa, 
and then made a visit to Jerusalem." While here, Miss 
Patterson, in company with her parents, sisters, brothers, 
and officers of the ship, visited the places which are en- 
deared to the Christian by so many hallowed recollections. 
They stood on the spot where the Redeemer of the world 
laid down his life for the sins of man ; they visited the tomb 
in which he was buried ; they walked in the garden where 
he agonized ; ascended the Mount of Olives where he was 
wont to retire for prayer ; and, by a short excursion from 
the Holy City, saw with delight the place of his nativity. 

*' To Miss Patterson," said one of those who attended 
her, *' these visits seemed to have been peculiarly impres- 
sive. I do not know that any powerful conviction was im- 
mediately produced by them ; her feelings seem to have 
been rather awe and admiration of the love of Christ for 
sinners, and a more powerful realizing of the great sacrifice 
there offered up for a lost world." She had always paid 
some attention to the subject of religion, and at the time 
she visited the sepulchre, having her Bible with her, she 
laid it on the marble coffin said to have contained the sacred 
body of Jesus, and with a pencil, on its blank leaf, wrote 
these words : " Let every thing that hath breath praise the 
Lord." Immediately on her return to the ship there was 
perceived to be an attention to the subject of religion as a 
thing of greater importance than she had hitherto regarded 
it. She read, and studied, and prayed, and became deeply 
humbled under a sense of her sinfulness, and trusted in her 
Saviour for salvation. Her life, soon after this visit, became 
that of a meek and humble, yet joyful Christian. She 
never shrunk from avowing the change which had been 
wrought in her, and indeed wished that all her friends and 
associates might be made aware of it. 

Often was she strongly tempted, in the different places 
visited, and the trying scenes through which she must pass, 
to enter into gayeties unbecoming her religious character ; 
but she firmly, though meekly, resisted every solicitation, 
and preferred her new and more elevated pleasures. During 
the summer of her visit to Syria her health became delicate, 
but not so much so as to cause any serious alarm. During 



SKETCH OF MISS HARRIET PATTERSON. 3 

the -winter at Mahon she became more feeble, but in the 
spring- she began to regain her health, and there was every 
promise of a return to her native land, and to many much- 
loved friends. It was at this time she spoke with pleasure 
of publicly declaring to the world what the grace of God 
had done for her, and what she was resolved, by that same 
grace, to do, in evidence of her love and gratitude. 

In a paper dated March 15, 1835, in which, unknown 
to any one on earth, she recorded the devout exercises of 
her soul, she says, " I have been possessed with the love of 
the world — I have sought it — 1 have loved it — I have 
adored it : in a word, it has been the sum and substance of 
my life — and what has it profited me ? Should I not at 
once renounce those vain pursuits, those empty and false 
amusements and images, and seek the truth ; that inex- 
haustible source of light, of strength, of satisfaction, and 
happiness ? 

" I do not fear that thou wilt reject me, mighty and 
lovinof Redeemer. I fear not that thou wilt disdain to 
accept the heart now offered thee, notwithstanding it has 
so repeatedly refused thy gracious invitations. Thy mercy 
is inexhaustible and unwearied. Thou canst subdue and 
establish my heart in peace. I know there is no excess or 
injustice of which it is incapable ; but I know that it is easy 
to make thyself master of it, and to attach it to thee in 
* bonds of a perpetual covenant never to be forgotten.' 
May I not hope to realize the blessed effects of thine holy 
influence ? Refuse me not, Lord, my God, refuse me 
not any of those helps of thy grace which may so attach 
me to thee, * that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor 
principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor 
the heights of prosperity, nor the depths of adversity, nor 
any other created thing, may be able to separate ' me 
either from the love with which thou dost honor me in 
Jesus Christ, or that which I am ever bound to have for 
thee, both in time and in eternity. Take possession of this 
heart, God, and so subject all its emotions to thyself that 
none may ever again arise which may not be conformable 
to thy will, and which tend not to thy glory." 

When the above was written, she designed to make a 
public avowal of her Saviour as soon as she should reach 
her native land ; but Providence thouorht fit to order it other- 



4 SKETCH OF MISS HARRIET PATTERSON. 

wise. Unfavorable symptoms occasionally appeared, and 
her kind parents, on their passage over the Atlantic, were 
alternately encouraged by hope and depressed by fear. The 
shores of America were at length in sight, and their daugh- 
ter was yet alive, and hope still comforted all the hearts 
which loved her. But He in whose hands are the winds 
and waves, saw fit to disappoint them. The earthly haven 
was seen, but was not reached, in life, by the object of their 
tender solicitude. Adverse winds arose, which drove them 
from the shore ; and while the stately vessel was tossing to 
and fro on the mountain wave, seeking harbor, but in vain, 
the spirit of this lovely, interesting, and redeemed young 
woman was suddenly and unexpectedly taken up to the 
haven of everlasting rest. On the following day the ma- 
jestic Delaware was seen passing from the now calmed 
Atlantic through the capes, into the safe and quiet harbor 
which she had been seeking, bearing the mortal remains of 
the departed child, and the weeping relatives and sympa- 
thizing crew. On the third day it anchored opposite Nor- 
folk ; and according to previous arrangements, the remains 
of the deceased, accompanied by the bereaved family and 
a large number of the officers and crew, were first carried 
into *' Christ Church," where the funeral service Avas per- 
formed by the Right Rev. Bishop Meade, with some appro- 
priate remarks, and afterwards conveyed to the church- 
yard adjoining the city, where it was consigned to the grave. 

On the tombstone which covers that spot, the passing 
traveller may read the last words of the precious manuscript 
she left behind : " Most merciful Father, I beseech thee so 
to dispose of every event, that I may live in thy service, 
and that I may die in thy favor and in thy love." 

To the youth of our land, especially those who were 
acquainted with the deceased in the days of her vanity, the 
above sketch is affectionately commended. Would they be 
blest, let them go and do likewise. 

[This narrative is beautifully confirmed by Rev. George Jones, 
in his " Excursions to Jerusalem, etc., from U. S. ship Dela- 
ware."] 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



Ko. 387. 



ALL IN THE ARK. 



A FAMILY TRACT. 




Noah was the head of a family- 
He with his wife, three sons and 
their wives, made eight souls. The 
little flock were one day seen leav- 
ing their home, going forth amidst 
rude and impious men towards a 
mysterious building, which had 
some time stood for their jest and mockery. The procession 
entered, and God shut them in. As they took their seats in 
the building, which lor many days and nights was to be their 
home, they were impressed with an expectation of something 
terrible about to come, ^^uddenly they heard the wind rising ; 
VOL. X. 24 



2 ALL IN THE ARK. 

its hollow moan portended a fearful storm. At once it 
seemed a-s though a cloud had burst upon the ark ; the 
great rain of God's strength descended ; the flood had come. 
All night a rushing sound of waters came from the earth ; 
for the fountains of the sea were broken up, " the deep utter- 
ed his voice, and lifted up his hands on high." The ark 
moved, and then was still ; and again its inhabitants felt 
themselves born up by the rising waters. 

As they looked, in a few days, from the window of the 
ark, the air was darkened with rain, and the dry land, as 
far as the eye could reach, had become a sea, which could 
not rest. Imagine what was probably the awful scene 
around them. Corpses of men, women, and children, parts 
of dwellings, promiscuous household things, were driven 
together upon the flood ; and here and there a wild animal, 
with his head stretched above the waves, turned suddenly 
and uttered his frighted cry. From the tops of places not 
yet reached by the flood, but covered with darkness, voices 
of despair were heard, and from places within call of the 
ark, a crowd just ready to perish implored help. When the 
sun went down again, imagination made the scene more ter- 
rible. As each thunder-peal died away in the distance, a 
crashing sound of thunder would succeed, then roll in angry 
murmurs under the whole heaven. In the lull of the storm, 
voices of agonizing prayer were heard, and now and then, 
beneath the very window of the ark, the cry " of some strong 
swimmer in his agony," made the family within turn pale. 

Noah had forewarned the victims of these scenes. The 
God in whom he believed is the strength of his heart, 
while the world around him is dying. His family are safe 
with him in the ark. He sings the praise of that mercy 
which had saved them from destruction : " How diff'erent 
would my feelings be, if any of you were now without, and 
I were listening to every cry, as though it might be the cry 
of one of you separated from us, and perishing under the 
wrath of God." 



ALL IN THE ARK. 3 

The fact that the ivhole of Noali s family went with him 
into the ark, is not a little remarkable. Here were three 
young men saved from a race of scoffers and despisers of 
religion. Having the same inclinations and passions with 
others, it no doubt required much prayer, and exhortation, 
and pious authority, to persuade them to go into the ark. 
Think how foolish Noah's project must have seemed to the 
men of his time. He declared that there was to be a flood 
that Avould cover the tops of the highest mountains ; and 
therefore beoan to build a huo-e ark, to save himself and 
family from destruction. Suppose that a man should say 
and do the same now, we can imagine what jeers and 
mockery would befall him. How few, probably, would be 
induced to join him. But the flood must have seemed full 
as improbable to the men of Noah's time, as it would now 
to us ; and Noah's ability to prevail upon his children to 
join him in preparing and entering into the ark, was a 
result of judicious, holy, parental influence. Though the 
grace of God effected it, Noah's influence as a pious, faith- 
ful head of a family, was no doubt the means. For it is 
said, " And Noah was perfect in his generations, and Noah 
wklked with God." Parents must walk with God, if they 
would bring their children with them into the ark. 

To see the probability of what has now been said, look, 
in the way of contrast, to the family of Lot. When the 
angels told him that the Lord would destroy that place, 
and said, " Hast thou here any besides ?" and sent him to 
his sons-in-law who married his daughters, he seemed to 
them like one that mocked. His influence over them had 
not been sanctified ; his wife, too, had loved the world in a 
manner that prevented the salvation of her own soul ; but 
Noah carried his daughters-in-law as well as his own chil- 
dren and his wife with him into the ark. We may, indeed, 
refer tliis distinction between the two families to the sov- 
ereignty of God ; but who can doubt, with the Scripture 
history before him, that Noah was a better father than Lot, 



4 ALL IN THE ARK. 

and that the providence and grace of God coincided, as 
they usually do, in so appropriate a means for the salvation 
of his family ? 

The children of Noah were exposed to great tempta- 
tions. They lived in a wicked age ; their neighbors and 
their neighbors' children were wicked ; they could not but 
hear scofts against religion, and against their father, and 
against his ark ; and it was almost a miracle that they did 
not turn against their father, and sit in the seat of the scorn- 
ful. But there was somethino- in the life of that sfood man 
more powerful than all this unholy influence. It is alto- 
gether probable that he used to pray with his sons. Every 
morning, before they were exposed to the temptations of a 
wicked world, it may be, he called them together, spake to 
them of God, their souls, the flood, eternity ; and by prayer 
endeavored to sfuard their minds aofainst the bad influences 
of the world. During the day his conversation would per- 
haps occasionally lead them to serious meditation ; and as 
in the morning he sowed his seed, so in the evening he with- 
held not his hand. As the result of his faithfulness, he had 
the happiness of being surrounded in the ark by his unbroken 
family. 

*' The heavens and the earth which are now, by the same 
word are kept in store, reserved unto fire against the day 
of judgment and perdition of ungodly men." The minis- 
ters of God are now doing what Noah did, when first the 
long-suffering of God v/aited : they are pointing men to the 
only refuge, Jesus Christ, and warning them that those, and 
those only, who are found in him will be saved. Especially 
to every father and mother the message of God now is, as, 
in a somewhat different sense indeed, it was to Noah, " Come 
thou and all thy house into the ark." 

A happy family is the perfection of human happiness. 
The relations which it includes are the most tender on 
earth, and nothing is to be compared to the hold which 
family ties have upon a man's heart. God would preserve 



ALL IN THE ARK. 5 

these ties unbroken, because they make us happy on earth, 
and, sanctified, make a part of the happiness of heaven. 
Therefore his invitation of mercy is not merely directed to 
man as an individual, but he graciously thinks of those 
whom the man loves ; and when he speaks to a husband 
and father about his soul and about eternity, it is not enough 
to bid him welcome, but he says, " Come thou and all thy 
house into the ark." When you think how sure and terri- 
ble is the last tempest — how kind and free the invitation to 
be saved from it — how dreadful to have a family scattered 
when that tempest comes — how delightful on earth and 
transporting in eternity that the family should be united in 
everlasting bonds — nothing seems more desirable than that 
this invitation should be accepted. 

Let us then consider some of the more obvious means 
by which, with the blessing of God, your ioIloIg family may, 
like that of Noah, come into the ark. 

The parents themselves should set the example. 
Parental influence is a powerful means of the children's 
salvation. Children should be pious, though their parents 
are not so ; still, in the order of nature, the parent should 
lead the child, rather than the child the parent. If we 
would not have our families broken up at the last day, we 
who are parents must do all in our power to prevent it. 
We are not preventing it, but are helping it by the surest 
means, if we are not ourselves pious. Children make in- 
ferences as readily as grown persons ; and they secretly 
think, " If there were any great importance in religion, if 
heaven and hell were what we read of, or our teachers 
tell us they are, our father and mother would not only tell 
us so, but would be pious themselves ; but if they are not 
Christians, why should we be concerned ? They know 
better than we w^hat is right and safe, and we will follow 
them." We know not how many children have long since 
come to this conclusion. It is a thought that should make 
VOL. X. 24* 



6 ALL IN THE ARK. 

a parent, wlio is not a Christian, tremble, that his children 
may be heard to plead hereafter, because indeed they have 
no better excuse, " If my father or mother had been a 
Christian, I should have thought more of the importance 
of religion." So long as a parent is not known by his fam- 
ily as a Christian, his influence is against experimental 
piety. His amiable disposition, his good principles, can 
never save the soul of his child ; "one tli'mg is needful,'" and 
his being without it will frequently be observed by a child 
sooner than by an older person. 

This is peculiarly the case where one of the jmrents is 
pious and the other is not. If the father or mother prays 
with the child, and speaks to it on religious subjects, it 
will wonder why the other parent does not do the same. 
But often, when the mother has labored for the conversion 
of the child, and the father has not confirmed the instruc- 
tions of the mother by his example, the child has been 
affected by the negative influence of the father, rather than 
by all the prayers and tears of the mother. A child regards 
his father's example with peculiar strictness, and the father 
may neutralize all that takes place in the closet between the 
mother and the child, merely by not being a Christian, and 
thus not adding his prayers, and his holy words, and his 
silent but mighty influence, in favor of religion. He need 
not be profane, or intemperate, nor tell the child that his 
mother is foolish ; he may be a pattern, as a father, of all 
that is aff'ectionate and kind ; but only let him never speak 
to the child of its Saviour, nor pray with it, nor talk of an- 
other world ; and if that mother's prayers and influence 
succeed, it will be a singular triumph of the grace of God 
over a stronof counteractinof influence. While it is worse 
for a child if neither of its parents ai*e pious, it is a solemn 
thing for an unconverted parent that the other parent should 
be a Christian, for the piety of the one makes the influence 
of the other more dangerous. Is it not the silent language 
of every micon verted parent's example, " This world is 



ALL IN THE ARK. 7 

more than eternity ; its pleasures, riches, honors, are more 
important than rehgion ; repentance, faith, regeneration, are 
not essential ?" 

What do children think who leave one parent at the 
Lord's supper, and see their honored and beloved father 
or mother go away ? Suppose that your child should say 
to you, as you are leading it home from church on a Sab- 
bath, when your wife or husband has remained with the 
church at the Lord's table, " Why do not you remain ?" 
Endeavor to form an answer to such a question, and see 
how it will stand the test of His judgment, who gave him- 
self for you that you might not perish, and what its proba- 
ble influence would be on that immortal spirit which you 
habitually bring away with you from the memorials of his 
body and blood. Impressions are made upon young chil- 
dren by our conduct which will last through eternity, and 
on which may depend, in manj' cases, where that eternity 
shall be spent.' No one can describe the responsibility of 
being from day to day with a child, and of having its eter- 
nal destiny affected by us ; for who can doubt that parents 
and children in eternity will see that bliss or woe came to 
many a child through the influence of its father or its mother, 
and that some will mourn and say, " Had I done my duty, 
my children might have been in heaven with their father 
and mother, and I with them ; whereas I, to whom the 
whole family looked for an example, am the cause of their 
perdition." It is plain, therefore, that in seeking the sal- 
vation of the family, both the parents must, above all things, 
set an example of personal religion. 

But some parents will say, as the servants did who had 
called the guests to the wedding-supper, " ' Lord, we have 
done as thou hast commanded, and yet there is room.' 
Some of them — perhaps all — refuse to come. And what 
shall we do ?" I answer. As another obvious means, by the 
blessing of God, of securing the salvation of the family. 



8 ALL IN THE ARK. 

Parental authority should, in a judicious manner, be 
joined wifh parental example. 

This should be done with regard to amusements and 
pleasures. The people of Noah's time were lovers of pleas- 
ure more than lovers of God. They rioted in all manner 
of pleasures, some of which, without doubt, were fascinat- 
ing to the young ; and perhaps the sons of Noah, and their 
wives, were strongly inclined to join in them. No doubt there 
were innocent amusements to which they could have access. 
"The father of all them that handle the harp and organ" 
had supplied them with the diversions which music aftbrds. 
The great artificer in brass and iron had also introduced his 
curious and useful implements ; and the " mighty hunter," 
who afterwards arose in Noah's family, shows that the 
pleasures of the hunt and chase, useful in those days, may 
not have been unknown. There was no want of such diver- 
sions as were proper, and probably no disposition on the 
part of their father to restrain their use of them. But then 
it was hard not to do as they saw their neighbors and their 
neighbors' children do ; and perhaps the sons and daugh- 
ters of Noah plead with him for indulgence in the scenes 
of sinful festivity to which they were called. But God 
had said to Noah, " The end of all flesh is come before 
me ; and behold, I, even I, do bring a flood upon the 
earth, wherein every living thing shall die : make thee an 
ark." To suffer his children to mingle in sinful pleasures, 
he saw, would be to let them venture into the snares of 
Satan. 

A part of the moral education of the young should be, 
to teach them that there are thino^s in this world which 
they cannot a7id must not have ; that they will frequently 
be called upon, in a wicked world, to be singular, to have 
numbers and influence against them, especially if they 
themselves are disposed to be decided in their uprightness. 
Is it a suitable preparation of them for such trials, to accus- 
tom them to immoderate and full indulfjence of all their 



ALL IN TIIK ARK. 



wishes ; to let them do what, at best, is of doubtful ten- 
dency, because others do it ? 

It is not my purpose to discuss the propriety of differ- 
ent amusements and pleasures, but only to say, that in 
cases whei'e we doubt the good influence of such amuse- 
ments, we must be decided in the proper exercise of pa- 
rental authority. 

Parental authority must also in a judicious manner be 
joined with parental example, ivith regard to many things 
connected with religious faith and practice. Suppose that 
the men of Noah's time had professed to be pious in the 
midst of their sins, and had altars where they worshipped 
what they called God, but such a god altogether as them- 
selves, after their own hearts ; and suppose that the sons 
and daughters of Noah were strongly inclined to go with 
their neighbors on the Sabbath, when Noah and his wife 
came around their little altar to offer sacrifice — would he 
have said to them, " My children, I have no right to dictate 
to you what faith you shall embrace, or what God you 
shall worship ? God has warned me of the flood, in which 
even these men, who have the form of godliness but deny 
the power, must surely perish. And he has commanded 
me to come with all my house into the ark. At the same 
time I would not be illiberal, and I am not a bigot. Per- 
haps it may be well for you to ' prove all things, and hold 
fast that which is good !' " 

How like mockery this seems, compared with what we 
may suppose was his language and conduct. " My children, 
* Seek ye the Lord while he may be found ; call ye upon 
him while he is near. If ye seek him, he will be found of 
you ; but if you forsake him, he will cast you off for ever.' 
Do I not knoAv that the Lord is God ? Should I be willing 
to risk my soul at those unsanctified altars ? * Their meat- 
ofterinors and their drink- offerino-s will I not offer, neither 
will I take up their names into my lips.' Let them denounce 
me as gloomy and intolerant ; I fear Him only, who, ' after 



10 ALL IN THE ARK. 

he has killed, has power to cast into hell.' And I warn 
you, that- if you forsake the altar of my God, and go after 
false religion, you will be covenant-breakers, and expose 
yourselves to be abandoned of heaven." 

Would the children have disregarded such an appeal ? 
But suppose that one, more headstrong than the rest, dis- 
obeyed, and renounced his father's faith ; did the father 
cease from the most incessant and faithful efforts to reclaim 
him ? Or, did he console himself by saying that he had 
done all he could, and the child must be responsible for his 
own conduct ? Without doubt he exerted his parental 
influence and authority. So should Christian parents, if 
their children manifest wandering desires, or an idle curi- 
osity with regard to religious worship, and are inclined to 
stray away from the watch and care of their parents on the 
Sabbath. So should they do, moreover, if their children 
are inclined to spend the intermission of public worship, 
or any part of the Sabbath, unnecessarily, in the streets or 
fields. 

Parents and children luill rejoice hereafter at the success- 
ful use of authority. Let us look once more upon the fam- 
ily in the ark, while the rains descend, the floods come, and 
the winds blow, and thousands all around are in the agonies 
of death. See the patriarch and his children, who were so 
strictly governed by him that some feared he would break 
their spirits and make them narrow-minded — see them 
praising God for his restraining grace, and adoring that 
mercy which saved them from th€ enticements and dangers 
of a dying world. How different at the judgment-day will 
the feelings of some parents be from what they now are, in 
regard to the management of their children ; and of chil- 
dren in regard to their parents' strictness. How thankful 
those children will be who are saved, that their parents did 
exercise authority over them, though they had grow^n be- 
yond childhood, and by a judicious and mild, though per- 
severing course, governed their wayward and foolish dispo- 



ALL IN THE ARK. H 

sitions. And what scenes, heart-rending scenes, will there 
be, when the last sentence is uttered, and the great throng- 
is breaking up. There families will linger a moment for 
the farewell, and the child will think, " Why were my 
father and mother so easy with me, when they knew that 
the course I wished to take would certainly lead me to hell ? 
Had they been a little more severe, and warned me faith- 
fully, and made more efforts to keep me from my foolish 
ways, I might have been saved, or else my blood had been 
on my own head ; but now, the authors of my existence are 
the occasion of my eternal ruin." 

Pious PARENTS WHO HAVE UNCONVERTED CHILDREN 

Have you done all that your parental character authorizes 
you to do for their souls, in the way of restraint and other- 
wise ? God has given you a great trust ; you are not 
merely the advisers of your children ; God has clothed you 
with authority, and he will sustain you in it. By all means 
make them obey. If you let them resist and disobey you, 
they will the more readily disobey their consciences, and 
resist the Holy Ghost. Obedience is important for its influ- 
ence on their subsequent character and conduct, as well as 
for the peace and happiness of the family. A fear of 
ofl:ending a child, or of urging or insisting upon what a 
parent knows is right and proper, has, in all probability, in 
many cases separated the child and the parent, the child 
and heaven, for ever. If you know what the Bible teaches, 
if you are persuaded of the truth of all that you profess, 
will you suffer timidity to deprive you of this only oppor- 
tunity of laboring to save your children from destruction ? 

Do not excuse yourselves from duty by a mistaken view 
of divine sovereignty. Some pious parents have said, 
*' There are many of the greatest and best of men that 
have unconverted children ; if the prayers and efforts of 
such men fail, it is not my fault if mine are not converted." 
There is error in this reasoningf, even if the conclusion itself 



12 ALL IN THE ARK. 

be true. The individuals in question may be the greatest 
and best of schohirs, or preachers, or citizens ; but are they 
the greatest and best of 2^<^^'€nts ^ A man may be pious 
and amiable in his family, but yet be so indulgent, or timid, 
and silent at his children's errors, that with all their other 
advantages, none of them may go to heaven. 

But why is it that the children of some of the best of 
Christians are yet unconverted, and are entering upon life 
impenitent ? The answer is twofold. First, have the par- 
ents ceased to labor and pray for their conversion ? Like 
the king of Israel, who " smote only thrice and stayed," the 
parents may now suffer for their want of faith and perse- 
verance. But do they still continue instant in prayer, in 
the morning sowing their seed, and in the evening not with- 
holding their hand ? The second reply is, the door of the 
ark is not yet shut. Perhaps the conversion of the children 
is delayed for the good of the parents, or for some other 
wise purpose. Still there is hope ; in due season you may 
reap, if you faint not. Never despair of the conversion of 
a child who has been a subject of special prayer and con- 
secration. 

Are you an unconverted husband or wife, whose 
COMPANION IS A CHRISTIAN? You are standing in the way 
of your children's salvation. Perhaps, if you should be a 
Christian, all your children would be Christians. If you 
do not pray for them, nor with them, nor converse with 
them in a religious manner, nor set them a decided example 
of religion, that may be the reason why some or all of them 
are unconverted. There are several hinderances which they 
cannot pass in the way of their salvation, and you may he 
the first. If you were removed out of their way by death, 
they might all be saved. Are you willing to spend eternity 
with your children lost ? Shall their spirits haurit you 
through the shades of death, for having prevented their 
salvation ? 



ALL IN THE ARK. 13 

You may be the unconverted child of pious parents. 
It may be that your parents have often warned you, and 
prayed with you, and exhausted all their endeavors to 
bring you with them into the ark; "but ye would not." 
Are you the elder brother or sister ? The guilt of breaking 
up the fiimily circle, it may be, will rest on you. If your 
example did not hinder, if its influence were good, all your 
father's family might be saved. The younger children in a 
family are greatly influenced by the conduct of the eldest 
child. Are you willing to be the means of separating the 
family hereafter ? 

How many happy hours you have had around your fire- 
side ! Must they be remembered in eternity only to make 
you wretched ? Unless your parents' God is your God, 
you must be separated from your parents at the judgment, 
to meet them no more for ever. God calls you into the ark 
of safety. He calls upon the eldest child to lead the way ; 
and who will refuse that call under circumstances of so 
much mercy and danger ? Accepting it now, all your fam- 
ily may go to heaven; rejecting it, there may be mourning 
amongst you at the judgment-seat of Christ. 

Perhaps the reader is the only member of a family 
WHO is not a Christian. Is this the case with you, be- 
loved friend ? All your family going to heaven — parent, 
brother, sister, all Christians, all in the ark of safety, and 
you still exposed to the last great tempest ? Think of your 
condition, and flee from it, before it be too late. There 
will be weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth, if 
you should see the family in heaven, and you yourself shut 
out. 

You may belong to a family of which not one soul 
is pious. Consider the sad condition and prospects of such 
a house : father and mother leading the way, and children 
followinor them down to eternal death. What can be the 

VuL. X. 25 



14 ALL IN THE ARK. 

consequence but that the whole family will be lost ? It is 
truly dreadful to think of a whole household spending eter- 
nity together in hell. Are you a member of such a family? 
Escape for your life, tarry not in all the plain, but flee to 
the ark of safety, lest you be consumed. Perhaps the rest 
will follow, but deliver your own soul. 

A WORD IN CONCLUSION TO PARENTS. 

One hundred and twenty years were allotted the family 
of Noah to prepare for themselves the ark of their safety. 
Not so with us. The ark for us is finished. How soon its 
doors may be shut we cannot tell. As the long-suffering 
of God waited in the days of Noah, so has it waited long 
for you. As the day at last arrived when God brought in 
the flood upon the world of the ungodly and condemned it 
with an overthrow, so will it one day be said, " The door 
is shut ;" and your feelings will be joyful or terrible accord- 
ing as you and yours are within or without the ark. Seek 
admittance there without delay. God will notice with 
favor every one who, in the presence of his family, builds 
an altar and calls upon the name of the Lord. Take this 
first step, therefore, towards the salvation of your family, 
without further delay, and never rest till you are all in the 
ark. Then, when scenes exceeding the terrors of a univer- 
sal flood and of a burning world are passing in the crowds 
of parents and children at the bar of God, your Judge and 
Saviour will say to you, " Enter thou, and all thij house, 
into the joy of your Lord." 



ALL IN THE ARK. 15 

EARLY EDUCATION-LATE DEVELOPMENT. 

FROM " HOME EDUCATION," BY ISAAC TAYLOR, AUTHOR OF " THE NATURAL 
HISTORY OF ENTHUSIASM," ETC. 

The doctrine so much talked of, of late, and so eagerly 
followed by many, is that of development ; and the ques- 
tion put on all sides is, ''What are the readiest and the 
surest means of expanding the faculties at an early age ?'* 
But the very contrary doctrine is the one professed and 
explained throughout this work ; for I am bold to avow my 
adherence to the principle of repression and reserve in the 
culture of the mind ; and it is this principle which I would 
fain convince the reader may be put in practice consistently 
with the conveyance of really more information, or of infor- 
mation more comprehensive and substantial than is usually 
communicated. 

The rule we have to recommend enjoins that excitement 
should be postponed, while nutriment is supplied ; and, in 
a word, that the mental force should be husbanded rather 
than used. 

Much more has been said and written concerning the 
things that are to he taught, and the method of teaching 
them, than concerning i\\Q faculties of the mind that are to 
be trained, and the natural order of their development. 

HAPPINESS OF CHILDREN. 

Adults look for external means of enjoyment, and seek 
happiness in the gratification of specific wishes or desires ; 
but an infant, simply protected from positive suffering, is 
happy from the stock of its own resources, and by the per- 
petual gush of joyful emotions. 

The happiness of children is not a something to be pro- 
cured and prepared for them, like their daily food, but a 
something which they already possess, and with which 
we need not concern ourselves, any further than to see that 
they are not despoiled of it. This simple principle, if 



IQ ALL IN THE ARK. 

understood, trusted to, and constantly brought to bear 
upon the arrangements of a family, would at once relieve 
the minds of parents from an infinitude of superfluous 
cares, 

A child — let it not be deemed paradoxical — a child 
draws its happiness, with very slender aid of external 
means, from the boundless field of its own conceptions, and 
from the treasures of its own unspent emotions. A young 
person, on the contrary, asks large supplies of external ex- 
citement, and is ever eagerly in quest of extrinsic means of 
gratification. During the first period of life, the soul is oc- 
cupied in evolving the elements of its happiness ; during the 
second, in imbibing them ; that is to say, in gathering new 
materials for future combination. 

Let any one, familiar with children, analyze a child's 
tranquil felicity while amusing itself, for an hour or more, 
with nothing better than a crooked stick, or a handful of 
pebbles. 

What can be the bare gratification of the sense of touch, 
or of the muscular power, or of the sight, which such ob- 
jects can convey ? It must be reckoned as extremely small ; 
nor is it possible to watch the movements and countenance 
of an infant of fifteen months, or two years, whilst so en- 
gaged, and fall into the great error of supposing that its 
delights are chiefly animal. 

It is the MIND, it is the rich, and grasping, and excursive 
human mind — such even in infancy — that is at work on the 
poor materials of its felicity. This crooked stick, or these 
pebbles, are symbols of many things we adults do not 
dream of in such a connection. 



]%o. 388. 

CONVERSION 

OF 

DR. CAPADOSE, 

A JEWISH PHYSICIAN OF AMSTERDAM; 

AUTHOR OF THE TREATISE " JEHOVAH JESUS," &C. 

WRITTEN BY HIMSELF AT THE REQUEST OF REV. PROF. PETTAVEL 
AND OTHERS. NEUFCHATEL, SWITZERLAND. 

ABRIDGED FROM THE FRENXH OF THE SOCIETIES OF THE FRIENDS OF ISRAEL 
A.T TOULOUSE AND NEUFCHATEL. 



No, my dear friends, I will no longer decline to meet 
your pressing demands, or to fulfil the engagement under 
which you have placed me, to relate to you how it pleased 
the God of all grace to call me to the knowledge of him 
self, and bring me from darkness to his marvellous light. 
My soul is vividly, is deeply convinced, that it has never 
of itself sought the Lord ; but that the arm of his compas- 
sion was extended to it while in its lost condition. It 
would then be false modesty to refuse you that which, 
communicated in conversation, appeared somewhat edify- 
ing to many dear friends, who saw in it the Saviour's un- 
speakable love for so wretched a sinner, and felt them- 
selves urged to glorify his name. 

By birth a Portuguese Jew, I was, nevertheless, far 
from being a zealot in the cause of the religion of my an- 
cestors. My education had been moral rather than reli- 
gious, inspiring me with horror of vice, and love for what 
the world styles virtue ; but the goodness of God alone 
preserved me from open impiety, somewhat later in life. 

At an early age I was ardently engaged in the pursuit 
of literature and science ; though living in society, and 

VOL. X. 2.3* 



2 CONVERSION OF DR. CAPADOSE. 

enthusiastically fond of the theatre, balls, and all worldly 
amusements, I derived even greater satisfaction from study. 
In my youth, also, I became acquainted w^ith the writings 
of Voltaire and "Rousseau; but the insolidity, the infidel- 
ity, and, above all, the terrible consequences of their sys- 
tems, unfolded to my eyes in the history of the French 
revolution, guarded me, through the grace that comelh 
down from on high, against their pernicious influence. 

As I was destined by my parents for the profession of 
physic, I be^gan to acquire the knowledge necessary for 
that vocation, although feeling a stronger attraction to the 
theoretical sciences and philosophical investigation. The 
circle of my acquaintance consisted of young persons, nomi- 
nally christians ; and our debates at the academy generally 
turned upon the antinomianism of Kant, or the philosophy 
of Plato ; in short, upon all kinds of abstract questions. 

The Lord had given me a friend (Mr. Dacosta) in the 
bosom of my kindred. Both of us Jews, and intimate 
friends from our infancy, we had similar views on many 
subjects, and the same circle of acquaintance. A " savant " 
of the academy of Leyden, (the celebrated Bilderdeck,) a 
man of extraordinary genius, a distinguished poet, an ex- 
cellent historian, a profound philosopher, and, above all, 
a true disciple of Christ, assembled around him at thac 
time a few studious young men. My friend, who had long 
known him, and I, were among the number of his auditors. 
He honored us with peculiar affection ; and his conver- 
sations contributed not a little, under God, to direct my 
mind to serious contemplation. Though he never spoke to 
me of Christianity before my conversion, he, nevertheless, 
exercised a great and salutary influence over my heart. 
The vivacity and fervor of his soul, the nobleness of his 
sentiments, the force of his logic, the depth and extent of 
his knowledge, joined to an ardent desire of being useful 
to youth, all concurred to enrapture us. But no love of a 
Sjjiritual religion had yet entered my heart. 



CONVERSION OF DR. CAPADOSE. 3 

It is true that in early childhood, at the age of nine years, 
I felt the need of prayer ; and asked my Jewish parents 
for a prayer-book in the French or Dutch language, that I 
might be enabled to comprehend the object of ray prayers. 
I urged my brother and sister to do likewise. This seems 
the more remarkable, since I had seldom observed those 
around me pray. From that hour I have not ceased to 
perform this duty, through all the changes of life ; and 
I may add, that this prayer formed my only worship up 
to the time of my conversion. This form ended with these 
remarkable words : '' I wait thy deliverance, O Lord !" 

I have retained the book, and never cast my eyes on it 
without being melted, and adoring the goodness of the 
God of my deliverance, who hath deigned to give me, in 
maturer age, what the child of nine years ceased n(;t to 
pray for eveiy night, though ignorant of the meaning of 
his request. 

During the period of my studies, these moments of pe- 
culiar emotion returned, leaving very deep traces in my 
mind. I remember that a poor woman was in the habit 
of singing psalms in the street on Saturday evening, to 
excite the compassion of passers by. More than once 1 
left my books, when the singing of pious hymns reached 
my ears, being irresistibly drawn to the window, and there 
I remained fixed under the weig^ht of sensations I could 
not define. The same thing occurred to me when, on Sab- 
bath morning, I heard the melody of psalms rise from un- 
der the vaulted roof of a neio^hborinsr church. 

I went frequently to the theatre. One evening, when 
" Joseph in Egypt " was represented, I had no sooner 
heard the first words of the morning hymn, in imitation of 
the Hebrew, than, full of patriotic emotion, I felt my tears 
flowing. Alas ! it was only an illusion before me ; and 
profound sorrow soon succeeded this sweet dream in 
which I had been absorbed. 

At the synagogue, which I continued to attend for the 



4 CONVERSION OF Dll. CAPADOSE, 

sake of decorum, nothing affected me in the least ; on the 
contrary, those heartless ceremonies, that want of respect, 
those shouts, those discordant songs, and the use of a 
tongue unknown to more than three-fourths of the assem- 
bly — all this spiritless and lifeless display so disgusted n^e 
that I no longer attended regularly ; for I had ever abhor- 
red hypocrisy. 

Nevertheless, to give us a change, and as if he had 
caught a glimpse of what was about to happen some years 
later, the tempter put it into the heart of my friend, and 
mine, to alter our mode of life. Both of us enemies to 
half measures, and not being able to suit ourselves with 
this modern Judaism, which had invented the art of taking 
up, or laying aside, according to convenience, the differ- 
ent injunctions of the Mosaic law, we firmly resolved to 
become true Israelites, rigid observers of every article of 
the law, intimidated by no authority, and compelling 
even christians to respect the Jewish nation. 

National pride, that sentiment which in boyhood led 
me to say to my good mother, on seeing her afflicted, *' Be 
consoled, mother ; when I am grown up, I will carry you 
to Jerusalem ;" increased amazingly at this epoch, and 
took the place of every other emotion. 

It was in this disposition of heart, and with these reso- 
lutions, that we undertook the assiduous readi?ig of the 
Bible. But, O disgrace ! O wretchedness of the uncon- 
verted soul ! we could go no further than Genesis ! In- 
cessant irony, a spirit of mockery, and often even (Lord, 
enter not into judgment with us !) blasphemy was upon 
our lips while engaged in prayer. And this was carried 
to such a height that I ended by saying to my friend, that 
it were better to renounce our reading than to conduct it 
in this manner. 

Our plans for eminence in the Jewish religion vanished 
like smoke. The termination of my professional studies 
was at hand : this was in 1818. I took my degree in ma- 



CONVERSION OF DR. CAPADOSE. 5 

dicine, and left the academy where my time had not been 
altogether wasted. I returned to my native city, Amster- 
dam, full of high expectations for the future : a fair and 
honorable career seemed to open before me. 

I had an uncle, one of the first physicians of Holland, a 
literary man, and justly esteemed by the best families. He 
possessed public confidence, not only as a physician, but 
also on account of his social relations. Without children, 
he took me home to be his son and successor. I was soon 
introduced to a rich circle of families ; very worthy and 
honorable, doubtless, but with whom Christianity was no- 
thing more than an exterior profession, attended by a life 
altogether worldly. 

Although for some years I had been oftener in the so- 
ciety of christians than in that of my fellow-religionists, I 
am sure that none ever spoke to me of Christianity. My 
friends and young colleagues, with whom I often passed 
several evenings of the week, did not appear to have the 
smallest idea of reliorion. I remember that once, the con- 
versation falling on Christianity, they made a display of 
their infidelity, and spoke with very little respect of the 
Lord Jesus Christ. I expressed my astonishment ; add- 
ing, that I, a Jew, did not believe in Jesus Christ; but 
that, in my opinion, every christian who, disbelieving that 
Jesus Christ is God, still continued to offer prayer and 
homage to him, was an idolater. 

One of these young physicians was happily converted 
some years later : he recalled to my mind the conversation 
of that evening, and assured me how confused he had 
been, that so severe and yet so merited an apostrophe 
should be uttered by the mouth of a Jew. He is at this 
time one of my dear brethren in Jesus Christ, and walks 
with much faith and fidelity. How admirable are thy 
ways, O Lord ! and thy judgments, how righteous ! 

Nevertheless, in the midst of daily increasing occupa- 
tions, though surrounded by all the comforts of life, 1 was 



6 CONVERSION OF DR. CAPADOSE. 

far from being inwardly happy. The desire of knowledge, 
the thirst after scientific truths augmented within me, as 
worldly pleasures daily grew more sickening. But all 
my researches, ail my studies, all my endeavors to satisfy 
the internal want that tormented me, continued fruitless, 
and left a frightful void in ray soul. 

During long sleepless nights, occasioned by an oppres- 
sion of the chest, of which I had been a frequent sufferer 
in my youth, I asked myself, in the midst of sad reflec- 
tions, why I was on the earth 1 " What is man V said I 
to myself. '* Should I not be a thousand times happier if 
I were only an inferior creature, an inhabitant of the air, 
a worm of the earth ! It is true I should move in a nar- 
rower sphere ; but then I should not undergo what I am 
now suffering in mind and body." Many a time, at the 
close of my evening prayer, which I uttered aloud, my 
heart added, " would that this were the last day of my 
life!" 

I have preserved the correspondence that I held with 
two of my friends : the contents of their letters vividly re- 
calls to mind my sufferings at that time. One of these 
letters commences with these words ; " I cannot express to 
you, dear friend, the shock your letter has given me. Your 
melancholy seems to assume the character of despair ; and 
what must be the consequence with a constitution so feeble 
and a heart so sensitive as yours 1 No, your body cannot 
hold out, dear friend ; 1 fear that you will soon succumb," 
&c. Then follows some advice, which, though dictated by 
tlie kindest friendship, was yet wanting in what consti- 
tutes the spirit of all true consolation. 

My mode of life dissatisfied me. Eager in quest of 
truth ; seeking every where a certain principle, there was 
not a day of my life passed without, alas ! the deplorable 
necessity of acknowledging the uncertainty of the science 
to which I was devoted. I enjoyed, indeed, the confidence 
of my patients ; and, by the grace of God, was what is 



CONVERSION OF DR. CAPADOSE. 7 

called a fortunate physician ; yet I passed my days in pain- 
ful constraint. 

My uncle, the worthy old gentleman in whose house I 
was residing, fatigued by the numerous occupations of the 
day, was not pleased to see me consecrating the evening 
hours to study. Impatient to give myself up to some oc- 
cupation more suited to my taste, I was free only at night, 
and thus contracted the habit of sitting up till a very late 
hour. Nevertheless, all this midnight labor left still exist- 
ing in my heart the frightful void which so embittered 
life. It was not that I felt any disquietude for my sins ; 
assuredly not, for in that case I should have shuddered to 
demand death : I was under the weight and curse of sin, 
without suspecting it, or even seeking a remedy. 

One day, going to see my intimate friend, who was just 
married, I found that he had received a letter from 
our celebrated professor, with whom he kept up a literary 
correspondence. " Will you listen to his letter," said he, 
" and hear with what line verses he addresses me 1" Will- 
ingly, I replied. The lines, in which he described with 
energy and fervor the glorious hopes of Israel, were in 
truth sublime : they ended with this apostrophe : — " If 
thou, dear friend, the christian's name will take, contented 
I'll my spirit yield. My life were a small boon to give 
for thy soul's sake !" 

At these words, pronounced in a low tone, I felt my in- 
dignation aroused ; it appeared to me that my friend had 
not been sufficiently shocked at them. *' Take care," said 
I, '' there is a plan formed to seduce us ;" and then hastily 
departed. 

The whole day my mind remained absorbed and lost 
in meditation. I could not conceive how a man of such 
profound science could believe in the christian religion ; 
nor how one, who, for so many years, had kept up the closest 
intimacy with me, without ever speaking to us of Christi- 
anity ; who even appeared to have so much respect for 



8 CONVERSION OP DR. CAPADOSE. 

the Old Testament, should suddenly resolve to speak to 
my friend in this tone. My heart, naturally inclined to 
mistrust, saw here only an adroit attempt to seduce us 
from our religion, and I suffered from the thought that 
my friend did not partake thoroughly of my indignation. 
From that day I took up the luord of God with the inten- 
tio?i of examining it. My friend did the same; and after- 
wards, whenever we walked out together, our conversation 
turned on passages of Scripture that especially fixed our 
attention Having begun with the Gospel according to 
Matthew, I was struck, in the commencement, on seeing 
how this evangelist, very far from reversing the authority 
of the Old Testament, rested upon it, on the contrary, as 
his basis, and proposed nothing more than to prove the 
unity of the two Testaments in the accomplishment of the 
prophecies 

In this way many months passed, when, more and more 
encouraged to pursue researches that daily afforded us 
greater interest, we resolved to effect what we had at- 
tempted some years earlier, though with a very different 
disposition of heart : it was to meet as often as possible, to 
read together and communicate our doubts and reflections 
to each other. To this effect we retired to a corner of the 
paternal mansion; and it is not without vivid emotion, nor 
without adoring the goodness and wisdom of God, that I 
recall the remembrance of those happy moments, those 
hours so agreeable and so blessed, that we passed toge- 
ther, as it were in the presence of the God of our fathers. 
Our zeal and interest increased as we advanced. My 
mind, wearied with fruitless researches, beheld a vast and 
untried field open before it, into which it entered with an 
ardor and irresistible attraction that I recognized later as 
the expression of my heavenly Father's love, by which He 
draws to his dearly beloved Son the souls he would save. 
This meditation on the word of God became at length the 
most urgent want of my heart. It was not enough that I 



CONVERSION OF DR. CAPADOSE. 9 

knew the truth, I fell the need of possessing it and living 
on its substance. 

Although I could not then discern clearly what was 
passing within me, nevertheless I remember to have had 
moments of rapture at the thought that I could perceive 
in my puth visible marks of divine assistance and protec- 
tion. One day, when my friend and I were together, oc- 
cupied with our accustomed researches, my brother sur- 
prised us : he saw on the table, alongside of the open Bible, 
a Spanish author, the only work of human origin we pe- 
rused with the word of God. He opened the book and 
read the title. It was " Defense de la foi chretienne ;" 
(" a defence of the christian faith,") by Professor Hey- 
deck. He read only these words : *' Defense de la foi," — 
("defence of the faith ") " What are you engaged in every 
day together]" asked he, replacing the book ; " do you de- 
sire to become Rabbis 1" Then changing the subject, he 
left us. Here we saw the protecting hand of God ; for if 
my brother had read the whole title, we should have been 
discovered ; at least, the suspicion of our families would 
have rested on us. 

On another occasion I was in my uncle's library, and 
ever eager to meet with something relating to that which 
occupied me incessantly, I ran my eye impatiently over 
a multitude of books, to find one that would tell me some- 
thing in regard to Christianity. At last I discovered a large 
folio, entitled, " The Works of Justin Martyr." Although 
this writer was at that time entirely unknown to me, the 
title of Martyr excited a hope that I should find in it some- 
thing relating to Christianity. I opened it, and the first 
paragraph on which my eye rested was the ** Dialogue ivitk 
Trypho the Jew.^^ I read it hastily, and found there a 
succinct exposition of the prophecies relating to the Mes- 
siah, which was very useful to me. Here was very evi- 
dently another interposition af Providence, and my heart 
was deeply touched with it. 

VOL. X. 26 



10 CONVERSION OF DR. CAPADOSE. 

One night 1 was reading the prophet Isaiah : when i 
came to the fifty-third chapter, the perusal of it made so 
vivid an impression upon me, and showed me so clearly, 
and, as it were, feature by feature, what I had read in the 
Gospel of the sufferings of Christ, that I actually thought 
some other Bible had been substituted in the place of my 
own : 1 could not be persuaded that this fifty-third chap- 
ter, which may be justly styled a Gospel in brief, formed 
apart of the Old Testament. On reading this, it seemed 
impossible for a Jew to doubt that Christ was the promised 
Messiah. 

Whence came so strong un impression 1 I had often 
read this same chapter, but this time I read it with the 
light of God's Spirit. From that hour I fully recognized 
in Christ the true Messiah, and our meditations on the 
word of God took a new turn. This was, as it were, the 
beo-inning, the aurora of a glorious day to our souls : the 
light continually spread more of its vivifying rays, enlight- 
ened our minds, warmed our hearts, and afforded me even 
then indescribable consolation. I began to solve the where- 
fore of many of the enigmas af life, that had occupied my 
mind, rather to weary and sadden, than to tranquillize and 
instruct me. Every thing around me appeared to possess 
new life ; the end and interest of my existence were en- 
tirely changed. Happy days, blessed by a sense of the 
Master's presence ! I shall never forget them ! It seldom 
happens, when I review the journey of the two disciples 
to Emmaus, that the recollections of those days when my 
friend and I met and walked together, do not come up 
afresh into my memory. Like them we can say, " Did 
not our heart burn within us while he talked to us by the 
v/ay, and while he opened to us the Scriptures 1" 

I have remarked above, that, by the guidance of God, 
we had abstained from communicating to any person what 
was passing in our hearts ; and that, limiting ourselves to 
readino- and comparing the word of God, we neglected 
every other book, excepting the work of Heydeck, which 



CONVERSION OF Dll. CAFADOSE. 11 

we consulted regularly. This author had been a rabbi in 
Germany; but having embraced Catholicism, he was elect- 
ed professor of the oriental languages at Madrid, where I 
believe he still resides. The work we had before us, writ- 
ten in the form of letters, possessed much of the spirit and 
knowledge of the Scriptures, and contained a defence of 
Christianity against rationalism. The perusal of this was 
doubly useful to us, since we had occasion to remark how 
powerful the logic and how forcible the proofs were, when 
contending against the opinions of a Voltaire and a Rous- 
seau ; and how weak they were when defending Catho- 
licism against the principles of the Reformation. 

Whenever I had a leisure moment in the morninor I 
always absented myself to read the word of God ; foi I 
did not dare to do so in my uncle's presence. One day 
I had been more particularly engaged with this passage 
of the eighth chapter of Isaiah : " Behold a virgin shall 
conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Imma- 
nuel." I descended from the library, and found a Jewish 
physician, a friend of my uncle, waiting in the anti-cham- 
ber : he was turning: over the leaves of a new edition of 
the Bible. " Here," said he, " is a fatal passage, that we 
can hardly wrest from the christians." It was the very 
passage of Isaiah on which I had been meditating. My 
mind was vividly touched, and I recognized again the hand 
of God. 

" Ah ! why," replied I, " should we not acknowledge 
the truth V 

In the meanwhile my uncle entered. It was the dinner 
hour. "What question are you debating]" asked he 
The physician informed him ; and knowing how versed 
my uncle was in the rabbinical writings, he inquired what 
our rabbins said of this passage. " Alas ! a heap of non- 
sense," replied^ my uncle, rising up. We entered an ad 
joining room where dinner was served. My heart beat 
strong, and I inwardly blessed the Lord for permitting me 
to hear even these words, much as they indicated his want 



12 CONVERSION OF DR. CAPADOSE. 

of reverence for the Divine oracles, from the mouth of a 
man whose rabbinical science gave him authority among 
the Jews. 

All these circumstances, guided by the wisdom and 
goodness of God, concurred to convince me more and 
more that the truth loas in Christianity alone. But what, at 
the outset, was only the desire of my understanding, had 
become that of my heart. Ivnoidcdge no longer satisfied 
me; I felt the need oilove. Then it was that the rays of 
the Sun of Righteousness, which rises upon us gradually, 
conveyed to me, with the light that illumined me, that 
vivifying and celestial warmth which gives us the life of 
God. I acknowledged that it was through love the Saviour 
came to seek me : I now began to feel the weight of my 
pins ; or, to use a better expression, my total misery. But 
this sentiment was absorbed in that of divine love. I had 
found Christ my life, the central point of all my affections 
and all my thoughts, the only object capable of filling the 
immense void in my heart ; the key of every mystery ; the 
principle of all true philosophy, of every truth — " the 
Truth " itself 

By degrees, as the Spirit of God confirmed my faith, I 
felt more unhappy in the position in which I found myself, 
losing in my uncle's society so many precious hours and 
evenings that I could have desired to employ in further 
researches into the only subject that interested me on earth. 

Every day I felt more and more deeply the necessity of 
coming to an open declaration of my sentiments; but my 
uncle, that uncle who had loaded me with kindness, who 
cherished me as a son, who saw in me the support of his 
old age — how could I resolve to avow to him what, con- 
sidering his age and choleric temperament, could not fail 
to make an impression and occasion a shock, the conse- 
quences of which were incalculable % I can attest to the 
glory of God, that the certainty there was, in case I made 
the avowal, of losing a considerable inheritance that await- 
ed me, a certainty which the event has confirmed, formed 



CONVERSION OF DR. CAPADOSE. 13 

no part of the grounds of my hesitation. All my fears 
were, lest I should compromise a life so dear to me ; and 
the idea that, by a word, I might give a fatal blow to this 
worthy old gentleman, deprived me of the strength and 
courage requisite to unfold my sentiments. Assuredly, 
with more faith I should have overcome every obstacle ; 
but in the state in which I then was, I could only sigh and 
groan in secret. During these seasons of inward struggle 
and conflict, my sighs rose continually to the God who had 
called me ; I conjured him to come to my aid and to 
open the way before me. 

Acknowledge how attentive the God of compassion was 
to my cry, and how he listened to the voice of my suppli- 
cation. My uncle was in the habit of reading the public 
journals aloud after dinner. One day, when I was seated 
at my customary place opposite to him, in a state of indes- 
cribable depression, I heard him reading a notice from a 
Hamburg journal, which ran thus : '' We have just been 
witnesses of an interesting fact : a rabbi, after having pub- 
licly announced in the synagogue, that an attentive exa- 
mination of the prophecies had given him a clear convic- 
tion that the true Messiah had come, has publicly confess- 
ed the christian faith in our city, and been received as a 
minister of the Gospel of Christ." Whereupon my uncle 
added these words, which my position rendered so remark- 
able : '' You know my way of thinking : if this man has 
acted thus from any interested motive whatever, he de- 
serves contempt; if it is through conviction, he has a 
claim to respect." 

Christians ! who happily compassionate the lively emo- 
tions of the heart of a fellow-being, I will not attempt 
to describe to you all that passed in mine at this solemn 
moment ! In a transport of joy, I replied, " Yes, uncle, 
God has given you these sentiments : know that he whom 
you love with paternal tenderness, and whom you call by 
the name of son, is in the same position as this rabbi !" 

I pronounced these words with such a tone of voice, 

VOL. X. 26* 



14 CONVERSION OF DR. CAPADOSE. 

and with so much agitation, that my poor uncle, speech- 
less and alarmed, thought me deranged ; and going out 
for a moment, as if to allow me time to return to myself, 
he re-entered and spoke of other matters. But my mind 
was too much absorbed and excited to listen to what he 
saiJ : I was occupied with the God of my deliverance ; 
for, on this occasion, I had felt him to be near. It was 
the presence of the Ado7iai (God) of my fathers that sus- 
tained me, and who from that day afforded my soul a con- 
solation it had never experienced, a joy and energy it had 
never known. 

Nevertheless, I saw clearly that my uncle, although 
troubled by this scene, had not attributed to my words 
the importance they merited. I resolved, then, in God's 
strength, to reiterate my declaration on the morrow. We 
were alone at the table, according to custom ; my uncle 
appeared somewhat pre-occupied ; he was, notwithstand- 
ing, on very good terms with me. After dinner I began, 
but this time with calmness and decision, by saying, I re- 
marked, with regret, that my avowal of the preceding 
evening had not been clearly understood, which laid me 
under the obligation to repeat it, as if in God's presence, 
with the hope that he himself would one day acknowledge 
the truth. 

There was no longer any possibility of illusion, and a 
most trying scene followed. He beat his breast — cursed 
his existence, and cried out, in the bitterness of his soul, 
that I was bringing down his gray hairs with sorrow to the 
grave, These reproaches pierced my heart ; but the Lord 
strengthened, consoled, and gave me grace to show this 
dear, venerable old grentleman, marks of love and tender- 
iiess, which calmed him a little. The next day he communi- 
cated all to my parents, and it appeared that there was an 
understanding: between them to treat me with tenderness. 
Who could tell, but that, by carefully avoiding all conver- 
sation upon this topic, these ideas might pass away ] 
Nevertheless, ray family were not slow to perceive that 



CONVERSION OF DR. CAPADOSE. 15 

this was impossible ; I began even to embolden myself, 
sometimes preaching the Gospel to them ; and whenever 
occasion offered, I no longer dissembled my sentiments. 

My intimate friend, who had lost his father some months 
previous, enjoying more liberty, was at this time a great 
source of consolation to me. At last, my uncle seeing 
that mildness did not succeed in effacing my religious con- 
victions, and fearing still more the open manifestation of 
my faith, had recourse to other means, which led, how- 
ever, to results opposite to his expectation. There was 
not a sarcasm, humiliation, contempt, or severity even, 
that I had not to endure from him. 

I do not complain of these trials ; on the contrary, I 
ought to consider this treatment, severe and painful to'the 
flesh, in the light of real blessings from God, since it con- 
firmed my faith, and was to me a new testimony of the 
truth of the Gospel, the open and full confession of which 
has ever been attended with every kind of persecution. 

My family, also, were not in the least appeased, seeing 
me persevere in my resolution in spite of all that had been 
attempted to divert me from it, and the severity practised 
towards me went on increasing. This was the period of 
severest trial to my soul. Rarely did I meet with one 
of my relations, whether at my uncle's house, or in 
that of my parents, without enduring painful reproaches 
from them. 

It may be conceived that this state of things could not 
last, and but strengthened my ardent desire to confess my 
Saviour. We were already the subject of public conver- 
sation. Very many of our habits were altered ; we no 
longer frequented the same society, and were very seldom 
seen participating in the pleasures of our friends. The 
cause was at length suspected, and called forth expres- 
sions of grief and regret on the part of our nation. They 
set some value upon us ; we were favorably known, and 
to national pride was added the flattery of the idea that 
I possessed, as a religious companion, such a man as ray 



16 CONVERSION OK DR. CAPADOSE. 

friend, who, though young, had superior talents, and was 
versed in many sciences ; above all, was a poet, whose ef- 
fusions, at that time published, had been received with 
universal applause. 

I will not pass over in silence an interesting interview 
that we had about this time with a respectable Rabbi, a 
man of fasting and prayer, emaciated by hard diet, and 
esteemed for piety by the whole Jewish nation. He de- 
sired an interview, and gave us calmly some written ob- 
jections. It was not difficult to refute them. Perceiving 
that his arguments did not persuade us, he attempted an 
appeal to our feelings. " Gentlemen," said he, rising up 
with solemnity, ''in a few days all of our religion, in 
every quarter of the globe, will put on sackcloth and 
ashes, to celebrate the great day of propitiation. Then 
every Israelite who humbleth himself before our God, 
sincerely confessing his sins, is sure to obtain grace. I 
conjure you, gentlemen, to reflect seriously upon it ; and 
if, as Israelites, you humble yourselves with remorse for 
the design you have dared to form, you will be pardoned 
by our God." We were touched, vividly touched by his 
zeal ; but we reminded him, that, at any rate, thebloodqf 
the Messiah alone could wash us from all sin. 

As he was on the point of departing, he added these 
remarkable words : " Well, gentlemen, I have acted in 
accordance with the command of duty ; now that we are 
about to separate, apparently never to meet again, I can- 
not conceal from you that I thank God for permitting me 
to find, even in our day, jiersons loho believe the Bible.^' 
We then separated, not without emotion on both sides. 

At length the moment of final decision had arrived ; I 
could defer no longer. My friend, whose position was 
very different from mine, and who had met with hardly 
any opposition, his father dying before our secret trans- 
pired, desired to wait some time longer ; but my decision 
was taken ; he joined me, and I acquainted my family 
with my resolution. 



CONVERSION OF DR. CAPADOSE. 17 

They wished that I would postpone it, or at least that I 
would go into Germany, or elsewhere. Perhaps I might 
have yielded to this wish, but the fear of any appearance 
of shame in the step I was about to take, led me to reject 
every proposition of the kind ; only we promised not to 
join any church in the city where our families resided, 
and, as it were, in the face of our uncle, who was chief 
of a commission charged by the king to take care of the 
interests of the Jews of Holland. 

Our choice naturally fell on the city of Leyden, which 
had such sweet recollections in our hearts, and where that 
dear and excellent professor dwelt, with his worthy spouse, 
whose writings and conversation had exercised so marked 
an influence over our minds. We set out for Leyden in 
September — my friend, his interesting wife, who partook 
our convictions at heart, and myself We were received 
with open arms, and an affection truly parental, by these 
worthy friends, who had taken so much interest in our 
conflicts. Who more deserving than they to participate 
in the celestial joy that flooded our hearts 1 

The 20th of October, 1822, was the day so ardently 
longed for, when v/e were solemnly received as members 
of the christian church ; there, on our knees, before the 
God of our fathers, the true God, the Father, Son, and 
Holy Spirit, we had the ineffable happiness, we, unworthy, 
miserable sinners, to confess, in the midst of the christian 
church, the blessed name of that great God and Saviour 
who had sought us when lost. Glory be to his holy name ! 

The text selected by the pastor, as the subject of his 
discourse, was Romans, 11 : 5. ^'Even so then at this pre.- 
aent time also there is a remnant according to the election of 
graced Election of grace ! This is the conclusion of what 
you have just read ; it is an abridgment of the history 
of my conversion ; it is that of all other gratuitous grace ; 
grace that conducts, grace that illumines, grace that ena- 
bles one to suffer for the name of the Lord, grace that 
consoles, grace that draws to Christ, grace that gives faith, 



18 CONVERSION OF DR. CAPADOSE. 

grace that justifies, grace that legenerates, that sanctifies ; 
finally, grace for grace, and to the glory of God, whose 
free and gratuitous election, made before the foundation 
of the world, is the only source and principle of all grace, 
of all felicity. 

The day previous to our public entrance into the chris- 
tian church, we took leave of the synagogue by letter. I 
addressed to the magistrates of the Portuguese Jewish 
nation a letter, in which, while authorizing them to con- 
sider me as no longer a member of the synagogue, I pro- 
tested that I remained an Israelite, hut an Israelite ivlio 
had found his Messiah, and who ceased not to offer the sin- 
cerest ivishes that his brethren, according to thejlesh, might 
speedily return to the Lord their God, and to David their 
king. 

A few days after my public renunciation of Judaism, 
I received a letter from my uncle, in which he announc- 
ed to me, that, after what had passed and some new ar- 
rangements made in his household, / coidd not, on my 
return to Amsterdam, dwell under his roof ; that he did 
not forbid my visiting him, but this was only under the 
express condition that I should never speak to him of 
my sentiments. On my return to Amsterdam I hired a 
small apartment on a third floor, wliere, alone with my 
God, I experienced a heavenly joy and peace that passed 
all understanding. 

My dear brother, with whom I often conversed on the 
subject nearest my heart, and who weighed the considera- 
tions I urged with great seriousness, at length fell sick, 
and died suddenly, crying to me in a strong voice, and 
with great earnestaess, " Call, call my mother ; call my 
isister ; I am dying — but I believe in God the Father, the 
Son, and the Holy Spirit. I believe in Jesus Christ, my 
Saviour. He is Master — King of kings. Ml must come to 
him. Europe, Asia, Africa, and America belong to him. 
He must reign over the whole earth. Announce in the syna- 
gogue that I die in his name.''' 



CONVERSION OF DR. CAPADOSE. 19 

And now, my brethren in Christ, it is to you I ad- 
dress myself in conclusion. If you have viewed with 
christian joy, how the Lord has, in his unspeakable good- 
ness, graciously taken some little broken twigs to engraft 
them anew upon the " cultivated olive," forget not that in 
tlie whole world there are many of these scattered branch- 
es, now with neither form nor comeliness, neither fruit nor 
verdure, but possessing still the sap of the most glorious 
promises. 

Forget not, that if they are still '' enemies, as touching 
the Gospel, for your sakes," they are also " dearly beloved, 
as touching election, for the fathers' sakes ; for the gifts 
and calling of God are without repentance." Rom. 11 : 
28, 29. Remember, that " as ye, in times past, have not 
believed God, yet have now obtained mercy through their 
unbelief: even so have these also now not believed, that 
through your mercy they also may obtain mercy." Rom, 
11 : 30, 31. Above all, forget not the immense privilege 
to which you are called, that you may be, by your prayers 
for Israel; and your charity towards them, co-operators 
with God, who desires to save Israel for his glory, yes, 
for his glory ; " for if the casting away of them be the 
reconciling of the world, what shall the receiving of them 
be, but life from the dead?" Rom. 11 : 15. 

The day is not far distant, the happy day which the 
apostle hails from afar with rapture and adoration, when 
he exclaims, " O the depth of the riches both of the wis- 
dom and knowledg;-e of God ! How unsearchable are his 
judgments, and his ways past finding out!" Rom. 11 : 33. 
" And it shall come to pass, when all these things are 
come upon thee, the blessing and the curse which I have 
set before thee, and thou shalt call them to mind among 
all the nations whither the Lord thy God hath driven thee, 
and shalt return unto the Lord thy God, and shalt obey 
his voice according to all that I command thee this day, 
thou and thy children, with all thy heart and with all thy 
soul, that then the Lord tliy God will turn thy captivity, 



20 CONVERSION OF DR. CAPADOSE. 

and will have compassion upon thee, and will return and 
gather thee from among all the nations whither the Lord 
thy God hath scattered thee. If any of thine be driven 
out to the outmost parts of heaven, from thence will the 
Lord thy God gather thee, and from thence will he fetch 
tlice. And the Lord thy God will bring thee into the land 
which thy fathers possessed, and thou shalt possess it, and 
he will do thee good and multiply thee above thy fathers " 
Deut. 30 : 1—5. Yes, the Lord is faithful. It is by an oath 
that he promised Abraham that his posterity should one 
day possess Canaan " from the river of Egypt to the great 
river, the river Euphrates ;" Gen. 15 : IS ; Exod. 23 : 31 ; 
Gen. 26 : 3 ; Ps. 105 : 9 ; and that this possession should 
be " for ever;" Gen. 13 : 15 ; " an everlasting possession ;" 
Gen. 17 : 7, 8 ; ''for ever r 2 Chron. 20 : 7. 

Behold the great promise, that, until now, has not been 
accomplished ! Israel, it is true, has possessed the land 
of Canaan, but never with an extent of territory, nor for 
a period of time proportioned to the grandeur of the pro* 
mise. Under the reign of Solomon alone have the limits 
of Israel's kingdom extended to the Euphrates ; and this 
triumph was brief, for we find that the prophet Isaiah, in 
a touching supplication, in which he enumerates the bless- 
ings of the Almighty, and the numberless deliverances of 
which Israel had already been the object, calling to mind 
this promise of the inheritance of Canaan, exclaims, " Re- 
turn, for thy servants' sake, the tribes of thine inheritance. 
The people of thy holiness have possessed it (the country) 
hut a little whiley Isaiah, 63 : 17, 18. 

This promise of perpetual possession has not yet been 
fully accomplished ; but it will be. Yes it will be under 
the reign of the true Solomon, of the promised Messiah, 
of the Lord of Glory, of the King of Israel, for he it is 
who shall rule " from sea to sea, from the river to the ends 
of the earth." Ps. 72 : S. Yes, it will be when the Al- 
mighty shall return unto Sion, and shall dwell in the 
midst of Jerusalem ; when '' Jerusalem shall be called a 



CONVERSION OF DR. CAPADOSE. 21 

city of trulh, and the mountain of the Lonl of Hosts, the 
holy mountain." Then the Lord shall say, " Behold, I will 
save my people from the east country, and from the west 
country, and I will bring them, and they shall dwell in the 
midst of Jerusalem : and they shall be my people, and I 
will be their God in truth and in righteousness." Zec!»- 
8 : 3, 7, S. 

" There is hope in thine end, saith the Lord, that thy 
children shall come again to their own border. Behold, 
the days come, saith the Lord, that I will sow the house 
of Israel and the house of Judah with the seed of man, 
and with the seed of beast. And it shall come to pass, 
that like as I have watched over them, to pluck up, and to 
break down, and to throw down, and to destroy, and to 
afflict ; so will I watch over them to build and to plant, 
saith the Lord. Behold, the days come, that the city shall 
be built to the Lord, from the tower of Hananeel unto 
the gate of the corner. And the measuring line shall yet 
go forth over against it upon the hill Gareb, and shall 
compass about Goath. And the whole valley of the dead 
bodies, and of the ashes, and all the fields unto the brook 
of Kidron, unto the corner of the horse-gate towards thf? 
east, shall be holy unto the Lord ; it shall not be plucked 
up. nor thrown down, any more for ever." Jer. 31 : 17, 
27 28, 38, 39, 40. 

Ah ! if, by divine direction, these lines should fall into 
the hands of any of the children of Abraham, but who 
have not Abraham's faith — of those Israelites, my dearly- 
beloved brethren according to the flesh, who are now 
poor, but with the riches of the divine word in their hands , 
miserable, but having the blood of the prophets in their 
veins ; despised and wandering over the whole earth, but 
with the promise of eternal glory, if they should be con- 
V'jrted ; may these lines remind them that this word, these 
promises, this blood of the prophets, urge them to ex- 
amine attentively what thpse prophets have spoken, and 
VOL. X. 27 



22 CONVERSION OF DR. CAPADOSE. 

by whom their promises must have their accomplishment 
for them' of whom this word is fulL 

Yes, may they speedily, by God's grace, acknowledge 
that this precious Bible, which they preserve, and upon 
which their faith as well as our own is founded, contains 
pi'ophetically the entire history of the Messiah : his origin, 
his nature, his birth, his life, his death, his resurrection 
and ascension to the right hand of God his heavenly Fa- 
ther; his spiritual reign; his return to glory ; finally his 
reign as King of Israel, priest and prophet. 

Behold what I have been taught by my researches in 
the word of God. May these lines excite in them also the 
desire to seek after the truth ! They will see that the 
Messiah promised to our fathers, must have been the 
only begotten Son of God, God eternal, one with the 
Father and Holy Spirit, according to the Scriptures ; for 
He is called '' God," and '' the Son of God," by David ; 
Ps. 45 : 6; Ps. 110 : 1 ; by Isaiah, '' Wonderful, Coun- 
sellor, the mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince 
of Peace ;" Isaiah, 9:6; by Jeremiah, '' The Lord our 
Righteousness ;" Jer. 23 : 6 ; by Malachi, '' the Lord ;" 
Mai. 3:1; that this Messiah was to take our nature and 
be born of a virgin, according to the Scriptures ; for he is 
called the seed of the woman, Gen. 3 : 15 ; '' the child 
of a virgin ;" Isaiah, 7:14; that this Messiah was to be the 
descendant of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, according to the 
Scriotures, for He is called '' the seed of Abraham ;" Gen. 
22 : 18; that He was to be of the tribe of Judah and of 
the house of David, according to the Scriptures ; for He 
is called " a Rod from the stem of Jesse ; Isaiah, 11:1; 
^' out of David a righteous Branch ;" Jer. 23 : 5 ; that He 
was to be born in '' Bethlehem," Mic. 5:2; that at that 
time '' the sceptre should be taken from Judah," Gen. 
49 : 10 ; that the Messiah should have Elias for his pre- 
cursor, " preaching in the wilderness and preparing the 
way," according to the Scriptures, Isaiah, 40 : 3. Mai, 3:1; 
that the Messiah should accompany his preaching witli 



CONVERSION OF DR. CAPADOSE. 23 

many miracles, Isaiah, 35 : .5, 6 ; that He should "enter 
Jerusalem upon an ass," Zech. 9:9; that He should ap- 
pear poor and humble, " having no form nor comeliness, 
the despised and rejected of men," Isaiah, 53 r2, 3 ; that 
one of his disciples should " betray him," Ps. 41 : 9 ; 
that He should be sold for " thirty pieces of silver," Zech, 
11 : 12 ; that He should be "smitten with rods, reviled, 
spit upon," Isaiah, 50 : 6 ; that He should be " nunjbered 
with the transgressors," Isaiah, 53 : 12 ; " smitten, and af- 
flicted of God, Isaiah, 53 : 4 ; but that these suffei'ings 
should be upon him " for our transgressions," Isaiah, 53 : 5 ; 
that He should be " crucified," Deut. 21:23; that they 
should " pierce his hands and his feet," Ps. 22 : 16 ; that 
He should be " reviled even on the cross," and made to 
drink " gall and vinegar," Ps. 22 : 7; 69 : 21 ; that they 
should " divide his garments among them, and for his ves- 
ture cast lots, Ps. 22 : 18 ; that " not a bone of him should 
be broken," Exod. 12 : 46 ; 34 : 20 ; that his death should be 
violent, Isaiah, 53 : 8 ; Dan. 9 : 26 ; that He should " make 
his grave with the wicked, and be with the rich in his death; 
Isaiah, 53 : 9 ; that He should " not see corruption," Ps. 
16:10; but that on " the third day " he should " rise again," 
Isaiah, 53 : 10 ; Jonah, 1 : 17 ; that He should " ascend into 
heaven and sit down at the right hand of the Father, Ps. 
68: 18; and that thence He should "send his Holy Spi- 
rit." Joel, 2 : 28. 

When you have thus united all these features of the 
promised Messiah, which the Almighty has traced so 
clearly, so distinctly, to the very minutest details, that 
Israel should not be deceived by any false Messiah ; when 
you have placed before you, as it were, face to face, the 
image of him upon whom your salvation rests, open, O 
my dear brethren in the flesh, open the New Testament, 
praying God to enable you to examine its contents with 
a sincere desire to know the truth, and the glorious light 
of the God of truth will lead you to acknowledge, with 
adoration, that all these characterizing features of the true 



84 CONVERSION OF DR. CAPADOSE. 

Messiah are to be found, wilh the most scrupulous exact- 
ness, in the person, the lite, and death of Jesus Christ, 
that Saviour blessed for evermore, w^ho will soon com.e in 
glory with his holy angels. Then Jerusalem shall be to 
him a name of rejoicing, of praise and glory among all 
the nations of the earth, who shall hear the good that he 
will do to Israel ; for, " I will cause the captivity of Judah, 
and the captivity of Israel, to return," saith the Lord, 
" and I will build them as at the first. And I will cleanse 
them from all their iniquity, whereby they have sinned 
against me ; and I will pardon all their iniquities whereby 
they have sinned, and whereby they have transgressed 
against me." J^r. 33 : 7, S. 

*' And I saw thrones, and they sat upon them, and judg- 
ment was given them : and I saw the souls of them that 
were beheaded for the witness of Jesus, and for the word 
of God, and which had not worshipped the beast, neither 
his image, neither had received his mark upon their fore- 
heads or in their hands; and they lived and reigned with 
Christ a thousand years. But the rest of the dead lived 
not again until the thousand years were finished. This is 
the first resurrection. Blessed and holy is he that hath 
part in the first resurrection : on such the second death 
hath no power; but they shall be priests of God and of 
Christ, and shall reign with him a thousand years. Apo- 
cal. 20 : 4-6. 

" And the Spirit and the bride say. Come. And let him 
that heareth say. Come. And let him that is athirst come. 
And whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely." 
Apocalypse, 22 : 17. Amen ! 

Note. — Rev. Professor Pettavel has annexed to the French edi- 
tion a brief sketch of the history of Dr. Capadose down to August, 
1837. showing how he had been sustained in trials, especially the 
death of a beloved and cliristian wife ; and the blessing that had at- 
tended the first part, and his completion of the second part of his 
' Jehovah Jesus," or " Crowd of Witnesses to the Divinity of Christ 
the Saviour." 



IVo. 389. 

DO YOU FORGIVE ALL YOUR ENEMIES ? 



There are many good reasons for doing so. 

He who does not forgive his enemies, will often mistake 
friends for foes. Being revengeful, he will be suspicious. 
He will misconstrue men's actions, and misjudge their mo- 
tives. Should any give him that rare token of valuable 
friendship which consists in affectionate reproof, he would 
esteem it unkind. For the same reason he would cherish 
jealousy, and would mark almost all actions with an evil 
eye. Turning friends into foes, in this way, is most injuri- 
ous ; it is self-torment. 

But suppose that some are your real enemies. Perhaps 
you have given them much provocation. If so, remember 
their fault does not cancel yours, nor can their sin be a cloak 
for your criminality. At least, be honest, and take as much 
blame to yourself as you ascribe to them. 

Although your enemy wantonly intends to do you evil, 
yet God may superintend to do you good. So his hatred 
shall not hurt, and may even benefit you. Thus, the plot- 
ting of Joseph's brethren led to his promotion at the court of 
Pharaoh. The curses of Shimei were the precursors of Da- 
vid's triumphant return to the holy city. " Let him alone," 
said the royal fugitive, " and let him curse, for the Lord hath 
bidden him. It '}nay he the Lord icill requite me good for 
his cursing this day.'' \i\ like manner, Avhen your enemies 
assail you, look up to God and say, 

" When men of spite against me join, 
They are the sword, the hand is thine," 

and he ^vill not suffer the sword to prosper against you. 

God commands you to lay aside all malice — to put off 
anger, wrath, and bitterness — to recompense to no man evil 
for evil — to forbear, and to forgive. He who breaks God's 
commandments, must bear God's anger. 

They who do not exercise forgiveness, shall not receive it. 
He who lives and dies unpardoning, lives and dies unpar- 
doned. The true Witness hath said, " If ye forgive not men 
their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your tres- 
VOL. X. 27* 



2 DO YOU FORGIVE ALL YOUR ENEMIES? 

passes." What terror these words bear to all the unfor- 
giving. 

Not to forgive is a daring assumption of the awful 'pre- 
rogative of God. " Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith 
the Lord. Who art thou that judgest another man's ser- 
vant ? To his own master he standeth or falleth." Surely 
God will rebuke the intrusion of yourself into his judgment- 
seat. So the blow which you aim at your fellow-sinner and 
fellow-servant will return upon your own soul. 

The best and ivisest men in every age have practised 
forgiveness. When Stephen was enduring that dreadful 
death by stoning, he cried, " Lord, lay not this sin to their 
charge." All the martyrs followed his example. When 
reviled, they blessed. And saints of later times have done 
the same. How creditable it is to the memory of one of the 
reformers, that " he never forgot any thing except injuries." 
Who would not be like such a man ? 

To forgive the most bitter enemies is to be like Jesus, 
who, beholding the unfeeling cruelty of his enemies in mock- 
ing his dying agonies, yet in that dreadful hour not only 
prayed for their forgiveness, but firamed an argument in ex- 
tenuation of their guilt : ' ' Father, forgive them ; for they 
know not what they do." Would you not be like Christ ? 
Can you ever be " satisfied " until you awake in his likeness ? 

You wish to be great. Then remember, that there is 
more greatness in ruling your own spirit than in taking a 
city. The poorest of all contrite souls has the preeminence 
over him who should subdue the earth to his sceptre, but 
should not subdue his own passions. " It is the glory of man 
to pass over a transgression." To err is human. To revenge 
is devilish. To forgive is divine. 

It is a mark of peculiar guilt and folly not to forgive. 
The best authority teaches, that "anger rests only in the 
bosom of fools," and that to " hate a man is to be a mur- 
derer." 

Forgiveness often cojiverts foes into frieiuls. It may 
thus affect your enemies. It would be very pleasant to 
secure the good- will of those who dislike you. But resent- 
ment will only irritate and enrage. No enemy is won by 
hatred. Leviathan is never thus tamed. " Grievous words 
stir up anger." It is " a soft answer" that " turns away 
wrath." Learn to overcome evil with good. 



DO YOU FORGIVE ALL YOUR ENEMIES? 3 

E-emember, too, that you are not nuich liurt until your 
soul is hurt. The bitterness of enemies is not the bitterness 
of death. Who can harm you if you follow that which is 
good ? Malignity in striking one dagger against the bosom 
of its object, buries ten in the heart of the assailant. The 
most expensive of all methods of being equal to your foe is 
to hate him. The cheapest mode of gaining a lawful and 
undoubted advantage over him is to forgive him. 

He who does not forgive, must prepare for strife and 
every evil work. It is a wise rule to " leave off contention 
before it be meddled with." Defile not thy conscience, im- 
bitter not thy life with M'^ars and fightings. 

Besides, you and your enemy will soon stand together 
at the same bar of o^imiscient judgment. If he has to be 
judged, so have you. Nor can you deny that you have often 
and very wickedly sinned against God. Why should you 
not be merciful, that " you may obtain mercy ?" You owe 
your Lord ten thousand talents. Why should you not for- 
give your fellow-servant fifty pence ? If God bring you into 
judgment, you cannot answer for one of a thousand of your 
heinous sins against him. Does it then become you to be 
unforgiving respecting the few and slight offences committed 
against yourself? 

Christianity is practically worth very little to him whom 
it does not enable to triumph over all sinful enmities. To 
embrace the bitterest enemy in the arms of holy benevolence 
is one of the earliest, and simplest, and grandest achieve- 
ments of vital and evangelical piety. Shall your religion 
be worthless ? 

Prayer for your enemies will be much more likely to 
make them ashamed and miserable, until they cease their 
hostility, than any thing that revenge can inflict. Even 
persecution herself has been known to grow pale, and to 
quake under the influence of hearty prayer. 

Eternity is near. Unconceived glories or terrors will 
soon strike aAve into every soul of man. Then all the petty 
strifes among the potsherds will be divested of their unreal 
consequence ; and many things on earth regarded as great, 
will consume away like the fat of lambs. Look at the 
grounds of your enmity. Can you justify it in eternity ? 

Thus are you called and urged to the duty of forgiveness. 
More sublime sanctions attach to no human obligation. 



4 DO YOU FORGIVE ALL YOUR ENEMIES? 

And now, do you forgive all your enemies ? Perhaps 
you say, " I can forgive, but I can't forget." If you mean, 
that you cannot erase from the tablet of your memory all 
impression, so as to be wholly unable to recollect the offence, 
then you are not required to forget. In this sense Jehovah 
does not forget our offences. Yet he says, " Their sin and 
their iniquities will I remember no more." Now we are 
required to forgive as he forgives. When you are required 
to forget as well as forgive, the meaning is, that you must 
not willingly retain a remembrance of the offence — thoughts 
of it must not be cherished — the recollection of it must not 
awaken animosity ; nor must the repetition of the offence 
rekindle old anger or hatred. You must also forgive, how- 
ever often the offence be repeated, though it be " seven times 
a day," or " seventy times seven." You must love your 
enemy ; pray for him ; wish well to him ; do him good ; if 
he be hungry, feed him ; if he thirst, give him drink ; if he 
be naked, clothe him. And you must do all sincerely, ha- 
bitually, benevolently, willingly ; not for a pretence, nor by 
constraint of the fear of hell. The sorrows and sufferings of 
your most cruel, unrelenting, and persevering foe must be 
no matter of joy to you. " He that is glad at calamities 
shall not be unpunished." You must " love your enemies." 
To do so is the badge of discipleship in the school of Christ, 
and the token and pledge of eternal life. If you find no such 
spirit in you, then you are a guilty, unpardoned, unholy sin- 
ner, in the gall of bitterness and in the bond of iniquity. 
Therefore you must be converted. You must be born again. 
In malice you must become a child. Without a thorough 
change of heart you cannot be saved. The alternative is 
regeneration or perdition. You must be born again, and 
your enmity slain, or you must sink to endless woe. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



No. 390. 

TO THE 



NEGLECTER OF RELIGION. 



One of the most eminent fetnale Christians of the last 
century, Lady Glenorchy of Scotland, lived to the age of 
twenty-three in a round of fashionable pleasure. Aroused 
by a threatening illness to serious reflection, she mused on 
the question, "What is the chief end of man?" " Is it to 
glorify God and enjoy him for ever? Have I answered the 
design of my being ? Have I glorified God ? Shall J enjoy 
him for ever?" Such musings convinced her of sin, and 
brought her to flee for refuge to the blood of Christ. 

Let it not be thought, that, to be a neglecter of the Gos- 
pel, a man must be an infidel, or scoffer, or profane. Not 
to care for religion ; not to ponder its doctrines and duties ; 
not to seek its blessings ; not to feel our need of a Saviour ; 
not to live a life of prayer and obedience — is to be a neg- 
lecter of the great salvation. We urge on such an one some 
reasons for immediate attention to the religion of Christ. 

Multitudes of the wise a7icl good have estimated it as 
beyond price. Deliberate examination has convinced them, 
that while other religions are false, this is divine, and just 
such a rehgion as fallen man needs. A religion which ofTers 
mercy to the penitent, and yet sustains the honor of God's 
law ; which provides for all the wants of the miserable, and 
yet holds forth powerful motives to holiness. 

TJwusands have heeyi made the better by the possession 
of this religion. It has made them more sober and consid- 
erate ; more reverent towards God ; more guarded against 
sin ; more submissive in poverty and affliction ; stricter in 
moral duties ; kinder as husbands and wives, parents and 
children, neighbors and friends ; more humble, forgiving, 
and benevolent. Do you not wish these effects to be pro- 
duced in yourself? Can aught but the Gospel do it ? And 
can that Gospel, neglected, transform you by the renewing 



2 TO THE NEGLECTER OF RELIGION. 

of your mind, more than a book unread can add to your 
knowledge ? 

As religion has made thousands the better, irreligion has 
'made tJiousands ivorse. Look at those who are disturbers 
of the peace, corrupt in principle, deceitful, overbearing, 
and oppressive : do they possess the religion of Christ ? They 
all neglect it ; many of them speak lightly of it ; not a few 
openly revile it. Irreligion debases as well as corrupts 
them. 

Without religion you must also be a stranger to the calmi 
and delightful satisfactions of a good conscience. Possibly 
you may contrive, for a season, to escape the stings of an 
accusing conscience ; may cherish an erroneous conscience, 
which speaks peace where God has not spoken peace ; or 
you may have a stupid conscience, destitute of moral feeling ; 
but neither of these is a good conscience. Both are emi- 
nently dangerous. As the pious Henry well remarks, the 
greatest curse that can befall a man this side of a miserable 
eternity, is a dumb conscience that says nothing, a blind 
conscience that sees nothing, a dead conscience that feels 
nothing. That stupid conscience cannot sleep always, nor 
long. It must aivake at last, to bite like a serpent. But 
what a solace is a good conscience, which has peace with 
God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Possessed of this, the 
storms of trouble may howl without, but all will be serene 
within. A statesman of a former age summed up the re- 
sults of his experience in this : " Seriousness is the greatest 
wisdom, temperance the best medicine, and a good con- 
science the best estate." Such a conscience implies a heart 
reconciled to God through the blood of atonement, purified by 
his grace ; and that its possessor is living in dependence on 
his mercy, and endeavoring to bring forth the fruits of right- 
eousness. This will sustain the soul in a dying hour. It 
was under the impression of such a preparation being indis- 
jJensable, that the apostle Paul desired to exercise himself to 
" have always a conscience void of ofience." Have not you 
as much reason to be afraid of the judgment as he ? 

Neglect of Christ's Gospel is also an ill requital of his 



TO THE NEGLECTER OF RELIGION. 3 

dying love. He saw you a perishing sinner ; his bowels 
yearned over you ; he came from heaven to earth to save 
you. When divine justice could not consistently pardon 
A^dthout an atonement, nor spare the surety without exacting 
satisfaction, he shed his own blood as the price of your re- 
demption. He has given you the invitations of grace, the 
calls of ministers, the strivings of his Spirit. Even now is 
he ready to forgive and bless you on your repentance. No 
one, who came to him in faith, was ever cast out, as too 
young, or too old, or too guilty, or too degraded. That he 
has inclined you to read these pages, is a proof that he has 
not utterly forsaken you. Will you, after all, neglect his 
religion ? Will you thus requite dying love ? Imagine 
yourself to visit some distant world, and find in it only a 
single inhabitant ; to learn that he was a sinner ; that Christ 
had in mercy come to that world, and died for that sinner ; 
and that he, notwithstanding, neglected Christ's salvation, 
grieved his Spirit, and refused to return his love. Would 
you not call him a monster of ingratitude ? But has not 
Christ done precisely the same for you ? 

Consider, farther, that his religion can overcome the dread 
of death. This stamps it with unspeakable value. No other 
principle — no system of philosophy or infidelity can achieve 
for you this great victory. Death casts its gloomy shadow 
over the brightest paths of life, and dooms to the grave the 
monarch as certainly as the beggar. Well is it called the 
king of terrors. To social intercourse and earthly enjoyments 
it puts an end. It is natural for friends to wish to lie side 
by side ; each, hov/ever, dwells alone, and has no more com- 
munication with neighbors, than if they were millions of 
miles distant. Death summons the soul to the bar of God 
to receive sentence ; but over this dread enemy religion has 
given to thousands the victory. Leaning on the arm of 
Christ, they have gone down into the dark-'valley, fearing 
no evil ; faith has kindled a light there, and brightened it 
with dawnings of eternal day. Often have they been able 
to say with Watts, " I can close my eyes in sleep, not solicit- 
ous whether I awake in this world, or in the world to come ;" 



4 TO THE NEGLECTER OF RELIGION. 

or with the pious Hichard Turner, " Now I have but a few 
steps to- my Father's house;" or with Brainerd, "I am 
almost in eternity, I long to be there ;" or with Andrew 
Fuller, " I am not afraid to plunge into eternity ;" or with 
Pay son, " The celestial city is full in my view. Its glories 
beam upon me ; its odors are wafted to me ; its sounds strike 
upon my ears ; its spirit is breathed into my heart. Nothing 
separates me from it but the river of death, Avhich now ap* 
pears but as an insignificant rill, that may be crossed at a 
single step whenever God shall give permission." 

Lay it to heart, also, that the religion of Christ is the 
only iweparative for heaven. Think what heaven is. No 
sin there ; no error ; no trifling or profaneness ; no selfish, 
wicked dispositions ; no opposition to truth, or reluctance to 
duty : all the redeemed in that world supremely love Christ, 
and have no other wish than to glorify God. Deeply sensible 
they are, that they were hell-deserving sinners, and that to 
God's mercy in Christ, not to their own merits, they owe all 
their happiness. Are you not conscious that you are now 
unqualified for admittance there ? Can aught but true re- 
ligion prepare you ? " Ye must be born again." This is the 
only preparative, for " other foundation can no man lay, 
than that is laid, which is Christ." Will you neglect the 
ONLY Saviour? 

Such neglect involves eternal ruin. Irreligion is ruin, 
because it leaves the corrupt nature unchanged, the lusts of 
the flesh and mind unsubdued, the careless life unreformed. 
It induces you to rob God of the love, worship, and glory 
which are his due ; to live, as some one has well said, "just 
as Satan would have you ;" for he wants you to do nothing 
worse than neglect the Gospel. It leaves your sins un- 
pardoned, and renders the exercise of mercy towards you, 
in your present state, inconsistent with the honor of the 
divine law. If sin become not your grief, it will prove your 
ruin. To turn to God and live, or not to turn and die, are 
the only courses set before you. Better neglect any thing 
than the soul. A man famous for business habits, being 
asked how he accomplished so much, replied, " Some things 



TO THE NEGLECTER OF RELIGION. 5 

must be done ; others it is desirable to do. I do what must 
be done, and as much chc as I can." So should you con- 
sider the work of religion, as that which must be done, 
whatever else is left undone. If this remains undone, it 
will turn your very blessings into a curse. Time, health, 
Sabbaths, the Bible, and other means of grace, are in them- 
selves blessings ; but better had it been never to have pos- 
sessed them, than to abuse them and be a castaway. " Good 
had it been for that man if he had not been born." Thou- 
sands have felt, in the dying hour, that irreligion had been 
their ruin. Cardinal Mazarine, after a long life of ambition 
and pleasure, in which he had enjoyed the highest civil 
dignities of France, exclaimed at the close, "0, my poor soul, 
whither art thou going?" If a man lose health, he has 
hope of recovering it ; if he lose property, perhaps he may 
regain it ; if he lose even character, possibly he may re- 
trieve it ; but the wul once lost, is lost for ever. 

think not, that though the Bible threatens impenitence 
with ruin, there shall yet appear some way of escape. " Hoiv 
shall we escape, if we neglect so great salvation?" Not, 
surely, by resisting God when he rises up to punish. 

But possibly you are framing some plausible excuse. 
" Come," then, " and let us reason together, saith the Lord 
of hosts." Will you plead, that as you did not make your 
own heart, you are not to blame ? But do not your affections 
and acts of choice constitute, at least in part, your heart ; 
and dare you say you have no agency in making them what 
they are ? \Yill you say you could not convert yourself, and 
as God did not convert you, you are excusable ? But is your 
inability invincible and excusable, or vicious and criminal ? 
Has God, or has he not, promised to give, on your asking, 
the aid of his Spirit ? Will you allege, that if not elected, 
efforts for salvation will do no good ? You would think it 
impertinent to urge such an objection against efforts to cure 
a disease, or raise a crop on your field. Will you plead that 
you cannot think sin so great and aggravated an evil as the 
Bible represents it ? Alas, has it come to this, that you 
cannot frame an excuse without denying some important 
VOL. X. 28 



6 TO THE NEGLECTER OF RELIGION. 

principle of the word of God ? Or will you take the ground, 
that Godis too merciful to make any of his creatures finally 
miserable ? This indeed carries an appearance of intending 
to honor God ; but it is a strange way of honoring him, to 
suppose he is unfaithful to his own word, and has threatened 
what he never meant to perform. Or will you rely on the 
plea that it is unjust for God to punish you for ever for the 
sins of a short life ? Who knows best what sin deserves, 
God or you ? In a case where you are so deeply interested, 
are you impartial enough to be trusted as a judge? Are 
you wise enough ? To know fully what sin deserves, re- 
quires a perfect knowledge of the worth of the soul, the 
excellence of God and his law, and the tendencies and results 
of sin eternal ages hence. None but God perfectly knows 
one of these things. He is the only being both wise enough 
and impartial enough to be a fit judge. Alas, your excuses 
for neglecting Christ Avill not stand the test. " The bed is 
shorter than that a man can stretch himself on it, and the 
covering narrower than that he can wrap himself in it." 

Do you ask, How shall I obtain the blessings of religion ? 
" Ask, and ye shall receive ; seek, and ye shall find ; knock, 
and it shall be opened to you." Call on God, and he can 
and will help you. " Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and 
thou shalt be saved." Be not discouraged by the difficulties 
of the strait and narrow way. True, a life of religion in- 
volves some sacrifices ; you must renounce your sins and 
practice self-denial ; it will cost, however, nothing but what 
you had infinitely better part with, than keep. Consider, 
too, what it will cost not to be a Christian — an uneasy con- 
science, an unhappy death, a miserable eternity. Count the 
cost on both sides. 

On these great topics reflect. Let your reflections be 
serious, because of their importance ; frequent, lest the whirl 
of business or pleasure eflace them from your mind ; and 
retired, that external objects may not intrude and distract 
your thoughts. It is a true remark, that as a small voice is 
more distinctly heard, and a little light more clearly seen in 
the night, so when the soul is retired from the throng of the 



TO THE NEGLECTER OF RELIGION. 7 

world, and outward objects are darkened, the still voice of 
conscience and of the Spirit is better heard, and the light of 
divine truth more clearly perceived. Would you spend but 
half an hour each day in solitary reflection and prayer, you 
could not live as you do, Tillotson tells us of a thoughtless 
youth, whom his pious father, on his death-bed, earnestly 
requested to retire each day and spend a quarter of an hour 
in solitude. He promised, and did so. Soon the season of 
retirement grew tedious ; he wondered what his father meant 
by so singular a request, and began to think it was intended 
to enforce him to reflection. The expedient was, by God's 
grace, successful. Consideration made him resolve to change 
his course of life, and he was true to the resolution all his 
days. " Thus, consideration," added the archbishop, " is one 
of the best means to bring a bad man to a better mind." 

Possibly some one who has neglected religion, even to old 
age, may cast his eye over these pages. How affecting the 
thought, my aged friend, that you have spent a long life in 
disregard of Christ. How much better might it have been 
spent. Many a youthful disciple, whose age is not a third 
part of yours, has repented of sin, formed the habit of prayer, 
borne the yoke of Christ, and done much for the salvation 
of others. These things you have left undone. The spring 
of youth is gone ; the summer of manhood ; time has sprin- 
kled over your head the frosts of age, indications of the win- 
ter of death. But a span remains. Yield not to the despair- 
ing thought, that the divine mercy is clean gone for ever ; 
think not, as some aged sinners have done, that it is too late 
to attempt any thing. Come as a penitent, at the eleventh 
hour, and you shall find acceptance. '* Arise from the dead, 
and Christ shall give thee light." 

Let the young attend early to the great salvation. To 
neglect it is not the way to make old age comfortable, death 
happy, and eternity blessed. Serve God in the morning of 
life, and he will not cast you off' when your strength faileth. 
Youth commonly gives a stamp to the rest of life : what 
one becomes at the age of tAventy or twenty-five, he is very 
likely to remain while he lives. It is dangerous to neglect 



8 TO THE NEGLECTER OF RELIGION. 

the Saviour a single day ; for what is your life ? Alas, let 
the graves of others tell. Persons of your age are apt to be 
delighted w^ith " the things that are seen," the novelties, the 
pleasures, and attractions of the world. But, remember, 
there are things " not seen :" an unseen Grod, an unseen 
eternity, an unseen judgment. Soon will the world have 
gone by — its glitter, its amusements, its business ; but mill- 
ions of ages hence, there will be the same God, the same 
Christ, the same heaven and hell. Neglect not religion 
because many of your young associates do. Better to follow 
Christ without them, than go down to destruction with 
them. Even should youthful piety incur the sneers of the 
thoughtless, will it not be easier to bear these, than the eter- 
nal frowns of God ? Thrice happy the young Christian, 
who pursues the course which will enable him, in declining' 
years, to say with good Obadiah, " I thy servant fear the 
Lord from my youth." 

No longer, fellow-immortal, neglect the things of thy 
peace, " lest they be hid from thine eyes." Acquaint thyself 
NOW with God ; an hour too late may be an eternity too late. 
Your character at death, good or bad, you will carry into 
eternity. Death changes not the moral feelings of the heart. 
Are you willing to die in such a state, that, should your 
tombstone tell the truth, it must say, Here lies a neglecter 
OF THE Gospel ? Soon will you be gone — ^your house and 
place be occupied by others — ^your very name forgotten — your 
grave levelled by the hand of time, and not the slightest 
memorial of you remain on earth. But your spirit, where 
will that be ; where, thousands of ages hence ? TJiat will 
be determined by your embracing, or neglecting the religion 
of Jesus Christ. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETV. 



IVo. 391 



"I AM NO HYPOCRITE." 



This is the inconsiderate declaration of many an indi- 
vidual, implying at once self- commendation and a reflection 
upon professors of religion. But they who join some church, 
are not the only persons who make professions. Those 
who join no church, profess, if not in words, yet in actions, 
that they are not Christians. And when they charge pro- 
fessors of religion with hypocrisy, and maintain that they 
themselves are sincere, they plainly acknowledge that they 
could not make a profession of religion without hypocrisy — 
that is, they profess not to be Christians. 

When the Lord's table is spread, and church-members 
come around it, they make a profession of repentance, faith 
in Christ, love to God, and obedience to the divine pre- 
cepts. Those who come not around this table, profess, as 
plainly as actions can speak, that they do not repent, be- 
lieve, love, nor obey. And often, when they are asked, 
"Are you followers of Christ?" they plainly answer, ''No 
— hut we are no hypocrites^ Such persons differ from true 
Christians both in profession and in reality ; but they diflfer 
from hypocrites only in profession. With this single ex- 
ception they are alike. Both are destitute of true religion. 
If false professors are to be detested for their hypocrisy, 
ought those who profess to have no religion to congratu- 
late themselves for their sincerity ? 

It is possible for a man to be sincere in embracing error 
and practising iniquity, as well as in embracing the truth 
and obeying it ; and then, the greater the sincerity, the 
worse the condition. If what is sincere were always right, 
then sincere hatred to our neighbor would be right ; and 
the murderer would do right in killing his neighbor, pro- 
vided he only hated him sincerely, and was in good earnest 
in killing him. But let us pass to the consideration of some 
of those cases in which men profess to be sincere. 

Perhaps you profess to be an atheist — an unbeliever in 
the existence of a Supreme Beincr, who created and governs 
VOL. X. 28* 



2 " I AM NO HYPOCRITE." 

the iiniverse. Now, some have doubted whether a sincere 
atheist ever Hved ; but 3'our sincei'ity I will not for the 
present call in question. Let me ask, however, whether 
you have ever seriously thought of the absurdities embraced 
in your belief? Do you then believe that a watch makes, 
winds up, and regulates itself ; or rather, that it exists and 
measures time, without ever having been made and regu- 
lated ? This would be quite rational, compared with the 
belief of him who maintains that the universe, with all its 
grand, and varied, and complicated machinery, exists with- 
out a Maker, Men often become atheists because they " do 
not like to retain God in their knowledge," Romans 1 : 28. 
Whether this is the case with yourself or not, I suppose 
you think it best that the universe should be rushing on to 
its catastrophe, whatever that may be, without the super- 
intendence and control of an almighty, all-wise, and good 
God. And Avould it be best that railroad trains and boats, 
laden with the rich treasures of human life and human in- 
dustry, should be driven about, in every direction, by the 
mighty power of steam, without careful engineers to regu- 
late and guide them ? Are you indeed sincere ? 

Perhaps, however, you admit that a God exists, but 
deny that the Bible contains a revelation from him. The 
brief limits of these pages will not admit of my considering, 
or rather suggesting for your consideration, all the aston- 
ishing results of your sincerity ; for I now suppose you to 
be sincere. Have you read Leslie, Jenyns, Paley, or Faber 
on the Difficulties of Infidelity? Have you even read the 
Bible itself with care and candor? Be not offended at this 
question. It is well known that many are sincerely ■preju- 
diced against the Bible, without knowing much about its 
contents. Why do you reject the Bible ? Because it is a 
bad book ? Is that a bad book which commands us to love 
God supremely, and our neighbor as ourselves ? Mark 
12 : 29-31, 

If Christianity is not true, the apostles were either im- 
postors or self-deceived. Would impostors incur poverty, 
and persecution, and death in its most horrible forms, by main- 
taining that which they knew to be false ? If the apostles 
were self-deceived, can we any longer believe our own senses ? 
What confidence can be placed in eyes and ears, if the apos- 
tles saw not Jesus perform miracles, and heard not the gra- 



" I AM NO HYPOCRITE." 3 

cious words which he spoke ? How could they be deceived 
in the resurrection of Lazarus, for instance ? John 11. 

But you are a sinner, as are all other men. Of course, 
you need pardon. How do you expect to obtain it ? By 
repentance, do you say ? Does the light of nature teach 
that, or the very Bible which you reject ? The light of 
nature proclaims law and penalty, but announces no pardon. 
Why persist, then, in closing the door of hope which the 
Bible opens for every trembling penitent — -for yourself, 
through faith in a crucified Redeemer ? Why prefer the 
rushlight of natural religion to the sun of the Gospel ? Are 
you indeed sincere in choosing darkness rather than light ? 

I might make some remarks, in passing, upon the sin- 
cerity of those who profess to receive the Scriptures, and 
yet adopt opinions at variance with some of their plainest 
declarations. I allude particularly to Universalis ts and 
Unitarians. I might remind them that many, who profess 
to hold their opinions, renounce them when convinced of 
sin, or upon a dying bed ; but this might seem like a re- 
flection upon their sincerity. I will therefore here add only 
a single remark. It seems they sincerely believe that Christ 
and his a2)ostles S2Joke very unguardedly ; otherwise they 
would not labor so hard to show that they do not mean 
what they seem to mean, and what the great mass of the 
Christian world have always understood them to mean. 

I now turn, with intense interest, to a very numerous 
class found in all Christian lands. I mean those who re- 
ceive the Scriptures as a revelation from God, and profess 
to believe the doctrines which they teach, and yet live in 
sin, impenitence, and unbelief. They profess to have no 
piety — and they are sincere — and even boast of their sin- 
cerity ; Avhile they throw out the most unsparing insinua- 
tions of hypocrisy against professors of religion. Let us 
look now at this sincere irreligion, and see how it appears. 
God commands you to repent ; but you do not repent. You 
love sin too well to part with it — and you are sincere ! God 
commands you to believe on his Son Jesus Christ ; but, as 
you love sin, you are unwilling to be saved from it, and 
therefore you reject " the Lamb of God which taketh away 
the sin of the world" — and you are since^-e! God commands 
you to love and obey him ; but you do neither. He com- 
mands you to strive to enter in at the strait gate ; but you 



4 "I AM NO HYPOCRITE." 

strive not. In short, God requires you to be every thing 
that a Christian ought to be; but, you are no Christian; 
oh no, you are far from it ; and, you are no hypocrite ! O 
what horrible sincerity ! Are you not ashamed of it ? Does 
not conscience thunder an alarm in your ears while you 
think of it ? Can hypocrisy itself be much more displeasing 
to God than such sincerity ? 

On earth, Satan is often a hypocrite, and appears as an 
angel of light ; but in hell he appears as he is, a devil out- 
right, all malignity ; and his hatred to God and all good 
is sincere. Is he any better for his sincerity ? And are you 
any the better for yours ? Does God love you, because you 
are sincere in not loving him ? How strange that sinners 
should boast of their sincerity. 

But I must remind you, that if you are sincere, much 
more is God sincere. Men may lie : God cannot. You 
would be offended, if any body should doubt your sincerity. 
Offend not your Maker, therefore, by doubting his. You 
are sincere in being unholy, impeiiitent, unbelieving. God 
is sincere in saying, " Without holiness, no man shall see 
the Lord.^^ " Except ye repent, ye shall all likewise perish.^' 
"He that believeth not, shall be damned.^'' You are sincere, 
and God is sincere. What then must be the result? It 
will be seen in that " day when the Lord Jesus shall be 
revealed from heaven with his mighty angels, in flaming 
fire taking vengeance on them that know not God, and 
that obey not the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ." The 
Judge will then be sincere in pronouncing the final sentence, 
'' Depart, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the 
devil and his angels." Will your sincerity in sin save you 
then ? Ah no. You must go away into everlasting punish- 
ment. 

"Down to hell, there's no redemption, 
Every Christless soul must go." 

Oh, as you have been sincere in your impenitence, be 
sincere also in your humiliation. Repent of your wicked- 
ness, and pray God, if perhaps the thought of your heart 
may be forgiven you. Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, 
and you shall be saved. But boast no more, ivhile you live 
in sin, that you are no hypocrite. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



No. S92. 

COME AND WELCOME 
TO JESUS CHRIST. 

BY JOHN BUNYAN. 



•' ALL THAT THE FATHER GIVETH ME, SHALL COME TO ME ; AND 
HIM THAT COMETH TO ME, I WILL IN NO WISE CAST OUT." 
John 6 : 37. 

The love of our Lord Jesus Christ to poor sinners, pre- 
vailed with him to lay aside his glory, to leave the heavenly 
place, to clothe himself with flesh, to be born in a stable, to 
be laid in a manger, to live a poor life in the world, to take 
upon him our sorrows, our infirmities, our pains, our sins, 
our curse, and the wrath that was due to man ; and all this 
he did for a base, undeserving, unthankful people, yea, that 
were at enmity with him. 

The coming to him, intended in this passage, is to be 
understood of the coming of the mind to him, even the 
moving of the heart towards him, from a deep sense of the 
absolute need of him for justification and salvation. What 
must I do to be saved ? Lord, save me, or I perish. 

Do you ask, In what way do they come ? They come 
with weeping and with supplication ; they come with pray- 
ers and tears. Jer. 50 : 4. A senseless sinner cannot 
come : he cannot pray ; he cannot cry ; he cannot come 
sensible of what he sees not, nor feels. 

This coming to Christ, is called a running to him — a 
Jleeing to him from the wrath to come. Fleeing is the last 
work of a man in danorer. All that are in dano^er do not 
flee ; no, not all that see themselves in danger. Men will 
consider if there be no other way of escape before they flee. 
When all refuge fails, and a man is made to see that there 
is nothing left him but sin, death, and damnation, unless 
he flees to Christ for life, then he flees ; and not till then. 
He that comes to Christ, honestly and sincerely, forsakes 
all for him. Luke 14 : 26. He casts all behind his back; 



2 COME AND WELCOME 

he leaves, he forsakes all things that would stand in his 
way to hinder his coming to Christ. 

Coming sinner, hear further what there is in this Sav- 
iour who inviteth thee. In Christ, there is a fulness of 
all that can make us happy. " For it pleased the Father 
that in him should all fulness dwell." Col. 1:19. The 
riches of Christ are unsearchable. 

There is light in Christ, sufficient to lead out of all that 
darkness, in the midst of which men stumble, and fall, and 
perish. Man by nature is in darkness, and walketh in 
darkness, and knoweth not whither he goes, for darkness 
hath blinded his mind ; neither can any thing but Jesus 
Christ lead men out of this darkness. 

There is life in Christ, that is to be found nowhere else : 
life, as a principle in the soul, by which it shall be actuated, 
and enabled to do that which, through him, is pleasing to 
God. Without this life, a man is dead. However good in 
his own, or other men's esteem, there is no true and eternal 
life but in Christ. 

Christ is he alone by whom poor sinners have admit- 
tance to, and acceptance with the Father, because of the 
glory of his righteousness, by and in which he presenteth 
them amiable and spotless in his sight. *' I am the way, 
and the truth, and the life : no man cometh unto the Father, 
but by me." 

Christ alone can give true peace : " My peace I give 
unto you," peace with conscience, peace Avith God ; " not 
as the world giveth, give I unto you:" the world's peace 
is but carnal and transitory ; mine is divine and eternal. 

This Saviour hath enough of all things spiritually good, 
to satisfy the desire of every longing soul. " Jesus stood 
and cried. If any man thirst, let him come unto me, and 
drink," John 7: 87; and "I will give imto him that is 
athirst of the fountain of the water of life freely." 

Are not these words, therefore, a sufficient ground to 
encourage any coming sinner? "Him that cometh," him 
whose heart begins to move after me, who is leaving all for 
my sake, him who is on his journey towards me. There is 
further to be gathered from this word *' cometh," 

That Jesus Christ takes notice of the first moving of the 
heart of a sinner towards him. Coming sinner, thou canst 
not move with desires after Christ, but he sees the working 



TO JESUS CHRIST. 3 

of those desires in thy heart. It is said of the prodigal, 
that, ''when he was yet a great way off, his father saw 
him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and 
kissed him." Luke 15 : 20. The prodigal had, probably, 
many a fear and doubt between the first step and the last 
of his journey. I said, I would go to my father ; but what 
if, when I am c'ome to him, he should ask me where I have 
been all this while, what shall I say then ? If he ask me 
Avhat is become of the portion of goods that he gave me, 
what shall I say then ? If he ask me who have been my 
companions, what shall I say then ? If he ask me on what 
my heart has been set all the time of my absence from him, 
what shall I say then ? Yea, and if he ask me, why I came 
home no sooner, what shall I say then ? Conscious that he 
could give but a bad answer to any of these questions, no 
wonder if he stood in need, first of all, of a kiss from his 
father's lips. 

As Jesus Christ hath his eye upon, so he hath his heart 
open to receive the returning sinner. No sins of the com- 
ing sinner, however long he hath lived in them, shall by 
any means prevail with Jesus Christ to reject him. Com- 
ing sinner, thou art coming to a gracious Saviour. These 
words dropped from his blessed lips on purpose that the 
coming sinner might take encouragement to continue on his 
journey until he have indeed come to Jesus Christ. They 
that are coming unto Jesus, are often afraid that Jesus 
Christ will not receive them. But he says, " I will in no 
ivise cast out." 

Coming sinner, are not these words sufficient to dash 
in pieces all thine objections ; and are they not dropped by 
the Lord Jesus for that very end, and to help the faith that 
is mixed with unbelief? It is, as it were, the sum of all 
the promises ; nor is any unworthiness that thou findest in 
thyself so great, that this promise will not overcome. 

*' But I am a great sinner," sayest thou : " I will in no 
wise cast out," says Christ. *'But I am an old sinner," 
sayest thou : " I will in no wise cast out," says Christ. 
** But I am a hard-hearted sinner," sayest thou : " I will in 
no wise cast out," says Christ. ''But I have served Satan 
all my days," sayest thou : " I will in no wise cast out," 
says Christ. " But I have sinned against light," sayest 
thou: "I will in no wise cast out," says Christ. "But I 



4 COME AND WELCOME 

have sinned against mercy," sayest thou : '' I will in no 
wise cast out," says Christ. " But I have no good thing 
to bring with me," sayest thou : "I will in no wise cast 
out," says Christ. Thus I might go on, and show you that 
this promise was provided to answer all thy objections, and 
to ease all thy fears. 

Many, like thee, have feared that the Saviour would 
not receive them. Dost thou desire to know the reason 
OF ALL THESE FEARS ? I will tell thee. 

It is not for want of ground to stand upon ; this text 
itself lays a sufficient foundation to encourage all that are 
comino^ to Jesus Christ : " Him that cometh unto me, I will 
in no wise cast out." It is not for want of invitation to 
come, for that is full and plain : " Come unto me, all ye that 
labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Matt, 
11 : 28. Neither is it for want of Christ's willingness to 
receive thee : "If any man thirst, let him come unto me, and 
drink." John 7 : 37. It is not for want of solemn oath 
and engagement to save them that come ; for, " because he 
could swear by no greater, he sware by himself ; that by 
two immutable things, in which it was impossible for God 
to lie, we mio['ht have a stronsf consolation, who have fled 
for refuge to lay hold upon the hope set before us." Heb. 
6 : 13, 17, 18. 

Coming sinner, not one of these can be the cause : I 
will now tell thee what may be the real cause. 

It is the want of the knowledge of Christ. Thou know- 
est but little of the grace and kindness that are in the heart 
of Christ ; thou knowest but little of the virtue and merit 
of his blood ; thou knowest but little of the willingness that 
is in his heart to save thee ; and this is the reason of the 
fear that arises in thy heart, and that causes thee to doubt. 
Unbelief is the daughter of ignorance ; therefore Christ 
saith, " fools, and slow of heart to believe." Luke 24 : 25. 

Slowness of heart to believe, flows from thy too little 
knowledge of Christ. The more knowledge of Christ, the 
more faith : " They that know thy name will put their trust 
in thee." Ps. 9 : 10. He that began to come to Christ but 
the other day, and hath yet but little knowledge of him, 
feareth that Christ will not receive him; but he that hath 
been longer acquainted with him, is strong, and hath over- 
come the wicked one. 



TO JESUS CHRIST. 5 

Let the coming sinner, therefore, seek after more of the 
good knowledge of Jesus Christ ; press after it ; " seek it 
as silver, and dig for it as for hid treasure." This will em- 
bolden thee — this will make thee grow strong. " I know 
in whom I have believed." "1 know him," said Paul; 
and what follows ? "I am persuaded he is able to keep 
that which I have committed unto him against that day." 
2 Tim. 1 : 12. 

What had Paul committed to Jesus Christ? The an- 
swer is, he had committed to him his soul. Why did he 
commit his soul to him ? Because he knew him ; he knew 
him to be faithful, to be kind ; he knew he would not fail 
him, nor forsake him ; and therefore he laid his soul down 
at his feet, and committed it to him, to keep against that 
day. 

Thy fears that Christ will not receive thee, may be also 
a consequence of thy earnest and strong desires after thy sal- 
vation by him. What a man most sets his heart upon, he 
often most fears he shall not obtain. Hear these words : 
** Say to them that are of a fearful heart, Be strong, fear 
not." Isa. 35 : 4. 

The fear that Christ will not receive thee, may arise 
from a sense of the exceeding mercy of being saved. Some- 
times salvation appears, to the eyes of him that desires it, 
so great, so wonderful a thing, that the very thought of its 
excellency awakens unbelief that it can be obtained, in the 
hearts of those who unfeignedly desire it. " Seemeth it to 
you," saith David, " a light thing to be a king's son-in-law ?" 
So the thoughts of the greatness and glory of the thing 
proposed, as heaven, eternal life, eternal glory, to be with 
God, and Christ, and angels ; these are great things, things 
too good, saith the soul that is little in his own eyes — too 
rich, saith the soul that is truly poor in spirit, for me. Oh, 
it is too big, it is too big ; it is too great a mercy 1 

But, coming sinner, let me reason with thee ; thou 
sayest. It is too big, too great ; well, wall things that are 
less satisfy thy soul ? Will a less thing than heaven, than 
glory, and eternal life, answer thy desires ? No, nothing 
less. Well, great and good as they are, God giveth them 
to such as thyself ; they are not too great for God to give ; 
no, not to give freely : be content, let God give like himself. 
Coming sinner, God can give his heavenly Canaan, and 

vox,. X. 29 



Q - COME AND WELCOME 

the glory of it, unto thee ; yea, none ever had it but as a 
free gift-. He hath given us his Son ; how shall he not with 
him also freely give us all things. 

Thy fear that Christ will not receive thee, may arise 
from those decays that thou findest in thy soul, even when 
thou art coming to him. There is such a one coming to 
Jesus Christ, who, when at first he began to look out after 
him, was tender, affectionate, and broken in spirit ; but now 
is grown dark, senseless, hard-hearted, and inclining to 
neglect spiritual duties. Now he finds he cannot tremble 
at God's word, nor his judgments, neither can he, as he 
thinks, be sorry for these things. Now this is a sad situa- 
tion. But Jesus Christ is the conqueror of the tempter, 
and a succorer of those that are tempted. Heb. 2:18. 

Thy fears may arise from another cause : it may be, 
thou wast ffiven to slumber and sleep, and therefore these 
temptations were sent to awaken thee. Take heed, lest 
Satan should gain advantage over thee. 

Again, it may be thy graces must be tried in the fire, 
that the rust that cleaveth to them may be taken awa}^, that 
they may be proved to be far better than gold that perish- 
eth. Suppose the worst ; suppose that thou art to this 
day without the grace of God, yet thou art to this day but 
a miserable sinner, that hath need of a blessed Saviour : 
this text presents thee Avith one as good and kind as heart 
can wish, and for thy encouragement saith, " Him that 
cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out !" 

Learn then, coming sinner, that faith and doubting may 
at the same time have their residence in the same soul. " O 
thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?" Matt. 
14 : 31. Peter had a little faith in the midst of his many 
doubts. The same is true of many that are coming to Jesus 
Christ — they come, and fear they come not : when they look 
upon the promise, or a word of encouragement by faith, 
then they come ; but when they look upon themselves, or 
the difficulties that lie before them, then they doubt. " Bid 
me come," said Peter. " Come," said Christ ; so he went 
down out of the ship to go to Jesus, but his lot was to go 
to him upon the water — there was the trial ; so it is with 
the poor desiring soul. *'Bid me come," says the sinner. 
" Come," says Christ, " and I will in no wise cast out." So 
he comes upon the water, upon drowning difficulties; if. 



TO JESUS CHRIST. 7 

therefore, the wind of temptation blow, the waves of doubts 
and fears will presently arise, and this coming sinner will 
begin to sink, if he has but little faith. Peter went so far 
as his little faith would carry him ; he also cried, as far as 
his little faith would help, *' Lord, save me; I perish:" and 
so with coming and crying, he was kept from sinking, though 
he had but a little faith. Jesus stretched forth his hand, 
and caught him, and said unto him, " thou of little faith, 
wherefore didst thou doubt?" 

Coming sinner, happy for thee that thy ** life is hid 
with Christ in God." Alas, the best of us, were life left 
in our hands, should forfeit it over and over ; or, were it 
in the hands of another, we should by our often backslid- 
ings, so offend him, that at last he would shut up his mercy 
in everlasting displeasure against us. But now it is with 
One that can pity, pray for, pardon, yea, multiply pardons ; 
it is with One that can have compassion upon us when we 
are out of the way ; with One that hath a heart to fetch us 
again, when we are gone astray ; with One that can pardon 
without upbraiding : blessed be God that our life is hid in 
Christ. 

This doctrine of coming to Jesus Christ for life, informs 
us of the evil of unbelief, that chief hinderance of the com- 
ing sinner : by faith we come — by unbelief we keep away ; 
therefore it is said to be by unbelief that a soul departs 
from God, because it was that which first caused the world 
to go off from him, and the same keeps them from him 
unto this day. It is unbelief above all other sins which 
weakens our prayers, our faith, our love, our diligence, and 
our hope. 

Take the following as a more particular view of faith 
to assist the weak believer : Faith sees more in a promise of 
God to help, than in all other things to hinder ; but un- 
belief, notwithstanding God's promise, saith. How can these 
things be ? Faith brings us near to God, when we are far 
from him ; but unbelief puts us far from God, when we are 
near him. Faith makes us see the value of Christ ; but 
unbelief sees no form, beauty, or comeliness in him. Faith 
will make thee see love in the heart of Christ, when with the 
mouth he giveth reproofs ; but unbelief will imagine wrath 
in his heart, when with his mouth and word he saith he 
loves us. Faith will help the soul to ivait, though God 



8 COME AND WELCOME TO JESUS CHRIST. 

defers to give ; but unbelief Avill take offence and cast up 
all, if God makes any tarrying. Faith will give comfort m 
the midst of fears ; but unbelief causeth fear in the midst 
of comforts. Faith makes great burdens light ; but unbe- 
lief makes light ones intolerably heavy. Faith gives us the 
victory over the law, sin, and death ; but unbelief lays us 
open to them all. Faith will show us more excellency in 
things not seen, than in the things that are seen ; but unbe- 
lief sees more in things that are, than in things that will be 
hereafter. Faith makes the ways of God pleasant ; but 
unbelief makes them hard and heavy. " This is the victory 
that overcometh the world, even our faith." 

Once more, coming sinner, think of the Saviour who 
inviteth thee ; full of grace as well as of truth. He com- 
plaineth if thou come not ; he is displeased if thou call not 
upon him ; he can bear Avith thy weakness ; he can pity 
thy ignorance ; he can be touched with the feeling of thy 
infirmities ; he can affectionately forgive thy transgressions ; 
he can heal thy backslidings, and love thee freely. His 
compassions fail not ; he will not break the bruised reed, 
nor quench the smoking flax ; he can pity where no eye 
pities, and be afflicted in all thy afflictions ; he will bow his 
ear to thy stammering prayer ; he will accept the weakest 
offering, if there be in it but thy heart ; he hath strewed 
all the way from the gate of hell where thou wast, to the 
gate of heaven whither thou art going, with promises. 

Behold how the promises, invitations, calls, and en- 
couragements are mixed with the names of mercy, good- 
ness, love, pity, and pardon. In his book they are fairly 
written, that thou, through patience and comfort of the 
Scriptures, mightest have hope. Coming sinner, blessed 
art thou, for ** flesh and blood have not revealed this unto 
thee, but thy Father who is in heaven." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



IVo. 393. 



JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 



It shall be our endeavor to set before our readers a plain 
exposition of this great Christian doctrine, as taught in the 
holy Scriptures, and as generally held by sound Protestants. 

We commence with some remarks on the scriptural 
meaning of the ivord "■justification f as a mistake here 
may spread darkness over the vi^hole discussion. 

The common acceptation of the word " to justify," in 
the Bible, is, to acquit from all charge, to declare the person 
to stand right in the eye of the law. It is the very opposite 
of " condemnation." And in this sense is the word com- 
monly used among us. To "justify," is not, therefore, to 
infuse a principle of justice into the soul. It does not pro- 
duce an inherent change of moral character. The import 
of this word is entirely distinct from that of " sanctification ;" 
and this distinction must be carefully kept in view, if we 
would avoid error and confusion in the investigation of the 
subject. 

That the word is commonly used in this declarative or 
forensic sense in the holy Scriptures, might be evinced by 
an induction of numerous passages ; let a few, however, suf- 
fice. God is said to be "justified" when he speaks ; that is, 
he appears to be just, Christ is declared to be "justified in 
the Spirit ;" his true character was manifested and vindi- 
cated. " If there be a controversy between men, and they 
come unto judgment, that the judges may judge them, then 
they shall justify the righteous, and condemn the wicked." 
Deut. 25 : 1 . Here we have the true import of the word as 

VOL. X. 29* 



2 JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 

a forensic term, and standing in direct opposition to condem- 
nation. -And in Exodus 23 : 7, it is said, " For I will not 
justify the wicked ;" that is, I will not pronounce the wicked 
to be just. And in Proverbs 17 : 15, "He that justifieth 
the wicked, and he that condemneth the just, even they 
both are abomination to the Lord." But to render a Avicked 
man inherently righteous, is so far from being an abomina- 
tion to the Lord, that even to be the instrument of such a 
change is followed by a great reward. 

In the same sense is the word employed, Isaiah 5 : 23, 
where transgressors are characterized as those who "justify 
the wicked for reward." Solomon, in his dedicatory prayer, 
1 Kings, 8 : 32, says, " Then hear thou in heaven and do, 
and judge thy servants, condemning the ivicked, to bring 
his way upon his head, and justifying the righteous,, to 
give him according to his righteousness." Thus, also, is the 
word used by Paul : " Who shall lay any thing to the 
charge of God's elect ? It is God that justifieth; who is he 
that condemneth ?" "By the deeds of the law shall no 
flesh be justified in his sight." " Being justified by faith — 
freely by his grace." And in Homans 4:5, God is said to 
"justify the ungodly." 

Let it be distinctly borne in mind, that a state of justifi- 
cation is the very ojyposite of a state of condemnation, and 
there can be no material mistake respecting the true import 
of the word. He who is condemned is considered as a trans- 
gressor of the law, whose sins are still imputed to him ; he 
who is justified is viewed as having, though not of his own, 
that which satisfies the law — he has the blessedness of the 
man to whom the Lord imputeth not sin, but to whom he 
"imputes righteousness without works." 

The only method of obtaining the favor of God, which 
reason and conscience dictate, is, doing the icill of God. 



JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 3 

Moral agents, put on probation, if they persevere in obedi- 
ence during the period of their trial, are "justified," and 
coiifirmed in a state of integrity and happiness. 

When an accountable creature, or a race of accountable 
creatures, fails in obedience, the penalty of the law, what- 
ever it may be, is incurred, and must be endured. Both 
justice and truth require the infliction of the pvuiishment 
deserved, and threatened to transgressors. The justification 
of a sinner appears, therefore, at first sight, to be a thing 
impossible, in consistence with the divine attributes. To 
devise a plan by which sinners may be saved, and yet the 
law be maintained and justice satisfied, was beyond the wis- 
dom of any creature ; but Avhat finite wisdom could not ac- 
complish, the wisdom of God has found out ; and to reveal 
this plan of salvation, and the terms on which the con- 
demned creature may be made a partaker of it, is the great 
design of divine revelation. This is the mystery into which 
angels desire to look. It is the "good news" which the 
Gospel announces. It will be a theme of adoration and 
grateful praise in heaven, through eternal ages ; and all who 
shall arrive at heaven by this method of salvation, will sing 
a song peculiar to themselves, in which no others of the 
heavenly host can join, "Unto Him that loved us, and 
washed us from our sins in his own blood." 

To understand how God can be just ^ and justify the un- 
godly, let us contemplate the acknowledged circumstances 
of the case. God is a holy being, and his law is like himself, 
"holy, just, and good." This law cannot be set aside, or 
changed, in mercy to the ofiender, without reflecting dishon- 
or on the Lawgiver. Better there were no law, than that 
its claims should be disregarded. Better that all creatures 
should cease to exist, than that any dishonor should be cast 
on the truth or justice of God. If the infliction of the pen- 
alty incurred was not a righteous act, such a penalty never 



4 JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 

would have been annexed to the law. All hope of escape, 
founded -on the idea that the law of God may be set aside, 
or its demands relaxed, must be vain ; and all such hopes 
are impious, as they are founded on the supposition that 
God will "deny himself." Does not every transgressor, 
then, appear to be shut up to death ? 

Some maybe ready to reply, that God is merciful ^^ 
well as just, and the sinner may hope in his mercy ; and 
that to insist upon the rigid execution of law, in all cases, 
would expunge mercy from the divine attributes. It will 
also be alleged, that to represent the supreme Ruler as in- 
flexible in his justice, and requiring the utmost farthing of 
what is due from his frail creatures, is to exhibit him in an 
unamiable light. 

This view of the subject seems plausible, and falls in 
with the prevalent opinions and feelings of men. But it 
ought to be considered, that if mercy be so essential to God 
that he cannot but exercise it unless he show himself severe 
and unamiable, then there is an end of justice. There can 
be no place for it in the dispensations of a merciful God. 
But " a God all mercy is a God unjust." 

And let it be considered again, that upon these princi- 
ples there was no need of a Mediator to expiate our sins, 
and propitiate an offended God. To the sinner God ma3'" 
indeed appear lovely, as divested of his righteousness, and 
equally good to the transgressor and the obedient subject ; 
just as the criminal condemned by human laws, would es- 
teem that judge amiable who pardoned his crimes, while 
upright citizens might view it to be inconsistent with his 
character as a righteous judge. But the inquiry should be, 
how would the divine character appear to intelligent and 
impartial spectators, if sin should go unpunished ; how would 
this be viewed by the " holy angels ?" And surely, with 
the word of God in our hands, we cannot hesitate to believe 



JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 5 

that God is just and holy, and that he "will by no means 
clear the guilty." 

But do not the Scriptures rcjyresent God as a merciful 
being; and are not all invited to take refuge under the 
wings of his mercy ? Yes ; this is undoubtedly true. No 
attribute is more frequently and emphatically ascribed to 
God than mercy ; and by no other is liis infinite and divine 
perfection more gloriously manifested. Throughout the holy 
Scriptures, we have set before us a God both just and mer- 
ciful. Those attributes, therefore, as they exist in God, 
must be harmonious ; and the exercise of the one must, some- 
how, be consistent with that of the other. Let us, therefore, 
endeavor to discover how they may be harmonized, how the 
great Creator can be at the same time both " a just God and 
a Saviour." 

One remark, before we proceed further, seems necessary 
to prevent mistakes. There exists not the same necessity 
for the exercise of mercy as of justice. God is obliged by 
the rectitude of his nature, to be always, and in all cases, 
just ; but he is not bound, in all cases where there are mis- 
erable sinners, to exercise mercy. The example of the fallen 
angels settles this question. Such an idea of mercy would 
destroy every idea of justice. There could remain no place 
for its exercise. Mercy, from its very nature, is free. To 
suppose any binding obligation to show mercy, destroys its 
nature ; it would then be confounded with justice. The 
true ground of distinction between justice and mercy is, 
that while the first is obligatory, the last is free, and may 
be bestowed or withheld at the pleasure of him who exer- 
cises it. 

The true principle on which justice and mercy may be 
reconciled is, that the claims of justice must be satisfied in 
order to make way for the exercise of mercy. If no plan 
could have been devised by which the demands of the law — 



6 JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 

which are the same as the claims of justice — could be satis- 
fied, then had the exercise of mercy been impossible in the 
government of a righteous God. But herein has the infinite 
wisdom of God been gloriously displayed by the plan of re- 
demption : " Mercy and truth have met together ; righteous- 
ness and peace have kissed each other." According to this 
glorious plan, justice and mercy are both manifested, in the 
most conspicuous manner, in the obedience of Christ unto 
death. In the cross these divine attributes not only har- 
monize, but shine forth with brighter rays than anywhere 
else. Let it not be forgotten, that the difficulty in the way 
of the exercise of mercy to sinners, required to be overcome, 
was nothing else than the demands of inflexible justice^ and 
the truth of God pledged in an^iexing the penalty of death 
to the laiv. No plan of reconciliation or justification, which 
does not provide for the removal of this difficulty, is admis- 
sible or possible. I wish this point to be clearly understood, 
and indelibly fixed in the memory of the reader ; for other- 
wise he will be in danger of being misled by false theories. 

Let us then take an accurate survey of the condition of 
A SINFUL MAN, Under the righteous government of God. We 
take for granted, that the demands of the law of God are 
neither annihilated nor diminished in consequence of his 
transgression. Fallen man is as much under obligation to 
love God with all the heart, mind, and strength, as imiocent 
man. It is a dictate of reason, that the obligation of no 
law is removed by transgressing it. Neither does the fact 
that the sinner has fallen under the condemnation of the 
law, free him from the obligation to obey it. Although 
some have held this opinion to prop up a rotten system, 
nothing can be conceived more absurd. This supposes the 
endurmg the penalty of the law to be a full equivalent for 
perfect obedience. According to this, the man who . had 



JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 7 

stood in the pillory for perjury as long as the penalty of the 
law required, would be as deserving- of esteem and of a re- 
ward as the man who had completely obeyed the laws of 
his country. Then let it be distinctly kept in mind, that 
on a transgressor the laic has a double demand : first, the 
original requisition of perfect obedience ; and secondly, a 
demand that the penalty, according to the demerit of the 
offence, be endured. And before he can be justified ac- 
cording to this law, both these demands must be met and 
satisfied, 

A mistake on this point has led many astray in regard 
to the nature of a sinner's justification. They have main- 
tained that nothing else was necessary but that the Surety 
endure the penalty of the law, or make atonement for sin ; 
and that nothing more is included in justification than the 
forgiveness of our sins. But if this were all, justification 
would leave the person in the same relation to the law in 
which Adam stood M^hen created ; that is, he would be free 
from the penalty, but would have no title to the reward of a 
righteous person. But the very word "justify" expresses 
much more. Strictly speaking, and excluding the merits 
of Christ, pardon and justification are incompatible ; for the 
first supposes the person to have been a transgressor, the 
last that he has a righteousness fully answering the de- 
mands of the law ; but when a sinner 1% justified by faith 
in Christ, while he receives remission of sins through his 
blood, he is accounted righteous, by reason of the perfect 
obedience, unto death, of his Surety, rendered in his behalf 

Those who deny the necessity of the active obedience of 
Christ, as included in the meritorious ground of a sinner's 
justification, are driven to the necessity of maintaining, that 
the person must acquire a title to eternal life by his own 
obedience ; and they suppose that this doctrine is inculcated 
in all those texts which speak of believers being rewarded 



8 JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 

" according" to their works ;" whereas, if eternal life was 
granted - only in consequence of Christ's obedience, they al- 
legfe all would share alike, and there would not be different 
degrees of glory among the saints in heaven. But this is to 
confound the title to eternal life with the degree of happi- 
ness to be enjoyed. As to the title, all do stand upon a 
perfect equality. Heaven is as sure to the weakest believer 
as to the strongest ; to the man who lived only to perform 
one good work, as to him that abounded in good works 
througfh a long life. But it does not follow from this, that 
the happiness and glory of all believers shall be equal. All, 
it is reasonable to believe, will not have the same capacity 
of heavenly happiness ; and it is meet, that they who have 
labored most and suffered most, should enjoy most hereafter. 
This furnishes a good reason for what we find clearly taught 
by our Lord and his apostles, that in the day of judgment 
the good works of the righteous Avill be brought into public 
view ; as well that they may furnish a measure of their 
respective rewards, as that they may furnish conclusive 
evidence of the sincerity of their profession. 

Although the active obedience of Christ, as well as his 
sufferings and death, are necessary to a justifying righteous- 
ness ; yet there is no necessity nor propriety in curiously 
endeavoring to separate the parts of our Saviour's finished 
work. As has been well remarked by a profound theo- 
logian, " In his sufferings he obeyed, and in his obedi- 
ence he suffered. '' His mediatorial work, like his robe, 
cannot be divided into separate parts. Still, we can con- 
ceive of a distinction between that which was necessary to 
satisfy the precept, and that which was required to satisfy 
the penalty of the law. And if there Avere any uncertainty 
whether all the acts of Christ's obedience Avere strictly vica 
rious, yet it would be our safe course to exclude nothing 
which God has not excluded. When the apostle says, " by 



JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 9 

his OBEDIENCE many are constituted righteous," no man has 
a right to Umit the word, which is left in the holy Scrip- 
tures without limitation. 

Having seen, that in order to a sinner's justification, the 
law demands a righteousness which shall answer both its 
precept and its penalty ; let us next inquire, has Jesus 
Christ the Mediator provided such a righteousness ? 
And here it is comfortable to the convinced sinner to learn, 
that " He is the end of the law for righteousness to every 
one that belie veth." That " He of God is made unto us 
righteousness," and is called, " The Lord our righteous- 
ness." And that " there is no condemnation to them that 
are in Christ Jesus." That " He who knew no sin, was 
made sin for us, that we might be made the righteousness 
of God in him." 

But why may not a sinner be justified by his otv7i right- 
eousness ? For the best reason in the world : because he 
has none which will answer the law's demand. All will 
admit, that the external obedience of an unrenewed man, 
whether to the moral or ceremonial law, cannot be a right- 
eousness that a holy God can accept as the ground of his 
justification. Such a righteousness is, indeed, well de- 
scribed by the prophet, as "filthy rags." That which has 
no particle of real holiness in it, surely cannot answer the 
demands of that holy law which requires " truth in the 
inward parts," and perfect rectitude in every thought and 
desire. It is, therefore, universally agreed among Protes- 
tants, that " dead works," or mere external obedience, can 
justify no one. 

Still, it is contended by some, that the " new obedience" 

of a sanctified soul may, by a gracious God, be received as 

a justifying righteousness. Others, to be more conformable 

to the language of Scripture, ascribe our justification to the 

VOL. X. 30 



10 JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 

single grace of faith, or act of believing. But we will now 
show that no works of ours, nor any holiness wrought in us, 
is the ground of our justification. 

The arguments from which it is evident that our justi- 
fication is not 071 account of inherent holiness, or good works 
'proceeding from faith, are these : 

Justification is a sentence according to laiv ; but the 
law demands a perfect righteousness : the imperfect, though 
sincere obedience of the believer, is not a ground on which 
God, as a righteous Judge, can pronounce the sinner justi- 
fied. Even if the believer could attain to perfection in this 
life — which none ever did — this would not answer for a 
perfect righteousness ; for when a man stands in judgment 
before God, he must answer for the whole of his life, and 
not a part only. The believer cannot be justified by his 
evangelical obedience, because this foUoics his acceptance 
with God, and cannot therefore be its cause. The ungodly 
are the persons whom God justifies ; therefore, they are not 
justified by their own obedience, for they remain ungodly up 
to the very moment when they are justified. 

The justification of the sinner, according to the apostle 
Paul, excludes boasting ; but if a man is justified by his 
own works, of whatever kind, he has a ground of glorying ; 
therefore justification is not by "works of righteousness 
which we have done." 

Again, justification is entirely gratuitous, and therefore 
not by works of any kind. " Being justified freely by his 
grace." Now, between works and grace there is, according 
to Paul, an irreconcilable opposition as it relates to the 
ground of a sinner's acceptance. "And if by grace, it is 
then no more of works ; otherwise grace is no more grace. 
But if it be of works, then it is no more grace ; otherwise 
work is no more work." 

It detracts from the ho?ior of Christ and the merit of 



JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. H 

his mediatorial work, to ascribe justification, in whole or in 
part, to man's obedience. If it had been consistent with 
God's perfections to accept of an imperfect obedience from 
the creature, where was the need of a divine Mediator ? 
Did Christ the Son of God come into the world and die on 
the cross, merely to render the imperfect obedience of the 
sinner acceptable ? This supposition is not honorable to 
the divine Redeemer, neither is it in accordance with holy 
Scripture. There, all is ascribed to Christ's redemption — to 
his blood — to his righteousness — to his obedience. Christ is 
the foundation — the corner-stone — the way, the truth, and 
the life — the alpha and omega — the beginning and end of 
our salvation. He that glories, must glory in the Lord. 
The everlasting song of the redeemed will be, " Not unto 
us, but unto Him that loved us and washed us from our sins 
in his own blood." 

And what says the experience of the children of God ? 
Are they willing to trust for salvation to such a broken reed 
as their own obedience ; and are they disposed to detract 
any thing from the glory of the Redeemer in their salvation ? 
Is there one among them who would wish to put in a claim 
for any part of the honor of this work ? 

But what need is there to argue a point which is so 
explicitly and positively decided by the pen of inspiration ? 
"Therefore," says Paul, "by the deeds of the law, there 
shall no flesh be justified in his sight." And, as if to cut 
ofT all pretence that he meant the ceremonial law of Moses, 
he immediately adds, " for by the law is the knowledge of 
sin." Now, Paul tells us in another place ivhat law pro- 
duced in him the knowledge of sin, namely, the law con- 
tained in the ten commandments ; "for," says he, " I had not 
known sin, unless the law had said, Thou shalt not covet." 
And this is given as a reason by the apostle, why there 
could be no justification by the law ; for if a man was only 



12 JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 

convicted of one sin by the law, it is evident that justifica- 
tion, to him, by that lavi^, is as impossible as if he had vio- 
lated every precept. As justification and condemnation are 
opposite states in relation to the law, he who is condemned, 
if it were only for one sm, and that the smallest, never can 
be justified by a broken law. For one sin incurs the penal- 
ty ; as it is written, " Cursed is every one that continueth 
not in all things written in the book of the law to do them." 

Some dream of a new and milder law under the Gos- 
pel, by which believers are justified ; but there is none 
such — there can be none such. The Scriptures never men- 
tion any other moral law than the law requiring perfect 
love, and which is summarily comprehended in the ten 
commandments. To this our Saviour continually appeals, 
as universally binding — as intended, originally, to give life 
to those who obeyed it ; and as the perfect rule which all 
should follow. The apostles refer to no other law, as might 
be proved by numerous testimonies. Indeed, the very sup- 
position of a change in the moral law is monstrous ; it would 
imply a change in the Lawgiver, which is nothing less than 
blasphemy. 

God does, it is true, accept from his people an obedience 
mingled with defects and imperfections ; but not as their 
justifying righteousness : it is for Christ's sake, and because 
they are already " accepted in the Beloved." " Being justi- 
fied freely by his grace, through the redemption that is in 
Christ Jesus," they are adopted into the number of sons 
and daughters ; and having his righteousness imputed to 
them, or set down to their account, there is no condemna- 
tion to them. " Who shall lay any thing to the charge of 
God's elect ? It is God that justifieth ; who is he that 
condemneth?" It is said of believers, that "they are 
passed from death unto life, and shall never come into con- 
demnation." 



JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 13 

But we are said to be justified by faith : how is this 
to be understood ? This doctrine stands out prominently in 
the New Testament, and the Reformers considered it the 
cardinal point, or the centre of the Christian religion. Lu- 
ther, as far as doctrine was concerned, commenced the Ref- 
ormation by 7'estoring this doctrine to its jrroper 'place ; and 
all true reformers, ever since, have placed justification by 
faith at the foundation of their system, and made it the bur- 
den of their preaching ; and the neglect of this doctrine, or 
a disposition to explain it away, or not to maintain it in its 
simple and obvious meaning, is an evidence of a corrupt 
system of theology, and marks a deviation from the truth in 
other particulars. This doctrine is as essential in the sys- 
tem of divine truth, as the centre of gravity in bodies ; in 
both cases these points must be firmly supported, or the sys- 
tem falls. 

But we return to the important question, How does 
faith justify a sinner ? Certainly not on account of anjr 
merit in the act of faith. They who maintain this, fall into 
no less an error than substituting an act of our minds for 
Christ and his righteousness. Faith may, in a certain 
sense, be called a work ; but it is not as a work that it jus- 
tifies, or it would never have been, as it is, placed in strong 
contrast with works. Though faith be an act of obedience 
to the law of God, it is not as such that it justifies. Hear 
what Paul teaches on this point : " Therefore Ave conclude, 
that a man is justified by faith without the deeds of the 
law." " Now to him that worketh is the reward not reck- 
oned of grace, but of debt. But to him that worketh not, 
but believeth on Him that justifieth the ungodly, his faith 
is counted for righteousness." To interpret this last phrase 
as though Paul intended to teach that the act of believing 
was the righteousness by which the ungodly are justified, 
would be to make him most palpably contradict himself; 
^^0L. X. 30*^ 



14 JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 

for that construction would not only make faith a work in 
the affair of justification, but a substitute for all other 
works ; whereas the apostle, in this passage, says, " But to 
him that ivorketh not, but believeth in Him that justi- 
fieth the ungodly ;" that is, who performs no works as a 
righteousness by which he expects to obtain the favor of 
God ; but in regard to works, is considered, when justified, 
as an ungodly person — one who has no goodness of his own 
to plead, " but believeth" Here faith must be considered 
as a mere instrument, or organ, by which Christ is re- 
ceived. 

But why is it said to be "counted for righteousness?" 
For no other reason but because it is that act of the soul 
by which Christ, who is the Lord oup^ righteousness, is 
apprehended, appreciated, and appropriated. A reprieve is 
obtained by a great price from the king ; the benevolent 
person who procured it offers it to the condemned criminal, 
who eagerly stretches out his hand to receive it. If his ac- 
ceptance were made the condition of his deliverance, the 
case would be a striking parallel to the ofier of pardon and 
the divine favor to a sinner. The blessings of the Gospel 
are suspended on the act of believing. This is, in fact, the 
cordial reception of the blessing. But who would think of 
ascribing merit to the mere act of receiving a pardon by a 
condemned criminal ? As little reason is there for consider- 
ing the act of faith by which we receive Christ's righteous- 
ness as either meritorious, or as standing in the place of a 
perfect righteousness, and accepted as such, though mani- 
festly very far short. of being all that the law demands. 

But Jioiv can the rightemisness of the Redeemer be 
available to the justification of the sinner ? To this I re- 
ply, that from eternity Christ undertook, in the covenant of 
redemption, to satisfy law and justice for all who were given 
to him by the Father in that covenant — all who should be- 



JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 15 

lieve on him. When incarnate, he bore their sins, and for 
them fulfilled all righteousness — did all that was required 
as a satisfaction to law and justice. "As by the disobedi- 
ence of one many were made sinners, so by the obedience of 
One shall many be made," constituted, "righteous." "He 
is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that be- 
lieveth." Now, if the union, by covenant between the first 
Adam and his posterity, was so close that by his fatal trans- 
gression they all died, why may there not be formed a union 
as intimate between Christ and his people ? This is the 
very principle on which the apostle argues in the fifth of 
Romans. But the children of God are, " by nature, chil- 
dren of wrath, even as others." They, in their natural con- 
dition, are under the curse of the law ; for we read, that 
" Christ was made a curse for us, to redeem us from the 
curse of the law." They continue aliens from the common- 
wealth of Israel, until, by the gracious intercession of their 
Redeemer, the Holy Spirit is sent to bring them to Christ. 
On their part, faith is the act by which they receive Christ. 
This consummates the spiritual union between him as the 
Head, and them as the members. This union is of such a 
nature, that, in law, whatever the Surety has done or suf- 
fered, can be set down to their account ; or, as the apostle's 
phrase is, " righteousness is imputed to them." By having 
this perfect righteousness reckoned to them, they are instant- 
ly and completely justified, God is now reconciled to them 
through the death of his Son. All their sins are freely par- 
doned, and they are adopted as sons, and immediately made 
heirs of eternal life. Here then we see how faith justifies 
as an instrument of union and reception ; and in what sense 
it is "counted for righteousness." We also see how a con- 
trast can be set up between faith and works — ^between grace 
and debt. 

But although faith alone justifies, and justifies not as a 



16 JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 

work, yet it is a ivorking faith which justifies. It is the 
fruitful- principle of sanctification, and of all evangelical 
obedience, or good works. And as there is a "dead" as 
well as a living faith, and many have been deceived by 
glorying in the former, while they were destitute of the lat- 
ter, we should guard this point with especial care. The 
doctrine of justification by faith without works, is very lia- 
ble to be perverted and abused by carnal men, who vainly 
dream of being saved in, not from their sins. This corrupt 
leaven began to ferment in the church in the days of the 
apostles. James wrote his epistle with a view to detect 
and expose this dangerous error. He seems, at first view, 
expressly to contradict what the apostle Paul had taught ; 
for he says, " Ye see, then, how that by works a man is jus- 
tified, and not by faith only." But when the context is 
impartially considered, the appearance of contradiction van- 
ishes, and we find his doctrine harmonious with that of 
Paul ; for he is speaking of a mere nominal " dead faith," 
which manifested itself by no good works. No man was 
ever justified by such a faith. He is not speaking of that 
justification which takes place when a sinner first believes — 
the only foundation of which is the merit of Christ — but he 
is speaking of that justification arising from the evangelical 
works of believers, by ivhich their faith is proved to be gen- 
uine, and their profession is evidenced to be sincere ; and 
with which acts of obedience God is also well-pleased, for 
he will not "forget the works of faith and labors of love" of 
his own dear children. The instances which he gives, es- 
pecially that of Abraham, show his meaning plainly enough. 
" Was not Abraham our father justified by works, when he 
had ofi^ered Isaac his son upon the altar ?" But Abraham 
was in covenant with God, and of course justified a long 
time before he performed this act ; but this proved his sin- 
cerity and the strength of his faith. By that extraordinary 



JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 17 

act of obedience, in which Abraham, without hesitation or 
reluctance, ofiered up his only and well-beloved son at the 
command of God, he met the approbation of his Maker ; 
and this approbation was publicly expressed ; which expres- 
sion of divine favor is, by James, without much departure 
from the usual signification of the word, termed "justifica- 
tion," and is of the same kind with that public approbation 
of the good works of the righteous which will take place at 
the day of judgment, which is also called justification by our 
Lord. " For," says he, " by thy words thou shalt be justi- 
fied." Matt. 12 : 37. Many, however, in reconciling James 
with Paul, choose to interpret the word justify, as used by 
James, to signify the manifestation of the sincerity of our 
profession of faith in the sight of men ; to which I make no 
objection, as this interpretation doubtless accords with truth, 
but I consider what I before stated as the precise meaning 
of this apostle. 

As the word justification is borrowed from the proceed- 
ings of courts of justice, and is therefore said to be a forensic 
term, I will, by way of illustration and practical application 
of the subject, suppose the case of a convificed simier ar- 
raigned hefcyre the tribuTial of God, to be tried for the ac- 
tions of his whole life. The Judge being omniscient and 
infinitely just, can neither be deceived nor biassed. The 
rule of judgment must be his own perfect law : no other 
standard of right can be admitted or conceived of in this 
court. The demands of this law are, perfect obedience in 
heart and life : all deviations from the law, even in thought 
and desire, as well as in word and deed, are marked as sins. 
If any man had uniformly done all that the law required, 
he might be adjudged to the possession of eternal life on 
account of his own obedience ; that is, he would be justified 
by his own works. The language of the law is, " He that 



15 JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 

doeth these things, shall live in them." " This do, and thou 
shalt live." " The law was given unto life." 

But the person arraigned is conscious that he is a sin- 
ner, and therefore cannot possibly be justified in this way. 
While his conviction is partial, and his knowledge of sin 
indistinct, he very naturally makes efibrts at amendment 
and reformation. His ignorance of the extent and spiritu- 
ality of the law leads him to hope that he can make, by fu- 
ture obedience, a compensation for the past. But increasing 
light convinces him that these hopes are utterly fallacious ; 
for he finds that no future obedience, however perfect, would 
have any efiect to cancel the debt already contracted ; and 
he now finds, by sad experience, that he cannot keep the 
law perfectly for one moment. 

Under this conviction we suppose him to stand arraigned 
before the heart-searching Judge ; and when confronted 
with the law and a list of his sins — of omission as well as 
commission — of thought, word, and deed, with all their ag- 
gravations — what plea can he ofier ; what defence can he 
make ? Alas, he attempts nothing of the kind. His mouth 
is st02)j)ed. He stands speechless before his Judge. Or 
rather, he acknowledges every thing. He admits every 
charge to be true. He joins in his own condemnation ; and 
justifies God for the sentence which he is convinced that 
justice requires him to pronounce. He sees no way of es- 
cape ; for all his vain refuges in which he once trusted are 
now swept away. And he expects nothing else but that he 
shall be sent away into everlasting punishment. But under 
this awful conviction, he brings no complaint against the 
law which condemns him, nor against his righteous Judge. 
He takes all the blame and guilt to himself, and fully " ac- 
cepts the punishment of his sins," as a just award. His 
language is like that of David, "Against thee, thee only, 
have I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight ; that thou 



JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 19 

mightest be justified when tliou speakest, and be clear when 
thou judgest." 

He has, indeed, heard of a proclamation of mercy ; but 
though it excites a vague, trembling hope that relief is 
possible, yet lie sees not hoiv it is possible fm' him to escape 
from the grasp of inflexible justice in which he is held — for 
now he dares not even ask that the law which condemns 
him should be either set aside, suspended, or relaxed. Any 
thing of this kind his enlightened conscience correctly judges 
to be altogether out of the question. No doubt, this is an 
awful moment in the existence of the sinner, and he is 
ready to give himself up for lost. 

But hold — AN Advocate rises in the court, and offers to 
undertake his cause. And it is One who has the ear of the 
Judge, and who appears in the sinner's own nature. It is 
the incarnate Son of God, who says to the convicted sinner, 
" Commit your cause to me with confidence, and I will 
bring you oft' victorious. However deep your guilt, how- 
ever multiplied your transgressions, a full and free pardon 
will be sure, the moment you trust yourself into my Jiands." 
And then, to encourage confidence in his ability, he shows 
that he has rendered an infinitely meritorious obedience to 
this very law, and has in his own body endured the curse 
which it denounces upon transgressors ; and that he has 
acquired the right to obtain the redemption of all to whom 
this righteousness shall be applied. 

The convinced siinier sees, with joy and astonishment, 
that there is a ivay in which all his grievous sins can be 
pardoned, and he be restored to the favor of a justly oflended 
God. Now he believes with all his heart. Now he accepts 
the kind offer of the Saviour to be his advocate. Now he 
commits himself, and all his souFs concerns, into the hands 
of a faithful Redeemer. Now his burden of grief is re- 
moved, and he rejoices in the riches of grace in Christ Jesus; 



20 JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 

and his heart, hitherto so insensible, melts into love and 
gratitude. And now, though he may have confidence that 
his sins are all blotted out, and shall never rise in remem- 
brance against him, yet his heart breaks with ingenuous 
relentings, and godly sorrow gushes out in a flood. 

He can now look up with humble confidence to his 
Judge, and plead the perfect righteousness of his Surety. 
He sees that God is propitiated by the meritorious sacrifice 
of his own Son ; and feels that a blessed reconciliation has 
taken place between him and his God. For, on the part of 
God, his anger is appeased. He is well-pleased with his 
own dear Son, and with all who stand robed in his perfect 
righteousness : and as to his own enmity against God and 
his government, he finds that it is slain by a vieiv of the 
cross; and already he begins to experience something of the 
sweet spirit of adoiJtion, and the hojie which maketh not 
ashamed springs up in his breast, never more to leave him, 
but to be, in all temptations, troubles, and storms, as "an 
anchor to his soul, sure and steadfast, entering into that 
within the veil." 

Thus is the sinner actually justified by faith in Christ 
Jesus. There is no longer any legal condemnation to him ; 
for though he sin — and there is no man that liveth, and sin- 
neth not — his Advocate ever lives to intercede for him, and 
to plead, for his pardon, the complete atonement which he 
has made. And a soul once justified never can fall again 
under the condemnation of the law, unless Christ should 
cease to intercede, or should no longer apply to his benefit 
his own perfect righteousness. Clouds and darkness may 
often obscure his evidences of sonship, and his comfort may 
be greatly interrupted through his own remaining unbelief, 
and the temptations of the adversary ; but none shall be 
able to pluck him out of the hands of his heavenly Father, 
nor out of the hands of his ever-faithful Shepherd. 



JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 21 

After this account of the gospel method of a sinner's 
gratuitous justification, will any still bring forward the old 
stale objection, that by this plan we are overthrowing the 
obligation of the moral law, and tindermining the founda- 
tions of Qnwality and good works ? If there be any such 
objectors, let Paul answer them : '' Do we make void the 
law through faith ? God forbid ; nay, we establish the 
law." " Shall we continue in sin, that grace may abound ? 
God forbid ; how shall we, that are dead to sin, live any 
longer therein?" Some did, indeed, slanderously report of 
the apostle and his fellow-teachers, that they said, " Let us 
do evil that good may come." Concerning all who would 
say this, Paul declares, that " their damnation is just." 

And what does uniform experience testify in regard to 
the lives of those who maintain this doctrine ? Are they 
more loose in their lives than others ? Have they not, in 
all ages, rather been the humble, self-denying, faithful imi- 
tators of Christ ? So far are they from pleading any ex- 
emption from the law as a rule of life, or taking occasion 
to indulge in sin because grace abounds, that they " delight 
ill the law of God after the inner man" — hunger and thirst 
after righteousness — and feel the remainder of sin dwelling in 
them to be their greatest burden and sorest affliction, which 
causes them to groan, and to exclaim with Paul, " wretch- 
ed man that I am ; who shall deliver me from this body of 
death?" Justifying faith works by love, and love is the 
very spring and essence of all holy obedience. Gratitude 
impels the reconciled sinner to be zealous for good works. 
" The love of Christ constraineth him." He feels that being 
"bought with a price," he is "not his own," and should 
" glorify God in his body and spirit, which are God's." 



VOL. X. 81 



22 JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 

SUMMARY OF THE DOCTRINE OF JUSTIFICATION. 



The Scripture doctrine of justification may be briefly 
summed up in the following particulars. 

1. It is God that justifies. 

2. Justification is wholly gratuitous, without merit and 
without any works of our own as its ground. 

3. The merit of Christ, as Mediator, expressed in Scrip- 
ture by his righteousness, his obedience, his blood, his death, 
his life, his sacrifice, is the true and only meritorious ground 
of a sinner's pardon and acceptance. 

4. The justification of the ungodly includes the remis- 
sion of sins, by which often it is expressed in Scripture ; but 
it also includes their acceptance as righteous, for the sake of 
Christ's perfect righteousness reckoned to their account. 

5. Justification is by faith, as the instrument of union 
to Christ, and the reception of his righteousness. 

6. The faith which justifies is always a living, operative, 
fruitful faith. No one is justified by a faith which is alone, 
or unattended with good works. 

7. Justification and sanctification, though inseparably 
connected, and equally necessary to salvation, are neverthe- 
less distinct blessings of the new covenant ; and the latter 
is the only certain evidence of the possession of the former. 

8. Justification takes place at the moment of believing, 
and is as perfect at once as it can ever be, and there can 
be no place for a second justification in the sight of God, 
and in relation to his law ; but there is a manifestation of 
the genuineness of our faith and sincerity of our profession, 
both in thi& world and at the day of judgment, which is also 
sometimes called justification. 

9. No plan of justification which does not make a com- 
plete provision for the satisfaction of all the demands of law 



JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 23 

and justice, is honorable to God or agreeable to Scripture. 
By this single test may all erroneous theories of justification 
be tried and condemned. 



The importance of the doctrine of a sinner's justification 
before God, is not exceeded by that of any other in the whole 
circle of divine truth. Without justification it is evident 
that no man can be saved. It is then a vital subject. 
Eternal life is involved in it. For let it be considered, that 
there is here no middle ground. He that is not in a state 
of j ustification must be in a state of condemnation ; and if 
he continues in that state, he must perish for ever. One 
unpardoned sin will sink the soul to hell. What then must 
be the condition of sinners who are pressed down with the 
guilt of innumerable transgressions ? 

reader, let me entreat you to apply tliis truth to your 
own case. You are, at this moment, either in a state of 
condemnation or justification. You are now either recon- 
ciled to God, and his adopted child, or his wrath abideth 
on you. If the latter, how can you be at ease ? How can 
you sleep quietly in your bed ? How can you partake, vdth 
any pleasure, of your daily food ? Alas, your condition is 
far more dangerous, far more deplorable than any words 
are capable of describing. And now, while the moments 
pass, you are approaching nearer and nearer to the lake of 
fire. 

And are you determined to take no warning, to listen to 
no advice ? Will you shut your eyes against a danger so 
imminent and so dreadful ? How will you regret this care- 
lessness, when perhaps the day of mercy is ended. Those 
words of our Saviour to Jerusalem are most touching: "0 
that thou hadst known, even thou, in this thy day, the 



24 JUSTIFICATION BY FAITH. 

things which belong unto thy peace ; but now they are hid 
from thine eyes." In a little time your eternal destiny 
will be immutably fixed. There is a limit beyond which 
the call of mercy and the strivings of the Spirit do not 
reach. When once the sinner has passed that awful boun- 
dary, his soul is completely lost ; his hopes are extinguished ; 
the blackness of darkness for ever lies before him. His sins 
will cluster round him like so many ghosts, to torment him. 
The fire which can never be quenched already is enkin- 
dled ; and the worm which never dies begins to gnaw his 
vitals. wretched creature I how dearly didst thou buy 
a little mirth and ease in the world ; haw little profit hast 
thou now in all thy worldly riches and honors. They can- 
not purchase for thee one moment's relief, one drop of water 
for thy scorched tongue. 

" Knowing the terrors of the Lord, we would persuade 
men." If you were now actually beyond the reach of 
mercy, it would be no kindness to disturb you ; but while 
there is life, there is hope. The sound of mercy is still 
heard, the door of hope is open, salvation is yet attainable. 
But there is no time to be lost. The least delay may be 
ruinous. Escape for your life. Flee from the coming 
wrath ; seek safety in the house of refuge ; press into the 
ark ; flee to the altar, and seize on its blood-sprinkled horns. 
This very day may be the accepted time, and the day of 
your salvation. 



]\o. 394 

CHRISTIAN LIBEEALITY 

EXPLAINED AND ENFORCED. 



EXTRACTED FROM "MAMMON, OR COVETOUSNESS THE SIN OF THE CHRISTIAN 

CHURCH." 

BY REV. JOHN HARRIS. 



SECTION!. 

CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY EXPLAINED. 

To assert that the cause of christian liberality exhi- 
bits no sign of improvement, would only evince insen- 
sibility to obvious facts, and ingratitude to the great 
Head of the church. Even the feeling vvhich has called 
for " an essay, bearing upon selfishness as it leads us to 
live to ourselves, and not unto God and our fellow- 
men," is to be viewed as an indication that many a chris- 
tian more than ever deplores that selfishness. While 
the ready assent which is generally accorded to every 
faithful appeal as to the necessity of increased liberality 
to the cause of God ; the growing conviction of the 
church, that, compared with what will be done, we are 
at present doing nothing j the approbation with which 
every new expedient for augmenting the funds of bene- 
volence is hailed ; the streams Avhich appear in almost 
every new channel of mercy as soon as it is opened ; 
and the increase of funds which our great benevolent 
institutions have almost annually to announce — all con- 
cur to show that the church is not only dissatisfied with 
its past parsimony, but is gradually awaking to the 
claims of christian liberality. 

But, pleasing as the circumstances are, it must be 
remembered that they are little more than indications 
VOL. X. 31* 



2 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY 

of improvement. All the great defects in the charity of 
the christian church remain, with very slight modifica- 
tions. It is still adapted to a former state of compara- 
tive inactivity, rather than to the present period of chris- 
tian enterprise. It waits for impulses and appeals. It 
wants calculation, proportion, and self-denial. It does 
not keep pace with the growing demands of the kingdom 
of Christ. It wants principle and plan. The great current 
of christian property is, as yet, undiverted from its 
worldly channel. The scanty rills of charity, which at 
present water the garden of the Lord, and the ingenuity 
and effort employed to bring them there, compared with 
the almost undiminished tide of selfish expenditure 
which still holds on its original course, remind one of 
the slender rivulets which the inhabitants of the East 
raise from a river by mechanical force to irrigate their 
thirsty gardens ; the mighty current, meanwhile, with- 
out exhibiting any sensible diminution of its waters, 
sweeping on in its ample and ancient bed to the ocean. 
By unwearied diligence, the art of acquiring money 
has been well nigh brought to perfection. Nor can we 
think of the thousand ways in which it is squandered 
and dissipated by artificial wants and worldly complian- 
ces, without deploring that the art of wasting it by the 
most expeditious methods should exhibit, as it does, 
the finish and completeness of a system. The art of 
using it, so as to make it produce the greatest measure 
of happiness, still remains to be practiced. This, indeed, 
the Gospel alone can teach, and has taught from the 
beginning. In the early age of the christian church, 
the heavenly art of embalming property, and making it 
immortal, was not only known but practised ; but, like 
the process of another embalming, it has now, for ages, 
been practically lost. Not that its principles have been 
unknowii ; these have always presented themselves on 
the page of truth, in lines of living light. But though 



EXPLAINED. d 

benevolence has never been unknown as a theory, the 
perverting influence of a worldly spirit has been render- 
ing it more and more impracticable as an art. So that 
now, when the obvious application of its principle is 
pointed out, and the necessity for carrymg those prin- 
ciples into practice is daily becoming more urgent, we 
begin to be aware of the vast distance to which the 
church has been drifted from the course of its duty by 
the current of the world, and how difficult it will be to 
effect a return. 

As an important preliminary to such a return, it 
should be our first concern to repair to the living ora- 
cles of God, and there, in an humble devotional spirit to 
inquire his will on Ihe subject. This, of itself, would be 
gaining an important step. It would be proclaiming a 
wide secession from the world ; for, while the ungodly 
act and feel as if their property were absolutely and 
irresponsibly their own, we should be thus acknowledg- 
ing that we hold our property from God, and that we 
feel ourselves bound to consult his will as to the manner 
of using it. The unreflecting christian who is content 
with appearances and professions, no doubt imagines 
that this distinction between the church and the world 
exists already. Because he has heard, until the sound 
has become familiar, that all we have and are belonofs 
to God, and has never heard the proposition contra- 
dicted, he fancies that, on this point, all is well. But it 
is precisely because christians generally have jorach'ca//y 
repealed this principle, and trampled it under foot, that 
the spirit of benevolence has almost been lost from the 
church. While the practical recognition of this single 
principle, simple as it is, familiar and admitted as it is 
in words, would of itself produce an unimagined change 
in favor of evangelical charity. Geologists tell us that 
were the poles of the earth to be shifted but a few de- 
grees, the ocean would rush towards the new equator, 



4" CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY 

the most solid parts of the globe give way, and the earth 
assume an aspect entirely new. The solitary principle 
thai we hold our property as subordinate agents for God, 
were it only felt, embraced, allowed to have unobstructed 
operation in our practice, would, of itself, be sufficient 
to break up the present system of selfishness, and to 
give an entirely new aspect to the cause of benevolence. 

Let the christian reader, then, seek to have this prin- 
ciple wrought into his mind as an ever-present con- 
viction. Let the recollection of his property, and the 
idea of God as its supreme owner, stand together in his 
mind in close and constant union. Let him remember 
that the supreme proprietorship of his property is in the 
hands of God as really as the salvation of his soul is ; 
and that the will of God is law here, as much as in the 
more spiritual domain of faith. What would his conduct 
be, had he been left the executor of that property by a 
wealthy friend 1 Would he not have been frequently 
recurring to the will of the testator, that he might not 
misapply the least fraction X His supreme Friend has 
given him the use of certain property, accompanying 
the grant with a specification of his will concerning its 
application. Nothing but an humble, grateful, obedient 
heart is necessary in studying that will, in order to find 
that it descends to rules, limitations, and directions, of 
the most clear and minute description. And it is only 
by keeping these requirements constantly open before 
him, and returning to study them daily in that spirit, 
that the christian can escape the danger of appropriat- 
ing and misapplying that which belongs to his Lord and 
Master. 

In the scheme of evangelical charity, the principle 
which actuates the giver is of paramount importance. 
''He that giveth, let him do it with simplicity." The 
Gospel rejects alike the tax which is reluctantly paid 
by fear, the bribe which is given to silence importunity, 



EXPLAINED. 

the sacrifice which is offered to a vain ostentation, and 
the price which is intended to purchase a place in the 
divine favor, or as a ground of justification before God. 
The only offering which it accepts is that which origi- 
nates in a principle of love and obedience to Christ, and 
which hopes and asks for divine acceptance through 
him alone. It takes the christian to the cross, and there 
it aims to touch all that is tender and generous in his 
nature, while it says, " Ye know the grace of our Lord 
Jesus Christ, that, though he was rich, for your sakes 
he became poor, that ye, through his poverty, might be 
rich." And having made its appeal at the cross, having 
provided and plied him with the grand motive of re- 
deeming love, it will accept nothing which overlooks 
the constraining influence of that principle. 

Familiarity with large sums of money may lead a 
person to make benefactions as munificent as the heart 
of charity could wish. Animal generosity may act the 
donor with all the promptitude and easy grace of charity 
herself. But "though I bestow all my goods to feed the 
poor, . . . and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing." 
The absence of evangelical love is the want of the in- 
cense which alone could impart to the sacrifice a sweet- 
smelling savor unto God. And while its absence would 
reduce the collected gifts of a nation to penury itself, 
its presence imparts to a widow's mite a value which 
God appreciates, and by which heaven is enriched. It 
turns " a cup of cold water " into a sacramental symbol ; 
for it is given " in remembrance of Christ." Suspended 
from the throne of heaven, it transmutes the least gift 
that may be hung on it into a jewel destined to augment 
the glory of Him on whose head are " many crowns." 

That which constitutes the superiority of evangelical 
piety, as a self-propagating and diffusive system, to 
every form of false and heterodox religion is, that it has 
for its great actuating principle the love of Christ. This 



b ' CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY 

is "the seed in itself;" the leaven which shall never 
cease to ferment till it has leavened the entire mass of 
humanity. Hence, every thing which would obtain ac- 
ceptance with God must exhibit marks of the assimilat- 
ing and sanctifying power of this principle. Nay, every 
thing which would find favor in the eyes of the christian 
himself, even his own acts and offerings of charity, 
must bear evident relation to Christ, or receive the con- 
demnation of his own grateful heart. In the exercise 
of a holy jealousy for his blessed Lord, he is led to 
scrutinize his motives, to trace his benevolence to its 
source, to examine whether or not it took its rise at the 
cross; and, if it did not, he finds cause for penitence 
and humiliation before God. Thus, while false religion 
makes his alms-deeds a substitute for piety, the Gospel 
heightens benevolence into one of the most spiritual 
and improving duties the christian can perform. For, 
by imbuing his heart with the love of God, it enables 
him to taste the godlike enjoyment of doing good ; and, 
by teaching him to refer all his acts of benevolence to 
Christ, to perform them as expressions of gratitude to 
him, to hope for their acceptance through him, and to 
pray that they may tend to his glory, it keeps him near 
to the cross, in an atmosphere of spiritual and elevated 
piety. And when once he has become native to the 
element, when the expansive, delightful, irresistible 
power of the Saviour's grace has become his ruling mo- 
tive, he would feel an inferior principle to be little less 
than degradation and bondage. He accounts the cost- 
liest sacrifice he can offer as poor ; resents the limits 
which a cold and calculating selfishness would impose 
on his offerings, as chains and fetters ; and if called to 
pour forth his blood as a libation on the altar of christian 
sacrifice, he would feel that he had rendered an ample 
explanation of his conduct, by saying, with the apostle, 
" The love of Christ constraineth us." 



EXPLAINED. 



In order that our benevolence may become a valuable 
habit, it must be provided with regular resources. No- 
thing good or great can be effected without plan. In 
their own worldly business, men perceive the impor- 
tance of method j and, if they would render their libe- 
rality efficient, they must adopt a system for that also. 
On this subject the Gospel itself prescribes — " Upon the 
first day of the week, let every one of you lay by him 
in store as God hath prospered him, that there be no 
gatherings when I come." " By which," saith Paley, 
'^I understand St. Paul to recommend what is the very 
thing wanting with most men, the being charitable upon 
a plan; that is, upon a deliberate comparison of our 
fortunes with the reasonable expenses and expectations 
of our families, to compute what we can spare, and to 
lay by so much for charitable purposes." 

To take indeed a weekly account how God hath pros- 
pered us, is not, in all cases, possible j but the spirit of 
the direction would be equally satisfied, if, on taking the 
account at other stated times, we only lay by for God as 
he hath prospered us. Owing to the want of a plan 
like this, the cause of Christ is often an unwelcome 
and an unsuccessful applicant ; selfishness, which has 
always the advantage of being able to be the first claim- 
ant, squanders in superfluities what conscience would 
have devoted to Godj and many, it is to be feared, from 
not having wherewith to answer the calls and impulses 
of charity as they arose in the heart, have at length lost 
the very disposition to do good. While the advantages 
arising from the adoption of such an arrangement are 
numerous, we are under less temptation to withhold our 
charity ; our duty is made more convenient by rendering 
it thus in easy installments ; our love to Christ is more 
gratified by being able to present him in the end with a 
larger offering ; the hand of God is regularly recognized 
in our worldly affairs j his presence is invited, so to 



8 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY 

speak, into the very heart of our prosperity, whence 
the wotM is most anxious to exclude him, invited to 
audit the account of our gains j our offerings are pre- 
sented with cheerfulness, because they come from a 
fund designed expressly to no other end than charity ; 
and the cause of benevolence, no longer a dependant 
or precarious charity, is welcomed and honored as an 
authorized claimant, a divine creditor, while what we 
retain for our own use is divinely blessed by the dedi- 
cation of the rest to God. 

Nothing that is good or great, we repeat, can be ef- 
fected without plan. Business, to be successful, must 
be conducted on system ; and why should not the book 
which records the occasional and the regular contribu- 
tions of charity be kept and inspected as carefully as 
the ledger of trade 1 Covetousness plans for selfish 
purposes ; and why should not benevolence counter- 
plan, and organize its resources for objects of divine 
philanthropy 1 Political economy plans for national pur- 
poses ; and why should there not be an ecclesiastical 
economy to systematize its resources of that kingdom 
which is not of this world 1 We desire not a revival 
of sumptuary laws to restrain extravagance in diet and 
dress, but a tax self-levied on all the luxuries and in- 
dulgencies of life. We ask not for an inquisitorial 
Koman census^ but for a conscientious assessment of all 
the property of the christian church, so scrupulously 
made and regularly repeated, that, like that ancient re- 
public, we may have accurate returns, from time to 
time, of all the statistics of the christian empire, and 
may know our resources for war with the kingdom of 
darkness. 

But what proportion of our income ought we to devote 
to charitable usesl If christian love be permitted to 
answer this question, and assign the amount, there is 
no reason to fear a too scanty allowance. On the other 



EXPLAINED. 9 

hand, if selfishness be suffered to decide, there is ground 
to fear that even an inspired reply, could such be ob- 
tained, would be heard only to be overruled. Besides 
which, the Gospel of Christ, in harmony with its great 
design of establishing a reign of love, leaves its follow- 
ers to assess themselves. It puts into their hands, in- 
deed, a claim upon their property, but leaves the ques- 
tion, how much ? to be determined by themselves. In 
assisting them to fill up the blank with the proper as- 
sessment, the only step which it takes is to point them 
to the cross of Christ ; and, while their eye is fixed 
there in admiring love, to say, ^' How much o\\ est thou 
unto thy Lord 1" "Freely ye have received, freely 
give." 

It must be quite unnecessary to remind the christian, 
that a principle of justice to man must be laid as the 
basis of all our calculations on this subject. "Fori 
the Lord love judgment, I hate robbery for burnt offer- 
ing." To present him with that which his own laws 
of justice would assign to another, is to overlook the 
claims of even ordinary honesty, and to make him the 
patron of unrighteousness. But, while the worldling 
looks on justice as the only claimant on his property, 
and concludes that when that is satisfied, he may war- 
rantably sacrifice the whole remainder to himself, the 
christian views it only as a preparation for sacrificing 
to God. 

It is observable that Abraham and Jacob, on particu- 
lar occasions, voluntarily devoted to God- -what after- 
wards became a Divine law for the Jewish nation — a 
tenth of their property. Without implying that their 
example has any obligation on us, we may venture to 
say, that one tenth of our whole income is an approved 
proportion for charity, for those who, with so doing, are 
able to support themselves and families. For the more 
opulent, and especially for those who have no families, 
VOL. X. 32 



10 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY 

a larger proportion would be equally easy. For some, 
one-half would be too little ; while, for others, a twen- 
tieth, or even a fiftieth would require the nicest frugali- 
ty and care. Indeed, of many among the poor it may 
be said, that if they give any things they give their 
share — they cast in more than all their brethren. 

But, in determining the proportion to be made sacred 
to God, the christian would surely rather exceed than 
fall short of the exact amount. With whom is he stipu- 
lating 1 i^or whom is he preparing the offering '^ Well 
may the recollection put every covetous thought to in- 
stant flight, tinging his cheek with shame at the bare 
possibility of ingratitude, and impelling him to lay his 
all at the feet of Christ. Only let him think of the great 
love wherewith Christ hath loved him ; only let him 
pass by the cross on his way to the altar of oblation, 
and his richest offering will appear totally unworthy of 
Divine acceptance. When Christ is the object to be 
honored, the affection of the pardoned penitent cannot 
slop to calculate the value of its alabaster box of pre- 
cious ointment — that is an act to which only a Judas 
can stoop — its chief and sole regret is, that the unction 
has not a richer perfume, and a higher value. When a 
Zaccheus finds himself standing, a sinner saved by 
grace, in the presence of the Being who has saved him, 
he exclaims, " Behold, Lord, the half of my goods I 
give to the poor ; and if I have wronged any man by 
false accusation, I restore unto him four-fold." Cove- 
tousness, a moment before, was enthroned in his heart, 
but now it is beneath his feet. A moment ago wealth 
was his idol ; but now its only value consists in furnish- 
ing him with an offering of love to Christ. What things 
were gain to him^ those he counted loss for Christ. 

And as the great principle of love to Christ will not 
allow the more opulent to give scantily, so neither will 
it permit the poorest to come before him empty. It was 



EXPLAINED. 11 

one of the Divine enactments even of the legal dis- 
pensation — JVone shall come before me empty. But that 
which was matter of law with the Israelite, the chris- 
tian will seize as a golden opportunity for evincing his 
love to Christ ; and will bring, though it be only a grain 
of incense for an offerinor, or a leaf for that wreath of 
praise and honor which the church delights to lay ai 
the feet of Christ. Whatever Scripture example others 
may profess to copy, he will select the example of the 
benevolent widow ; and, while others content them- 
selves with only admiring it, he w^ill often reflect on its 
imitableness. Nor will the language of the apostle be 
ever heard by him but as an address to himself, " Let 
him labor, working with his hands the thing which is 
good, that he may have to give to him that needeth." 
" These hands have ministered unto my necessities, and 
to them that were with me. _ have showed you all 
things, how that so laboring ye ought to support the 
weak, and to remember the words of the Lord Jesus, 
how he said, It is more blessed to give than to receive." 
Agreeably with these sentiments, the man who, at one 
time, imagined that his poverty quite exempted him 
from the obligations of charity, and only rendered him 
an object of it, is no sooner made the partaker of grace, 
than he feels himself impelled to place some offering on 
the altar of christian benevolence ; and, with the ready 
eye and hand of affection, he soon detects, for this end, 
some small superfluity which can be retrenched, or 
some leisure time which can be profitably employed. 
And when his mite-like offering, the fruit of hard self- 
denial, or of the sweat of his brow, is presented, nothing 
could inflict on his grateful heart a deeper wound than 
to see that offering rejected on the ground of its com- 
parative insignificance, or of his supposed inability to 
give it. It is the offering of a sinner's gratitude to a 
Saviour's love, and heaven rejoices over the oblation. 



12 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY 

A well-digested scheme of charity will be conside- 
rate in the selection of its objects. The benevolence 
which has not prudence for its almoner, may create the 
evils which it meant to destroy. 

If there be any danger in this respect, in the present 
day, it does not lie so much in the choice of wrong 
objects, as in the neglect of some right ones. The 
principles of benevolent institutions are now so well 
understood ; every new candidate for patronage is so 
open to inspection, and the streams of charity so steadi- 
ly watched from their rise to the point of their destina- 
tion, that there is little more than the bare possibility 
of any benevolent institution existing long in a state of 
abuse, or so as to generate more evil than good. What- 
ever danger now exists, arises from the rapid multipli- 
cation of new objects, and the consequent liability of 
the old ones to desertion ; and still more, perhaps, from 
the liability of those minor objects which relate exclu- 
sively to the bodily welfare of man, being eclipsed by 
the surpassing grandeur and magnitude of such as re- 
late to the infinite and the eternal. 

If, fifty years ago, a patron of the benevolent institu- 
tions of that day could have been foretold of the number, 
the magnitude, and the revenues of the great evangelical 
societies which at present adorn our land, he might 
surely have been excused for fearing that the objects 
of his regard would, in consequence, be displaced and 
forgotten. But the event has shown that his fears would 
have been unfounded. Experience demonstrates, that 
the heart which responds to the cries of a world perish- 
ing through lack of knowledge, is the heart which most 
readily thrills at the cry of bodily want j that those who 
care most for the souls of the heathen, are among the 
most active agents of patriotic and local charities ; that 
genuine christian charity, while it leaves no object un- 
attempted on account of its vastness, overlooks none on 



EXPLAINED. 13 

account of its minuteness. Copying, in this respect, the 
example of Him, who, in his way to the cross to save a 
world, often stood still to give health to the sick, and to 
wipe away the tears of the mourner ; sowing, at each 
step, the seeds of those various institutions of mercy 
which are still springing up in his church ; and who, 
while suspended on the cross, in the crisis of human 
redemption, still thought of his filial relation, and tender- 
ly provided for a mother's comfort. 

But the limited resources of the christian philanthro- 
pist, compared with the number and diversity of the ob- 
jects soliciting his aid, render selection indispensably 
necessary. On the one hand, he must not confine his 
regards to objects purely religious, though of the loft- 
iest and most comprehensive order, to the neglect of 
that charity which draws out its soul to the hungry, and 
which visits the fatherless and widow in their affliction ; 
and, on the other, he must not limit his attentions to the 
wants of the life that now is, and remain an uninterested 
spectator of the efforts which are made around him to 
save a world from perdition. The two classes of objects 
should be combined in his regards. By descending to 
the one class, he will be keeping his benevolent feelings 
in a healthy, active, vigorous state ; and, by ascending 
to the other, he will be giving them scope and expan- 
sion, diffusing and multiplying them over the whole field 
of mercy. By a wise distribution of his means he may 
connect himself with all the objects of beneficence, from 
the casual relief of the mendicant, to the combined, sys- 
tematic, and mighty project of the christian church to 
make the Bible the book of the world. And as he marks 
the graduated scale of christian charities, which stands 
between these two extremes, he will conscientiously 
consider which are the charities that call for his espe- 
cial aid, and the proportion of support which each 
demands. 

VOL. x. 32* 



14 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY 

But who does not feel that the era of effective chris- 
tian benevolence has yet to commence 1 Let him sketch 
the most simple scheme of benevolence which the Gos- 
pel can approve, and he will perceive, at every step, 
that he is writing the condemnation of the church. 
Compared with the time, indeed, when next to nothing 
was contributed to the cause of Christ, we may now be 
said to give much ; but compared with what ought to be, 
and with what we are persuaded will be, consecrated to 
God, we are still contributing next to nothing. The 
sentiment of the church on the subject of property, is, 
as yet, very little elevated above that of the world ; 
deep-rooted worldly notions have yet to be eradicated ; 
and the right use of wealth, in its relation to the cause 
of Christ, to be taught and enforced as an essential 
branch of christian practice. The great lesson taught 
by our Lord's voluntary selection of a state of poverty, 
is yet to be fully understood ; the application of many 
plain passages of Scripture to be made ; doctrines, start- 
ling to selfishness, to become familiar and welcome ; 
sentiments, already familiar, to be enlarged and practi- 
cally applied 5 the word benevolence itself to be diffe- 
rently understood ; the demon of covetousness to be 
cast out of the church, and the whole economy of be- 
nevolence to be revised. 

And who, with the word of God in his hand, but must 
feel that an era of enlarged christian liberality is hasten- 
ing on % Prophecy is full of it. As often almost as she 
opens her lips on the subject of Messiah's reign, the 
consecration of the world's wealth forms part of her 
song. " To him shall be given of the gold of Sheba." 
" The merchandise of Tyre shall be holiness to the 
Lord ; it shall not be treasured nor laid up." " Surely 
the isles shall wait for me, and the ships of Tarshish 
first, to bring thy sons from far, their silver and their 
gold with them, unto the name of the Lord thy God." 



EXPLAINED. 15 

''Kings shall bring presents unto him;'' "they shall 
bring gold and incense ;" and into his kingdom " they 
shall bring the glory and honor of the nations." Wealth, 
which for so many ages had robbed him of his glory, 
and which in so many idolatrous forms had been erected 
in his stead, shall be brought to his altar, and employed 
as the fuel of a sacrifice in which the heart shall ascend 
as incense before him. It will then be felt that the 
highest use to which wealth can be applied, is to em- 
ploy it for God ; that this is the only way to dignify that 
which is intrinsically mean ; to turn that which is per- 
ishing into unfading crowns and imperishable wealth. 
As if the image and superscription of Christ instead of 
Caesar — as if the hallowed impress of the cross itself 
were visible on ail the currency of earth, his people shall 
look on all their wealth as the property of Christ, and 
be constantly meditating the means of employing it 
most advantageously for his glory. In wedding his 
church, it shall then be felt that he wedded her wealth 
also ; and, bringing it forth, and placing it at his feet as 
a part of her poor unworthy dowry, she shall Avish that, 
for his sake, it had been ten thousand times ten thou- 
sand more. 

Now, the only distinction is between him that gives 
a little, and him that gives nothing ; then a new classi- 
fication will have obtained. There will be no one in the 
church who gives nothing ; his place will be occupied 
by him who only gives little — by which will be meant 
him who, whatever the amount of his gift may be, givej> 
only from his superfluity ; while the honorable title of 
the benevolent will be reserved for such only as deny 
themselves in order that they may give more. Self- 
denial, if not synonymous with benevolence, will then 
be considered an essential part of it. He who gives 
nothing, will be looked on as an avowed enemy to the 
cause of Christ ; he who only gives a little from his su- 



16 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY 

perfluity will be considered covetous ; and he only who 
adds to his superfluity the precious savings of self-denial 
besides, will be honored as truly charitable. 

The christian will then look on himself in the light 
of a channel between God and his fellow-creatures — a 
channel prepared expressly for receiving and conveying 
the overflowings of the fountain of goodness to those 
around him ; and, accordingly, he will be " ready to dis- 
tribute, willing to communicate." Not content with the 
slender supplies of his own property, he will seek to 
excite the liberality of others ; to become their almoner j 
to swell the streams of his own charity by the contri- 
butions of others. And thus he will at once be the 
means of keeping the benevolence of his brethren in 
activity j of bringing greater glory to God, and of doing 
greater good to the world. 

The christian parent will not then be content with 
teaching his children the art of getting money most 
easily and respectably, or of spending it most advan- 
tageously to themselves ; he will train them to habits 
of benevolence 5 impress them early with " the value 
of money " for the cause of Christ 5 show them, that in 
its subserviency to that cause consists its chief value j 
that they should labor with their hands rather than be 
destitute of the means of giving. He will make it an 
indispensable object of their education to render them 
proficients in the art of employing their substance to 
the glory of God. 

As far as his means enable him, he will pray only to 
give, and give only to pray. His every prayer will con- 
tain a petition for a more abundant outpouring of the 
spirit of christian liberality and dedication 5 and the 
very feeling which impelled him to utter the petition, 
shall impel him, when he rises from his knees, to devise 
liberal things. And then, having gratified the divine im- 
pulse to the utmost extent of his means, he will hasten 



EXPLAINED. * 17 

to unload his grateful heart before God, and to say, 
" Who am I, that I should be able to offer so willingly 
after this sort 1 for all things come of thee, and of thine 
own have we given thee." Nay, could he command and 
set in motion all the benevolent agencies in the uni- 
verse, the same godlike motive which led him to do sOj 
would then impel him to the throne of God to obtain his 
efficacious blessing upon the whole. Having put all 
human agency in requisition, he w^ould labor and wrestle 
in prayer, to engage the infinite love and power of God. 

He will receive every accredited applicant for the 
cause of Christ, as a messenger deputed from Christ 
himself. And, as if his blessed Lord were standing be- 
fore him, and saying, " I am hungry, will you not feed 
me \ I am thirsty, will you not give me drink % I 
am a stranger, will you not take me in \ My cause 
is languishing for want of support, will you not aid 
it V He will hasten to bring forth his all, and say, 
" O Lord my God, ail this store cometh of thine hand, 
and is all thine own." In doing this, indeed, he would 
only be copying the example of the benevolent widow ; 
but though that example received the sanction of Christ, 
and as such w^as intended to be more than admired by 
his church, yet who could imitate it at present, without 
incurring, not from the w^orld only, but from the great 
majority of christian professors also, the blame of great 
improvidence \ But, then, her conduct shall be regarded 
as exemplary ; and the Saviour himself will undertake 
the defence of her imitators, and say, " They loved 
much, for they have much forgiven." 

Now, the christian professor too commonly allows 
his regular contribution to check his liberality, to pre- 
vent his giving more than the stipulated sum, though 
there are times when his benevolent impulses would 
prompt him to exceed that sum ; then he will regard 
his subscription only as a pledge that he will not give 



18 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY 

less, but as leaving his liberality open to all the impulses 
of an unrestricted benevolence. Now, he is too often 
disposed to shun the applications for charity j and if he 
is overlooked and passed by, to view it as a fortunate 
escape ; but then he will do good as he hath opportunity 
— creating the opportunity which he cannot find already 
made to his hands. Now, his ability exceeds his incli- 
nation ; but then his inclination will be greater than his 
ability ; like the Macedonian christians, of whom the 
apostle testifies, " I bear them record, that to their 
power, yea, and beyond their power, they were willing 
of themselves." Instead of being charitable only on 
comparative distraint, he will often anticipate applica- 
tion, and surprise the agents of beneficence by unex- 
pected gifts ; thus strengthening their faith in God, and 
inciting them to enlarge their designs for the kingdom 
of Christ : like the same believers, of whom the apostle 
records, that, instead of needing to be solicited, they 
entreated him to accept their contributions — '^ praying 
us with much entreaty to accept their gift." Like the 
happy parent of a happy family, he will hail every new- 
born claim on his resources, and cheerfully deny him- 
self in order to support it. And instead of giving, as he 
now does, as scantily as if he only aimed to keep the 
christian cause from famishing, he will then act on the 
persuasion that his own enjoyment is identified Avith its 
growth and prosperity. 

And let it not be supposed that, during that happy 
period, it will be necessary to the support of the chris- 
tian interest, that its friends should live in a state of 
comfortless self-denial. The prevalence of the benevo- 
lent spirit will render this superfluous. When the 
thousand drains of selfishness are cut off, the cause of 
Christ will easily find an abundance from his friends, 
and will leave an abundance to them all. When every 
man brings his all to Christ, every man will be able to 



EXPLAINED. 19 

take away with him again an ample supply for his most 
comfortable subsistence. When every fresh convert to 
Christ becomes a willing supporter of his interest, the 
accession of numbers will increase its supplies more 
rapidly than its wants. 

0, happy period ! Holiness to the Lord shall be writ- 
ten, not only on common things, but on those which 
men have been accustomed most jealously to withhold 
from God, and to consider their own. Even the mines 
of the earth shall, in a sense, be ceded to Christ ; '' the 
God of the whole earth shall he be called ;" and " every 
one shall submit themselves unto him with pieces of 
silver." He shall be considered the wise man, not who 
keeps most, but who gives most to God ; and the hap- 
piness of bestowing shall be rated above the pleasure of 
acquiring. Happy period! when men, instead of mak- 
ing gold their god, shall make God their gold : and 
when the principles of benevolence shall be looked on 
as a science taught from heaven, the practice of which 
is necessary to conduct them to heaven. The living 
law of benevolence written in the heart will operate 
more powerfully than all the sumptuary laws which were 
ever enacted to restrain the extravagance of society. 
The cause of Christ will be viewed as the only safe re- 
pository of wealth ; as the great interest in which the 
affluent will invest their abundance, and in Avhich the 
poor will deposit their mite, assured that it will thus 
augment to a treasure exceeding their powers of com- 
putation. And wealth, the pernicious influence of which 
some of the wisest of men have feared so much that 
they have prohibited the use of it by law — wealth, the 
great embroiler and corrupter of the world, will be em- 
ployed as one of the leading means of restoring man- 
kind to union and happiness ; and thus Christ will 
triumph over the enemy in its own home and with its 
own weapons. 



20 CHRISTIAiN LIBERALITY 



SECTION II. 



CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED. 

And why should the delightful period to which we 
have adverted, when the Gospel theory of christian be- 
nevolence shall be realized, be deemed remote 1 The 
duties of that period are the duties of every period j 
and, therefore, of the present. The obligations which 
will be binding then, are binding at this moment. No 
new incitements to benevolence will be furnished from 
heaven. The great considerations with which the Gos- 
pel has long since made us familiar, are the identical 
motives which will then reign and triumph. Remote, 
therefore, as that era may be to the eye of the indolent 
and the selfish, the consistent believer will not think of 
waiting for its arrival before he begins its duties ; he 
will feel that those duties are all present and urgent. 
May a review of the tender and weighty considerations 
by which they are enforced fill him with generous and 
grateful purposes, such as he never felt before ; and 
may God, the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of love and grace, 
condescend to breathe on him the breath ofa new life, 
that he may henceforth live only to carry those purpo- 
ses into eifect to the glory of Christ his Redeemer ! 

In every question of duty, your first inquiry, christian 
reader, will naturally respect the will of God. Before 
listening to any other consideration, you will lift up an 
imploring eye, and say, " Lord, what wilt ihou have me 
to do V Now there is no subject on which God has 
more clearly or fully revealed his will tj^ian on the duty 
of christian liberality. 

Think of the right which he has iii nil you possess. 
There is a sense in which no man can be said to pos- 



ENFORCED. 21 

sess an exclusive and irresponsible right in property, 
even in relation to his fellow-creatures. The land which 
he calls his own^ is still guarded and watched over by 
a public law which would hold him responsible for its 
destruction. But if man thus claims a common inte 
rest in the most independent description of property, 
how much more does God hold a right in your posses- 
sions ] He created them at first ; and hence he has an 
original and supreme property in them. The world is 
his, and the fullness thereof. He continues them in 
existence every moment; and is thus every moment 
asserting afresh his original right, and establishing a 
new title to dominion over them. You have not brought 
into existence a single mite ; all that you have done is 
to collect together what he had made ready to your 
hands. And whence did you derive the skill and ability 
to do this 1 '^ Thou must remember the Lord thy God, 
for it is he that giveth thee power to get Avealth." 
Hence he cautions you against the sin of saying in your 
heart, '^ My power, and the might of mine own hand, 
hath gotten me this wealth," lest you should fall into 
the consequent sin of forgetting that he is still the su- 
preme proprietor of all you possess. And hence, too, 
he solemnly reminds you that your enjoyments are his 
g//?5, only in the sense that you had nothing wherewith 
^ to purchase them, and not in the sense that he has giv- 
en away his right in them; that they are deposited with 
you as his steward, not alienated from him and vested 
in you as their master ; that both they and you are his, 
to do with as seemeth good in his sight. 

The moment you lose sight, therefore, of his abso- 
lute right to all you possess, you are embezzling your 
Lord's property, and realizing the character of the un- 
just steward. You are provoking God to resume his 
own, and to transfer it to more faithful hands ; whereas 
he looks to you to assert his dominion in the midst of 
VOL. X. 33 



22 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY 

an ungrateful and rebellious world. The purpose for 
which -he created you at first, and for which he has 
created you anew in Christ Jesus, is, that you might 
show forth his praise before a world laboring to forget 
him ; that while they are sullenly and impiously appro- 
priating every thing to themselves, as if he had ceased 
to reign, and even to exist, you might continually con- 
secrate and offer up your substance before their eyes 
as an oblation to his glory, and thus daily vindicate his 
claims, as the fire perpetually burning upon the Jewish 
altar protested daily against the idolatry of the world, 
and proclaimed the one living and true God. And will 
you not do this 1 Surely you will not go over and join 
the party you are intended to condemn. Surely you 
will not betray your Lord, and enable his enemies to 
triumph. Then hasten to his throne, and acknowledge 
his right. Take all that you have into his presence, and 
dedicate it afresh to his service. Inscribe his blessed 
name on all your possessions. 

Think of the great goodness you enjoy at his hands. 
His tender mercies are over all his works; but how 
many of those mercies has he caused to meet upon 
your head! '^He daily loadeth you with his benefits;" 
and will you bear them all away from his presence, to 
consume them upon yourself! Will you distribute 
none of the precious load among the numerous appli- 
cants he has placed around you 1 '* He crowneih thee 
with his loving-kindness and tender mercies ;" and 
wearing the crown of his royal favor, his sovereign 
love, will you confine its light to yourself? Will you 
not proclaim and honor the royalty of your descent by 
humbly imitating his regal munificence and grace \ He 
has placed you in a world of which his own description 
is, that it is full of his goodness — the treasury of the 
material universe. Men have filled it with sin ; but he, 
notwithstanding, keeps it filled with his goodness. The 



ENFORCED. 23 

overflowing fullness of the ocean — the amplitude of the 
all-encompassing air — the unconfined plenitude of the 
light — all conspire to attest the infinite exuberance of 
his bounty, and to surcharge your heart with corres- 
ponding sentiments of goodness. To be selfish in such. 
a world is one of the greatest triumphs of sin. Covet- 
ousness cannot move in it without being rebuked at 
every step. Had your life been spent till to-day in the 
solitude and darkness of a dungeon, and had you now 
just come forth into the open theatre of the vast crea- 
tion, and awoke for the first time to the full conscious- 
ness of all this infinite goodness, would not your heart 
enlarge and expand with all warm and generous emo- 
tions 1 Could you speedily indulge in selfishness in a 
world which you found supported by charity, and by 
charity so abundant that the Divine donor seems to 
have aimed to make the sin impossible '? His rain would 
surely subdue you into the spirit of love ; his sun would 
melt you into kindness. This is why he sheds them 
both upon the just and the unjust. And will you not 
aspire to be like him 1 Will you not become the ser- 
vant of his love to his creatures'? Can you live, day 
after day, in this region of his goodness — can you have 
the ennobling conception of his goodness occupying 
your mind year after year — can you actually call your- 
self a son of this good and gracious God, an heir of his 
infinite goodness, and yet retain a narrow, selfish, and 
contracted mind 1 The Lord Jesus himself calls on 
you to be merciful, even as your Father in heaven is 
merciful. 

But, hitherto, we have been standing only on the 
threshold of the temple of his goodness. The great 
display, the '^ unspeakable gift " remains within. Your 
misery, as a sinner, had excited his compassion ; your 
guilt demanded a sacrifice ; your spiritual destitution 
had nothing to ofier. Approach the altar of sacrifice, 



24j christian liberality 

and behold the substitute which his grace provides. 
'^ God 50 loved the world, that he gave his only begotten 
Son." " Herein is love !" The universe is crowded with 
proofs of his beneficence 5 but here is a proof which 
outweighs them all. How much he loved us we can 
nev^r compute ; we have no line with which to fathom, 
no standard with which to compare it, but he so loved 
us that he sent his only begotten Son to be the propitia- 
tion for our sins. ^^ Herein is love!" " Thanks be unto 
God for his unspeakable gift !" 

And while you are standing in the presence of this 
m-atchless display of love, " what doth the Lord require 
of thee V For yourself, he invites you to accept that 
love and be happy. And in relation to your fellow-men, 
he only requires that the stream of gratitude, which his 
great love has drawn from your heart, should be poured 
into that channel in which a tide of mercy is rolling 
through the world, and bearing blessings to the nations. 
He who for your sake gave his Son, asks you for his 
sake to give of your worldly substance to the cause of 
human happiness. He asks you, christian, to cast in 
your mite into that treasury into which he hath given 
his Son, and poured all the blessings of his grace. 

Nor is this all: he invites you to advance from the 
altar of sacrifice to the holiest of all within the veil ; in 
other words, he hath given you Christ, that he may give 
you himself. It was by wandering from him that man 
first became selfish and unhappy. It was by losing him 
that man was reduced to the necessity of looking for 
happiness in the creature. And, because no single kind 
of created good can satisfy the soul, man sought to ac- 
cumulate all kinds, to monopolize every thing — he be- 
came selfish. He is disposed to look on every thing 
which another enjoys, as so much lost to himself ; as so 
much taken away from what might otherwise have fallen 
to his own share ; and thus he is selfish. But the blessed 



ENFORCED. 25 

God, by offering to bring you back again to himself, is 
offering to make you independent of all inferior things ; 
to put you in possession of a good which shall enable 
you to look down with disdain on those things about 
which others are selfish ; to lead you to an infinite 
good ; a good, therefore, about which you need not be 
selfish ; for were all the universe to share and enjoy it 
with you, it would still be an unexhausted, infinite full- 
ness of happiness. 

Now, let the most miserly individual come suddenly 
into the possession of great wealth, he would be con- 
scious, at least for a short time, of kind and generous 
emotions. What then should be your emotions at dis- 
covering, that, through Christ, you have found a God % 
and think, what a God he is ! Enumerate his perfec- 
tions 5 call up in your mind his exalted attributes \ re- 
collect some of the displays of his glory, the splendors 
of his throne, the amplitude of his dominions, the angelic 
orders of his kingdom, the richness of his gifts, the un- 
touched ocean of happiness yet in reserve for his people ; 
and when your mind is filled, repeat to yourself the 
wondrous truth, " This God is my God for ever and 
ever." And then think what it is to have him /br your 
God: it is to have a real, participating, eternal interest 
in all that he is ] to have him for your " all in all ;" to 
be " filled with all the fullness of God." 

Christian, are you aware of your wealth 1 Have you 
yet awoke to a conscious possession of your infinite 
Avealth % and is it possible that you can still cleave to 
the poor and perishing dross of the earth % What, shall 
the accession of infinite wealth make no difference in 
your conduct \ Will you be as covetous with a God as 
without % Do you not feel, rather, that you could give 
away the world itself as a trifle, while you stand and 
gaze at these infinite riches % All who have truly and 
fully returned to God have felt thus. They lost their 
VOL. X. 33- 



^6 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY 

selfishness. They gazed on this glory, and the world 
was eclipsed ; they thought of it, and their heart be- 
came too large for earth ; they reached after it, and the 
world fell from their hands, from their hearts. Having 
found the true source of happiness, they would fain have 
had all mankind to come and share it with them. And 
when he commanded them to call the world to come to 
him and be happy, they gave away every thing, even life 
itself, in the noble employ, and from love to his name. 

The obligations, which his love has laid you under 
are as great as theirs. But how much less, it is to be 
feared, have you felt them. And yet ihey felt them less 
than their magnitude would have warranted. For when 
their emancipated spirits had ascended from the scene 
of martyrdom to heaven — when they there awoke to a 
clear perception of the hell they had escaped, and the 
glories they had reached — even he among them who on 
earth had been most alive to a sense of his obligations, 
would feel as if he then felt them for the first time. 
And is all that weight of obligation at this moment rest- 
ing upon you ? 0, where are the numbers which shall 
compute it \ What is the period long enough to recount 
it % " What can you render unto the Lord for all his 
benefits'?" What sacrifices can you devise costly enough 
to express your sense of them 1 Christian, could you have 
supposed that your property would be accepted as one 
of those sacrifices'! Had he not condescended to invite 
the offering, could you have imagined that any amount, 
or any employment, of earthly wealth would have been 
accepted by him % It is one of the lowest expressions 
of love you can give ; yet he accepts even that. Though 
there is no proportion whatever between the debt you 
owe him, and all the wealth of the world, he yet conde- 
scends to regard the smallest fraction of that wealth 
as an expression of your love to his name. Let this, 
then, dignify wealth in your eyes : value it henceforth 



ENFORCED. 2T 

on this account, that the Lord will accept it at your 
hands as an oflering of love. Rejoice that you have 
found out an oblation which he will accent short of the 
sacrifice of your life. Be thankful, though you may 
have but little with which to present him. Practise self- 
denial, that you may make that little more. Seek out 
the right objects for it, the objects which you deem to 
be the dearest in his sight. Give to them all you can ; 
for could you give ten thousand times more, your obli- 
gations would go on increasing infinitely faster than 
your gifts. They are multiplying on you even Avhile 
you are in the act of giving. Give under a grateful sense 
of your obligations ; and you will feel that giving itself 
is a benefit ; that it is an act in which you receive more 
than you render. 

But to increase your incentives to charity, your 
heavenly Father has laid on you his divine commands. 
He charges it upon you that you ''do good unto all 
men;" that you '^ put on bowels of mercy;" that you 
"abound" in the grace of "liberality;" that you "be 
ready to distribute, willing to communicate." And in 
saying this, hq is only commanding you to be happy, 
and to communicate happiness. He has often repre- 
sented charity in his word as equivalent with relative 
righteousness ; by which he would intimate that it is a 
principal part of such righteousness. Where the second 
table of the law is abridged, and its duties summed up 
in a few words, charity is not only never omitted, but 
always takes the lead. In all general descriptions of 
piety, the practice of this duty is specified as a chief 
element. It is declared to be the most acceptable ex- 
pression of our love to God. The choicest blessing, 
blessedness itself, the essence of all blessings combined, 
is promised to it. And in the last great day, when the 
Son of Man shall sit in judgment on the world, the pre- 
sence or absence of christian benevolence is described 



•♦28 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITV 

by our Lord as determining the destinies of men. Now 
these are only so many methods by which God would 
render the expression of his will the more emphatical, 
and urge us to obey it. 

In consecrating your substance to him, then, you will 
be not only gratifying your sense of obligation, you will 
feel also that you are obeying the will of your God on 
a subject on which he is most earnest and express. And 
what should furnish a stronger impulse, or yield you 
higher delight, than this 1 In heaven his will is the only 
motive to obedience which is necessary And will you 
not rejoice in an occasion which joins you with angels 
in " doing his commandments 1" Hasten, then, to take 
your offering before him : he is waiting the presentation 
of your gift. The hand of his holy law is laid upon a 
portion of your property ; surely you will not think of 
taking any of that portion away ; rather, add to it ; let 
him see that your love is not so easily satisfied as is 
his law ; that your gratitude goes beyond his command ; 
that were it possible for his law to be repealed, the love 
which you bear to his blessed name would still be a law 
constantly demanding fresh sacrifices for his altar. 

In its inculcations of beneficence, the Bible appeals 
to a principle of well regulated self-interest. Instead of 
taking it for granted that we should be enamored of 
duty for its own sake alone, our heavenly Father evin- 
ces the kindest consideration of our fallen condition, 
by accompanying his commands with appropriate pro- 
mises and blessings. He graciously allures us to culti- 
vate the tree of christian charity, by engaging that all 
its fruit shall be our own. " He who soweth bountifully 
shall reap also bountifully." " God is not unrighteous, 
to forget your work and labor of love." 

The most marked, interpositions and signal blessings 
even of earthly prosperity have attended the practice of 
christian liberality in every age. Volumes might easily 



ENFORCED. 29 

be filled with well-attested instances of the remarkable 
manner in which God has honored and rewarded those 
who in faith and obedience have devoted their property 
to him. Alas ! that the christian church should feel so 
little interest in recording- such instances to the glory 
of its Lord ! that we should be so slow of heart to be- 
lieve them when they are recorded ! — for what do they 
prove, but only that God is not unrighteous to forget 
his promises '? — and that his people should give him so 
little opportunity of illustrating his paternal character 
by trusting their temporal affairs more completely to 
his hands ! 

Spiritual prosperity is inseparable from christian libe 
rality. For " God loveth a cheerful giver : and God is 
able to make all grace abound towards you ; that ye, 
always having all sufficiency in all things, may abound 
to every good work." As often as you practise this 
duty in an evangelical spirit, you must be conscious 
that the best part of your sanctified nature is called into 
exercise ] your heart is partially discharged of its re- 
maining selfishness ; your mind is braced more for 
christian activity j your sympathy causes you to feel 
afresh your alliance with man ; your beneficence en- 
ables you to rejoice in your union of spirit with Christ, 
and adds a new bond to that power of affection which 
binds you to his cause. And while other duties bring you 
nearer to Christ, this may be said at once to place you 
by his side, and to exalt you into a real though humble 
imitator of his divine benevolence. 

The christian, moreover, is assured that the property 
which he devotes to God is so much treasure laid up 
in heaven, so much seed destined to fructify into a har- 
vest of eternal enjoyment. Christian, would you render 
your property secure 1 place it in the hand of omnipo- 
tent Faithfulness. Retain it in your own possession, 
and it is the proper emblem of uncertainty ; but devote 



30 



CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY 



it to God, and from that moment it is stamped with his 
immutability, liis providence becomes your estate, and 
his word your unfailing security. Would you enjoy 
your substance 1 " Give alms of such things as you 
have ; and, behold all things are clean unto you." The 
oblation of your first fruits unto God will cleanse, and 
sanctify, and impart a superior relish to all you possess. 
Like the first christians, you will then eat your meat 
with gladness and singleness of heart. Would you m- 
crea^e your property 1 "Honor the Lord with thy sub- 
stance, so shall thy barns be filled with plenty, and thy 
presses shall burst out with new wine." " For this thing 
the Lord thy God shall bless thee in all thy works, and 
in all that thou puttest thine hand unto." Sow your sub- 
stance, then, as seed in the hand of Christ, that hand 
which fed the multitude with a morsel, and which mul- 
tiplies whatever it touches with its own infinite bounty. 
Would you grow in grace ? in love and likeness to 
Christ 1 Would you increase with all the increase of 
God 1 and abound in the fruits of the Spirit 1 " The 
liberal soul shall be made fat, and he that watereth 
shall be watered also himself." Would you be rick for 
eternity ? Would you cultivate " fruit that may abound 
to your account " in the invisible world % Invest your 
property in the cause of Christ ; and he engages to re- 
quite you, — not, indeed, as of debt ; this the magnitude 
of the requital shows, but of his own exuberant muni- 
ficence, — he promises to repaj'^ you a hundred-fold in 
the present life, and in the world to come life everlast- 
ino-. As much of your property as you have already de- 
voted to him, however humbly you may think of it, 
is regarded and watched over by him as " a good foun- 
dation laid up against the time to come, that you may 
lay hold on eternal life." And all that you may here- 
after cast into his treasury, shall certainly precede your 
arrival in heaven, and there be converted for you into 



ENFORCED. 31 

incorruptible treasures '' to the praise of the glory of 
his grace." 

Is the welfare of your posterity an object 1 The parent 
who makes this an excuse for robbing the cause of God 
of its due, is defrauding his offspring of God's blessing, 
entailing on them the divine displeasure, leaving them 
heirs of the punishment which his own robbery of God 
has deserved. This is improvidence of the most awful 
kind. But let your regard for their wants be combined 
with a proportionate regard for the claims of benevo- 
lence, and you will be demising to your offspring that 
rich, that inexhaustible inheritance, the inheritance of 
God's blessing. Providence will look on them as its 
own wards ; will care for them as its own children. 

Do you desire to be remembered, to enjoy lasting 
fame % " The risfhteous shall be had in everlasting re- 
membrance." " The memory of the just is blessed." 
And here, by the righteous and the just is to be under- 
stood especially the bountiful. His memory is followed 
with commendations into the presence of God. His 
character is embalmed in its own piety. His name 
passes with commendation through the lips of God, and 
that gives it immortality. His benevolence resulted 
from the grace of God ; and, as such, the honor of God 
is concerned in making its memory immortal. 

Would you acquire a right in your property 1 a right 
which shall justify you in calling it your own 1 By 
withholding it from God, you are forfeiting all interest 
in it, and laying yourself open to the charge of em- 
bezzlement and fraud. But by devoting it to his service, 
you would be acquiring an everlasting interest in it ; 
for you would never cease to enjoy the good resulting 
from its divine employment. Hence the solution of the 
epitaph of a charitable man, " What I retained I have 
lost, what I gave away remains with me." 

By the practice of christian liberality, the glory of God 



32 



CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY 



and the credit of religion are promoted ; — and what ob- 
ject should be of more precious and abiding concern to 
the believer than this \ " The ministration of this ser- 
vice not only supplieth the want of the saints, but is 
abundant also by many thanksgivings unto God : w^hile 
by the experiment of this ministration they glorify God 
for your professed subjection unto the Gospel of Christ, 
and for your liberal distribution unto them and to all 
men." The new-born liberality of the first christians 
for the support of their needy brethren threw the church 
into a holy transport of delight. It was bringing the 
benevolent power of Christianity to the test ; and, as a 
masterpiece of human mechanism, when tried and found 
to exceed expectation, fills the beholders with delight — 
the result of " the experiment of this ministration" was 
such as to call forth songs of exultation to the glory of 
God. It displayed the Gospel in a new aspect, brought 
to light its benevolent energies, showed them that much 
as they knew of its virtues, it contained hidden excel- 
lencies which it would require time and circumstances 
to evolve and display : it filled the church with a chorus 
of praise to the glory of God. 

For what but his grace could produce such liberality % 
it was supernatural ; the apostle, therefore, emphatical- 
ly denominates it the grace of God. So spontaneous and 
munificent was it, that it resembled the gifts of his 
grace. So purely did it result from love to the brethren, 
from the overflowings of tender compassion for their 
wants, that it was truly godlike. So unparalleled and 
unworldly an act was it, that the grace of God alone 
could produce it. It was grace from the Fountain, flow- 
ing forth in streams of liberality through the channels 
of his people. As if it were the noblest form that the 
love of God could take in his people, he confers on it 
this crowning title, the grace of God. And, indeed, it 
would be easy to show that there is scarcely any duty 



ENFORCED. 33 

SO purely the result of grace as genuine christian libe- 
rality ; that the practice of it on any thing like the 
primitive scale, requires more grace, and exercises and 
illustrates a greater number of the principles of piety, 
than almost any other duty. The church cannot wit- 
ness it without being strongly reminded of her high 
descent, her unearthly character — without falling down 
afresh before the throne of Him whose constrainingf 
love thus triumphs over the selfishness of humanity. 
The world cannot witness it without feelino- its own 
selfishness condemned, without secretly bowing to the 
divinity of religion. 

Christian, would you enjoy the most endearing evi- 
dences of your heavenly Father's love 1 place your 
property at his disposal, and daily trust him for daily 
provision. If his character be paternal, your character 
should be filial j and the leading feature of that is un- 
limited dependence. Would you honor him in his 
church 1 copy the example of "the churches of Mace- 
donia" in their abundant liberality; and you will pro- 
voke some of your fellow-christians to emulation, and 
send others with grateful hearts into the presence of 
God, and assist in enlarging the sphere of evangelical 
labor, and raise the standard of christian piety, and 
cause the church of Christ to resound with the high 
praises of his constraining love. And would you glorify 
God before the world 1 Let the light of your christian 
liberality shine before men. Not only practise the duty, 
but practise it on such a scale as shall proclaim to them 
the existence of a superintending Providence, and con- 
vince them of your reliance on its care. Devise liberal 
things for the cause of God, and you will thus be as- 
serting the controversy of your heavenly Father with 
an unbelieving world ; vindicating and attesting the 
faithfulness of his word, the watchfulness of his love, 
and the benevolent power of his holy Gospel. With- 
VOL. X. 34 



34 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY 

draw your trust from those goods in which the ungodly 
confide,- resign them to God, and you will be affording 
him an occasion for displaying his paternal love. He 
charges you to be careful for nothing, that he may 
evince his carefulness of you. 

Of the poor it is said, that he who oppresseth them 
reproacheth his Maker ; — charges God with injustice 
for permitting them to be poor, and for devolving their 
maintenance on him ; insults God in the person of the 
poor, by refusing to charge himself with the care of 
them, though sent to him with promises direct from 
God. And thus, though God meant to employ the rich 
as his agents for the poor, to bind them to each other 
by the constant interchange of gratitude and benevo- 
lence, and to illustrate and honor his providential govern- 
ment, the selfishness of man frustrates his plans, and 
turns his honor into a reproach. In a very similar man- 
ner he has devolved the christian interest on his people, 
and the world is watching their conduct in relation to 
it. If they treat it as a burden, God will deem himself 
reproached ; but let them meet its demands, and enrich 
it with their liberality, and the power of his Gospel and 
the wisdom of his arrangements will be seen, the world 
will render him the homage of its silent admiration, and 
his church will triumph in every place. 

The great Gospel argument for christian liberality is 
the divine example of the Redeemer'' s love. " Hereby per- 
ceive we his love," — as if every other display of love 
were eclipsed by the effulgence of this ; as if all possi- 
ble illustrations of love were summed up in this, — 
" Hereby perceive we his love, because he laid down 
his life for us : and we ought to lay down our lives for 
the brethren." '' But whoso hath this world's goods, 
and seeth his brother have need, and shutteth up his 
bowels of compassion from him, how dwelleth the love 
of God in him V How can the love of Christ inhabit 



EIVFORCKD. 35 

that bosom which is a stranger to sympathy for his peo- 
ple 1 111 indeed does he pretend readiness to die for 
Christ, who Avill not give a little money towards the 
support of his cause and people. 

When the Apostle Paul would enjoin the Philippians 
to '' look not every man on his own things, but every 
man also on the things of others," he points them to 
" the mind which was also in Christ Jesus : who, being 
in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal 
with God : but made himself of no reputation, and took 
upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the 
likeness of men ; and, being found in fashion as a man, 
he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, 
even the death of the cross." He does not content him- 
self with merely stating the fact of our Lord's condes- 
cension and death ; but, as if he loved to linger on the 
subject, he traces it from stage to stage : as if the im- 
mensity of the stoop which Christ made were too great 
to be comprehended at once, he divides it into parts, 
and follows him downwards from point to point, till he 
has reached the lowest depth of his humiliation. As if 
he felt convinced that the amazing spectacle, if duly 
considered, could not fail to annihilate selfishness in 
every other heart, as it had in his own, the only anxiety 
he evinces is that it should be seen, be vividly presented 
before the eye of the mind. Having carried our thoughts 
up to that infinite height where Christ had been from 
eternity in the bosom of the Father, he shows us the 
Son of God divesting himself of his glory ; and then, 
he detains our eye in a prolonged gaze on his descend- 
ing course ; condescending to be born ; voluntarily sub- 
jecting himself to all the humbling conditions of our 
nature ; taking on himself the responsibilities of a ser- 
vant ; still humbling himself, still passing from one depth 
of ignominy to a lower still; becoming obedient unto 
death \ and that death the most humbling, the most 



36 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY 

replete with agony and shame, the death of the cross. 

Christian, can you ever contemplate this wonderful 
exhibition without renewed emotions of love 1 without 
feeling afresh that you are not your own 1 And say, 
ought such grace in Christ to be requited with parsimo- 
ny in his followers % Ought such a Master to be served 
by grudging and covetous servants '! Ought such a 
Saviour to have to complain that those who have been re- 
deemed, and who know they have been redeemed, not with 
corruptible things, such as silver and gold, but with his 
own most precious blood, are so much attached to that 
corruptible wealth, that they will not part with it, though 
urged by the claims of that most precious blood 1 0, 
shame to humanity ! 0, reproach to the christian name ! 
Be concerned, christian, to wipe ofT the foul stain. 
Bring forth your substance, and spread it before him. 
Were you to give up all to him, would it be very repre- 
hensible, or ve7'y unaccountable, considering that he 
gave up all for you 1 At least, economize for Christ. 
Retrench, retrench your expenditure, that you may be 
able to increase your liberality. Deny, deny yourself 
for his cause, as you value consistency, as you profess 
to be a follower of him, "who his own self bare our sins 
in his own body on the tree." 

In his second epistle to the Corinthians we find the 
apostle enforcing the practice of christian liberality ; 
and various and cogent are the motives which he ad- 
duces to excite their benevolence. But we might rest 
assured that it would not be long before he introduced 
the motive of our Lord's example. The love of Christ 
was the actuating principle of his own conduct ; it in- 
fluenced him more than all other motives combined. If 
ever his ardor in the path of duty flagged for a moment, 
he glanced at the cross, thought of the great love where- 
with Christ had loved him, and instantly girded on his 
zeal afresh. In addressing others, therefore, he never 



ENFORCED. 37 

failed to introduce this motive ; he relied on it as his 
main strength ; he brought it to bear upon them in all 
its subduing- and constraining force. 

And how tender, how pointed, how melting the appeal 
which he makes ! " Ye know the grace of our Lord 
Jesus Christ, that, though he was rich, yet for your sakes 
lie became poor, that ye through his poverty might be 
rich." You know the height from which he stooped. You 
know the depth of humiliation to which he descended; 
that he found no resting-place between his throne and 
the cross. You know for whom he did this — for his ene- 
mies, his destroyers. You know that he did this volunta- 
rily ; that he was under no necessary obligation to en- 
dure it ; that his own love was the only obligation ; that 
he welcomed each indignity, invited each pang ; made 
them a part of his plan of condescension. You know 
how earnestly he prosecuted the work of our salvation ; 
that in every step he took he was only gratifying the 
compassionate yearnings of his own heart ; that he as^ 
sumed life for the express purpose of laying it down ; 
that though he saw, as from a height, the whole array 
of duty and trial which awaited him, the only emotions 
which he evinced at the sight were a self-consuming 
ardor to reach the cross which stood at the end of his 
path, a holy impatience to be baptized with that baptism 
of blood. You know the object for which he did it all — 
for your salvation ; that he might pour his fulness into 
your emptiness, his riches into your poverty ; that he 
might raise you to heaven, and share with you the glo- 
ries of his own throne. 

You know this ; not, indeed, in the sense of compre- 
hending it ; that is impossible, for it is a love which 
passeth such knowledge. But you know it by report ; 
you have heard of it. It is the theme of the universe. 
Heaven resounds with it ; the church on earth is full of 
it; the eternal Father commands it to be published 

VOL. X. yi-^ 



38 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY 

throughout the world. And so amazing is it, :he bare 
announcement of it should be sufficient to transform 
selfishness itself into disinterested love. But you know 
it experimentally. You can look back on a time when 
you were in a state of alienation from God bordering 
on perdition ; you have been plucked as a brand from 
the burning j and now you are looking forwards to 
eternal life, with Christ, in heaven ; and you know that 
you owe your deliverance and all your hopes to the 
grace of Christ. You know what he endured for your 
redemption j that he loved you, '' and gave himself for 
you ;" and will you withhold from him any thing in 
your possession 1 Can you believe that he died for you ? 
that, in dying, he wore your name upon his breast 1 that 
his heart ch^ished the thought of your happiness { that 
he made himself poor to enrich you ? and will you not 
freely contribute of your worldly substance to diffuse 
the knowledge of his grace! 

Did he employ his heavenly powers solely for your 
salvation % lay himself out for your happiness 1 Yes, 
saith he, " For their sakes 1 sanctify myself. I set my- 
self apart, I appropriate all I have and am to the work 
of their salvation." And he did so. When did he ever 
go about but to do good 1 When did he ever open his 
hand but to bless 1 or weep, but in sympathy with hu- 
man wo 1 What object did he ever pursue but that of 
benevolence 1 imparting life to ihe dying, pardon te 
the guilty, purity to the depraved, blessings to all around 
him. " Let the same mind ue in you which was also in 
Christ Jesus." He was the author of riches, and the 
heir of all things ; but all he possessed he gave for your 
salvation, and all that you possess you should employ 
for his glory. You enjoy a portion of this world's goods; 
consider the use which he would have made of it, and 
copy his divine example. 

Did he not only employ his heavenly powers, but 



ENFORCED. 3# 

actually deny himself, suffer, die for your happiness 1 
He pleased not himself. He endured the cross, despis- 
ing the shame. He poured out his soul unto death. 
Himself he would not save. He would not come down 
from the cross. ! how did he, for a season, annihi- 
late himself! How did he take our place, take our curse, 
and endure it all ! That was compassion. That was 
looking on the things of others. That was benevolence 
— disinterested, unparalleled, matchless benevolence. 
Let this mind be in you. Never can you hope to equal 
it, for it is infinite — the grace of a God : but so much 
the greater your obligation to approach it as nearly as 
you can. 

Christian, you know his grace — you feel it. How 
much owest thou unto thy Lord 1 Do you ever attempt 
to compute the mighty sum % Endeavor to realize the 
idea ; and if then you feel any reluctance to consecrate 
your substance to him, it can only be on the ground 
of its utter insignificance. But he asks for it as an ex- 
pression of your love — yes, he asks for it. He comes 
to you every time an appeal is made to your christian 
liberality, and, as he turns on you a look of benignity 
and love, he inquires, '^Lovest thou me V And as he 
points to that portion of your property which ought to 
be devoted to his cause, he asks you again, " Lovest 
thou me more than this 1" If so, devote it to my cause, 
consecrate it to my service. And he saith unto you the 
third time, " Lovest thou me 1" If so, feed my lambs, 
feed my sheep ; support my poor ; aid my interest in 
the world ; encourage every effort made to bring home 
my wandering sheep; think of the millions of them 
that are perishing, millions for whom I died ; shall my 
love be defrauded of them 1 shall I not behold in them 
the travail of my soul, and be satisfied 1 By the love you 
bear to me, and by the infinitely greater love I bear to 
you, imitate my love ; and you know the extent of that, 



40 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY 

" you know the grace of your Lord Jesus Christ, that, 
though he was rich, for your sake he became poor, that 
you through his poverty might be rich." 

O, christian, study your obligations at the foot of the 
cross. If you would imbibe the disinterested and self- 
sacrificing benevolence of your blessed Lord, take your 
station daily at the cross. Never till you do this, will 
you feel the claims which he has upon you. But when 
you there see the great love wherewith he hath loved you, 
we will defy you to be covetous, inactive, selfish in his 
cause. You cannot fail to love him ; that love cannot 
fail to constrain you ; and, constrained by thai, you will 
be turned into a pains-taking, self-denying, devoted ser- 
vant of Christ ; to whom he will say, daily, " Well done, 
good and faithful servant," till the day when he will sum 
up all his grace by adding, " Enter thou into the joy of 
thy Lord." 

If you are truly a christian, you have felt that you are 
not your own, that you are bought with a price : in other 
words, you see so clearly, and feel so strongly, that you 
owe yourself to Christ, that you have gone to his feet 
and implored his acceptance of your soul. But the dedi- 
cation of yourself includes the surrender of your properly. 

It is related in Roman history, that when the people 
of Collatia stipulated about their surrender to the autho- 
rity and protection of Rome, the question asked was, 
" Do you deliver up yourselves, the Collatine people, 
your city, your fields, your water, your bounds, your 
temples, your utensils, all things that are yours, both 
human and divine, into the hands of the people of 
Rome 1" And on their replying," We deliver up all," they 
were received. The voluntary surrender which you, 
christian, have made to Christ, though not so detailed 
and specific as this formula, is equally comprehensive. 
And do you not account those your best moments when 
you feel constrained to lament that your surrender com- 



ENFOKGED. 4il 

prehends no morel Can you recall to mind the w^ay in 
which he has redeemed you, the misery from which he 
has snatched you, and the blessedness to which he is 
conducting- you, without feeling that he has bought you 
a thousand times over 1 that you are his by the tender- 
est, weightiest obligations 1 And when you feel thus, 
how utterly impossible would it be for you at such a mo- 
ment to stipulate for an exception in favor of your pro- 
perty ! — to harbor a mental reservation in favor of thai ! 

Can you think of the blessedness attending the act it- 
self of dedication to God, — that you are wedding your- 
self to infinite riches, uniting yourself to infinite beauty, 
allying yourself to infinite excellence ; giving yourself 
to God, and receiving God in return, so that henceforth 
all his infinite resources, his providence, his Son, his 
Spirit, his heaven, he Himself, all become yours, to the 
utmost degree in which you can enjoy them, — can you 
think of this without often repeating the act 1 without 
feeling that had you all the excellencies of a myriad of 
angels, his love would deserve the eternal devotion of 
the whole 1 Realize to your own mind the nature of 
christian dedication, and the claims of Him who calls 
for it, and, so far from giving penuriously to his cause, 
you will take every increase of your substance into his 
presence, and devote it to his praise ; you will regard 
every appeal which is made to your christian benevolence 
as an appeal to that solemn treaty which made you his, 
and you will honor it accordingly ; you will deeply feel 
the penury of all riches as an expression of your love 
to him ; Lebanon would not be sufficient to burn, or the 
beasts thereof an offering large enough, to satisfy the 
cravings of your love. 

Think, moreover, of the high design for which God 
condescends to accept your surrender. Not that you may 
live to yourself, but entirely to him. Having disposed and 
enabled you to give yourself to him, he would then bap- 



•12 - CHRISTIAN LIBERALITV 

tize you in the element of divine love, and give you to 
the world. 

'^ God so loved the world that he gave his only be- 
gotten Son " to redeem it. The object, indeed, for 
which he was given, was, like himself, infinite ; an object 
which never can be shared, and which never need be 
repeated. But the office to which God designates every 
man from the moment of his conversion is meant to be 
anew donation to the world. The relation in which he 
places him to the world is meant to be a fresh expres- 
sion of the same infinite love which prompted him to 
give Christ j it is to be viewed as nothing less than a 
symbolical representation to the world of that unspeaka- 
ble gift. He is not thai gift, but is sent to bear witness 
of that gift ; not merely to announce it with his lips, 
but to describe and commemorate its fulness and free- 
ness in his own character. Like his blessed Lord, he 
is to look upon himself as dedicated to the cause of 
human happiness, dedicated from eternity. 

Christian, you know the grace of our Lord Jesus 
Christ, — might the world infer the existence of his 
grace from your conduct! Is your benevolence worthy 
of him, who, '' though he was rich, for your sake be- 
came poor!" He turned himself into a fountain of 
grace and love, and called you to be a christian, that 
you might be a consecrated channel of his grace to 
others. He requires all the benevolent agency of hea- 
ven and earth to be put into motion, in order to do 
justice to the purposes of his love ; and he has called 
you into his service in order to increase that agency. 
Surely you are not, by the love of money, frustrating 
that design. As well for the perishing world had he 
never died for its salvation, if his appointed and conse- 
crated agents neglect to make him known. Surely you 
are not, by living only to yourself, by wasting your 
property on yourself as fast as he gives it to you, leav- 



ENFORCED. 43 

ing the world to infer that his cliaracter bore any re- 
semblance to yours ; and leaving^ it, besides, to perish 
under your eye, because an effort to save it would incur 
expense. You have not, you cannot have so learned 
Christ. But what then are you giving? more than the 
heathen to his idol-god 1 more than the votary of a 
corrupted Christianity to the object of his superstitious 
resrard 1 or more than the irrelin^ious worldlinof devotes 
to pleasure and self-indulgence". " What do ye more 
than others 1" 

Consider also the happy injiucnce which a spirit of 
christian liberality would have on your own enjoyment. 
^By taking from ihe flesh the means of self-indulgence, 
it would be exalting the spirit. It would be enlarging 
your heart, and ennobling your character, and identify- 
ing you with all things good, and glorious, and happy 
in the universe. Much as it might benefit the cause of 
God, it would still more minister to the welfare and 
happiness of your own soul. 

Devise liberal things^ and by liberal things you shall 
stand. Taste the luxury of doing good, and you will re- 
gret that you began so late. Select for imitation the 
loftiest examples — the few distinguished names whose 
praise is in all the churches — and you will be con- 
scious of a delight which an angel might be grateful to 
share. God himself is the happiest being, because he 
is the most benevolent ; and you would then in the 
most exalted sense be holding fellowship with him ; 
you would understand experimentally the saying of our 
Lord Jesus Christ, that " it is more blessed to give than 
to receive ;" you would make all the beneficence of the 
world your own, by the complacency with which you 
would behold it exercised and enjoyed. 

But the motives to christian charity are endless. The 
state of the world requires it. How vast its multitudes; 
how urgent and awful their condition ; how brief the 



44« CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY 

hour for benefiting them ; how mighty the interest pend- 
ing on -that short hour! Look where you will, your 
eye will encounter signals to be active ; myriads of ob- 
jects, in imploring or commanding attitudes, urging 
you to come to the help of the Lord, to the help of the 
Lord against the mighty. 

The church calls for it. It has many an agent of mer- 
cy to send forth, if you will but aid to furnish the means. 
It has many a generous purpose in its heart, many a 
long-cherished and magnanimous project ready to leap 
to Its lips, if your liberality should encourage it to speak. 
It burns with a holy impatience to reap the vast harvest 
of the heathen world, which Providence seems to have 
prepared and to be keeping for its sickle : — will you not 
aid to send forth more laborers into the harvest 1 It has 
been slumbering at its post for ages ; it is now awaking 
to an alarmed consciousness of its neglected responsibi- 
lities, and, as it counts up its long arrears of duty, it 
hastens to atone for the past by instituting one society, 
and adopting one remedy after another, and sending its 
agents to plead for help from its members, in the name 
of Christ, — and will you not help it in its straits 1 A 
proportion of its guilt is lying upon you ; — will you not 
aid it to retrieve the past 1 and assist it to recover and 
present to the world its primitive aspect of love and 
zeal 1 

The christians of apostolic times call for it. Benevo- 
lence was their characteristic. A selfish christian was 
a contradiction of which they were happily ignorant. 
For such an anomaly their church had provided no place ; 
they would have cast him forth from among them, as a 
disgrace. They had the grand secret of giving up all 
for Christ, and yet accounting themselves rich ; the art 
of taking joyfully the spoiling of their goods ; the prin- 
ciple of finding their happiness in living to God, in 
spending and being spent in his service. It would have 



ENFORCED. 4-5 

been difficult to convince them that they were in dan- 
ger of giving too freely to the cause of Christ j that 
they were denying themselves in giving so much to him 
instead of consuming it on their own lusts, when they 
felt they were gratifying themselves by so doing. It 
would have been difficult to convince them that their 
interest was distinct from the interest of Christ j or 
that they had any occasion for tears while his kingdom 
was prospering, or any reason to exult in their own 
secular prosperity if it did not subserve the advance- 
ment of his cause. They could not be depressed ; for 
their Lord had arisen, and was reigning on the throne 
of heaven. At that thought, they not only rejoiced 
themselves, they called on the universe to rejoice with 
them ; for they saw, in his exaltation, the pledge of the 
world's salvation, and of an eternity of happiness with 
him in heaven. What, to them, were a few intervening 
days of trial and pain 1 They thought not of such 
things ! What, to them, was a question of property, 
whether much or little \ Not worth the price of a 
thought ! If they had it, they gave it to that service 
to which they had given themselves. If they had it 
not, they did not for a moment speak of it as a want^ 
or think of asking the cause of the world's salvation to 
stand still while they were engaged in a scramble with 
the world to obtain it. The vision of heaven was in 
their eye ; and, until they reached it, their Lord had 
engaged to provide for all their wants, and had engaged 
to do this solely that they might give their undivided 
attention to his service. Of doubts and fears about 
their personal interest in his love, they appear to have 
known nothing; that is a disease peculiar to the morbid 
and selfish piety of modern days. The element of ac- 
tivity and benevolence in which they lived, secured them 
against such a malady, and produced a race of chris- 
tians, vigorous, holy, and happy. 
VOL. X n5 



46 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY 

And is it from such, christian, that you profess to 
have descended \ do you claim relationship to them 1 
profess to represent them 1 Bending from their seats of 
blessedness above, they urge, they beseech you to cast 
off the worldly spirit in which you have hitherto indul- 
ged, and to take up their fallen mantle. They entreat 
you no longer to disgrace their name, nor the infinitely 
dearer name of Christ 5 to renounce it at once as the 
greatest homage you can pay to it, or else to follow 
them as far as they followed Christ. They all expect 
this from you ; they will demand it at your hands when 
you meet them at the bar of God. 

The promises and pi'ospeds of prophecy invite it. Muse 
on the prophetic paintings of the latter-day glory, that 
day without a cloud ; the enemies of man subdued, the 
disorders of the world hushed, all its great miseries pass- 
ed away. Christ on his throne, in the midst of a redeem- 
ed, sanctified, happy creation. All things sacred to his 
name ; all tongues rehearsing for the last great chorus of 
the universe ; all hearts united in holy love, and in that 
love offering themselves up as one everlasting sacrifice 
ascending before him in its own flames ; new heavens, and 
a new earth, wherein dwelleth righteousness. And is it 
possible that your agency can contribute to accelerate 
that blessed period 1 These glimpses of its glory are 
afforded you expressly to engage your agency in its be- 
half. Not only is your instrumentality desirable — there 
is a sense in which it is indispensable. All things are 
waiting for it. All things are ready but the church of 
Christ ; and until its prayers, its wealth, all its energies 
and resources are laid at the feet of Christ, all things 
must continue to wait. 

O, then, by the mercies of God ; by the riches of his 
goodness towards you in nature, providence, and grace ; 
by the sacredness of the commands which he has laid 
upon you ; by a legitimate regard for your own well- 



UNFORCED. 47 

being- ; and by the credit of that religion whose honor 
should be dearer to you than life, — we beseech you, 
christian, to dedicate your property to God. By the love 
of Christ ; bj'' the compassion which brought him from 
the bosom of the Father ; by his painful self-denial and 
deep humiliation ; bj'^ his obedience unto death, even 
the death of the cross j 0, by that mystery of love 
which led him to become poor that he might make you 
eternally rich — ask yourself, while standing at the cross, 
** How much owest thou unto thy Lord V and give ac- 
cordingly By the tender and melting considerations 
which led you at first to surrender yourself to his claims ; 
by the benevolent purposes which God had in view in 
calling you to a knowledge of himself ; and by the deep 
and holy pleasure to be found in imitating his divine be- 
neficence, — look on your property as the Lord's, and give 
it freely to his glory. By the cries of the world perish- 
ing in ignorance of Christ ; by the earnest entreaties of 
the church yearning to save from destruction, but want- 
ing your aid ; as you profess to admire the unparalleled 
benevolence of the first christians, and to be actuated by 
the same principles ; and as you hope to behold the 
consummation of your Saviour's glory in the salvation 
of the world — we entreat, we adjure you to look on your 
property as given you by God to be employed in his ser- 
vice, and from this day to employ it accordingly. He 
who gave his only-begotten Son for your salvation, — 
he who redeemed you from the curse of the law by being 
made a curse for you, — he who has breathed into you 
the breath of a new life, and is preparing you for hea- 
ven, — the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, unite in 
urging you to bring forth your property and lay it upon 
the altar of christian sacrifice. 

And now, christian, what shall be the practical effect of 
the truths which have been made to pass before you 1 
Allow me, in conclusion, to suggest what it ought to 



48 CHRISTIAN LIBERALITY ENFORCED, 

be ; and may God the Holy Spirit give you grace to 
carry it into practice. 

Have you, while reading the preceding pages, felt a 
single emotion of benevolence warm and expand your 
heart ] Instantly gratify it. Let it not pass from you in 
an empty wish ] but immediately bring forth something 
to be appropriated to his glory. 

Is your benevolence destitute of plan 1 Then, unless 
you can gainsay what we have advanced on the neces- 
sity of system^ lose no time in devising one. 

Are you a stranger to self-denial in the cause of chari- 
ty 1 Then, remember that benevolence, with you, has 
yet to be begun ; for, on christian principles, there is no 
benevolence without self-denial. 

Here, then, is aii object to take you at once to the throne 
of grace. 0, christian, let it lead you to pour out your 
soul in prayer before God. Confess that selfishness by 
which you have hitherto absorbed so much of that pro- 
perty in worldly indulgences, which ought to have been 
spent in his service. Ask him for the grace of self-de- 
nial ; that your offerings may henceforth bear a propor- 
tion to the magnitude of his claims. Beseech him to 
pour out his Holy Spirit upon you and upon all his peo- 
ple, as a spirit of christian liberality, that " Holiness to 
the Lord " may soon be inscribed on all the property 
of his church. " He who soweth sparingly shall reap 
also sparingly ; and he who soweth bountifully shall reap 
also bountifully. And God loveth a cheerful giver." 

THE END. 



IVo. 305. 



THE 



EVENTFUL TWELVE HOURS; 



OR, 



THE DESTITUTION AND WRETCHEDNESS 



OF 



A DRUNKARD. 




"TA^^ ''^'ts %.*- 



" It is a sorrowful heart," said I to myself, as I raked 
over the dying embers upon the hearth to throw a transient 
gleam of light over my dreary cottage — " It is a sorrowfid 
heart that never rejoices ; and though I am somewhat in 
debt at the Blue Moon, and the landlady of the Stag has 
over and over again said she'd never trust me, still she has 
not yet refused me, only at first. Many's the shilling I have 
paid them both, to be sure," said I, rising involuntarily and 
going to the cupboard : "I had better take a mouthful before 
I go out, for it's no use to wait any longer for Mary's return." 
VOL. X. '60"^ 



2 THE EVENTFUL TWELVE HOURS. 

Just at this moment the eldest of my two children in- 
quired in a piteous tone, "if that was mother." "Your 
mother? no," said I; "and what if it was, what then?" 
" Because, father," continued the child, " I thought per- 
haps she had brought a loaf of bread home, for I am so 
hungry." "Hungry, child," said I; "then why did you 
not ask me before you went to bed ?" " Because, father, I 
knew there was no bread. When mother sent me to get a 
loaf this morning at the grocer's, Mrs. Mason said our last 
month's bill had not yet been settled, and she could not 
trust any more ; and so we have only had a few potatoes. 
When mother went out to look for work, she promised to 
bring a loaf home very early." "Why, Jane," said I, 
" this is a new story — what, is there nothing at all in the 
house ?" " No, father, nothing ; and that is not all, father ; 
mother cried this morning about it when she went out ; and 
though she never uses bad words, said something about 
cursed drink : she said she should be back before dark, 
and it has now been dark a long tim^e, and hark, how it 
rains." 

The fire flickered up a little, and at this moment the 
latch of the door clicked ; I peeped up through the gloom, 
a pang of conscious shame stealing through my frame ; but 
it was not my wife, as I of course supposed — it was Mrs, 
Mason. I was surprised and confused. " Where is your 
wife, James ?" said she, in a mild, firm tone. " Is that 
mother ?" said my child again, in a rather sleepy tone ; "I 
am so glad you are come, I am so hungry." " That child," 
said I, " has gone to bed without her supper to-night," 
fumbling about at the same time upon the mantel-piece for 
a bit of candle, which I could not find. " Yes," said Mrs. 
Mason, very gravely, " and without its dinner too, I fear ; 
but where is your wife, James ? for I am come to see 
whether she brought any thing home with her for herself 
and family ; for I could not feel comfortable after I had 
refused your child a loaf this morning, just as I know the 



THE EVENTFUL TWELVE HOURS. 3 

refusal was." I now stammered out something about 
** sorry," and "ashamed," and "bad times." "But where 
is your wife, James ?" " She is, perhaps, at neighbor 
Wright's," said I, briskly, glad to catch an opportunity of 
a minute's retreat from my present awkward position ; " I'll 
just step and see. Jane, get up, child." " No, James," 
said Mrs. Mason, in a tone not to be misunderstood ; " no, 
James, I wish she was sitting by their comfortable fireside ; 
I called in there just now, as I came along, to pay a little 
bill, and they spoke very kindly of your wife, and hoped she 
might be enabled to rub through this winter — but I will 
call again in half an hour : Mary will have come home, I 
hope, by that time." 

The door closed upon her, and I remained in a kind of 
half stupor ; my month's unpaid bill, my public-house 
scores, my destitute home ; these and a thousand things 
connected with my situation, kept me musing in no very 
comfortable frame of mind, when the latch again clicked, 
the door opened, and through the half gleam of one flick- 
ering flame, I just caught the glimpse of a form, that in the 
next instant, cold and wet, sunk lifeless in my arms. It 
was Mary. As she sunk down upon me, she just said, with 
a shudder, "Cold." Shall I stop to tell you of the agony 
of my mind ? Shall I endeavor to relate a portion of the 
thoughts that chased each other with a comet's rapidity 
through my brain ; the remembrance of our past comforts, 
and our happiness too ? Recovering after the lapse of an 
instant, I called, " Jane, Jane, get up, and make haste ; 
your mother is come home, and is very ill and faint ; get a 
light" — she was quickly at my side — "get a light," for the 
little unfriendly flame had ceased to burn. 

"But where are you, mother?" said Jane. "Jane, 
child," said I, angrily, "your mother is here; get alight 
directly." " We haven't a bit of candle, father." " Then 
cret some wood out of the back room — break up some little 
Ijits — 0, do make haste." "We haven't a bit of wood. 



4 THE EVENTFUL TWELVE HOURS. 

father." " Child, child—" " Yes, father, but we haven't 
any." My poor wife at this moment gave a kind of sob, 
and with a slight struggle, as if for breath, sunk heavier in 
my arms. I tried to hold her up in an easier posture, call- 
ing to her in a tender manner, " Mary, my dear Mary ;" but 
my sensations and my conscience almost choked me. In 
this moment of anguish and perplexity, my wife, for aught 
I knew, dead in my arms — without light, without fuel, with- 
out food, without credit, Mrs. Mason returned. Jane had 
managed to make the fire burn up, just so as to disclose our 
wretched situation. " Your wife ill ?" said Mrs. Mason, 
hastily stepping forward — " very ill, I fear, James, and wet 
and cold — run hastily, James," reaching herself a broken 
chair, " and call in Mrs. Wright, and place your wife on my 
lap." This I immediately did, and as I opened the door to 
go out, I heard Mrs; Mason ask Jane to get a light — and 
shame made me secretly rejoice, that I had escaped the 
humiliation, for the present, of confessing that we had not 
even a bit of a candle in the house. 

Mrs. Wright was preparing for supper : they were reg ■ 
ular and early folks, and my heart sunk within me Avhen, in 
my hurry, I unceremoniously opened the door — I mean the 
contrast I saw between their cottage and my own ; a clean 
cloth was laid, with spoons, and basins, and white, clean 
plates, and knives and forks, with every other necessary 
comfort. Wright was sitting with his back towards the 
fire, with a candle in one hand and a book in the other, 
reading to his wife, who was leaning forward, and just in 
the act of taking a pot off the hanger, in which it would be 
easy to guess, was something warm for supper. The fire 
and candle gave a cheerful light, and every thing looked 
"comfortable." "My wife is taken very ill," said I, "and 
Mrs. Mason, who has just stepped in, begged me to call in 
your help." " Mrs. Mason at your house now ?" said Mrs. 
Wright ; " come, Wright, reach me my cloak, and let us 
make haste and go." We were all at the door, when Mrs. 



THE EVENTFUL TWELVE HOURS. 5 

Wright said, " What, come to fetch us without a lantern ? 
and ours is at the glazier's. What are we to do?" "The 
distance is very short," I said. " Yes," said Wright, " but 
long enough for an accident ; how I do like necessaries ;" 
adding, in an undertone, as he pulled his wife along, some- 
thing about " enough for tavern debts, but nothing to buy 
necessaries.''* 

On opening my cottage door, I called out — for no one 
was in the room — " Mrs. Mason, are you up stairs ? how is 
Mary ? here is Mrs. Wright ; shall I come up ?" No one 
answered, and Mrs. Wright passed me, going softly up 
stairs, saying, in a low tone, as she ascended, " James, you 
had better make up a good fire, and get some water heated 
as fast as you can." Again I was aghast. " Get some 
water heated," said I ; and the wretchedness of our bedless 
bed and furnitureless room crossed my mind at the same 
time. Mrs. Mason, at this moment, leaned over the banis- 
ters, and said, in a soft voice, " James, fetch the doctor, and 
lose no time ; make haste, for life may depend on it." My 
wretchedness seemed now complete ; the very fire of delir- 
ium and confusion seemed to seize upon my brain ; and 
hastily calling out to Jane to attend upon Mr. Wright, I 
snatched up my hat, and pushed by my neighbor without 
heeding some inquiries he had begun about the necessaries 
that^were then so much required. 

It rained, and was very dark ; the road to the doctor's 
was not the best, and he hved rather more than a mile off; 
it was impossible to proceed faster than a slow, cautious 
walk. I was now alone, and, in much bitterness of spirit, 
began to upbraid myself, and those companions of my folly 
who had led me on to habits that had first disgraced, and 
then brought me to severe ruin. With what vivid bright- 
ness did the first vear of our marriao-e, its comforts and its 
hopes, again pass before me ; and when my mind led me on 
through all its changing scenes, up to the moment when 
Mrs. Mason, in her low, subdued tone of voice, called to me 



6 THE EVENTFUL TWELVE HOURS. 

to fetch the doctor, and to mind I lost no time ; I could 
only realize my Avife as dying, and myself the cruel tyrant 
who had, by neglect, ill usage, and partial starvation, 
brought her to an untimely end. 

When I entered the doctor's house, " Is that you, James 
King?" said he, sharply; "do you want me?" "Yes, 
sir," said I ; " my wife is very ill, and Mrs. Mason, who 
called in just at the time she was taken, desired me to come 
and to request your attendance upon her. I am afraid, sir, 
it is no little affair." " Mrs. Mason, Mrs. Mason," said the 
doctor ; " I am inclined to think Mrs. Mason has better drugs 
in her shop for your wife's complaint, than my shop affords, 
and I expect I shall have to tell her so." I hung down my 
head with shame ; I understood what he meant. He then 
moved towards the door, putting on his greatcoat as he 
walked along. " But stop," said he, just as we got to the 
outer door, "how did you come — no lantern?" "I can 
carry your lantern before you, sir," said I. "Yes," said he, 
"and /may bring it back." " But I will return with you, 
sir ; my wife will most likely want some medicine." " Yes, 
James," said he, " and if she does, I shall want the money 
longer still." I had no word to reply, it was no time to 
begin being independent. The doctor's large glass lantern 
was brought, and our journey back was quickly performed. 
I should have thought a great deal of giving Is. 6d. for 
such a lantern, if I had really required just such an one ; 
yet I had paid as many pounds on my scores, and thought 
nothinof at all about it. 

On getting home, I found that somehow it had been 
managed to make up a good fire, and the tea-kettle was 
boiling, and Mrs. Mason was just making a little tea. " How 
is Mary ?" said I, hardly daring to look Mrs. Mason in the 
face. " Well, Mrs. Mason," said the doctor, " pray what 
is the matter?" and as the doctor spoke, Mrs. Mason took 
up the jug of tea she had made, conversed with the doctor 
in an undertone for half a minute, and both walked up 



THE EVENTFUL TWELVE HOURS. 7 

stairs, leaving me again to reflection, in fact, taking no no- 
tice of me. I sunk down heavily upon the chair that was 
beside the fire, in a state of exhaustion, and while I was 
wondering where all this would end, was aroused by the 
cry of " James, James, the doctor says your wife must put 
her feet into warm water ; so bring up some directly, James, 
in a large pan or bucket, or any thing that is handy ; pray, 
make haste ;" and before I could reply, for I doubted 
whether there was either, the door was shut, and again I 
was placed in a new difficulty. However, I found an old 
leaky pail and an old broken pan ; so I set the pail into the 
pan to catch the leakage, and together, they did tolerably 
well ; but I felt considerable shame as I handed this lum- 
bering affair up stairs, well knowing it would call forth 
some remark. 

I had just again seated myself at the fire, when the 
doctor, in no very gentle tone, called out, " James, here, 
man, take this paper to my office ; Mr. Armstrong will give 
you some physic for your wife, and then it will be twice 
given, for I suppose you will never pay for it." I stared 
at him, or rather paused and hesitated — who could tell 
why ? was it the taunts I was thus obliged to endure ; or 
was it bodily exhaustion? I had eaten all the food my 
poor Mary had put into my basket for my breakfast ; and, 
as it appeared, all she had in the world ; yet I had managed 
to borrow sixpence at noon, intending to buy me a loaf and 
cheese, and half a pint of beer for my dinner; but ventur- 
ing upon half a pint of beer first, I called for another ; and, 
becoming thirsty, for a pint ; and so my dinner and my 
afternoon's work were both lost together. It must now 
have been nearly ten o'clock, and I had tasted no food, as 
I said before, since breakfast. I felt faint, and well I might ; 
however, Avith a heavy step and a heavier heart, taking up 
the doctor's lantern, and looking round upon the empty 
wretchedness before me, I again set out for the doctor's. 
And did I not also think over neighbor Wright's comforta- 



8 THE EVENTFUL TWELVE HOURS. 

ble, cheerful room, and his boiling pot ; while I, who had 
that day spent a borrowed sixpence upon beer, had not 
even a crust of bread for myself or family ? And did I 
forget the pence, and then the shillings, and then the 
pounds I had paid at public-houses ; selling, and pawning 
my bed from under me, and my clothes from off my back, 
and all to gain misery and want, and lose my good 
name ? 

Mr. Armstrong was a kind-hearted young man, and soon 
prepared the medicines, and by kind and cheerful hopes 
concerning my poor Mary, and a little civil conversation, 
raised my spirits, and I walked back somewhat lighter of 
heart ; but I was thoroughly wet, and the cold rain pierced 
my very marrow, for I was wearing summer clothing in the 
winter season — I had no other. Cold and wet, exhausted 
and miserable, I once more lifted the latch of my own cot- 
tage door. The candle was dimly burning. My fears arose, 
and my heart sunk within me : " Is Mary worse ?" said I. 
*' She is no better," said Mr. Wright, who was sitting over 
the dying embers — *' no better — heavy work, James." 

I placed the medicine upon the table, and sat down, 
exhausted and wretched. Whose situation so low, could 
he have known all, that would not have pitied me ? Wright 
rose, and carried the medicines up stairs ; and in another 
minute all was the stillness of death. I could have borne 
any thing but this — at least I so felt — but under this op- 
pressive stillness, my feelings gave way in torrents of tears, 
and every moment brought a fresh accusation against my- 
self for my past doings ; and again I looked around me, as 
well as my tearful eyes and dimly-lighted room would allow, 
and contrasted all with John Wright's. '' So comfortable," 
said I, involuntarily. Indistinct sounds and cautious step- 
pings were now heard above ; and while I was raising my- 
self up to listen, in order to catch, if possible, something 
that would acquaint me with the state of my poor Mary, 
the bedroom door opened, and down came Wright and his 



THE EVENTFUL TWELVE HOURS. 9 

wife, the latter carefully lighting the doctor, Mrs. Mason 
being close behind him. I tried to recover myself a little, 
and to assume something like the appearance of courage ; 
and in a half-choked, coughing voice, said, " How is my 
poor wife, sir ?" The doctor, with a severity of manner, 
and imitating my manner of speaking, replied, " You should 
have coughed sooner, James ;" then turning to Mrs. Mason, 
said, "Remember, quiet is the best medicine noiv ; indeed, 
it is food and medicine in her present state ; don't teaze her 
about any thing ; at half past, mind — and again at twelve, 
until the pain subsides, when sleep will follow." 

I shrunk back at the words " half past," which reminded 
me that I had not even a twenty-shilling clock in the house. 

"James," said the doctor, "have you no time in the 
house?" "No, I suppose not," he answered himself. 
" Well, then, you must guess at it ; oh dear, bad work 
indeed. Come, James, put that bit of candle into the lan- 
tern ; I hope it does not rain now." 

Wright opened the door, and I walked out with the 
lantern, the doctor following, and, buttoning his coat 
closely round him, remarked upon the darkness of the 
night. I walked on with an unsteady step, feeling as if 
every yard of ground I strode over would be the last. 
But, urged on by my situation, I reached the doctor's 
house without any remark from him upon my wearied 
step, and pulled his bell in rather a hasty manner. 

" You are in a hurry, James," said he, " you forget the 
time of night ; a gentle pull would have waked the attend- 
ant without disturbing my family. My family are very 
regular, James, and I make it a rule never to disturb them 
when it can be avoided ; perhaps you think such things of 
no consequence : regularity, James, and sobriety, are two 
very principal things in a family." 

By this time the attendant appeared, and, giving him 
the lantern and thanking the doctor for his kind attention, 
I left the door to return home. The door closed, and my 

VOL. X. 3f) 



10 THE EVENTFUL TWELVE HOURS. 

situation was a very painful one ; the sudden change from 
light to. utter darkness obliged me to stand still a few min- 
utes before I could venture to move, but a world of sensa- 
tions ran through my mind, and distracted me more than 
ever ; the weakness of my body prevented my checking its 
sensations ; and, could I have weighed in the balance of 
reason, to say nothing of religion, at this moment, all foolish, 
sinful pleasures — falsely so called — of drinking, with the 
distress of mind and weariness of body I then endured, and 
had endured on this one single night, how light would they 
have seemed. Yes, even if I had not included the loss of 
positive property and health. 

Once again, then, I reached my home. All was still ; 
but soon Mrs. Mason came down. Before I could speak, 
she said, " Mary is better, James ; she has fallen into a nice 
sleep." She spoke kindly, and looked kindly. I tried to 
answer her, but my feelings choked me ; and seeing my 
effort to suppress them, she continued, " God has dealt 
very mercifully, James, towards you, in so blessing the 
means that have been used ; but you have had no supper ; 
you will find some nice warm soup by the side of the fire 
there ; Mrs. Wright sent it in for you, by her husband, 
when she returned home : come, James, eat it while it is 
warm, it will do you good ; your little girl and boy have 
both had some, and they are now warm in bed and fast 
asleep." 

*'Mr. and Mrs. Wright are very kind," I added, "and 
you are kind ; what should I have done but for you and 
them?" 

"Done, James?" said she mildly ; " done, James ? see 
how God orders his dispensations ; ' in the midst of wrath 
he remembers mercy,' and I trust he has purposes of mercy 
in this event towards you and your family ; but beware, 
James, for the Bible expressly says, ' My son, despise not 
the chastening of the Lord ;' and again, ' whom the Lord 
loveth, he chasteneth.' But eat your supper; I will step 



THE EVENTFUL TWELVE HOURS. H 

up stairs and see if your wife is still sleeping, and if she is, 
I will come down and chat a little with you." 

As she went softly up stairs my eyes followed her, and 
I said to myself, This is one of your religious ones, is it, that 
I have so often joined in jeering at ? Surely I ate my sup- 
per with a thankful heart, and was much strengthened by 
it. Mrs. Mason soon returned, and stepping into the back 
room, where Jane lay, and her little brother, brought out 
three or four billets of wood, and a cheerful fire was soon 
made ; so that with my warm, nourishing supper, the cheer- 
ful fire, and Mrs. Mason's mild and cheerful countenance 
and manner, I regained my spirits, and a considerable por- 
tion of my strength. After a little pause, she said, 

" James, when Mary recovers, if it should please God 
to order it so, great care will be required lest she should 
relapse. You would not wish to lose her, James ; she has, 
I believe, been a kind and affectionate wife to you, and a 
tender mother to your children. When you were first mar- 
ried every thing went ■well with you, and it was a remark I 
often made of you as a neighbor, that you wanted nothing 
but the true fear of God in your heart, and faith in our 
blessed Saviour, to make you a pattern to all around you. 
I used often to say a few words to Mary, and she always 
received them meekly, but I seldom saw you, and your 
manner never gave me any encouragement to talk to you on 
religious subjects. James, experience has enabled me to 
make one remark, that absence from divine loorship, as a 
regular or customary thing, is an almost unerring sign of 
the absence of religion from the heart ; and it is indeed 
seldom that I have seen you in your place on the Sabbath- 
day. The Sabbath is a blessed day when it is spent aright.'* 
So leaving me, she again went up stairs, remarking that 
Mr. Wright had been home to her house, to explain the 
cause of her absence, (and as I tolerably well guessed, this 
partly explained the mystery of fire and candle, and tea and 
sugar, and bread,) adding, '' Mrs. Wright will come in at 



12 THE EVENTFUL TWELVE HOURS. 

daylight, and will stay with Mary, and that will allow me 
to attend to my morning's business : you know, James, the 
Bible says, 'diligent in business, fervent in spirit, serving 
the Lord.' " 

I longed to go and see my poor Mary, but I was not 
asked, and I supposed it right that it should be so. I now 
thought of ray poor children ; and going into their room, I 
felt distressed to find them so badly provided with bed- 
clothes. I kissed them, and secretly prayed, in a kind of 
way, that I might be spared to care more for them than I 
had lately done. I sat down, and began to reflect upon all 
the circumstances of the past day, and of this eventful night ; 
but I soon fell into a sound sleep, which continued until 
Mrs. Mason awoke me, informing me that it was nearly 
daylight, and reminded me of her intentions to return home 
to her duties as soon as Mrs. Wrio^ht should arrive. "And 
why wait for Mrs. Wright, madam ?" said I ; " surely I can 
attend upon Mary now, or at least until Mrs. Wright does 
come." " It is very natural," said Mrs. Mason, " that you 
should desire to attend upon your wife, and think yourself 
capable of doing so ; but my most particular directions from 
the doctor were, not to allow you to see your wife, if I could 
prevent you, until he had seen her once more ; and you may 
remember, James, in how grave a manner he directed she 
might not in any way be teazed, nor — but, James, to deal 
honestly with you, and rightly as I consider it, whatever 
may be your future conduct to your wife, your behavior to 
her for these last three years has not been quite kind ; and 
as grief and depression have very much to do with her pres- 
ent illness, we are all of opinion that you had better refrain 
from going to see her until she is more composed. You 
have bruised, James ; seek now to heal." 

I was touched with the reproof; I was, perhaps, more 
touched by the manner. Mrs. Mason was one who sought 
to win souls : she won my esteem and confidence, and I 
felt that if Mrs. Mason could talk to me thus, I had still 



THE EVENTFUL TWELVE HOURS. 13 

something to lose. I went to call Mrs. Wright. On my 
return, Mrs. Mason was up stairs, but she had placed nearly 
a whole loaf and a piece of butter on the table, and some 
tea and sugar, and the kettle was singing by the fireside. 
These were times of deep thought to me. On Mrs. Wright's 
arrival, I thanked her for her great kindness, and hoped 
better times were in store. " Yes," she replied, " better 
times may be in store for you ; I hope they are ; you have 
certainly bought your corn at a very dear market lately, 
but you may find a better one to go to yet." Mrs. Mason 
now appeared, and ready to go home ; the morning had 
just fully dawned. " Come, James," said she, "you must 
go with me ; I want to send back a few things to Mary ; 
and mind, you must not leave the house to-day after your 
return, and your little girl ought to be sent to account for 
your absence from work — that is, James, if — " 
" If, madam ?" said I quickly ; " if what ?" 
" Yes, James, if you think you can maintain a new char- 
acter, and desire really to become again, what I well remem- 
ber you once was, a respectable man ; yes, James, a respect- 
able man; for remember, that word is the just right of 
every man who acts as every man ought to do. The word 
seems to surprise you : it is a sad mistake that seems in- 
sensibly to have crept into common acceptance in these 
days, that respectability must mean something belonging 
rather to riches and rank, than honesty and uprightness of 
character ; respectability is as much the birthright of your- 
self as of young 'squire Mills ; indeed, I may say that on 
this point, you both started in life exactly equal : his father 
was indeed respectable in every sense of the word ; and 
your father was certainly nothing behind him ; both faith- 
fully discharged the duties of that station ' into which it 
pleased God to call them,' and this I consider, from the 
king to the cottager, is to be respectable ; but, James, the 
young 'squire is as respectable a man, I am happy to say, 
as his father was, and why should not you become as re- 
voL. X. * 36=* 



14 THE EVENTFUL TWELVE HOURS. 

spectable as yours ? I have lived to see many changes, but 
the change I most mourn over, is the change of principle 
in my neighbors. Their respectability seems to be ex- 
changed for finer clothes and fewer fireside, fewer home 
comforts ; and I happen also to know, that if very much of 
the grain that has been made into poisonous beer and whis- 
key had been made into good wholesome bread, both you 
and I, James, should have been better off, I think, than Ave 
are now, for I have had my struggles as well ^s j^ou ; so 
have many others. I have worked early and late, taking- 
care of the 2:)ence, to maintain my respectability ; yet, let me 
again repeat it, your father and mother were respectable to 
the day of their death, and many in this village would gladly 
see their only child following, their footsteps, and seeking 
the same inheritance they now possess ' in mansions in the 
skies.' But the road leads down hill to vice and folly, and 
I might add, the gulf of ruin lies at the bottom ; you may 
be far down it ; I fear you are, yet there is a hand that even 
now beckons to you, and says, ' Turn, turn, I have no pleas- 
ure in the death of him that dieth ; wherefore turn and live :* 
but, James, you are not ignorant of your Bible." 

I tried to conceal my emotions, for it was a very long 
time since I had heard such words as these. My Bible and 
the house of God had been lono^ entirelv neo^lected. Mrs. 
Mason perceived that I was affected, and moving towards 
the door, said, *' Yes, James, it is a slippery, down-hill path 
that leads to ruin, and many there be that walk therein. 
Heaven may be said to lie upward, yet * its ways are ways 
of pleasantness, and all its paths are peace.' But come, it 
is broad daylight, and I must hasten home." 

As we passed neighbor Wright's cottage, I had not for- 
gotten the comfort that was within, and I said secretly, "I'll 
see what's to be done." The arrival of Mrs. Mason at home 
seemed to give to all the liveliest pleasure and satisfaction ; 
and their inquiries after my poor wife were made with a 
kindliness of manner that surprised me. *' They respect 



THE EVENTFUL TWELVE HOURS. l5 

her," said I to myself; they took Httle notice of me, yet 
treated me with more civihty than I had a right to expect. 
Mrs. Mason soon put up a few little things and directed me 
to give them to Mrs. Wright, and weighing me a pound of 
bacon, and putting a large loaf and half a pound of cheese 
into the basket Avith it, with some soap and candles, said, 
" I shall charge these to your bill, James. Patty, go into 
the garden and cut James a couple of nice cabbages ; I dare 
say he will know w^hat to do with them," Having had this 
unexpected provision made me for the day, and receiving 
parting w^ords of encouragement from this kind friend, I 
returned home. I found my children up and Avashed, and 
breakfast ready. Mrs. Wright had kindly done this. Jane 
looked cheerful, and my little Harry came edging towards 
me, as if he did not know Avhat to make of all this. 
" Mother's so ill, Jane says, father — is she ; is she, father ?" 
looking up in my face as I sat down, "is she?" 

'' She is better now, my boy," I said. 

" Better, father ? who made her ill ? you didn't make 
her ill, did you, father? — nice bread, father — did mother 
bring this nice bread home, father ? speak, father, you don't 
speak." 

I could not trust myself to answer ; so I rose, for I Avas 
much affected at the thouoht that Mrs. Mason had cared 
for these babes and their mother, but I had neglected 
them, and foolishly squandered aAvay their comforts and 
e\'en their necessary bread. 

Mrs. Wright Avent home ; but returned soon after we 
had finished breakfast ; and by the time I had put things 
a little to rights, the doctor called. His ** Well, James," 
filled me Avith no very pleasing sensations. " I hope Ave 
shall have a change, eh, James ?" and passing on, Avent up 
stairs. Ah, thought I, I hope so too, for I knoAV Avhat you 
mean. He soon came down ; said my Avife might get up if 
she liked, taking a little care, and, " after to-day, give her 
a pill every noon for dinner off a loin of mutton, eh, James ? 



16 THE EVENTFUL TWELVE HOURS. 

A few more broiled pills for her, and a pint less of liquor for 
you, and your old father and mother would soon come to 
life again. Your savings' bank is at the tavern, and the 
landlady of the Stag keeps your accounts, I believe, eh, 
James ? I shall charge you nothing for this." This was 
the doctor. I received his reproofs humbly, and certainly 
thought, you have been very kind, but I also thought, you 
are not Mrs. Mason. 

Soon after this, my poor Mary came down stairs, and I 
at once confessed my sorrow for my past conduct, and my 
determination to drink no more ; and, to conclude, my wife 
slowly recovered, and, I may add, I recovered also ; but I 
was very far down the hill, and consequently found it a long 
and hard tug to get up again ; but Mrs. Mason encouraged 
me, Mrs. Wright helped me, the doctor cheered me, Mr. 
Armstrong praised me, our kind minister instructed me, my 
wife assisted me, and, as a crowning point of all, the bless- 
ing of God rested on me. I worked hard, I prayed in my 
family, I paid my debts, I clothed my children, I redeemed 
my bed, I mended my windows, I planted my garden and 
sold garden stuff, instead of buying ; I bought me a wheel- 
barrow, I mended my chairs and table, I got me a clock ; 
and now here I am, but never shall I forget John Wright 
or his wife, how long soever I may remember my other 
kind friends, and most of all, Mrs. Mason. But there were 
no temperance societies in those days, or I think I should 
have been reclaimed sooner. 



]¥o. 396. 

ARE YOU 

A SABBATH-SCHOOL TEACHER? 

FROM "NEVINS' PRACTICAL THOUGHTS," 



If you are, you are engaged in a good work. Yes, it is 
good, both as acceptable to God, and as profitable to men. 
It is good in its direct operation, and good in its reflex 
action. It is not merely teaching the young idea how to 
shoot, but, what is still more important, it is teaching the 
young and tender affection what to fix upon, and where to 
entwine itself. NothiuG: hallows the Sabbath more than the 
benevolent employment of the Sabbath- school teacher. It 
is more than lawful to do such good on the Sabbath-day. 
It has great reward. Continue to be a Sabbath- school 
teacher. Be not weary in this well-doing. Do not think 
you have served long enough in the capacity of teacher, 
until you have served life out, or until there shall be no 
need of one's saying to another, "Know the Lord." What 
if it be laborious? It is the labor of love, in the very 
fatio'ue of which the soul finds refreshment. 

But perhaps you are not a Sabbath-school teacher. 
"No, I am not," methinks I hear one say; "I am not a 
professor of religion. You cannot expect me to be a 
teacher." You ought to be both, and your not being the 
first is but a poor apology for declining to be the other. The 
neglect of one obligation is a poor excuse for the neglect of 
another. You seem to admit, that if you professed religion, 
it would be your duty to teach in the Sabbath-school. 
Now, whose fault is it that you do not profess religion ? 
But I see no valid objection to your teaching a class of 
boys or girls how to read the word of God, though you be 
not a professor of religion. I cannot think that any person 
gets harm by thus doing good. Experience has shown that 
the business of teaching in the Sabbath- school is twice 
blessed — blessing the teacher as well as the taught. 



2 ARE YOU A SABBATH-SCHOOL TEACHER? 

"But I am not a young person." And what if you are 
not ? You need not be very young in order to be a useful 
Sabbath- school teacher. We don't want mere novices in 
tlie Sabbath-school. If you are not young, then you have 
so much more experience to assist you in the work. Do 
Sabbath-school teachers become superannuated so much 
earlier in life than any other class of benefactors — so much 
sooner than ministers and parents ? There is a prevailing 
mistake on this subject. 

But you are " married," you say. And what then? 
Because you have married a wife or a husband, is that any 
reason why you should not come into the Sabbath-school ? 
Many people think that as soon as they are married, they 
are released from the obligation of assisting in the Sabbath- 
schooL But I do not understand this to be one of the im- 
munities of matrimony. As well might they plead that in 
discharge of the obligation to every species of doing good. 
Such might, at least, postpone this apology till the cares of 
a family have come upon them. And even then, perhaps, 
the best disposition they could make of their children on 
the Sabbath, would be to take them to the school. I wonder 
how many hours of the Sabbath are devoted to the instruc- 
tion of their children by those parents who make the ne- 
cessity of attending to the religious culture of their families 
an apology for not entering the Sabbath-school ; and I 
wonder if their children could not be attended to in other 
hours than those usually occupied in Sabbath-school in- 
struction ; and thus, Avhile they are not neglected, other 
children, who have no parents that care for their souls, 
receive a portion of their attention. I think this not im- 
possible. But perhaps the wife pleads that she is no longer 
her own, and that her husband's wishes are opposed to her 
continuing a teacher. But has she ceased to be her Lord's, 
by becoming her husband's ? Does the husband step into 
all the rio'hts of a Saviour over his redeemed ? If such an 

o 

objection is honestly made, it is very clear that she has not 
regarded the direction to marry " only in the Lord." 

But perhaps you say, ** There are enough others to 
teach in the Sabbath-school." There would not be enough, 
there would not be any, if all were like you. But it is a 
mistake ; there are not enough others. You are wanted. 
Some five or six children, of whom Christ has said, " Suffer 



ARE YOU A SABBATH-SCHOOL TEACHER? 3 

them to come to me," may grow up without either learning 
or religion, unless you become a teacher. Are all the 
children in the place where you live gathered into the Sab- 
bath-school ? Are there none that still wander on the 
Lord's day, illiterate and irrehgious? Is there a compe- 
tent number of teachers in the existing schools, so that more 
would be rather in the way than otherwise ? I do not 
know how it is where you live, but where I live, there are 
boys and girls enough, aye, too man}^, who go to no Sab- 
bath-school. It is only for a teacher to go out on the 
Sabbath, and he readily collects a class of children willing 
to attend ; and where I reside, there are not teachers enough 
for the scholars already collected. Some classes are with- 
out a teacher ; and presently the children stay away, be- 
cause, they say, they come to the school, and there is no 
one to attend to them. He who said, "Suffer the little 
children to come unto me, and forbid them not," knows 
this: and he knows who of "his sacramental host" mio-ht 
take charge of these children, and do not. They say every 
communion season, " Lord, what wilt thou have me to do ?" 
and the Lord replies, " Suffer the little children to come to 
me," and there the matter ends. 

I visited recently an interesting school, composed of 
colored adults and children. It is taught partly by white 
persons, and partly by intelligent colored persons. It is 
languishing now for want of teachers. There were present 
some twenty-five or thirty females, and only two female 
teachers. I wondered to see no more than two there, espe- 
cially of those who were last at the cross and first at the 
sepulchre. 

But I hear one say, " I luas once a teacher ;" and do you 
not blush to own that you became weary in this species of 
well-doing? "But I think I taught long enough." How 
long did you teach ? Till there were no more to learn ? 
Till you could teach no longer ? Are you dead ? If not, 
you are resting from your labors rather prematurely. This 
excuse resembles one which I heard of, as from a lady of 
wealth, who, having for several years been a subscriber to 
the Bible Society, at length ordered her name to be stricken 
off, alleging that she thought she had done her part towards 
disseminating the Bible. The world was not supplied ; 
no, not even the country ; and her means were not ex- 



2 DO YOU PRAY IN YOUR FAMILY ? 

SO careful to instruct liis household in the way of the Lord, 
did not. neglect to pray with them. And David, I am 
quite confident, prayed in his family. It is said of him on. 
one occasion, that "he returned to bless his household." 
No doubt there were both prayer and praise in that family. 
Certainly Joshua must have prayed in his house. How 
otherwise could he have fulfilled his resolution, that his 
house, as well as himself, should serve the Lord ? What, 
resolve that his house should serve the Lord, and not join 
with them in supplication for grace to serve him ? That is 
not at all likely. 

Now I would ask, if it is not proper and right that every 
head of a family should adopt the resolution of him who 
said, "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord?" 
But can there be religion in a house without prayer ? Is 
there not inconsistency in saying, " I and my family will 
serve God, but we will have no family altar nor offering ?" 
Is not prayer an essential part of the service of God ? Did 
any one ever live who supposed that family prayer was not 
more pleasing to God than the omission of it ? Did any 
one ever omit it for fear of being guilty of will-worship, or 
through dread that it might for some reason oflfend God ? 
Did the practice of family prayer ever distress any con- 
science ? The omission of it has troubled many. 

It is admitted, I believe, to be the will of God that we 
should pray to him socially. The Lord's praj'^er was con- 
structed for social use. The disciples were directed to use 
it when they should pray together ; and it is accordingly 
in the plural number: not 7ny Father, but " owr Father." 
Now, is God to be socially worshipped, and yet not wor- 
shipped in that first, most permanent, and most interesting 
form of society — the form of society instituted by God him- 
self — the family ? Is that to be believed ? But the Lord's 
prayer seems not only intended for social, but for daily 
use. " Give us this day our daily bread," is one of its 
petitions. It does not contemplate the morrow. It asks 



DO YOU PRAY IN YOUR FAMILY 1 3 

supplies but for one day. Now if, as it appears from this 
reasoning, social prayer should be daily, where but in the 
family, the society which is abiding, and which a single 
roof covers, can it with propriety be daily ? Should there 
be public religious services daily, or daily prayer-meetings 
for this purpose ? Then how suitable it is, that those who 
together share their "daily bread," should together daily 
ask it. 

How 7'easonahle and comely is household religion — fam- 
ily worship ! Common blessings, such as families daily 
share, call for common thanksgivings. Common wants, 
such as families together feel, call for common supplica- 
tions. Is it not fit that families, in retiring to rest at night, 
should together commit themselves to the divine keeping ; 
and in the morning, unite in praising the Lord for having 
been their protector ? It is a clear case, it seems to me. 
Besides, fathers are directed to bring up their children " in 
the nurture and admonition of the Lord." But can they 
do this while they pray not with them and for them ? I 
do not know how we are to comply with the apostolical 
exhortation to pray " everywhere," unless we pray in the 
family, as well as under other circumstances. 

Is any one in doubt whether the practice, or the omis- 
sion of family prayer, will be the more pleasing subject of 
retrospect from the dying bed and the eternal world ? Par- 
ents should not forget, that presently will come the long- 
deferred and greatly dreaded season of taking the last look, 
and the last leave of those whom their decease is to make 
orphans. then, what a sweet thought it will be to enter 
into the dying meditation, that they have been in the daily 
habit of bowing down with their children in prayer, and 
commending them to the care and grace of their heavenly 
Father, and that they may now indulge the confident hope, 
that he will infinitely more than supply the parental place 
which they are to leave vacant. 

But what need of more argument ? I suspect every 



4 DO YOU PRAY IN YOUR FAMILY 1 

one secretly admits the obligation of family prayer. I 
judge so from the trouble many are at to apologize for the 
neglect. It tries them not a little to satisfy even them- 
selves with an excuse. The usual plea is inahility. They 
have not the gift, they say. What gift ? Can they not 
collect their family together night and morning ? Have 
they not so much authority in their own house as that ? 
And then can they not read a portion of Scripture to them ; 
and kneeling down, express their common desires to God ? 
If they cannot frame a prayer at the moment, yet can they 
not use a form ? It requires no great gift to read a prayer 
in an audible voice. But what if it be hard at first ; it will 
soon be easy, if persevered in. The beginning of almost 
every good habit is difficult. The most of those who make 
this apology, presume on their inability. They say they 
cannot, before they have tried. But until they have tried, 
they do not know whether they can or not. What if some 
have tried once, and failed ? One failure should not dis- 
hearten them, nor two, nor even twenty. Demosthenes 
tried speaking many times before he became an orator. 
Besides, how do those Avho presume on their inability to 
conduct family worship, know what assistance they might 
receive from God, if they were to make an humble and 
faithful experiment ? 

If any one shall condescend to read this, who does not 
pray in his family, I advise him to commence immediately. 
He knows that he will never be sorry for it, if he does ; 
but he is not so sure that he may not be sorry for it, if he 
does not. If there were no other reason in favor of the 
practice, this alone would be sufficient. I think it is Jay 
who says, that a family without prayer, is like a house with- 
out a roof — it has no protection. Who would like to live 
in such a house ? 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



i¥o. 398. 



THE 



LOST MECHANIC RESTORED. 




Near the close of 1831, says Mr. C- 



-, of Hartford, 
Conn., I was requested by a pious and benevolent lady, to 
take into my employ a yoimg- man who had become intem- 
perate. I objected that the influence of such a man would 
be injurious to my other workmen, and especially my appren- 
tices. But the kind-hearted lady urged her request, saying 
that he was willing to come under an engagement not to 
drink at all, and to conform strictly to all the regulations of 
the establishment; that she received him into her family 
when a boy, and felt a deep interest in his welfare ; that he 
had learned a trade, and was an excellent workman ; had 
become hopefully pious, and united with one of our churches ; 
had married a very worthy young woman, but his intemper- 
ance had blasted his fair prospects. He was now sensible 
of his danger ; and she believed his salvation for this, if not 
lor a future world, would turn on my decision. 
VOL. X. 37* 



2 THE LOST MECHANIC RESTORED. 

I consented to make the trial ; and he came, binding 
himself, by a written contract, to receive no part of his wages 
into his own hands, and to forfeit whatever should be due to 
him, in case he became intoxicated. He succeeded remark- 
ably in my business, was industrious and faithful, and strictly 
temperate and regular in all his habits. 

But in the summer of 1832, he was by some means 
induced to taste again an intoxicating drink, and a fit of 
drunken insanity ensued, which continued about a fortnight. 
Knowing that his wife had some money, he gave her no 
peace, day nor night, till he got possession of it. He then 
took the boat for New York, spent the money, and after bar- 
tering some of his clothes, returned, a most destitute and 
wretched object. 

After he had become sober and rational once more, I 
happened to meet him in the street, and asked him why he 
did not come to work as usual. With a voice trembling 
and suppressed, and with a look of grief, self-reproach, and 
despair that I shall never forget, he said, " I can never 
come into your shop again. I have not only violated my 
contract with you, but I have treated you with the basest 
ingratitude, proved myself unworthy of your confidence, and 
destroyed the last hope of my reformation." 

I assured him of my increased desire for his welfare ; he 
returned to his employment, and his attention to business 
evinced the sincerity of his confessions. 

But not more than three months had elapsed before he 
was taken again in the toils of his old deceiver ; and at this 
time he was so furious and unmanageable, that he was ar- 
rested and committed to the workhouse. He was soon re- 
leased, and engaged once more in my business. He continued 
for about two months, when he fell again ; and after a frenzy 
of a week, came to me and beo:o^ed me to take him to the 
workhouse, as the only means by which he should get sober. 
He remained there a few days, and then returned to his work. 

Such was his history: a few months sober, industrious, 
and obliging in my shop ; kind, attentive, and afiectionate 
in his family ; then a week furiously drunk, absent from my 
shop, violent and abusive in his family ; then at the work- 
house ; and then sober, and at home again. 

He had already been excommunicated from the church 
lor his intemperance, had become a terror to his wife, Avho 



THE LOST MECHANIC RESTORED. 3 

frequently sent for me to protect her from his violence, and 
seemed to be utterly abandoned. 

In the month of May, 1833, he was again missing; and 
no one, not even his wiie, knew what had become of him. 
But in the course of the summer she received a letter from 
him, in which he said he had got employment, and wished 
her, without informing me where he was, to come and live 
with him. She accordingly removed to his new residence, 
and 1 heard nothing from either of them. 

About two years and a half after this, he came into my 
shop one day ; but how changed. Instead of the bloated, 
wild, and despairing countenance that once marked him as a 
drunkard, he now wore an aspect of cheerfulness and health, 
of manliness and self-respect. I approached, took him by the 

hand, and said, "Well, , how do you do?" "J a7n 

tccll,'' said he, shaking my hand most cordially. "Yes," 
said I, "well in more respects than one." " Yes, I am," 
was his emphatic reply. " It is noiv 'more than two years 
since I have tasted a drop of any thing that can intoxi- 
cate.'^ He began by abstaining from ardent spirits only; 
"But," said he, "I soon found that what you had so often told 
me was true; that I could not reform but by abstaining 
from all that can intoxicate. I have done so, and you see 
the result." 

I then inquired after the health of his wife and child : 
his reply was, "They are well and happy." I asked him 
if "his Mdfe made him any trouble" now. "Trouble," 
said he, "no; and never did make any: it was I that made 
the trouble. You told me so, and I knew it at the time. 
But ichat could I do ? So long as I remained here, I could 
not turn a corner in your streets without passing a grog-shop. 
I could not go to my meals without coming in contact with 
some associate who would try to entice me to drink with 
him ; and even the keepers of these shops would try every 
artifice to induce me to drink ; for they knew that if they 
could get me to taste once, I should never know when to stop, 
and they would be sure to get a good bill against me. 

"I have now come," said he, "to tell you Avhy I left 
you. It was because I knew that I should die if I did not 
leave ofi' drinking, and I saw distinctly that I could never 
leave ofi^ while I remained in Hartford. My only hope was, 
in going where liquor was not to be had." 



4 THE LOST MECHANIC RESTORED. 

About two years and a half after this, he apphed to me 
for further employment, as the business he was fbllowuig had 
failed. I told him there was no man whom I should rather 
employ, but I could not think of having him encounter again 
the temptations which he had so miraculously escaped. He 
very pleasantly replied, " I am a man now, and do not be- 
lieve I have any thing more to fear from the temptations of 
the city than you have." 

I told him that I had confidence in the firmness of his 
purpose, but feared to see it put to the test. Yet, as he 
was out of business, I consented ; and no man that I ever 
employed did better, or was more deserving of confidence 
and respect. He continued with me till spring, w^hen he 
proposed to take his work into the country, so that he could 
be with his family : the arrangement was made, and I em- 
ploy him still. 

On the fourth of July last, (1839,) the Sunday-schools 
in the town where he resides made arrangements for a cel- 
ebration, and I was invited to be present and address them. 
As I looked upon the audience, the first countenance that 
met my eye was that of this very man, at the head of his 
Sunday-school class. The sight almost overwhelmed me. 
Instead of a loathsome, drunken maniac — a terror to his 
family and a curse to society, whose very presence was odious, 
and his example pestilential — he was then, in the expressive 
language of Scripture, " clothed, and in his right mind ;" and 
was devoted to the heavenly work of guiding children to 
Christ and salvation. He had made a public profession of 
religion, which he was daily honoring by a life of Christian 
meekness and sobriety. 

0, who can comprehend the tide of domestic joy, of social 
happiness, and of Christian consolation which flows through 
the heart of this man and his family, in consequence of this 
change in his habits? 

Now, what was the cause of this surprising change ? 
What wrought this wonderful transformation in this indi- 
vidual ? The whole story is told in one short line. He 
went where intoxicating liquor ivas not sold. Had he re- 
mained in this city, he would probably long since have been 
laid in the drunkard's grave. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



IVo. 399. 

DIALOGUE 
BETWEEN THE BIBLE AND A SINNER. 



Bihle. " Thus saith the Lord of hosts, Consider your 
ways." Hag. 1:5. 

Sinner. I am not so bad as some others. 

B. " They that compare themselves among themselves 
are not wise." 2 Cor. 10 : 12. 

S. I hope I am not so bad as to go to hell. 

B. "The wicked shall be turned into hell." Ps. 9 : 17. 

S. But God is merciful. 

B. " Let every man take heed how he buildeth ; for 
other foundation can no man lay than that is laid, which is 
Jesus Christ." 1 Cor. 3 : 10, 11. 

S. Is there no mercy out of Christ ? 

B. "There is none other name under heaven given 
among men, whereby we must be saved." Acts 4:12. 
" Jesus saith, I am the way : no man cometh unto the 
Father, but by me." John 14 : 6. 

S. I hope I do some good. 

B. "There is none that doeth good, no, not one." 
Psalm 14: 3. 

S. Is every thing that I do wicked ? 

B. "The thoughts of the wicked are an abomination to 
the Lord." Prov. 15 : 26. "The ploughing of the wicked 
is sin." Prov. 21 : 4. 

S. I am sure I have some good thoughts. 

B. " God saw that the wickedness of man was great in 
the earth, and that every imagination of the thoughts of 
his heart was only evil continually." Genesis 6 : 5. "Out 
of the heart of men, proceed evil thoughts, adulteries, for- 
nications, murders." Mark 7:21. 

>S^. If my heart be so wicked, what shall I do ? 

B. " Repent, and turn from all your transgressions, and 
make you a new heart and a new spirit ; for why will ye 



2 DIALOGUE BETWEEN 

die?" Ezek. 18:30, 31. *' Give me thine heart." Prov. 
23 : 26. . " They first gave their own selves to the Lord." 
2 Cor. 8 : 5. 

S. I try to be honest, and pay my debts. 

£. " Christ is become of no effect unto you, whosoever 
of you are justified by the law." GaL 5 : 4. 

S. What is the law ? 

£. "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy 
heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind ; and thy 
neighbor as thyself." Matt. 22:37, 39. 

S. Surely I have kept the law in some measure. 

B. " Whosoever shall keep the whole law, and yet of- 
fend in one point, he is guilty of all." James 2 : 10. 

S. But did not Christ do away the moral law ? 

jB. " Think not that I am come to destroy the law — I 
am not come to destroy, but to fulfil." Matt. 5:17. *' Curs- 
ed is every one that continueth not in all things which 
are written in the book of the law to do them." Galatians 
3: 10. 

>S^. How, then, shall I be delivered from the curse of 
the law ? 

B. " Christ hath redeemed us from the curse of the 
law." Gal. 3: 13. 

S. Will all, then, be saved ? 

£. " He that believeth, shall be saved ; but he that be- 
lie veth not, shall be damned." Mark 16 : 16. 

S. I do believe. 

£. " The devils also believe, and tremble." James 2:19. 

>S^. How, then, shall I go to work ? 

B. " This is the work of God, that ye believe on him 
whom he hath sent." John 6 : 29. 

S. What is it to believe ? 

B. " With the heart, man believeth unto righteousness." 
Rom. 10:10. 

S. I have been trying to do my best. 

B. " Without faith it is impossible to please him." Heb. 
11:6. 

S. I have been praying and reading my Bible, etc. 

B. " He that turneth away his ear from hearing the 
law, even his prayer shall be abomination." Prov. 28 : 9. 

S. Ought I not to pray ? 

B. ''Men ought always to pray." Luke 18:1. "I 



THE BIBLE AND A SINNER. 3 

will therefore that men pray everywhere, lifting up holy 
hands, without wrath and doubting." 1 Tim. 2:8. 

S. But will not God hear if I pray the best I can, 
though I have not a new heart, and do not believe ? 

B. "Whatsoever is not of faith is sin." Rom. 14: 23. 
" If I regard iniquity in my heart, the Lord will not hear 
me." Ps. 66: 18. 

>S^. What must I do to be saved ? 

£. ** Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou 
shalt be saved." Acts 16 : 31. 

S. Is Christ able to save me ? 

£. " He is able to save them to the uttermost that come 
unto God by him, seeing he ever liveth to make interces- 
sion for them." Heb. '7 : 25. 

S. But I am so unworthy I am afraid he will not ac- 
cept of me. 

JB. " Him that cometh to me, I will in no wise cast out." 
John 6:37. 

S. Why, then, am I not saved ? 

£. " Ye will not come to me, that ye might have life." 
John 5 : 40. 

S. I think I am willing, I cannot believe that I am 
unwilling to come to Christ. 

JB. " He that believeth not God, hath made him a liar, 
because he believeth not the record that God gave of his 
Son, And this is the record, that God hath given to us 
ETERNAL LIFE ; and this LIFE is in his Son." I John, 
5: 10, 11. 

S. I will believe, but cannot now. 

B. " God now commandeth all men everywhere to re- 
pent." Acts 17:30. 

aS'. I must wait God's time. 

B. "■ The Holy Ghost saith. To-day if ye will hear his 
voice, harden not your hearts." Heb. 3 : 7, 8. " Behold, 
now is the accepted time ; behold, now is the day of salva- 
tion." 2 Cor. 6:2. " Come, for all things are now ready." 
Luke 14:17. 

S. How can I come now ? 

B. "Whosoever will, let him take the water of hfe 
freely." Rev. 22: 17. 

S. If I am spared, I will try soon ; perhaps to-morrow. 

B. "Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of 



4 THE BIBLE AND A SINNER. 

thee." Luke 12 : 20. "Ye know not what shall be on the 
morrow ; for what is your life ? it is even a vapor." James 
4:14. ■ 

S. What would you have me do ? 

B. " Be reconciled to God." 2 Cor. 5 : 20. 

S. But do I hate him ? 

B. " The carnal mind is enmity against God." Rom. 
8:7. " Now have they both seen and hated both me and 
my Father." John 15 : 24. 

S. I never thought I hated God. 

B. ** The heart is deceitful above all things." Jer. 
1*7 : 9. "He that trusteth in his own heart is a fool." 
Prov. 28 : 26. 

S. Well, what must I do ? 

B. "Repent, and believe the Gospel." Mark 1 : 15. 
"Except ye repent, ye shall perish." Luke 13:3. " He 
that believeth, shall be saved ; but he that believeth not, 
shall be damned." Mark 16 : 16. 

S. What can I do more ? I have done all I can. 

B. " Ye shall find me, when ye shall search for me with 
all your heart." Jer. 29 : 13. " Let him take hold of my 
strength, that he may make peace with me, and he shall 
make peace with me." Isa. 27 : 5. 

aS^. But may I be saved now ? 

B. " If thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord 
Jesus, and shalt believe in thy heart, thou shalt be saved." 
Rom. 10 : 9. 

S. Is this promise for me ? 

B. " 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. 

S. I do believe with all my heart. 

B. " Go thy way ; and as thou hast believed, so be it 
done unto thee." Matt. 8 : 13. "Return to thine own 
house, and show how great things God hath done unto 
thee." Luke 8 : 39. "Not unto us, O Lord, not unto 
us, but unto THY NAME give GLORY, for thy MERCY, and for 
thy truth's sake." Ps. 115 : 1. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



]Vo. 400. 

DO THYSELF NO HARM. 



Look at the harm you have done yourself already. 

1. In regard to your character. A most precious gift 
of God is your reason. Its dictates would have led you to 
God in sweet obedience and confiding love ; but they have 
not been obeyed. You are a moral being, and capable of 
noble and delightful emotions towards all holy beings, sim- 
ilar to those that fill the bosom of angels ; but all the im- 
pulses which would have led you to harmony of feeling and 
character with God and all the good, have been resisted. 
Dependent, too, as you have been, on the divine kindness 
for every blessing, you have yet been a stranger to pious 
gratitude. The noblest motives that ever invited a rational 
being into the service of his Maker, have been addressed to 
you in vain. You ma)'' stand fair before the world ; but 
every tie that has bound you to God, has been broken. Can 
you look on the map of life and point out any spot, and say, 
" There I sincerely and cordially sought to glorify God ?" 
Men may praise you ; but were all the holy beings in the 
universe to give their decision, you would sink overwhelmed 
by the unanimous voice of condemnation. Nothing stamps 
a rational being with such dishonor as sin, and in your case 
there is not one act of holy obedience to relieve the dark 
picture. 

2. See, too, the harm done your happiness. You have 
been a stranger to the pure and holy joys of God's service. 
You might have seen the world in which you dwell radiant 
with the beauty and glory of God, and might have tasted 
the sweetest pleasures from the vision, had you not suffered 
sin to darken and pervert your mind. Your early accept- 
ance of Christ would have opened a fountain of holy joys, 
and the streams issuing from it would have run along par- 
allel with the whole path of life. But directly have you 
done your happiness harm. You have violated the laws of 
your moral nature by disobeying God. The wounded flesh 
does not more certainly insure pain than the wounded spirit. 
Suffering treads in the footsteps of transgression. You 
have felt the painful rebukes of a guilty conscience. You 

VOL. X. 38 



2 DO THYSELF NO HARM. 

have realized an aching void in your soul, which all you 
have gained of the world has not been able to fill. You 
may have drank of the sweets of earthly bliss ; but they 
have been often turned to bitter waters by the conscious- 
ness that you were starving an immortal mind. 

3. See, too, the harm you have done your usefulness. 
Had you followed the first impulse you felt to a life of piety, 
by yielding your heart to the Gospel's first appeal, what a 
blessed influence you might have shed around you. What 
salutary rebukes you would have administered to evil-doers, 
and what joyful and animating encouragement to fellow- 
disciples. Your example, prayers, and labors, might have 
turned many from sin and death. One and another, now 
departed, might have gone exulting into eternity, praising 
God for your happy influence over them, and be now wait- 
ing to welcome you to the same happy home in heaven. 

4. Most of all, consider the peril into which you have 
brought your soul. Here has been a dreadful desolation. 
By resisting all the holy and reasonable will of God, you 
have oblio-ed him to become a consuming fire aQ^ainst you. 
Look at this awful attitude of his holy government : '' Curs- 
ed is every one that continueth not in all things written in 
the book of the law to do them." Now look at another 
more terrific still, if possible : " Of how much sorer punish- 
ment, suppose ye, shall he be thought worthy, who hath 
trodden under foot the Son of God, and hath counted the 
blood of the covenant, wherewith he was sanctified, an un- 
holy thing, and hath done despite unto the Spirit of grace ?" 
All the holy universe would approve the instant infliction 
upon you of the sentence of eternal banishment from the 
presence of God. Its immediate execution nothing but 
sovereign mercy prevents. 

Have you not, then, already done yourself harm ? Lin- 
ger now, for a moment, on another point. You are the sole 
author of all this evil. The combined agency of all the 
wicked in the universe could not have done you this injury, 
irrespective of your own will. Who but yourself debased 
your noble powers to the service of sin ? What hindered 
you from exerting the best influence on the best welfare of 
others, but your love and practice of iniquity ? What has 
robbed you of the joys of holy obedience, but your refusal 
to obey ? And your soul's peril, at whose door but vour 



DO THYSELF NO HARM. 8 

own does that dreadful responsibility lie ? No hand but 
your own has fired the train that threatens everlasting 
burnings. Accuse whom you may, the charge refuses to 
cleave anywhere but to your own soul. 

But the harm already done will be greatly increased hy 
continuance in sin. 

1. In respect to character. All the dark hues of guilt 
will grow darker. Actions dishonorable to you as a rational 
being, and such is every sin, are rapidly accumulating ; and 
each adds a deeper shade to the already melancholy pic- 
ture. One sin blasted the honor of the angels that fell, and 
banished them from heaven. One sin drove our first par- 
ents in ignominy from the garden of Eden. If one sin 
stamps the soul with ignominy, what is done when increas- 
ing years of guilt multiply sins by millions ? To what a 
depth, sinner, are you plunging. You are sinking in the 
view of God and all holy beings. And to such a point is 
the matter rapidly hastening, that God, in awful justice, 
will sufier you to sink where the shame of sin shall be eter- 
nal. 

2. See, too, the increasing harm to happiness. Sin is 
hastening to consume every form of it, like a devouring fire. 
The last draught from the cup of worldly pleasure will soon 
be taken, and sin will leave your soul incapable of any 
other. It has already cut you off from happiness in God, 
and w^hen the poor joys of this life are over, the cup will 
be empty for ever. There is no destroyer of happiness so 
terrible as sin. It cuts off the branch and tears up the 
root, and burns them both together. 

3. Go on in unrepented sin, and the spiritual and eter- 
nal welfare of not one human being will be promoted by 
your earthly existence. How melancholy the thought, that 
you should complete your career on earth under the accu- 
sation of having never exerted the smallest direct and holy 
influence to turn a perishing sinner to God. Persisting in 
sin will involve you in the guilt of knowing that multitudes 
around you are in danger of everlasting burnings, and yet 
leaving them unblest by a single prayer in their behalf, or 
a single warning of their danger. Useless, Oh think of 
it, amid the most exciting motives to do good known any- 
where in the creation of God, Useless, when God has re- 
vealed, that every sincere effort for man's salvation, shall 



4 DO THYSELF NO HARM. 

meet a gracious, an eternal reward. Useless, when, through 
divine grace, you might have turned many to righteousness, 
and with them have shone '' as the stars for ever and ever." 

4. Go on, sinner, and the harm will be fully done in the 
RUIN OF YOUR SOUL. The danger is not in the fact of past 
guilt, vast as that guilt has been. Your madness and folly 
have indeed fired your dwelling, but you need not perish in 
the flames. The devourinof woes of the law's vencjeance 
may be repelled by "the Lion of the tribe of Judah," and 
all your guilt washed away in his atoning blood. No past 
sin necessarily seals your doom ; it is the commission of 
another, the rejection of the Lord Jesus Christ. Here is 
the dreadful peril. " He that believeth not the Son, shall 
not see life ; but the wrath of God abideth on him," All 
that is tender, and all that is terrible in an appeal to a sin- 
ful soul, is embodied here. In the name of every thing 
blessed in your redemption, I charge you, do not thyself 
the everlasting harm of rejecting the blessed Redeemer. 

Let the benevolence of this warning touch your heart. 
Paul's cry to the Philippian jailer stayed his hand, and 
saved him from the guilt of self-murder. The same language 
now bids you beware of the horrible guilt of murdering 
your immortal soul. The jailer heard, and lived. Hear, 
and you shall live. God, though dishonored and provoked 
by your sins, yet sends you, in infinite love, this message 
to prevent your knowing the harm of the second death. It 
is full of kindness. 

It is, too, a timely warning. Had Paul's voice reached 
the jailer a moment later, it would have found him welter- 
ing in his blood. But it came in time. So does this. The 
ship is indeed sinking, but has not yet gone down into the 
dark grave of waters. 

It may be the last warning. Think of that. God's 
patience has been amazing towards you ; but it has a 
boundary. Your rejecting of this warning may be the 
only drop wanting to fill the cup of iniquity. Oh that you 
would heed the appeal, perhaps to be repeated no more, 

DO THYSELF NO HARM. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



IVo. 401. 

THE 



TEMPTATIONS OF YOUNG MEN. 



It is the misfortune of man to be wise too late. When 
involved in ruin, he finds that had he "pondered the 
path of his feet," all his ways would have been ordered 
aright We are subject to frequent and dangerous 
temptations, and it is imprudent and criminal to disre- 
gard them. '' Happy is the man that feareth always ; 
but he that hardeneth his heart shall fall into mischief." 
" Let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he 
fall." In view of these divine admonitions, we solicit 
the serious and candid attention of young men to some 
of the temptations by which they are surrounded ; for 
if in early life we fail to resist the allurements of sin, 
we subject ourselves to its grievous and degrading bon- 
dage, not only in succeeding age, but in eternity. 

1. A large class of young men are strongly tempted 
to scepticism. Not to a settled disbelief of Christianity, — 
for very few, if any, are so hardened as to be harassed 
with no fears of its truth, — but to a state of doubt and 
unfixedness, which, as surely as the deepest infidelity, 
leads to the practical rejection of the Bible and its prof- 
fered blessings. 

Among the prominent causes of scepticism may be 
mentioned the perverted spirit of our free institutions. 
We exult in that liberty with which God has blessed 
us above other nations ; and swayed by ingratitude and 
pride, suppose that, as we are free from the oppressive 
domination of man, so we are free from the law and 
government of God. 

Another cause is the want of consideration. The 
knowledge of God must be obtained by diligent search. 

VOL. X. 3S* 



2 TEMPTATIONS OF YOUNG MEN. 

Partaking of the activity of the age, and immersed in 
business, young men acquire such habits of indiffer- 
ence or aversion to religion, that they neglect or resist 
its claims. 

We may mention also, in this connection, intellectual 
pride. Men adopt erroneous opinions and cherish them 
with ardent affection ; and, without examining the evi- 
dences for the authority of the Gospel, find that it inter- 
feres with their notions, rises above their comprehen- 
sion, checks their speculations, demands submission to 
God's will as the rule of life, and refuses its blessings to 
all who are not humble and penitent. If they receive it, 
they must discard their much-loved opinions ; their pride 
will not permit this, and they reject the Gospel. 

But the most fruitful cause of scepticism isimmorality 
Men delig-ht in courses of life which the Bible for 
bids. To admit its authority, would be to condemn 
themselves. They will not renounce their sins, and in 
consistency and self-defence make an effort to disbelieve 
the Bible : not because its requisitions are injurious or 
unjust ; but for the reason that Ahab, the wicked king 
of Israel, disliked the true prophet of the Lord, '* I hate 
him, for he doth not prophesy good concerning me, but 
evil." 1 Kings, 22 : 8. 

As an ANTIDOTE to scepticism, look at its origiii. It 
is the child of sin. Opposition to the Bible proceeds 
not from the unbiassed decisions of the understanding, 
but from the depraved feelings of the heart ; and would 
cease to exist if the divine threatenings against sin were 
removed. Hundreds of speculative difficulties vanish, 
when the heart is renewed by grace. "Light is come 
into the world, and men loved darkness rather than light, 
because their deeds were evil." John, 3 : 19. 

Scepticism is not the result of reason. No man ever 
has proved, or can prove, the Bible untrue ; and each 
new effort made against it only serves to strengthen the 



TEMPTATIONS OF YOUNG MEN. 6 

conviction of its truth. But scepticism has never offer- 
ed a defence against the attacks upon it. It has no set- 
tled principles to defend, and its constant resort has 
been to gather up old, and stale, and often-answered 
objections ; and present them with a pertinacity and 
boldness worthy a better cause. When Gibbon and 
Paine attempted to undermine the foundations of the 
christian system, a large number of replies, some of 
them by men of great standing and ability, were publish- 
ed. They did not notice one of them. Why were they 
silent 1 Why has no answer ever been attempted to the 
works of Paley and Jenyns, Leslie and Watson, and the 
host of able defenders of the christian faith 1 The con- 
clusion must be, scepticism is indefensible, and the evi- 
dences of Christianity unanswerable. 

The effects of scepticism arc such as might be expect- 
ed from its origin. It would destroy whatever is fair, 
and lovely, and productive of temporal and eternal good 
in the christian system, and give us nothing in its place. 
It permits and encourages practices which subject the 
body to premature decay and death ; it impairs and 
sometimes paralyzes the intellect ; it debases the affec- 
tions ; turns the soul from the fountain of light and hap- 
piness here, and presents it nothing but darkness and 
misery hereafter. It saps the foundations of all belief, 
and leaves no resting-place between Christianity and 
the horrors of atheism ; for the dispositions and modes 
of reasoning by Avhich it rejects the Bible, will lead to 
the rejection of any system claiming to be revealed, 
and even of natural religion itself. Every objection 
against the truths of the Bible may be made with equal 
force against the constitution and course of nature ; and 
the very reasoning which would prove the Bible unwor- 
thy of belief, would require us to believe that the world 
has neither a Creator nor moral Governor. 

Let the sceptic, then, examine the evidences of the Gos- 



4j temptations of yoitng men. 

pel. Each one is strong by itself, and all combined con- 
stitute a' solid mass which no force or ingenuity can over- 
throw. The public and unequivocal miracles wrought 
by the Saviour and his apostles — prophecy verified at 
the present day in the fulfilment of its predictions — the 
rapid and triumphant propagation of the Christian reli- 
gion when met by the most violent opposition — the un- 
exampled and perfect moral purity of the doctrines and 
precepts of the Bible — the life and character of Jesus 
Christ, unparalleled in the examples of virtue among 
mankind — and the adaptation of his religion in every 
part of it to the Avants of human nature — all conspire to 
attest the truth, inspiration, and excellence of the Scrip- 
tures. But chiefly let the Bible itself be read ; it is the 
best book on the evidences of Christianity ever written: 
ignorance is the fruitful cause of objections to it, and 
when read with an humble, docile, and honest heart, its 
divine origin shines on every page. 

2. But some are too enlightened and conscientious 
to be sceptical, and yet unwilling to submit fully to the 
Gospel. They are tempted to seek some half-way point, 
where sin can be indulged, and enough of the form of 
religion obtained to pacify conscience; and unfortunately 
various systems of error afibrd the desired refuge. 
Some errorists warmly protest that they alone know 
the truth ; and are deceived, because with much that is 
false they mingle much that is true ; for error is danger- 
ous as it is mixed with, or resembles the truth. Others, 
impressed with false ideas of liberality, suppose there 
are no essential or fundamental principles in religion ; 
and that there can be no important difference between 
the conflicting creeds of those who profess to be chris- 
tians. They believe there is truth in science, medicine, 
law, and politics, and that error in any one of these must 
be injurious ; but that on the subject which relates to 
man's eternal destiny, it is immaterial what he believes, 



TEMPTATlOiNS OF YOUJN'G MEN. 5 

provided he be sincere. If it be asked what views are 
erroneous 1 We answer, those which disagree with the 
great essential truths revealed in the Scriptures, and 
professed by all evangelical christians : such as the fal- 
len and utterly lost condition of man : his redemption 
by the grace of God, through faith in the merits of a 
Divine Saviour : and his regeneration, and preparation 
for heaven, through the agency of the Holy Spirit, and 
the instrumentality of the means of grace. These are 
known to be true, because they accord with the plain and 
obvious meaning of the Bible, and, when really believed, 
produce the fruits of righteousness. 

As a guard against error or laxity of opinion, let it 
be borne in mind that the truth may be known. It is 
throwing contempt on God to admit that he has made 
a revelation of his will, and yet left it so unintelligible 
that we cannnot discern between what is right and what 
is wrong. We are responsible for our belief. Our opin- 
ions excite our feelings, and our feelings impel us to 
action ; and if we are guilty for doing wrong, we are 
also guilty for adopting the opinion which leads us to do 
so. Error is poisonous to the soul. Its effects may be 
slow and imperceptible, but ultimately will be certain 
and awfully destructive. It may be cherished during 
life, and may delude even in death ; but at the judgment 
we shall meet the God of truth, and he must condemn 
all who refuse to believe and love it. Tlie sincerity and 
confidence with which erroneous sentiments are avowed 
are no proofs of their correctness ] God has declared 
that when men will prefer error to truth, he will judicial- 
ly abandon them to their chosen courses, make their bands 
strong, and let them await their recompense hereafter. 

3. False notions of personal independence often fill 
the minds of young men. The early age at which they 
come into active life, a deficient education, and the driv- 
ing spirit of the times, render them vain of their strength : 



§ TEMPTATIONS 01'' YOUiV'G IVIEN. 

and they consider it an evidence of manliness to break 
over old and ordinary restrictions, and deviate from the 
beaten path before them. They imagine they must think 
for themselves, and therefore differ from every one else. 
Some have been religiously educated ; they received 
their fathers' faith without investigation ; in the world 
they hear it assailed, they listen to objections against it, 
never examine the evidences for its truth, and finally 
break what they call the trammels of education, and 
neglect or despise that religion whose sweet influences 
made their paternal home an abode of happiness, and 
moulded their early habits to virtue and truth ; and 
which those most dear to them, living and dying, valued 
above all earthly treasures. Having avowed their opin- 
ions, they feel bound to maintain them, and thus fix 
themselves immovably in some system of unbelief. Let 
all such recollect that it is far more safe to be distrustful 
than vainly confident. The faith they so independently 
reject has been the chosen portion of the wisest and 
best of earth; and when philosophy, and literature, and 
science have bowed with reverence to religion, it ill be- 
comes inexperienced youth to cast it away. 

The Avriter of these pages was, a few years since, 
called to the bed-side of a bold and daring infidel. The 
near approach of death convinced him of his need of 
preparation, but his bodily sufferings prevented his giv- 
ing the short and distracted attention of his dying hours 
to the concerns of his soul. During a slight intermission 
of pain he requested prayer to be offered. It was done, 
and he was pointed to the Saviour. He replied, " I have 
been a most wicked and incorrigible opponent of the 
whole Christian system, and I know not why I was so 
but for the pride of opinion.''^ The consolations of that 
religion which he neglected and scorned in life were 
denied him in death, and he went to eternity a sacrifice 
to a false independence and pride of opinion. "Rejoice, 



TEMPTATIOAS OF YOUiNG MEN. 7 

O young man, in thy youth ; and let thine heart cheer thee 
in the days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine 
heart, and in the sight of thine eyes : but know thou 
that for all these things God will bring thee into judg- 
ment." Eccl. 11 : 9. 

4. There are some, however, who^ from the want of 
a true spirit of independence^ fear to take an open and 
decided stand in favor of the truth. The mutual depen- 
dence which exists in society, and a false estimate of 
the wisdom and right feeling of mankind, deter many 
from expressing or changing their opinions, from break- 
ing off bad practices and vicious associations, and from 
discharging important and acknowledged duties. Ridi- 
cule and misrepresentation are also employed to keep men 
from religion. A rational conviction of truth, on good 
evidence, is characterized as credulity ; while belief, 
without evidence, is free thinking. A sincere attach- 
ment and obedience to the truth is represented as bigot- 
ry ; while a disregard of correct principles is liberality. 
The fear of God is denominated superstition; and a 
reckless course is manliness. An honest zeal for the 
best interests of mankind is called fanaticism ; and a 
selfish and careless mode of life reputable. A serious 
deportment is styled hypocrisy, and levity and dissipation 
only innocent pleasure. It is difficult to break the force 
of such perversions. The friends of true religion are 
willing to submit its evidences and doctrines to candid 
inve^^tigation, and to test its practical utility by its fruits j 
but they cannot refute a laugh, or disprove a sneer. 

Let each young man esteem his soul too valuable to 
be exchanged for so low a price as the ribaldry and 
scoffs of the profane. The law of God, and not the 
opinions of men, is the rule of life. 

God holds each individual personally responsible 
for his opinions and conduct; others may entice him 
to sin, but they will not, and cannot relieve him from 



TEMPTATIONS OF YOUNG MEN. 



punishment. A straight forward, independent attach- 
ment to what is right will alone be pleasant and safe. 
The approbation of the world is never sincerely given 
to the fearful and compromising j it is very change- 
able, worth but little at the best, and can but poorly re- 
pay the loss of the friendship of God. 

5. We naturally admire what is great ; and as the 
humble followers of Chri?t embrace "not many wise 
men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble," 
some are prone to regard the Gospel as adapted only to 
weak and inferior minds. True possessors of religion 
feel their need of it, and give it the attention it demands ; 
while rejecters, lifted up with pride, feel no necessity, 
or are so engrossed with other things, that they do not 
attend to it ; and its acceptance or rejection has ever 
turned on other causes than the strength or weakness 
of the intellect. Christianity was evidently designed 
rather to make men good^ than great. She comes to 
supply the moral necessities of mankind, and needs no 
adventitious support. But there is more in her truths, 
when cheerfully received and obeyed, to make men truly 
great, than can be found any where else. She implants 
those moral qualities which are necessary to give the 
intellect its greatest vigor. She directs attention to the 
welfare of the undying soul, an object of more impor- 
tance than empires or worlds. The Bible reveals truths 
which the greatest minds of antiquity sought in vain. 
It has afforded subjects for the noblest efforts of the pen- 
cil, and themes for the loftiest strains of eloquence and 
song ; the most profound maxims of jurisprudence, and 
the most comprehensive and excellent rules of private 
life. Those expanded minds who have conferred the 
greatest blessings on mankind, have delighted to study 
Its truths ; and Christianity should not be associated with 
littleness when she numbers among her sincere friends 
and advocates such philosophers as Newton and Euler, 



TEMPTATIONS OF YOUiN'G MEN. 9 

such physicians as Rush and Good, such lawyers as Sir 
Matthew Hale and Chief Justice Marshall, and such 
statesmen as Washington. 

6. The high, and ardent feelings of youth often lead 
them to place too great a value on the things of the 
world, and indulge expectations from it which can never 
be realized. Unmindful of the experience of others, 
they press on with eager desire to obtain its fancied bless- 
ings, till repeated and bitter disappointments convince 
them of their folly. The great end of existence is to 
glorify God, and prepare for an immortal state. The 
world, if kept in its appropriate place, and pursued from 
right motives, will be no hinderance ; but if permitted 
to engage supreme affection it must disappoint. Its 
best gifts are short-lived, often attended with satiety 
and followed by sorrow. The votary of pleasure has 
mourned the day when he bartered his soul for vani- 
ty and songs; the man of wealth has found his gold 
too poor to buy a reprieve from affliction or death, and 
the recipient of the world's applause has felt the unmiti- 
gated remorse and despair of a dying hour. God alone 
is the satisfying portion of the soul. Earth's fading 
distinctions cannot be contrasted with the imperishable 
crown of glory, nor its riches with the incorruptible 
and undefiled inheritance above. 

7. The temptation to consider religion simply a mat- 
ter of general interest, and postpone to a more convenient 
season the requisite attention to its claims, is a common 
and fatal one. The welfare of the soul is a direct per- 
sonal concern, and we should banish immediately every 
thought of neglecting it. Young men would shudder at 
the suggestion of postponing it for ever ; and in no- 
thing is the ingenuity of the great destroyer more manifest 
than the manner in which he secures the neglect of pre- 
sent opportunities with the promise of attending to the 
subject in future. But the engagements of the future 

VOL. X, 39 



10 TEMPTATIONS OF YOUNG MEN. 

will be as numerous and pressing- as those which occupy 
us now'; the work will be entirely deferred, and the de- 
laying soul perish a victim to good intentions. ''God 
now commandeth all men every where to repent." Acts, 
17:30. He says, "Behold now is the accepted time, 
behold now is the day of salvation." 2 Cor. 6 : 2. He of- 
fers no mercy to the future penitent, nor can he con- 
sistently ; and if any of our pursuits forbid immediate 
obedience to his claims, they are sinful and should be 
abandoned. Business and care will multiply with years, 
bad habits may be inveterately formed, and the power and 
pollution of sin will increase. Circumstances now fa- 
vorable may be changed, and existing difficulties become 
more formidable ; and should you not descend to an 
early tomb, by the repeated neglect of your privileges 
you may tempt God to Avithhold the influences of his 
Spirit, and there will then remain no hope for you. You 
will live a ruined man — you may move cheerfully in so- 
ciety, but will be as certain of perdition as if you were 
at this moment in the midst of its agonies and woes. 

8. Young men are often deeply injured by reading 
works ofJicHo?i, and attending theatrical representations. 
We class these together because both appeal to the ima- 
gination. Novels form a large part of the literature of 
the present day, and the theatre professes to be a good 
school for the study of morality and human nature. 
They are hurtful, as they give an undue predominance 
to the imagination, and weaken and depress the other 
faculties of the mind. The beautiful harmony of the in- 
tellectual powers is destroyed, and mental imbecility 
and deformity ensue. 

The love of fiction^ and a spirit of deep, patient, phi- 
losophic investigation, cannot be united. The dispro- 
portionate exercise of the imagination is prejudicial to 
the health and development of the physical system, and 
tends to shorten life. It expels true social affection from 



TEMPTATIOA'S OF VOUJSG MEN. 11 

the heart, and renders it cold, obdurate, and selfish. '' No 
cloak of selfishness," says the author of the Natural 
History of Enthusiasm, '^ is more impenetrable than 
that which usually envelopes a pampered imagination. 
The reality of wo is the very circumstance that paraly- 
zes sympathy J and the eyes that can pour forth their 
floods of commiseration over the sorrows of the ro- 
mance or the drama, grudge a tear to the substantial 
wretchedness of the unhappy. This kind of luxurious 
sensitiveness to fiction is not unfrequentlj'" conjoined 
with a callousness that enables the subject of it to pass 
through the affecting occasions of domestic life in im- 
movable apathy : the heart has become like that of le- 
viathan, ' firm as a stone, yea, hard as a piece of the 
nether millstone.' " It also unfits the individual for the 
sober business of life ; inevitably weakens and deadens 
moral principle ; strengthens vicious propensities ; leads 
to a rejection of the Gospel, and prepares the soul for 
a world where its delusions and dreams will be ex- 
changed for the most appalling realities. 

The theatre adds to these evils others of a fearful 
character. It is supported by intemperance and licen- 
tiousness, and the immorality of its actors is well 
known. It has ever been hostile to those virtues which 
make society happy ; and it is distressing to think of 
the many who, in attending it, commenced or prose- 
cuted a career which has ended in the loss of health, 
property, reputation, life, and heaven. Let young men 
be on their guard. Books of travels, history, science 
and religion, will furnish rich food for their minds, and 
the v^arious institutions designed for the advancement 
of the temporal and eternal welfare of man will afford 
ample scope for the cultivation of all the virtues which 
adorn humanity. 

9. The temptations to intemperance still beset the un- 
e^uarded. From the large army of drunkards a detach- 



12 TEMPTATIONS OF YOUNG MEN. 

ment of several thousand is every year consigned to 
death. But the army does not decrease : the young men 
of the country crowd in as volunteers to fill the vacant 
places, and the unbroken host moves on to ruin. While 
danger is altogether unsuspected, a taste for intoxicat- 
ing drinks is gradually formed ; repeated gratifications 
increase it, and soon the deluded victim of this vice 
becomes abandoned. When entering on active life, ani- 
mated with hope and cheered by the devoted attach- 
ment of friends, the youth would think as complacently of 
ending his life in a dungeon or on a gibbet, as of dying 
a drunkard ; and yet many, deceived by the insidious 
approaches of intemperance, have gone down, through 
a life of wretchedness, to a death of infamy and an eter- 
nity of wo. Young man, awake to a knowledge of your 
state. You may be approaching that tremendous whirl- 
pool whose waters have engulfed many vessels as fair 
.md staunch as your own. Listen to its fearful roar ; 
look beyond and see the shore covered with the drifted 
wrecks of human genius, and greatness, and excellence ; 
venture not even to its outmost verge. Your security 
consists in total abstinence from the intoxicating agent. 
10. Many are tempted to gambling. In this we in- 
clude betting in every form, encouraging lotteries, and 
the irrational practice of playing at games of chance. 
Property is a trust conferred on its possessor, and for 
its use God will hold him responsible. The unprofitable 
servant, who only buried his talent, was condemned to 
outer darkness; with how much severer punishment 
must he be visited who, by betting, throws away, with- 
out the least return, the possessions committed to his 
charge 1 Lotteries are extensive legalized systems of 
fraud, by which a few are enabled to possess themselves 
of the hard earnings of the many ; and with all other 
games of chance, even such as are resorted to for amuse- 
ment, are wrong : they involve an impious appeal to the 



TEMPTATIONS OF YOUNG MEN. IS 

divine throne, and are a wanton profanation of the lot, 
which is an institution of God for special religious and 
moral purposes. There is no such thing as chance. 
"God's kingdom ruleth over all." Ps. 103 : 19. "The lot 
is cast into the lap ; but the whole disposing thereof ir? 
of the Lord 5" Prov. 16 : 33 ; and the repeated reference 
to his providence on the most trivial occasions must be 
displeasing to him. If there were no playing for amuse- 
ment there would be no gambling. Those who begin 
without any anticipation of injury, are seduced from 
step to step, till they become occasional gamblers, and 
some go so far as to make it a profession. The lowest 
avarice, and the most disgusting passions, rule in the 
hearts of such as give themselves up to this vice. The 
endearing ties which bind the man to his family and so- 
ciety are sundered, he becomes an outcast from all holy 
and restoring influences, an associate of such as he de- 
spises, and a prey to those whose tender mercies are 
cruel. "Touch not — handle not," should be the govern- 
ing motto of every one who would escape this evil. 

1 1. A temptation must now be mentioned which stands 
more in the way of the salvation of young men than 
perhaps any other. It is one which, from the depravity 
of our nature, operates universally ; and though the ef- 
fects of yielding to it are not always apparent, they are 
not therefore the less ruinous. It is the temptation to 
licentiousness. It may exist unaccompanied with overt 
acts of transgression : "I say unto you, that whosoever 
looketh on a woman to lust after her, hath committed 
adultery with her already in his heart." Matt. 5 : 28. 
To describe its extensive and injurious influence would 
be impossible. Where it is simply confined to the heart, 
it weakens and vitiates the intellectual and moral pow- 
ers ; and where practised outwardly is fatal to all virtue 
and happiness. It produces neglect of the means of 
grace, leads to scepticism, and makes man "earthly, 

VOL. X. 39* 



14 TEMPTATIONS OF YOUNG MEN. 

sensual, devilish." It commences in unguarded impu- 
rity of heart, continues in debasement of life, and ends 
in a shattered constitution, early death, and ceaseless 
pain hereafter. If the fire is not already burning within 
and consuming him, let the young man bear in mind 
that he carries in his bosom combustible materials, and 
he must keep away the spark which would inflame them. 
Let him "keep his heart with all diligence," Prov. 4: 
23, restrain his imagination, guard against idleness, shun 
all vicious associations, and seek the purifying and 
strengthening influence of God's grace ever to be with 
him. 

12. The present age oflers remarkable facilities for 
accumulating wealth ; and one of its most alarming 
evils is the general tendency to covet ousjiess. This word 
is unpopular, and frequently misunderstood ; but so far 
is it from designating an imaginary evil, that the haste 
to be rich witnessed on every hand, is but a develope- 
ment of it. What a heathen poet calls '^ the cursed 
thirst for gold," seems to bring into subordination, or 
swallow up, all other interests. The value of wealth, 
wisely used, cannot be denied ; but it can never be ad- 
mitted that God's chief design in the glorious works of 
creation, providence, and redemption, was to enable his 
immortal creatures to hoard up treasures which cannot 
bless them in eternity, which even here may take to 
themselves wings and fly away, or from which death 
may tear them at any moment. On no pursuit has he 
more clearly marked his disapprobation than this, when 
carried to excess. It may appear more reputable, be- 
cause free from the grosser consequences which attend 
other evil courses, but is more to be feared on that 
account. It robs its possessor of self-respect, and the 
respect of others. It withers his sympathies and mur- 
ders his conscience. It produces habits which destroy 
all susceptibility for the enjoyment of riches when oh- 



TEMPTATIO.NS OF VOUJXG MEiN. lO 

tained. "The love of money is the root of all evil," 
I Tim. G : 10, and much of the war, murder, theft, dis- 
honesty, slander, quarrelling-, dissipation, and licentious- 
ness which has cursed the earth, originated in it The 
Scriptures plainly declare that "covetousness is idola- 
try," Col. 3:5; and class it with adultery, and all the 
principal sins which exist in the world. It is a dis- 
position unprecedented in the character of any of the 
children of God mentioned in the Scriptures. One spoke 
unadvisedly ; another, influenced by fear, cursed and 
swore ; a third was betrayed into a passion ; a fourth 
was guilty of adultery — but not one was covetous. 

But its crowning and most deadly act is that it steals 
the heart from God ; permits his day of gracious visita- 
tion to pass unimproved, and brings upon those w^ho 
would be rich in this world, everlastinsf and irretrieva- 
ble poverty. " Labor not for the meat which perisheth, 
but for that meat which cndureth unto everlasting life." 
John, 6 : 27. " What shall it profit a man if he gain the 
whole world and lose his own soul 1 or what shall a man 
give in exchange for his soul." Mark, 8 : 36, 37. 

Other temptations might be mentioned, but these are 
the most common and dangerous. A general remark 
must sufiice for the rest. God will be your final Judge, 
and his estimate of your character will determine your 
destiny. What he approves is right, what he forbids is 
Avrong. Whatever would lead you away from him will 
bring guilt upon you, and pierce you through with many 
sorrows. No circumstance can ever justify sin against 
him. If you would have his approbation, shun the very 
appearance of evil. Indifference to temptation, or dal- 
lying w^ith it, will lead you to sin, and " sin when it is 
finished bringeth forth death." James, 1 : 15. Your un- 
dying soul is in danger. If fire consume your dwelling, 
you can rebuild it ; if disease waste your health, you 



16 TEMPTATIONS Of VOUNG MEN. 

may regain it ; if slander blight your reputation, you 
may repair it ; but if your soul is lost, all is gone* 
Once lost J you are lost for ever. 

Young men ! by your weighty obligations to your 
country, be entreated to guard against sin, for it is 
'' righteousness" that " exalteth a nation." By your so- 
lemn responsibilities to your fellow-men, be induced to 
exemplify in your lives the purity and excellence of 
the Gospel. By your dearest and most important in- 
terests, be excited to " walk circumspectly, not as fools, 
but as wise." Eph. 5 : 15. By the solemnities of the 
last day be persuaded to make the needful preparation 
to meet God, through repentance for sin and faith in 
Jesus Christ. By all the glories that cluster around the 
Redeemer's cross, be constrained to " yield yourselves 
to God." Rom. 6 ; 13. Seek, before every thing else, 
his friendship through the merits of his Son. This will 
bring you lasting peace and substantial happiness ; 
will cheer the darkest hour of your earthly pilgrimage j 
strengthen you under the heaviest trial which awaits 
you ; convert the bed of death into a scene of triumph, 
and link the last pang of expiring nature with the first 
rapture of never-ending joy. Engrave upon your hearts 
the advice of the dying king of Israel to his royal son, 
and let it be the guide of your existence : '* Solomon, 
my son, know thou the God of thy father, and serve 
him with a perfect heart, and with a willing mind : for 
the Lord searcheth all hearts, and understandeth all the 
imaginations of the thoughts : if thou seek him he wili 
be found of thee ; but if thou forsake him he will cast 
thee off for ever." 1 Chron. 28 : 9. 

(This Tract was prepared and published in compliance with the 
dying request of the widow of the lamented Harlan Page, of New- 
YorV: city.) 



' Wo. 402. 

COUNSELS TO A YOUNG MAN. 



A Young Man ! — How interesting the character to 
the christian philanthropist ! In him he contemplates a 
spirit immortal, intelligent, accountable, just commenc- 
ing an endless existence amid special adv^antages and 
peculiar dangers. And he sees pending on the first di- 
rection of its course, infinite results ! Let me then af- 
fectionately speak to the youthful reader of the snares 
and temptations to which he is exposed. These are both 
internal^ resulting from the perversion and corruption of 
the intellectual and moral powers by sin j and external^ 
arising from surrounding objects of sense. The latter, 
however, derive their chief power from their alliance to 
the former. It is its own native depravity that has thus 
brought the soul into subjection. The immortal part is 
controlled by that which is jnortal ; the spiritual, by the 
animal nature. Such is the melancholy effect of the apos- 
tacy, and hence the dangers which so constantly beset 
us. In the ardent season of youth, the peril is the more 
imminent with the increased force of temptation. 

The imagination is the medium through which our in- 
sidious adversary presents some of his most fatal snares, 
and whatever can minister aliment to a vain and vicious 
imagination should be most vigilantly shunned. 

Of this nature are most of the fictitious puhlicationft 
of the present day. The perusal of these you ought to 
consider as a dangerous snare. At no former period, 
perhaps, has the press poured forth so profusely this 
class of literature. Decked in gaudy attire, and embel- 
lished with all that can render them attractive, these ve- 
hicles too often of licentiousness and infidelity, are scat- 



-J COUNSELS TO A YOUNG MAN. 

tercd through the land, and not unfrequently form the 
ornaments of the parlor and drawing-room. There 
they are enshrined, supplanting the useful productions 
of genius and science, and captivating the mind and 
heart by their fascinating but destructive influence. 
Through these polished magazines of temptation the 
youthful fancy loves to rove, feasting on its poisonous 
sweets, and eagerly pursuing every new production both 
as an incentive and a gratifier of its wayward inclina- 
tions. That some of these productions bear the im- 
press, and merit the applause of great mental accomplish- 
ments, is not to be denied. But it is the impress of 
talent perverted and abused. And, 

"While on their pages genius smiles, 
Religion di.ops a tear. 

Intellectual effort not being required to any consider- 
able degree in their perusal, the mind becomes impover- 
ished amid these repeated reveries of the imagination, 
and the deluded youth is gradually unfitted for the sober 
realities of life 5 disqualified either to perform its rela- 
tive and social duties, to enjoy its rational comforts, or 
to endure its necessary and common afflictions. The 
world is thus contemplate^ through a false medium, by 
which "beauty is painted in colors more charming 
than nature, and happiness described which man never 
tastes ;" and as quickly as the vision is ended, does the 
mind become dissatisfied with itself, and disappointed 
in all with which it finds itself connected. I have watch- 
ed the process of this mental and moral contamination. I 
have seen young persons of respectability and promise, 
with their attention riveted to a volume which their con- 
sciences condemned, and which they felt constrained to 
conceal from their parents. But so fascinated were they 
with its attractions that, like the bird fluttering beneath 



COUNSELS TO A YOUNG MAN. 3 

the fangs of the basilisk, or like our first mother in Eden, 
they could not extricate themselves. 

I forbear to expatiate on the prevalence and the baleful 
influence of publications more directly cherishing licen- 
tiousness and atheism, and the more than questionable ex- 
hibitions of statuary and painting. ^' The numbers of the 
poet, the delightful melody of song, the fascinations of the 
chisel, and the spell of the pencil, have been all volun- 
teered for the moral ruin of unhappy man." The follow- 
ing resolution of an accomplished gentleman and orator, 
who feared God,* affords a safe rule for guidance on 
this subject. Permit me to recommend it to your at- 
tention and adoption, with reference to this whole class 
of temptations : '^/ will not read any book which I 
should be unwilling io have it known that I had read, or 
the reading of which I shall probably recollect with regret 
on my dying bed.''"' 

Theatrical representations are also a powerful auxiliary 
to the great tempter and destroyer. The mind especial- 
ly that has been entranced with fiction in private, will 
desire to see the scenes of unreal mirth and wo with 
which it has been conversant, personified upon the 
stage. Hence novels are often converted into plays. 
The theatre has been called a " school of morals," 
and its false exhibitions of joy and sorrow, " useful." 
But this, in truth, is the language of irony. You are 
probably aware that the theatre originated under the 
government and rites of heathenism, and that it was 
denounced even by heathen moralists. " Plays," said 
Plato, " raise the passions and pervert the use of them, 
and are dangerous to morality." Theatrical exhibi- 
tions have ever been condemned in christian countries 
as highly immoral in their tendency. Even the infidel 
Rousseau, though he wrote for the stage, resisted the 

* Rev. Dr. Porter, late of the Theological Seminary, Andover. 



4' COUNSELS TO A YOUNG MAN. 

attempt to introduce this amusement into Geneva, on 
the ground of its deeply corrupting influence. It may 
justly be styled a " school of licentiousness^'''' for within 
its unhallowed precincts infatuated youth of both sexes 
learn to witness without a blush, and to hear unshocked, 
what would not be endured in a priv^ate social circle of 
the least respectability. To say nothing of the avenues 
to intemperance, gaming, and crime which surround the 
theatre ; there, as in the writings of fiction and ro- 
mance, the mind becomes familiar with scenes in which 
virtue is oppressed, and vice triumphs and is vindicated 
under every false and deceptive plea. The annals of 
crime furnish the most melancholy facts in countless 
detail, to illustrate its destructive influence on the cha- 
racter, the prospects, the hopes, in short, the welfare, 
temporal and eternal, of the young. 

The passions and appetites, operating and acted upon 
through the medium of the senses, form another fruitful 
source of temptation; their predominance over the reason 
and judgment is almost characteristic of early life, and 
is the cause of a large proportion of the follies, crimes, 
and wretchedness, which mark the temporal if not the 
everlasting ruin of many of the young. Through the in- 
fluence of an excited imagination, perverted by such in- 
strumentalities as are already noticed, the arch-deceiver 
presents the enticements of sensual pleasure. Hence the 
multiplied warnings of experience in the fate of innume- 
rable victims are generally as powerless and unheeded as 
are those so faithfully and graphically drawn on the sa- 
cred pages. Alas, too often the syren song of pleasure 
has more charms for unsuspecting youth than the voice 
of heavenly wisdom. They first listen to her delusive 
strains, and then yield themselves living sacrifices to 
her tyrannical and destructive sway. Loss of character, 
friends, employment, health, and life follow in her train; 
but what are these, compared with that quenchless rao-- 



COUNSELS TO A YOUNG MAN. D 

ing of desire, that indelible stain of guilt, and those end- 
less stings of remorse, treasured up against that day, 
when the results of such a career, however secret, will be 
felt in eternal banishment fronn all purity, and the destruc- 
tion of both soul and body in hell ! If you would shun 
the vortex, "keep thy heart with all diligence." '' Be tem- 
perate in all things." Avoid every avenue of temptation. 
'^ Touch not, taste not, handle not," under any form, the 
cup of intoxication. Be employed in some profitable 
study or useful business ; for idleness is the fruitful 
parent of vice — the handmaid of every temptation. 

Your social feelings likewise expose you to many 
temptations. You are fond of society — a trait in the hu- 
man character designed to be a source of our highest 
earthly enjoyment, and which, when rightly controll- 
ed and directed, especially when governed by the prin- 
ciples of piety in the heart, is still promotive of much of 
our comfort and aid on life's pilgrimage. But it is a 
painful truth, that our social nature has been rendered, 
by sin, an instrument of mutual corruption and ruin, 
through the force of example. Such is the depravity of 
the heart, that it gives to vicious example, and evil com- 
munications, a cordial reception. The soil is adapted to 
the seed ; and having contracted such an intimacy with 
others as to yield to them your confidence, the seeds of 
vice and infidelity may be easily and thickly sown in 
your heart when you are least aware. When persons 
meet but seldom, and in public or among strangers, a 
natural caution, or motives of policy, may induce an ar- 
tificial demeanor which disguises their true characters; 
yet even in such circumstances evil example is not 
without its influence. But the intimacy of private friend- 
ship and frequent social intercourse, in which restraint 
is thrown off, and secret feelings and sentiments are 
disclosed, affords the greatest facilities to the tempter. 
You will, I presume, readily admit that such intimacy 

VOL. X. 40 



b COUNSELS TO A YOUiNG MAN. 

with a bold profligate, or one who is under no influence 
but that of an unsubdued will and unbridled passions 
and appetites, is extremely hazardous to a young man. 
And I trust you have contracted no such friendships, 
or if you have, that you will immediately abandon them, 
as you value your moral character and immortal welfare. 
The example and influence of open profligacy, how- 
ever, though very corrupting, is not the most ensnaring j 
for it often counteracts itself by its shocking impiety, 
and disgusts rather than allures a reflecting mind. It is 
the companionship of those whose frivolity, practical 
infidelity, and supreme devotedness to pleasure, are 
blended with much amiableness of disposition, attrac- 
tiveness of manner, refinement of taste, mental cultiva- 
tion, and propriety of outward deportment, that wins 
the confidence of the youthful heart. They often profess 
and manifest much respect for the institutions of Chris- 
tianity, and not unfreqently maintain a '' form of godli- 
ness." The following lines present the general features 
of their portraiture : 

" Mine be the friend less frequent in his prayers, 

" Who makes no bustle with his soul's affairs, 

" Whose wit can brighten up a Mdntry day, 

" And chase the spleen of life's dull hours away; 

" Leaves saints to enjoy the mysteries they teach, 

" And plucks the fruit placed more within his reach." 

If your feelings and preference in the selection of your 
companions accord with this language, you may soon 
place yourself, if you have not already done so, within 
the fatal vortex of licentious dissipation. All the temp- 
tations which I have specified will throng around you 
with increased power, from the influence of such asso- 
ciates. The restraints of conscience and a religious 
education, if you have been blessed with one, will be 
gradually thrown ofl^. You will be tempted in the out- 



COUJSSELS TO A YOUiNG MAN. 7 

set to dismiss those serious thoughts which are essen- 
tially connected with the future welfare of the soul. 
Your facilities for poisoning the mind and hardening the 
heart through the imagination will be augmented ; and 
from the more refined works of fiction and folly you will 
soon be introduced to an acquaintance with the gross- 
er productions of licentiousness and infidelity. When 
thus your imagination has become corrupted and your 
conscience seared, if not before, you will feel no reluc- 
tance in a frequent resort to the scenes of dissipation. 

Among these, in addition to the theatre, are the 
chamber of mirth and professed parties of pleasure. I 
mean such pleasure as expels seriousness and even re- 
flection, unfits the heart for devotion, and renders it 
averse to self-scrutiny and meditation in solitude 5 plea- 
sure^ which reason as well as the Bible condemns, for 
its inconsistency with the character and circumstances 
of man as a sinner, and with his destiny as an heir of 
immortality ; pleasure^ in the pursuit or enjoyment of 
which you cannot pray, and dare not die. Whatever 
has such an influence over the mind and heart, must, in 
its very nature, be dangerous to your highest interests, 
although it may receive from the world the stamp of 
innocency. To these scenes of dissipation you may be 
often allured, and, ere you are aware, become devoted. 

Under this overwhelming influence from the " lovers 
of pleasure more than lovers of God," there is another 
tendency of the youthful heart which adds strength to 
temptation — its proneness to overrate or form a wrong 
estimate of worldly happiness. Reason teaches that our 
natures require sources of enjoyment more exalted and 
enduring than the transient objects of time. Experience 
seconds the admonitions of reason. The pathway of the 
young is guarded with beacons, rising amid the wretch- 
edness of the unhappy victims to amusement and illicit 
pleasure, warning of the impending danger, while the 



8 COUNSELS TO A YOUNG MAN. 

oracles of God present the same caution, both by pre- 
cept and example, on almost every page. They de- 
nounce as pernicious and destructive to the soul, every 
scheme and object in the pursuit of happiness, which ia 
at variance with the divine commands, and with an ha- 
bitual preparation for death and the scenes beyond it. 
Yet notwithstanding these counsels from reason, expe- 
rience, and revelation, there is no truth which the young 
seem so reluctant to accredit, as that mere worldly hap- 
piness, from whatever object it is sought, lies chiefly 
in anticipation; and, when attained, is transient and un- 
satisfying. They still pursue the visionary chase, urged 
onward by the example and influence of others, until 
personal experience alone brings them to reflection. 

Let me also caution you against those appeals which 
may be made to your pride, your curiosity, or your 
love of variety, to draw you into the snares which the 
world presents under the disguise of happiness. These 
appeals are usually made through the medium oi fashion 
or the prevailing customs and opinions of society. The 
power of fashion in the dissemination of vice is very 
manifest. You may have observed with what self-com- 
placency the youthful disciple in the school of intem- 
perance calls for the social dram with his companions ; 
utters the half-learned epithets of fashionable profane- 
ness ; and relates his adventures in some Sunday frolic 
or scene of fashionable dissipation. With what an air 
of self-consequence does he spurn parental authority, 
if indeed he has ever been made acquainted with it ; 
and with what aping of manhood and " swelling words 
of vanity" does he talk about the prejudices of educa- 
tion I Perhaps through no medium does the force of un- 
godly example harden the heart and sear the conscience 
more rapidly than that of fashion. To say nothing of 
the pecuniary risks and embarrassments to which her 
extravagant demands in dress, equipage, and style of liv- 



COU^'SELS TO A YOUNG MAN. 



ing tempt her votaries ; they are gradually unfitted for 
usefulness, and even for the enjoyment of their own 
schemes of happiness. You cannot guard too cautiously 
against the influence of fashion over your social feel- 
ings, and against the temptations which are thus so 
thickly spread around you to overrate and inordinately 
pursue worldly happiness. 

The following is not a solitary, nor even a rare oc- 
currence : A youth of pious education and of promise, 
becomes intimately associated with an amiable, intelli- 
gent, and genteel libertine, until, attracted by his fasci- 
nating manners and generous disposition, he prefers 
his society and yields him implicit confidence. His 
seducer recites some of the less appalling feats in his 
own career 5 perhaps the pleasures of the race-ground, 
the frolics of the chase, or the fascinations of the ball- 
room or theatre. With the aid of romance the youth 
is next induced to draw an invidious contrast between 
the restraints of home and the libertinism of his mis- 
named friend^ until his prejudices are enlisted against 
the former and in favor of the latter. Having heard with 
interest the description, he is easily tempted, and soon 
brought within the giddy whirl of amusement. 

As he is borne onward from one scene of dissipation 
to another, he is brought to the gaming-table^ under 
some one of its more genteel forms, and, at first, merely 
as a means of diversion. Accustomed from childhood 
to associate gaming with crime and infamy, he is start- 
led at the temptation. But the presence of his asso- 
ciates, and especially the influence of his friend^ (who 
may have also secured him in the fetters of pecuniary 
obligation^) embolden him to throw ofi^ these " preju- 
dices of the nursery." Thus the check which an enfee- 
bled conscience attempted to give, is stifled, and that 
faithful monitor is resisted into silence. He becomes 
a skilful gambler, and finds the midnight hours too 

VOL. X. 40* 



10 COUNSELS TO A YOUNG MAN. 

short for his engagements. Fatigue and exhaustion 
afford a- ready apology for tasting the cup of intoxica- 
t.io7i in the shape of wine, cordial, or some other of its 
more inviting forms, and he retires from the scene en- 
tranced with its fascinations. He is now of course an 
easy prey to these temptations. He soon becomes a 
manage?' in these sports of ungodliness ; and at length, 
through covetousness or pecuniary embarrassment, is 
led to employ the gaming-table in all its forms as a 
source of unjust gain, and ultimately as an altar on 
which he sacrifices all his temporal prospects. Disap- 
pointment and pecuniary ruin now render any intoxi- 
cating draught a welcome solace. The haunts of idle- 
ness and infamy become his habitual resort, and his as- 
sociates are now the abandoned and the vile. Eeduced 
to penury, stript of character, and corrupted by sensu- 
ality, he becomes the victim of disease, or the reckless 
perpetrator of crime ; and the dram-shop, the brothel, 
the prison, the gallows, or some other miserable end, 
form the waymarks of his course to perdition. " Blessed 
is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungod- 
ly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in 
the seat of the scornful." Stand aloof, I beseech you, 
my young friend, from the companionship of the liber- 
tine, the free-thinker, and all who evince by their con- 
duct that they '^ fear not God, neither regard man." 

Another general class of temptations to which you 
are peculiarly exposed at the present day and in this 
country, are those which arise from the genius of our 

GOVERNMENT, AND THE SPIRIT OF THE AGE. 

The current of popular feeling is strongly towards 
natural liberty, or the removal of all coercion from in- 
dividual passion and inclination. It is on this feeling 
that infidelity fastens its cold and iron grasp, and en- 
slaves the mind under the pretence of free-thinking. 



COUNSELS TO A YOUNG MAN. H 

The disposition which cannot brook the restraint of 
faithful domestic government, or has never been sub- 
dued by such restraint, is that which sets at defiance 
the law of God, and ultimately, civil authority. The 
same influence Avhich would tempt you to obliterate the 
impressions of early religious instruction, and to resist 
those salutary monitions of conscience which result 
from such instruction, will, if cherished, soon destroy 
your confidence in divine revelation and the truths of 
the christian religion. 

You are beset with temptations also, in the multiplied, 
various, and often conflicting objects of attention, all 
claiming the sanction of religious obligation, which, 
through the freedom of the press, are constantly pre- 
sented to the public mind When I reflect on these in- 
fluences, and the boldness of the advocates of infidelity, 
who say " Our lips are our own, who is lord over us 1" 
I feel that you stand in jeopardy every hour. Guard 
especially against that -spirit of self-confidence, which, 
in connection with this feeling of scepticism, Avill tempt 
you to arraign God's revelation at the bar of reason^ as 
the umpire not only of what it does, but of what it ought 
or ouo-ht not to contain. " Thus saith the Lord, ask for 
the old paths, where is the good way, and walk there- 
in, and ye shall find rest for your souls." 

The spirit of enterprise and of change which charac- 
terises the present age, is likely to generate a lauiess 
ambition — an eagerness for preferment — that is reckless 
of the means employed to obtain it. Such a disposi- 
tion can be cherished, and such a course of conduct pur- 
sued, only by the abandonment of all moral principle, 
and the sacrifice of the soul to a fickle popularity Un- 
der a government like ours, where the offices of trust 
and authority are open to all, and the aspirants are mul- 
tiform and numerous, the temptations to such a derelic- 
tion of moral principle are powerful and dangerous. It 



12 COUNSELS TO A YOUNG MAN. 

is not necessary to specify the practiced arts of bribery, 
deceit, intrigue, hypocrisy, falsehood and perjury, or to 
point you to examples of such sacrifice of character and 
principle, which are more than sufficient to warn you 
against this class of temptations. 

The production in the heart of an inordinate love 
of gain, is another tendency of the prevalent spirit of 
enterprise. At no period of our country's history, per- 
haps, have the temptations which the love of money 
presents to a young man, been so numerous and formida- 
ble. He is surrounded by the example of his superiors 
in age and experience, who may be accumulating thou- 
sands by the transactions of an hour or the throw 
of a die, and by the multitude incessantly driving for- 
ward in the competition for wealth. Amid this current 
of example, and especially if intimately associated with 
those who, though they may profess better things, are 
" making haste to be rich," you are exposed to become 
a devotee of mammon; and as such you will be tempted 
by some of its numerous snares to barter your soul for 
money ! Passing by, at present, the fearful warnings of 
the Bible on this point, which declares a supreme de- 
votedness to wealth to be an insuperable barrier be- 
tween the sinner and heaven — more difficult to over- 
come than for " a camel to pass through the eye of a 
needle" — let me specify a few of these temptations. 

Under the plea of '^enterprise" the inordinate pur- 
suit of wealth will tempt you to adopt and practise 
measures for its attainment inconsistent with the prin- 
ciples of strict justice and equity. " As honest as the 
times will admit," is a phrase, too frequently expressive 
of real character. Your business may be one which is at 
variance with the interests of your neighbor, as the 
manufacture and sale of intoxicating drink, the vending 
of lottery tickets, or the furnishing of other means 
of gaming and dissipation, and thus indicate that you 



COUMSELS TO A YOUNG MAN. 13 

have lowered your standard of morality down to a pal- 
pable violation of the Saviour's golden rule of equity. 

Or if your business be in itself proper and respec- 
table, an excessive thirst for gain may tempt you to 
some of those " tricks of trade," so called, which heap 
guilt upon the conscience and ruin the soul. Of this 
nature are the concealment of defects in articles sold j 
extravagant and false recommendations of their qualities ; 
exorbitant and extortionate charges 5 unjust deprecia- 
tion of the goods of another ; oppression of the hireling 
in his wages ; unjust weights and measures ; adultera- 
tion and deception in those articles which are suscep- 
tible of it, both in their original manufacture and subse- 
quently, and other similar practices. In some forms of 
business, breaches of trust, or speculations on borrowed 
capital, may tempt you to leave your creditors penny- 
less, while you live secure from want, if not luxuriously, 
but with " a fearful looking for of judgment and fiery 
indiofnation." 

I might speak of usury, avarice, and a host of other 
temptations, incident to the inordinate love of pecuniary 
gain. But they are innumerable. J^egled of the means 
of salvation^ and a desecration of the Sabbath to secular 
purposes, are not the least among them. " They that 
will be rich fall into temptation and a snare, and into 
many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown men 
in destruction and perdition. For the love of money 
is the root of all evil." Mark this declaration. Suc- 
cess in the pursuit of wealth is not necessary to bring 
you within its ensnaring and ruinous influence. The 
supreme love of mammon may be as fatal to the soul 
amid the entire defeat of its wishes, as under the noon- 
tide of prosperity. Ungratified covetousness, especially 
when incited by the demands of dissipated habits and 
love of sensual indulgence, exposes its subject to the 
temptations of fraud, theft, forgery, and other similar 



14 COUNSEJ.S TO A YOUA'G MAN. 

crimes, which result in ruin even for the present life. 
Your be«t safeguard on this subject is the acquirement 
and preservation of that frame of mind which, in sub- 
mission to the divine will, prompted the prayer of Agur ; 
" Give me neither poverty nor riches ; feed me wifli 
food convenient for me. Lest I be full and deny thee, 
and say. Who is the Lord I or lest I be poor and steal, 
and take the name of my God in vain " 

I will allude to but one other class of temptations to 
which you are peculiarly exposed. This is especially 
an age of revivals of religion, or of the mission of the 
Holy Spirit. You will be surrounded by these gracious 
movements, and may sometimes feel their influence on 
your own mind. You will therefore be tempted to sin 
against this blessed agent in these his vital operations, 
and thus seal your own death-warrant for eternity. 
Guard, I entreat you, against every emotion of levity or 
indifference, to say nothing of contempt and ridicule, 
which at any time may arise in your mind on this sub- 
ject. Avoid treating with similar feelings, or even with 
neglect, the Sabbath, the sanctuary, the holy Scriptures, 
and other means which God has appointed and blessed 
for human salvation. Rather give them the place they 
merit in your esteem and attention ; and above all other 
things, welcome and strive to secure to your own soul 
the abiding influences of the Spirit of grace, as your 
only basis for hope, and your only security against the 
many snares which beset you on your pilgrimage to 
the grave. 

And now, my dear young friend, I must bid you fare- 
well, with the parting exhortation to remember that you 
are travelling to the grave, and to an endless retribu- 
tion. If death should spare you, you will soon pass the 
spring-time of your existence, which, if wasted or neg- 
lected, can never be redeemed. Your character and des- 
tiny, for this world and the next, depend on the stamp, 



COUNSELS TO A VOUIsG MAN. 15 

virtuous or vicious, which that character now receives. 
Your preparation to meet and sustain the responsibili- 
ties connected with your approaching domestic and civil 
relations in life, is closely connected with your avoid- 
ance of the snares which are so thickly spread around 
you. Yield yourself up to any one of them — make the 
fatal resolve to test by your own experience the truth 
of these warnings, instead of trusting to them — and you 
make shipwreck of virtue, character, influence, happi- 
ness, all that renders life valuable or even supportable. 
Your character forms rapidly ; your habits " grow with 
your growth and strengthen with your strength." Think 
of this, if you are looking forward to old age, that your 
" bones" may not be " full of the sin of your youth." 
Beware of every thing by which impurity and licen- 
tiousness of thought, imagination, or design, may be 
awakened in the mind. Avail yourself of the moral 
seed-time of youth to '' sow to the Spirit, that you may 
of the Spirit reap life everlasting." 

Remember " it is rare to see the gray hairs of devo- 
tion silver the head which was not early taught of hea- 
ven 5" and that " early scholars in religion are the best, 
for they have less to unlearn." There is reason to hope 
that in your case the work of eradicating evil habits 
and of forming those of holy love and obedience, if he- 
gun now, would not be like the Ethiopian's changing 
his skin and the leopard his spots. If it is necessary to 
" seek the Lord while he may be found ;" how cheering 
the declaration, '* They that seek me early shall find 
me." And yet the same inspired word forbids post- 
ponement to old age. Its promises are limited to a 
present compliance with the terms of salvation. 

Keep your mind fixed on your destiny as an heir of 
immortality. Reflect on the eternal progressiveness of 
the soul. There will be a point in its existence when it 
may enjoy or sufler in a degree equal to all human en- 



16 COUNSELS TO A YOUNG MAN. 

ioyment or suffering in time. How important that now, 
at its setting- out, there be implanted in its deathless 
nature those principles of thought, feeling and action, 
which will bear thus to be continued and expanded. 
Think of pride, hatred, revenge, envy, lust, jealousy, 
covetousness and similar passions, carried forward into 
this fearful, this amazing expansion ! Think of the power 
of conscience to inflict its stingfs, when it shall have ac- 
cumulated strength from this wasteless experience. 
Think of the indelible impressions of memory^ from the 
first moment of its activity to that imaginary point in 
its course of retention : impressions unnoticed perhaps 
as they pass, as if written with sympathetic ink, but 
which will be brought out in full transparency by the 
light of eternity. 

And how terrible the thought, that these eternally le- 
gible impressions should be those of impurity and guilt, 
derived from the written and oral communications, or 
the pictorial representations and actual scenes of licen- 
tiousness I Surely this will be aliment to the worm that 
dieth not, and fuel to the fire that never shall be quench- 
ed. Such impressions may now be made as easily as on 
wax, but they will endure as if graven in eternal brass. 
" Keep thyself pure." Guard your immortal mind from 
every thought and purpose which you would not have 
retained and reflected for ever. Let your prayer ever 
be, " Lead me not into temptation." " Cleanse thou 
me from secret faults." " Keep back thy servant also 
from presumptuous sins, let them not have dominion 
over me." " Create in me a clean heart, God, and re- 
new a right spirit within me." 



A wish expressed on the dyiug-bed of the widow of the late Harlan Page, of 
New-York, led to the preparation aud issuing of the above. 



i\o. 403. 

" IF ANY MAN THIRST, LET HIM COME 
UNTO ME AND DRINK." 



Some years ago I spent the summer at Springs. 

Standing one day by the fountain where the crowd gathered 
to drink health-giving water, I was forcibly reminded of 
these gracious words of our blessed Saviour : *' If any man 
thirst, let him come unto me and drink." 

Multitudes were pressing to obtain a draught of water. 
Every age, sex, and condition were represented. The old 
tottered to the spring, and raised the glass with a trembling- 
hand. The young stood there in the flower and beauty of 
youth, with light hearts, and laughing eyes, and cheeks that 
blushed with health and happiness. The sick were sup- 
ported on the arms of friends, and as they drank, the sunken 
eye was lighted with the hope of returning life. Some were 
there from the far south, and some from foreign shores ; 
some rolled along in their splendid carriages, and some came 
leaning on a staff. A mixed multitude gathered, as the 
crowds of old around the pool of Bethesda. 

I thought again, if, in some distant and almost inacces- 
sible spot, a spring should be discovered whose waters pos- 
sessed the power of conferring imrnortality, with the bloom 
of beauty and youth, the strength of manhood, and the wis- 
dom of age, on all who should come and drink, what crowds 
would gather there, that they might taste and never die. 
How the news of the discovery would spread from city to 
city, from land to land. From every kindred, and people, 
and tongue under the whole heaven, they would come and 
" take of the water of life freel3^" No expense of time and 
money would prevent millions from flying thither. 

Again, the sound of a Saviour's voice, with the tender- 
ness of heaven in its tones of love, seemed to fall on the ear 
as it said, " Whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall 
give him, shall never thirst ; but it shall be in him a well 
of water springing up into everlasting life." This is the 
spring that confers immortality on those who drink. 

A dauo-hter of Samaria came to draw water, and the 
Saviour of the world sat resting on the well. He asked her 
for that water of which if a man drink he shall thirst again ; 
VOL. X. 41 



2 IF ANY MAN THIRST, 

but he offered her water from the vv^ell of eternal Hfe, Here 
at the springs the sons and daughters of pleasure, and the 
children of sorrow and care, were coming to draw water, 
and I longed to cry in their heaiing, " Ho, every one that 
thirsteth, come ye to the waters ; and he that hath no 
money, come ye, buy and eat ; yea, come, buy wine and 
milk without money and without price." 

These words of the prophet and those of the Saviour are 
figurative, but they are as full of meaning as they are of 
beauty. DavcII on them, dear reader, and admire them, for 
they are addressed to thee ; and happy shalt thou be if 
thou dost yield to the sweet invitation, and drink and live 
for ever. 

Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners. To 
make their salvation possible, he poured out his blood like 
water, and opened a fountain for the cleansing of sin. That 
fountain he presents under the striking emblem of water, to 
show its cleansing power, its health-imparting influence, its 
freeness and inexhaustible abundance. For such as you he 
opened this fountain, and had his eye on just such sinners, 
when he cried, " If any man thirst, let him come unto me 
and drink." 

It is a precious invitation. Heaven never sent a sweeter. 
Accept that invitation, and you will secure the forgiveness 
of your sins, and justijication before God. You need par- 
don. You are a great sinner. This your conscience tells 
you. This your Bible tells you. Your sins are in number 
like the sands on the sea-shore, or the stars in heaven. They 
are very great : committed against great light ; you knew 
your duty, but did it not : committed against great love ; 
you knew the blessed Saviour died on the cross for poor 
sinners, but you slighted his dying blood and despised his 
bleeding love. You deserve to be punished for such sins. 
You will be punished unless you are pardoned. The holy 
and inflexible law of Jehovah, whose penalty is eternal 
death, you have broken, and you must die unless another 
die in your room. Jesus Christ oflers to become the justi- 
fier of him who believes. He becomes his substitute. His 
sufferings under the law of God will be accepted in the 
stead of yours, if you will come and trvist in him. Thus the 
law will be sustained, and the sinner saved. God can be 
just, and justify the ungodly who believeth. This is a 



LET HIM COME UNTO ME AND DRIiNK. 3 

simple plan — the gospel plan. It commends itself to you 
as the only plan by Avhich you can be delivered from the 
curse of tlie law. 

But beyond all this, if you come to Christ he will grant 
the sanctification of your soul. When your past sins have 
been forgiven, the work of sanctification is begun, and only 
begun. Your heart is yet full of uncleanness. It is vile, 
and abominable, and offensive in the sight of God. Its 
desires are impure, and rebellious, and Avicked. And with 
such a heart you cannot be happy here, and could not be 
happ)" in heaven. You must be made holy, or you cannot 
be made happy. Christ Jesus offers to make you holy. 
His " blood cleanseth from all sin." The redeemed in 
heaven were made white in the blood of the Lamb. Saul 
of Tarsus washed in that fountain. The vilest sinners that 
ever lived have come to Christ, and drinking of the water 
he offers, have been sanctified and saved. 

Thus you will be pardoned, justified, sanctified ; and to 
these mercies will be added eternal life. " Sin, when it is 
finished, bringeth forth death." You must be delivered 
from the power of sin, or lie down in eternal burnings. 
This is the second death. In its eternity of woe it includes 
the wrath of an angry God, the torture of a guilty con- 
science, the gnawings of the worm that never dies, and the 
torments of the fire that is never quenched. But " God so 
loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that 
whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have 
everlasting life." In Christ is deliverance from death. In 
him is eternal life. Come to him, and you may be clothed 
•with unfading youth, raised to the enjoyment of God, and 
crowned with glory, and honor, and immortalit3^ 

These, blessings flow to those, and those only, who come 
to Christ ; and when he stands and cries, " If any man 
thirst, let him come unto me and drink," he invites you to 
partake of these infinitely precious gifts. 

There is 7io limit to this invitation, " If a)ii/ man thirst, 
let him come." The fulness of the fountain justifies the 
unbounded offer. Millions have drank till their souls were 
satisfied. But the fountain is yet full. Jews and Gentiles, 
bond and free, are alike welcome. Come one, come all, and 
drink of the water of life freely. 

Reader, perhaps you are young, and gay, and thought- 



4 IF ANY MAN THIRST, ETC. 

less. You are in search of pleasure. You drink of the 
waters of this world's pleasures, and are not satisfied. Amid 
the gayest scenes of life your soul is yet unblest. Come to 
Jesus. In him there is bliss the world knoweth not of. In 
his presence there is fulness of joy ; at his right hand there 
are pleasures for evermore. 

Perhaps 3^ou are sick, or sinking in years, and the 
world is fading and failing. In the Saviour's blood is the 
fountain of health and life. Here, where sickness, and 
infirmities, and pains, and trials beset your path, you would 
not wish to live always. Eternal life in such a world as 
this would scarcel}^ be a blessing. But the life which this 
fountain gives, is life in a better and brighter world. Drink 
of this, and the disease of your soul, the malady of sin, will 
be healed, and you shall enter on the enjoyment of heaven. 
There ''the inhabitant shall not say, I am sick." ''They 
shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more ; neither shall 
the sun light on them, nor any heat. For the Lamb which 
is in the midst of the throne shall feed tliem, and shall lead 
them unto living fountains of waters ; and God shall wipe 
away all tears from their eyes." 

You may be a vile, abandoned profligate ; but the chief 
of sinners Jesus came to save. The more unworthy you 
feel yourself to be, the more willing he is to have mercy. 

But mark one thinj^ more. Althouo-h this offer is made 
so freely, and urged with so much love, it is addressed to 
those, and those only, who thirst. " If any man thirst, let 
him come." But let not this deter you. Have you no de- 
sire for the water of life ; no desire to be pardoned, and 
saved from hell, and raised to heaven ? You have broken 
God's holy law, and are now sinking beneath its blighting 
curse. Just ready to perish, you behold the water of life 
presented ; and have you no desire to drink ? The Saviour 
offers it without money or price ; and do you not desire to 
taste and live ? 

■ Yes, sinner, I am assured you desire, you thirst. 
Accept the invitation without one moment's delay. To- 
morrow it may not be extended. You may not thirst, if it is. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



No. 404. 

I HAVE NOT TIME. 



There are many, wlio, when pressed by Christian en- 
treaty to become reconciled to God and secure the salvation 
of the soul, are ready to urge the plea, that they have no 
time to attend to it. I speak of those who acknowledge the 
importance of religion, and who purpose, before the close of 
life, to give it their serious attention, and make their peace 
with God. 

This plea, though often urged merely to silence the voice 
of Christian love, or to stifle the admonitions of conscience, is 
no doubt often made under the impression that the cares of life, 
a constant pressure of business, and the support of a depend- 
ent family, are inconsistent with that attention to religion 
which the salvation of the immortal spirit demands. I have 
a man now in my mind — amiable, upright in his dealings, 
a constant attendant in the sanctuary, and acknowledging 
the importance of vital piety. He had always been an in- 
dustrious man, and having been unfortunate in business, 
with an expensive and dependent family, he seemed honest- 
ly to believe what he replied to the earnest and affectionate 
entreaty of a Christian friend, pleading Avith him to seek 
his 0A\Ti salvation : I have not time to attend to it now. 
Poor man I he has since gone into eternity, and it is to be 
feared that an appropriate inscription on his tombstone would 
be, "He found no time to be a Christian." 

Dear reader, are you one of those who have been wont 
to insult God and peril your own soul by this plea ? If so, 
be assured, that of all the excuses by which the claims of 
God and the convictions of conscience are outraged, no one 
is less entitled to regard than this. It is without foundation 
in truth : it is built upon the sand. A want of time is not 
the true reason Avhy you are at this day the enemy of God, 
and exposed every hour to drop into eternal perdition. Stop 
VOL. X. 41* 



I HAVE NOT TIME. 



a moment and consider a few thoughts on this subject, infi- 
nitely important to the interests of your undying soul. 

For ivhat purpose has God given you time ? Is it that 
you may spend it all in hoarding those riches which 

" Will leave thee twice a beggar at thy death ?" 

Is it that you may spend it in one unending round of toil to 
secure " the meat that perisheth ?" Has the infinitely blessed 
God thrown thee into a world where all thy time is needed 
to secure the interests of a frail and perishing body, while 
the interests of the immortal spirit are sacrificed ? No, it is 
not so. God has given you time to glorify him in preparing 
for a blessed immortality. Rather, he has given you your 
being that it may all be devoted to him. " Whether ye eat 
or drink, or whatsoever ye do, do cdl to the glory of God." 
" Holiness to the Lord " must be written on all in which you 
are engaged. He has enjoined upon you the twofold duty, 
" not slothful in business," and yet " fervent in spirit, serving 
the Lord ;" and so doing, he has not only promised eternal 
salvation, but that, through the overflowing of his mercy, 
your temporal wants shall also be supplied. He has kindly 
said, " Seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteous- 
ness, and all these things shall be added unto you ;" "for 
your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all 
these things." It was the remark of a wise man, made long 
since, and verified substantially in every age, " I have been 
young, and now am old ; yet have I not seen the righteous 
forsaken, nor his seed begging bread." But again, 

Hoiv much time tvill it take to become a Christian ? 
How much time to become reconciled to God, when you are 
ready to renounce your own righteousness, and your unwor- 
thy, selfish purposes, and trust alone in the blood and merits 
of a crucified Redeemer ? God is waiting to be gracious ; 
and as soon as you yield yourself to him, pursue his glory as 
your aim, and obey his commands with all your heart, he is 
ready to forgive and to save. Then you may pursue your 
calling — if it is an honest one — with renewed diligence ; 



1 HAVE NOT TIME. 3 

consecrating your business, with yourself, to God. How 
long" did it take the ' ' dying thief ' ' on the cross to repent and 
secure, through grace, the assurance of a seat in paradise ? 
How long was it after Zaccheus first saw Jesus, that salva- 
tion came to his house ? How long was it after the wicked 
and suicidal jailer at Philippi began to ask " what must I 
do to be saved," before he was an accepted believer ? How 
much time is needed for a rebellious child, who really wishes 
to be reconciled to his parent, to become penitent, and obe- 
dient ? But if a long time is necessary for you to turn to 
God, who makes that necessity ? Ah, sinner, 

" 'Tis thine own heart makes grace delay, 
And hides a pard'ning glorious day ; 
Thou hast not wish'd God's will to meet, 
Nor lain submissive at his feet." 

God has commanded you to dedicate one seventh 'part 
of your time to religious duties — and you have not time to 
become a Christian I You have lived, it may be, twenty-one 
years — then three years of that time have been Sabbaths. 
One whole year in every seven. What has become of those 
Sabbaths ? Are you still the enemy of God, and have had 
no time to become reconciled to him ? Where are those years 
of Sabbaths ? What report have they borne to heaven ? Hast 
thou made those precious seasons by misimprovement only 
the means of thy greater guilt and deeper doom ? And wilt 
thou still say, " I have no time ?" Oh no ; thy plea is vain ; 
thy excuse will no longer serve thee for a hiding-place from 
the arrows of truth. Dear reader, thou hast time, time 
enough, precious time. But fleeting time is speeding its 
onward course : 

" While we procrastinate, Time urges on 
His rapid flight, and death draws near ;" 

and if Christ is still despised by thee, and thy soul neglected, 
soon time with thee shall be no more. But, 

Thoic must find time to die. Poor, busy, bustling man, 
full of worldly cares, thou hast no time now for reflection, to 



4 I HAVE NOT TIME. 

think upon thy God, to seek his pardoning mercy, to secure 
a Saviour's love and the salvation of thy soul. Busy world- 
ling, hurried on from morning to night, and from day to day, 
pursuing the phantoms of life that continually elude thy 
grasp and mock thy fond expectations, tlioit must fmd time 
to die. He whom I mentioned, who " had no time," found 
time to die. His business pressed him hard, but death paid 
no regard to those claims. I heard that he was ill, and 
called to see him. I asked him of his eternal interests, his 
hopes beyond the grave. "Oh," said he, "I have given 
too little attention to that subject." A few moments of re- 
ligious conversation was all the time he had. Soon after I 
left him, his reason was affected by his disease, and so con- 
tinued until death. He found time to die, but a dying bed 
afforded him no time to become a Christian. 

Dear reader, thou too must find time to die. Death will 
soon call thee from thy eager pursuit of worldly good. Thou 
must exchange the busy scenes that occupy thy time and 
thoughts, for the stillness and the solemnity of a dying bed. 
The shroud and the coffin shall enclose thee, and the dark 
grave contain thy dust until the Archangel's trump shall 
call thee forth to give thy last account. 

" Vain man, thy fond pursuits forbear ; 
Repent, thy end is nigh : 
Death, at the farthest, can't be far ; 
O think before thou die." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



I¥o. 4L05. 



i i 



CUT IT DOWN!" 



"Let it alone this year also!" — Thus spoke the 
dresser of the vineyard in behalf of the barren fig-tree. 
Year after year the owner had sought fruit thereon, and 
found none. Despairing, at length, of rendering it fruitful, 
he orders it to be cut down: " Cut it down; ivhy cum- 
hereth it the ground?'' But the vine-dresser "answering, 
said unto him, ' Lord, let it alone this year also — and if it 
bear fruit, well ; and if not, then after that thou shalt cut 
it down.' " Luke 13 : 6-9. 

For you and me, dear friend, the Saviour spoke the 
parable. We are the trees which his own hand has planted. 
From us he desires and seeks fruit. When, at the close of 
the last year, he came to you with this intent, how justly, 
" after so long a time," might he have said, "Cut it down ; 
why cumbereth it the ground ?" But no, he would not ; 
the greatness of his compassion pleaded in your behalf, and 
cried, "Let it alone this year also." 

It was a blessed reprieve. This it was that has kept 
you, day by day, in your lying down, and rising up — in 
your going out, and coming in. Like others, you may 
have sickened, but not unto death. Others Avasted, fell, 
expired. But death had no power over you. Not until 
the last hour of the period which God appointed had passed 
away, could you "be hurt of" either the first or "the 
second death." Disease and death are obedient to Him 
who said, " Let it alone this year also." 

"And if it bear fruit, well." — The tree had been 
planted, not for its own sake, bu£ for the expected fruit. 
For this the soil had been chosen, dug, enriched, enclosed ; 
the tender shoot had been planted, watered, nourished, and 
pruned. For this, too, the tree is spared another year. He 
does not yet give it up. Another year it may yield abun- 
dantly. 

On the same condition, dear friend, your reprieve was 
based. You w^ere spared, that opportunity might be given 
you to repent, and " bring forth fruits meet for repentance." 



2 "CUT IT DOWN!" 

Year after year have you received tlie kind attention of Him 
who made you. So abundant, so incessant have the proofs 
of his care been, that he can now most justly ask, in re- 
spect to you, " What could have been done more to my 
vineyard, that I have not done in it?" Enough, and more 
than enough he has done, to have warranted long since the 
expectation of your conversion and fruitfulness. With the 
knowledge of your guilt and danger, he has shown you the 
way of pardon and salvation through faith in his Son ; has 
given you his word, which is "■ able to make you wise unto 
salvation, through faith which is in Christ Jesus ;" has 
extended to you the privileges of the sanctuary, and the 
blessing of an able, pious, zealous, and faithful ministry ; 
has surrounded you with numerous tender-hearted, benev- 
olent, and praying frieiids ; has put it into the hearts of his 
people, to afford you special means of grace ; has poured 
out his Holy Spirit on them and you, and thus his own 
" still small voice" has urged you to press into the king- 
dom of Christ. In thousands of cases, less means have 
proved successful. Why, then, should not the Saviour 
have sought fruit from you a year ago ? 

But another year has been added to your term of pro- 
bation ; another opportunity given you, with perhaps in- 
creased advantages, to repent. And how have you im- 
proved it ? It may be, that, in some serious moment, you 
promised God, that if he would spare you — " let you alone 
this year also" — you would become his obedient servant. 
Have you remembered your promise ? Have you fulfilled 
it? Has the fruit appeared? ^' If it hear fruit, well." 
Then, " blessed art thou, for thou hast found favor with God." 

"And if not" — if you have not improved the past 
year, have not repented, and turned to God — But can it 
be ? can you again have slighted the calls of divine mercy, 
trifled with the offers of grace, and turned away from all 
the admonitions and entreaties of your God ? Has all his 
love, so rich, so free, so long-continued, failed to melt your 
heart ? That promise — have you forgotten it ? A twelve- 
month since, it ma}^ be, the Master came and sought the 
promised fruit. But finding none, he said, " I will ' let it 
alone this year also.' " Ought you not to have repented 
within the year ? But it has gone, and you are yet in your 
sins, perhaps on the brink of the grave, without even a 



" CUT IT DOWN !" 3 

hope of heaven. There is less prospect than ever of your 
being- reclaimed. Thousands, during that period — some of 
them, perhaps, your own friends and kindred — have, with 
no better advantages than you have enjoyed, sought and 
found the Lord. Why has it not been so with you ?'' 
" Wherefore," saith the Lord, " Avhen I looked that it should 
oring forth grapes, brought it forth wild grapes?" Oh, 
that you had been wise, had understood this, had consid- 
ered your latter end. Then it would now have been well 
with you; *'if it bear fruit, well. And if not, then — 

** After that thou shalt cut it down." — If, at the 
year's end, no fruit should be found upon the tree, the 
keeper of the vineyard would give it up. And why not ? 
Why should it any longer cumber the ground ? The trial 
will then have been made — an ample trial. Nothing more 
can be done for it. 

The year expires, and still there is no fruit. For the 
fourth time the owner comes seeking fruit, and finds none. 
W^ho now will plead, ''Let it alone this year also?" Not 
the vine-dresser — he gives it up : he pleads no longer. And 
if not he, who then ? None — none. It must perish, " Cut 
it down ; why cumbereth it the ground ?" 

Has not all this, dear friend, a fearful application to 
yourself? Your reprieve may have now expired. Again 
the Master comes seeking fruit, and finds none. You are 
yet in your sins. Labor has been bestowed on you without 
avail. Why should the reprieve be renewed ? Why should 
he spare you any longer ? already he has done for you 
vastly more than you deserve — more than for multitudes 
who have perished in their sins. What, then, can yo^i ex- 
pect more ? Who can say that more will be of any avail ; 
that it w^ould effect any thing else than an aggravation of 
your guilt, an increase of your condemnation ? Why should 
he not also say of you, " Cut it down ; why cumbereth it 
the ground?" 

If that reprieve be not renewed, then the time draws 
nigh that you must die. Short as your life has been, you 
must die. Little as you have accomplished of your projects 
and purposes, you must die. Much as you may wish to 
live, for the sake of yourself or others, yet there is much 
cause for you to believe, that " thus saith the Lord, this 
YEAR THOU SHALT DIE !" Alas, how much have you been 



4 "CUT IT DOWN." 

deceived in your expectations of earthly pleasure. How 
much reason have you to repent of your idleness, folly, 
waste, thoughtlessness, disregard of duty — nay, of your 
whole life. And hoAv much have you to do. If this must 
be your last year, month, or day, how precious to you is 
every moment. You cannot afford to lose a moment in 
idleness, or in mere worldly pursuits. Others may deem 
it needful to lay up for future years. Not so with you. 
If God has said of you, ''this year thou shalt die," then 
the next year you will want neither house nor shop, equip- 
age nor furniture, dress nor food. The grave will be your 
house, the dust your bed, the coffin your furniture, the 
shroud your dress, the worms your covering. Long enough 
have you labored for this world. Be persuaded now to 
labor for another. Discard all trifles. Be in earnest. Seek 
now the Lord. Resolve to make a desperate effort "to 
enter in at the strait gate." Set out for heaven. Begin 
this day. Press on, and on, let who will cry, *' stop." 
Like Bunyan's pilgrim, stop your ears, and run, *' crying. 
Life! Life! ETERNAL LIFE !" 

Perhaps it may not yet be too late. If you wait not 
now ; if you give over trifling ; if you forsake your sins, 
calling on God ; if you turn to the Lord with all your heart, 
casting yourself on his mercy through Jesus Christ ; if you 
do this, it is not yet too late. "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?" Then 
hear his voice. This day he renews the call. " To-day, 
if you will hear his voice, harden not your heart." This 
day resolve to turn to God. Let this very day be the 
date of your new birth. Let not this sun go down, and 
leave you "dead in trespasses and sins." Let there be 
"joy in heaven" to-day, on your account, while the shout 
ascends, "This my son was dead, and is alive again; he 
was lost, and is found." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



IVo. 406. 

PRIYATE DEVOTION. 



The Lord Jesus, m that greatest sermon that ever fell 
oil mortal ears, enjoins, " Thou^ when thuu pray est ^ enter 
into thy closets Not that he would confine all prayer to 
the closet ; for he himself prayed publicly and socially. 
And Paul exhorts to "pray always with all prayer ;" that 
Is, as is generally understood, with all kinds of prayer. It 
is our duty to pray statedly in the sanctuary, and in the 
family ; and occasionally in the social meeting, by the 
side of the sick bed, and in the house of bereavement 
and sorrow. But in addition to all these kinds of prayer, 
the Saviour's injunction points us to the closet^ where 
we shall be alone with God. 

This vital duty the Saviour sanctions by his own ex- 
ample. How often do we trace his footsteps to some 
seclu led spot, — the declivity of the mountain, the garden, 
the sea-side, for the purpose of private prayer. Isaac 
was wont to retire " to meditate in the field at the even- 
tide." David communed with his own heart, in the night 
watches : " seven times a day do I praise thee." Daniel 
knelt three times a day in his private chamber. Peter 
went up to the house-top to pray about the sixth hour. 
And if we consult the history of men who have adorned 
the church in all ages, we find them often on their knees 
before the throne of God in their closets. 

The object of these seasons of retirement is, prayer to 
God, united with the reading of the word, and self-ex- 
amination. Separated from the world and its cares ; with 
no eye upon us but that which seeth in secret ; with the 
law and the testimony, the only rule of faith and practice, 
before us ; with our secret sins and presumptuous faults 
set in order before our minds, we are to unbosom our 
souls before our heavenly Father, with the utmost free- 
dom and fullness, through Christ our atoning Intercessor. 
How expressive the appeal of the Psalmist in such an 
interview! "Search me, God, and know my heart; 
try me, and know my thoughts ; and see if there be any 
wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting." 

This duty should be performed jmnciually at regular 
nppointed seasons. Few, in maintaining a close walk with 

VOL. X. 42 



Z PRIVATE DEVOTION. 

God, will be satisfied with less than two seasons of re- 
tirement for each day ; and regularity in this duty is as 
needful to the health of the soul, as the regular recep- 
tion of food to that of the body. The habit should be 
so established that the allotted season cannot pass un- 
improved without awakening the deep-toned remon- 
strances of conscience. 

But this is a duty liable to be neglected. And this for 
the obvious reason that it is ^private duty. The eve of 
the world follows you not to your closet. If you go not 
to the house of God, meet not the friends of Zion in 
their appointed seasons of prayer, aid not the spread of 
the Gospel by your contributions, you, of course, can 
have no good reputation for piety in the eyes of men. 
Br.c you may neglect your closet and not forfeit such 
reputation, provided you pay a decent regard to the 
more public duties of religion. But this is not all. The 
active bustling habits of the times are wofully hostile to 
the noiseless, retired, unostentatious duties of the closet. 
Beware that you become not so swallowed up in any of 
the exciting enterprises of the day as to neglect your 
own heart and your closet. For, bt assured, if these en- 
terprises are ever made to subserve the great purposes 
which they are adapted to promote, it will be, under God, 
through the counsels and guidance of those who seek 
for wisdom and grace daily in secret places. If the 
church shall ever become united, and happy, and pros- 
perous in her onward march to the conquest of the world 
to her Redeemer, it will be by the instrumentality of 
such as pray for the peace of Jerusalem in the retire- 
ment of the closet. 

These pages will fall into the hands of those who are 
know^n as the prof essed followers of the Saviour. To such 
I would say, let the interest you feel in your daily secret 
devotions stand before you as the thermometer of your 
spiritual state. Other motives than the love of Christ 
may carry you abroad and open your la^nith in public, 
and light up your zeal for the extension of truth and 
righteousness; but I can assure you that the closet will 
be the last place where you will go daily and punctually 
from any other consideration than a pure desire to meet 
God and enjoy the smiles of his reconciled countenance. 



PRIVATE DEVOriON. '6 

O ye, who have opened your mouth unto the Lord, 
draw around the sanctuary of your private devotions 
a barrier so strong that no vain amusement, no secu- 
lar cares, no social avocation, shall intrude upon them. 
How can you keep a conscience void of oflence toward 
God and man as you mingle with the world — how can 
you control your temper, and hold in subjection every 
native propensity, and have your conversation always 
" seasoned with salt " — unless you go forth under the 
fear of that ail-seeing eye before which you have just 
knelt in secret 1 

I appeal to men of business, who are ready to say, 
" We have no time to spare for this object." But is this 
a valid excuse 1 Do you not live each day and hour 
through the forbearance of God 1 And is it reasonable 
that you should give all your hours to business and 
none to him, or to the eternal interests of the soul 1 No 
time to pray \ Think of the king of Israel, with his 
armies abroad, and his extended empire at home to oc- 
cupy his mind and exhaust his energies, yet he could 
find time to call upon God, " evening, morning, and at 
noon." Think of Daniel, with the afiairs of an hundred 
and twenty provinces resting on his mind, yet finding 
time to go into his chamber three times a day, that he 
might pray and give thanks to God. Think of Wilber- 
force, whose life was spent amidst the conflicting and 
dissipating scenes of parliament, yet never allowing 
the hurry of a nation's business to prevent his stated 
seasons of devotion. No time to pray 1 For what was 
time given you, if not that you should " seek first the 
kingdom of God and his righteousness V If your heart 
were right with God you would find time to pray, though 
it might oblige you to abridge your meals, or invade 
the allotted hours of sleep. 

I address some who are in advanced years. Does life 
begin to wear heavily upon you 1 Is the grasshopper a 
burden'? So that you begin to find yourselves yielding 
to discontent, irritability, distrust — evils which are so 
apt to creep in and imbitter declining years ^ The best 
antidote I know, is secret prayer. Nothing is so soften- 
ing to the asperities of temper — nothing so well calcu- 
lated to beget a submissive, child-like simplicity and 



4 PRIVATE DEVOTION. 

amiableness of disposition. But more : You are soon 
to pass through the cold floods of Jordan. Do you de- 
sire the Divine " rod and staff to comfort you," as you 
go trembling down its brink 1 Then be much in prayer 
alone. You may never again be favored with the privi- 
lege of going to the sanctuary or the communion-table, 
but you have the throne of grace and the Bible to which 
you can resort. 

I address those who are young. Are you aware that 
you live in a world of temptation — that all along your 
path some bait is held out to decoy you and render you 
the victim of vice and crime \ And do you know that 
you have little strength of your own to resist these en- 
ticements 1 I come to you as a friend and offer you a 
sure antidote. Daily secret prayer will cover you with 
a triple shield, through which no dart of the adver- 
sary will penetrate. I mean not simply '^ saying your 
prayers," but sincerely and devoutly praying on your 
knees every day you live. But though young, you may 
die. Can you hope it will be well with you in death and 
eternity, wdien you never call upon God in health ] The 
voice of God comes to you from many a youthful grave, 
" Wilt thou not from this time cry unto me, My Father, 
thou art the guide of my youth V 

I address those who are living without God and with- 
out hope. Are you not, amidst all the business, and toils, 
and gratifications of an empty world, like the dove sent 
out from the ark, wandering to and fro and finding no 
resting-place for the sole of your feet 1 " Wherefore do 
ye spend money for that which is not bread, and your 
labor for that which satisfieth not V Let me say to you, 
that after so long a time, the King of heaven invites 
you to an interview with himself. This very hour he 
waits around your secret chamber to listen to your sigh 
of penitence. Have you not one broken-hearted petition 
to breathe into that condescending ear] Can you, dare 
you, venture on the slumbers of another night without 
prayer 1 Shall days, weeks, and years pass, and find you 
still living without God % Praj'^erless soul, what wilt 
thou do in the judgment of the great day 1 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



No. 4or. 

SELF-DEDICATION TO GOD. 

FROM DODDRIDGE'S RISE AND PROGRESS. 



My dear Friend — You have felt your lost condition as 
a sinner against God. You have felt your need of the aton- 
ing blood of Christ. You know that blood can be available 
for you, only by your believing in him — trusting in him — 
dedicating yourself to him, through the promised aids of 
the Holy Spirit. To this act of dedication you are now 
urged by conscience, by the word of God, and by the striv- 
ings of the Spirit. And it may be of great use to you, not 
only to form in your heart the purpose of surrendering your- 
self to God, but expressly to declare it in the divine pres- 
ence. Such solemnity in the manner of doing it, is certainly 
very reasonable in the nature of things ; and surely it is 
highly expedient for binding to the Lord such a treacherous 
heart as we know our own to be. 

Do it therefore ; but do it deliberately. Consider what 
it is that you are to do, and consider how reasonable it is 
that it should be done cordially and cheerfully ; " not by 
constraint, but willingly," for in this sense, and in every 
other, " God loveth a cheerful giver." Nothing can be 
more evident than that we, the product of his power, and 
the price of his Son's blood, should be his, and his for ever. 
If you see the matter in its just view, it will be the grief of 
your soul that you have ever alienated yourself from the 
blessed God and his service : so far will you be from wish- 
ing to continue in that state of alienation another year, or 
another day, you will rejoice to bring back to him his re- 
volted creature ; and as you have in times past '*' yielded 
your members as instruments of unrighteousness unto sin," 
you will delight to " yield yourself unto God as alive from 
the dead." 

The surrender will also be as entire as it is cheerful and 
immediate. All you are, and all you have, and all you can 
do — your time, your possessions, your influence over oth 

VOL. X. 42* 



2 SELF-DEDICATION TO GOD. 

ers — will be devoted to him, that for the future it may be 
employed entirely for him, and to his glory. You will de- 
sire to keep back nothing from him ; but will seriously judge 
that you are then in the truest and noblest sense your own, 
when you are most entirely his. You are also, on this great 
occasion, to resign all that you have to the disposal of his 
wise and gracious providence ; not only owning his power, 
but consenting to his undoubted right to do what he pleases 
with you, and all that he has given you. 

Once more, let me remind you that this surrender must 
be perpetual. You must give yourself up to God in such a 
manner as never more to pretend to be your own ; for the 
rights of God are, like his nature, eternal and immutable ; 
and with regard to his rational creatures, are the same yes- 
terday, to-day, and for ever. 

I would farther advise and urge, that this dedication may 
be made with all possible solemnity. Do it in express words. 
And perhaps it may be in many cases most expedient, as 
many pious divines have recommended, to do it in writing. 
Set your hand and seal to it, " that on such a day of such 
a month and year, and at such a place, on full consideration 
and serious reflection, you came to this happy resolution, 
that, whatsoever others might do, you would serve the 
Lord." 

Such an instrument you may, if you please, draw up for 
yourself; or, if you rather choose to have it drawn up to 
your hand, you may find something of this nature below, in 
which you may easily make such alterations as your circum- 
stances may seem to require. But whatever form you use, 
weigh it well, meditate attentively upon it, that you may 
"not be rash with your mouth to utter any thing before 
God." And when you determine to execute this instru- 
ment, let the transaction be attended with some more than 
' ordinary religious retirement. Make it, if you conveniently 
can, a day of secret fasting and prayer ; and when your 
heart is prepared with a becoming awe of the divine Maj- 
esty, Avith an humble confidence in his goodness, and an 
earnest desire of his favor, then present yourself on your 
knees before God, and read it over deliberately and solemn- 
ly ; and when you have signed it, lay it by in some secure 
place, where you may leview it whenever you please ; and 
make it a rule with yourself to review it, if possible, at cer- 



SELF DEDICATION TO GOD. 3 

tain seasons of the year, that you may keep up the remem- 
brance of it. And God grant that you may be enabled to 
keep it, and in the whole of your life walk according to it. 
May it be an anchor to your soul in every temptation, a cor- 
dial in every affliction, and may the recollection of it give 
strength to your departing spirit, in a consciousness that it 
is ascending to your covenant God and Father, and to that 
gracious Redeemer whose power and faithfulness will se- 
curely " keep what you commit to him unto that day." 

AN EXAMPLE OF SELF-DEDICATION. 

" Eternal and ever-blessed God, I desire to present my- 
self before thee, with the deepest humiliation and abasement 
of soul, sensible how unworthy such a sinful worm is to ap- 
pear before the holy Majesty of heaven, the King of kings 
and Lord of lords, and especially on such an occasion as 
this, ever to dedicate myself, without reserve, to thee. But 
the scheme and plan is thine own. Thine infinite condescen- 
sion hath offered it by thy Son, and thy grace hath inclined 
my heart to accept of it, 

" I come, therefore, acknowledging myself to have been 
a great offender ; smiting upon my breast, and saying with 
the humble publican, ' God be merciful to me a sinner.' I 
come, invited by the name of thy Son, and Avholly trusting 
in his perfect righteousness, entreating that for his sake thou 
wilt be merciful to my unrighteousness, and wilt no more 
remember my sins. Receive, I beseech thee, thy revolted 
creature, who is now convinced of thy right to him, and 
desires nothing so much as that he may be thine. 

" This day do I, with the utmost solemnity, surrender 
myself to thee. I renounce all former lords that have had 
dominion over me ; and I consecrate to thee all that I am, 
and all that I have : the faculties of my mind, the members 
of my body, my worldly possessions, my time, and my influ- 
ence over others ; to be all used entirely for thy glory, and 
steadfastly employed in obedience to thy commands, as long 
as thou continuest me in life ; with an ardent desire and 
humble resolution to continue thine through all the endless 
ages of eternity ; ever holding myself in an attentive pos- 
ture to observe the first intimations of thy will, and ready 
to spring forward with zeal and joy to the immediate execu- 
tion of it. 



4 SELF-DEDICATIOxV TO UOU. 

" To thy direction also I resign myself, and all I am and 
have, to be disposed of by thee in such a manner as thou 
shalt in thine infinite wisdom judge most subservient to the 
purposes of thy glory. To thee I leave the management of 
all events, and say without reserve, ' Not my will, but thine 
be done,' rejoicing with a loyal heart in thine unlimited gov- 
ernment, as what ought to be the delight of the whole 
rational creation. 

** Use me, Lord, I beseech thee, as an instrument of 
thy service. Number me among thy peculiar people. Let 
me be washed in the blood of thy dear Son. Let me be 
clothed with his righteousness. Let me be sanctified by his 
Spirit. Transform me more and more into his image. Im- 
part to me, through him, all needful influences of thy puri- 
fying, cheering, and comforting Spirit. And let my life be 
spent under those influences, and in the light of thy gra- 
cious countenance, as my Father and my God. 

"And when the solemn hour of death comes, may I 
remember thy covenant, ' well-ordered in all things and 
sure, as all my salvation, and all my desire,' 2 Sam. 23:5, 
though every hope and enjoyment is perishing ; and do thou, 
O Lord, remember it too. Look down with pity, my 
heavenly Father, on thy languishing, dying child. Embrace 
me in thine everlasting arms. Put strength and confidence 
into my departing spirit, and receive it to the abodes of 
them that sleep in Jesus, peacefully and joyfully to wait 
the accomplishment of thy great promise to all thy people, 
even that of a glorious resurrection, and of eternal happi- 
ness in thine heavenl}^ presence. 

" And if any surviving friend should, when I am in the 
dust, meet with this memorial of my solemn transactions 
with thee, may he make the engagement his own ; and do 
thou graciously admit him to partake in all the blessings of 
THY COVENANT, through Jcsus the great Mediator of it ; to 
whom, with thee, Father, and thy Holy Spirit, be ever- 
lasting praises. Amen." 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



No. 408. 

I MUST PKAY IN SECRET. 



That I must prai/, is a moral axiom — it is self-evident — 
it needs no proof. It is as much the instinct of my nature, 
as it is the command of Heaven. Prayer is my commun- 
ion with God. It is my language of Avorship, as a man ; 
of dependence, as a creature ; of submission, as a subject ; 
of confession, as a sinner ; of thankfulness, as the recipient 
of mercies ; of supplication, as a needy being. As a Chris- 
tian, I find it "my vital breath, my native air." Without 
it I cannot live. / inust pray ; for if I do not, I shall 
spiritually suffocate ; I shall starve and die. 

But not only must I prai/ — pray in the family, in the 
social circle, in the walks of business, winging my thoughts 
in aspirations to the heavens, but / ??iust also pray in se- 
cret. Some place I must have that I can call " my clos- 
et'' — some place where I can go away by myself, and 
shut out the world, and be alone with my God. Some 
place, it must be, where, like Isaac in the field, and Peter on 
the house-top, and Daniel in his chamber, and the blessed 
Saviour on the mountain, I may " pray to my Father which 
is in secret." I must have a time for this duty, and a stated 
time ; for if I have not, it will never become a habit ; and if 
not a habit, I shall be apt to neglect it, and it will not become 
inwoven with my spiritual existence, as a part of my soul's 
life, nor will it have that power of association, that current 
and glow of feeling, without which duty is never delightful. 
Often, too, must I attend to this duty — often improve the 
delightful privilege of private converse with heaven. An 
eminent statesman, with all the cares of empire upon him, 
used daily to retire for secret prayer ; and Daniel, when 
prime minister of a kingdom, was three times a day found 
in his closet. They did not pray too much in secret. I had 



j2 I MUST PRAY IN SECRET. 

better pray more, rather than less. Like them, Hke all em- 
inent saints, often must I be found in my closet, with serious 
reflection, with self-examination, with the Bible open before 
me, in solemn, and fervent, and wrestling communion with 
God. Yes, / must often pray in secret. 

I must pray in secret, for God commands it. " Enter 
into thy closet, and Avhen thou hast shut thy door, pray to 
thy Father which is in secret." This is God's command, 
and I may not, I dare not disobey it. " He seeth in secret," 
and if in secret I do not pray to him, he will be grieved 
and angry with me ; while, if I do, he, as he has promised, 
''will reward me openly," 

I must pray in secret, for of all communion with heaven, 
that which is secret is the sweetest. The dearest converse of 
earthly friends, is that which is most private, that which most 
shrinks from the gaze, the almost profaning gaze of others. 
Much enjoyment may bosom friends find in the general 
mingling of the social circle ; but the highest of their social 
joys would be at an end, if there were no subsequent and 
private hour, when they could sit down together, and talk 
over the incidents of that circle, and every thing that was 
of most and dearest interest to themselves. And so it is 
with the Christian. Public communion with God he may 
richly prize and enjoy. But sweetest of all, is his commun- 
ion with him in secret ; when in the sacred retirement of 
the closet, with no earthly eye upon him, he can pour out 
his soul in solitude to his Maker. From the very instinct 
of his nature, of all prayer, that which is secret is dearest 
to him. Prayer, in every form, is his joy, his strength ; 
but secret prayer is a luxury to his soul. 

I must pray in secret, for as an individual I have secret 
and peculiar necessities. I have secret and peculiar sins to 
confess, which it would be improper to acknowledge in 
public, and yet to God I can unfold and deplore them all. 
My temptations are peculiar, and to him I would go for 
peculiar strength, I have secret trials and sorrows which 



r MUST PRAY IN SECRET. 3 

the world may never know, and yet to God I can pour them 
forth, knowing that he will never reveal them ; knowing 
that he will sympathize with them all ; that in all he Avill 
cheer, and aid, and direct me. If a parent, I can pray for 
a child ; if a friend, for a friend ; if a minister, for each of 
my people according to their peculiar case. In public, join- 
ing as I there do with others, I can only say, " our Father " — 
can only ask for general blessings. But, blessed be God, 
in secret I can say, " my Father, if it be possible, let this 
cup pass from me;" let this temptation be removed, this 
blessing be granted, this evil habit be broken, this trial 
which rends my heart be taken away. In this, let the way 
of duty be made plain ; in this grace let me grow ; let this 
enemy be forgiven; let this friend be blessed. In such 
particular prayer, I find my nearest approach to my Sav- 
iour, the clearest views of self, the most vivid light of God's 
countenance, the deepest sense of personal obligation, the 
mightiest strength, whether to resolve, or to do, or to suffer. 
I must pray in secret, for if I do not, I shall not grow 
in grace. Of all the means of spiritual growth, none do I 
find more efficient or blessed than this. In secret com- 
munion with God, I feel as if he were personally with me ; 
and this gives strength and vividness to every obligation. 
Distinctly confessing my sin — then, if ever, I avoid it. 
Asking for distinct blessings — then, if ever, do I earnestly 
strive for their attainment. The thought that I have been 
with God — this, I find, has an abiding eflTect on the life. 
After this, truth is more impressed, temptation has less 
power, the world less influence. Coming Avith David from 
the closet, with David I am able to say, " My heart is fixed, 
O God, my heart is fixed." Mine is that "calm and heav- 
enly frame " which elevates above the world, and fills with 
the Spirit of Jesus, and girds for every holy effort. Coming 
from the closet — then, if ever, am I firm in duty, cheered 
under sorrow, strengthened against sin. And so with every 
child of God. Never was there one who loved his closet, 



4 I MUST PRAY IN SECRET. 

who lived much in it, that was not a spiritual, a growing 
Christian. 

I must pray in secret, for if I sin hy neglecting my 
closet, I shall soon he left to other sins. Declension, incon- 
sistency, formality, backsliding, all begin in the closet, in 
the neglect of secret prayer, "Away from God's pres- 
ence," he will ''take his Holy Spirit from us." Going 
away from him, neglecting communion with him, he will 
leave us. And left of him, spiritual darkness, if not spirit- 
ual death, will be upon us. Neglect the closet, and next 
the family altar will be reglected, and then the circle of 
social prayer, and then the Bible, and then, perhaps, the 
sanctuary, and all the means of grace. Neglect the closet, 
and you know not where or how far you may wander ; you 
know not when, if ever, you will return. Neglect the closet, 
and soon you will abandon it ; abandon it, and soon you 
will be left of God to dark, if not to damning sin — perhaps 
to endless ruin. 

I must, then, / must pray in secret ; statedly, frequent- 
ly, earnestly. God enjoins it. My highest enjoyment, and 
my individual and peculiar necessities demand it. I must 
do it, that I may grow in grace — may not decline in spirit- 
uality — may not wander from God. To pray in secret ! 
It is a solemn duty, a glorious and blessed privilege, thus 
to hold converse with the Most High ; as a child with a 
father, as a friend with a friend, thus to commune with him, 
and breathe his spirit, and receive his impress, his image, 
upon my heart. may I ever prize — may I ever improve 
it. By divine grace, I will. God's grace, God's Spirit 
assisting me, / ivill pray in secret. Daily and faithfully will 
I do it, till from prayer on earth, I am raised to praise in 

HEAVEN. 



PUBLISHED BY THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



i 



