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THE 



YOUNG CHRISTIAN; 



OB, 



A FAITILIAR ILLUSTRATION 



OV 



THE PRINCIPLES OF CHRISTIAN DUTY. 



By JACOB ABBOTT. 



LONDON : 
T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW; 



EDINBUBOH ; AND NEW TOBK. 
UDOCCLZ. 



/^/. ^, SJ/ . 



CONTENTS. 



CHAP. L — Confession. 

Introduction. Nature of confession. Case supposed. Story of 
the boys' disobedience on the ice. Consequences. Their 
unhappiness. Guilt a burden. Means of relief. The boy's 
confession. His conversation with his father^ Confession 
of little faults. The torn letter. The anonymous letter. Re- 
paration compared with confession. Confession of great 
crimes. Punishment. Story of boys on the ice continued* 
To parents and teachers. Confession a privilege. Depres- 
sion of spirits. Its remedy. Careless confession. Anec- 
dote. Punishment. An experiment. Story of the dulled 
tool. Story continued. Confession to God. Anxiety un- 
necessary. Common mistakes. Immediate repentance. 
Salvation by Christ 17 

CHAP. IL— The Friend. 

Story of an Infant SchooL The new scholar. The protector 
appointed. Qualifications. Power and sympathy. Story of 
the sailor boy. The captain's want of sympathy. The little 
ship. The Saviour. His thirty years of life. Howard. 
Story of Howard. Imaginary scene. The voluntary prison- 
er. The Saviour. The child's little difficulties. Human 
«ympathy. The murderer's cell. Sympathy for the guilty. 
The keeper's kindness to the prisoner. The Saviour. The 
Saviour's sympathy. Common distrust of it Illustration. 
Case of the sick man. Jesus Christ a physician. Struggling 
with temptation. The benevolent teacher. The teacher 
imagined to become a scholar. Howard. Sympathy of 
Christ. The bruised reed. The metaphor of the bruised 
reed. » • ^{1 



10 CONTENTS. 

CHAP. Ill — Peaybr. 

Tbe absent son. The father's promise. Its implied limitations. 
Improper requests. Requests in an improper manner. The 
letter. Our Saviour's promise. Prayers denied. Power of 
prayer. Granting requests in another form. The boy asking 
for a knife. The sick man unexpectedly cured. Submissive 
spirit Prayers of the young. The packet Description of 
the packet. The calm. The Christian traveller. Books 
and tracts. The long passage. The approaching storm. 
They watch the light The storm increases. Going about. 
Splitting of the topsail. Danger. Protection never certain. 
Object of prayer in danger. Socrates.. His peace of mind. 
True composure in danger. The prayer at sea. Effects. 
Sincerity of prayer. Ardour in prayer. All can pray who 
wish to do so. 

A difficulty about selfishness. Reply. Invitation to the weary. 
The prodigal. The nobleman. The desk. The father's 
refusal. Real selfishness. Importunate prayer. The un- 
just judge. Prayer of faith. The morning prayer meeting. 
The young Christian's difficulty. The mother. God de- 
cides. A favourable answer to prayer never certain. Dan- 
ger of perversion. The humble teacher. Conclusion. Story 
of the ship concluded. The storm subsides. They arrive 
safely at Provincetowu. • • . .47 

CHAP. IV. — Consequences op Neglecting Duty, 

Neglecting Duty. Injury which this book will do. The disobe- 
dient child. The message disregarded. The Christian mes- 
sage. 

Story of Louisa* Her character. The evening meeting. Louisa's 
interest in religion. Conversation with her. Increasing inte- 
rest Unwilling to yield to God. Her sickness. She sends 
for her pastor. Her alarm. Her increasing anxiety. Death- 
bed repentance. Increasing sickness and mental suffering. 
Danger. Louisa's despair. Her advice to her young friends. 
Last visit Her sufferings. She dies at midnight. Her feel- 
ings at last . • . . . 7 ? 

CHAP. V. — Almost a Christian. 

Almost a Christian. Louisa's case a common one. Neglect- 
ing duty when it is clearly pointed out Secret causes of con- 
tinuing in sin. First, procrastination. The student's evening 
walks. The admission to college. Resolutions for vacation ; 
for senior years ; for future life. Now is the accepted time. 
Second, love of the world. Sacrifices necessary in becoming 
a Christian. Losing a friend, — an cnjovment. Third, fear of 



CONTENTS. 



]1 



the world. Difficulties foretold by the Saviour. Entire sur- 
render required. Real submission. Changing sides. Addresg 
to a young man. . .... 86 

til 

CHAP. VI. — DXTFICITLTIES IN RELIGION. 

Story of the Chinese and the map. Difficulties in all subjects. 
Astronomical difficulties. Difficulties in religion to be ex- 
pected. First difficulty. Attempt to avoid it Conversation 
continued. Second difficulty. Extent of the creation. Diffi* 
culty. The existence of suffering inexplicable. The pirate 
condemned to die. Accountability. Foreknowledge. Story 
of father and son. Imaginary conversation with an infidel. 
Answering prayer. Case supposed. The sick son. Miracu- 
lous interference in answering prayer. Sources of difficulty. 
Algebra. The surd. Difficulty theoretical. None in practice. 

Objects of this chapter. 1. Inquiries. Disobedient school- 
boy. 2. Perplexities of Christians. Way to avoid them. 
Plausible reasoning sometimes unsafe. Sciiolars in geome- 
try. Drawing inferences. Story of the knights and the 
statue. The shield of brass and iron. One kind of contro- 
versy. 3. Difficulties of children. Children's questions. 4. 
Difficulties of parents and teachers. The schoolboy's ques- 
tion. The sisters. Evening conversation. A humble docile 
spirit • . w . . • M 

CHAP. VII.— Evidences op Christianity. 

The doubting clerk. The unexpected letter. The sick child. 
Porsible mistakes. Men act from reasonable evidence. Evi- 
dences of Christianity, historical, internal, and experimentaL 
Llustration, The phosphorus. 

1. Historical Evidence, Seal. Miracles. Examining witnesses. 
The court The court-room. The prisoner. His accusation 
and trial. Testimony of the owner ; — of the watchman. The 
lawyer's question. The watchman's story. The prisoner con- 
victed. Points secured on trials. Three points to be attended 
to. Irruption of the barbarians. Old manuscripts. Ge- 
nuineness of the Scriptures. Quotations. Illustration. Use 
made of quotations. Paley's Evidences. Necessity for prov- 
ing the genuineness of the Scriptures. The original records 
not remaining. The second point. Opportunities of know- 
ing. The house-breaker's trial. Sacred writers could not have 
been mistaken. They were eye-witnesses. Third point Their 
style of writing. Impartiality. Elevated views. They were 
disinterested. Our Saviour's farewell address. Interested 
witnesses. Battle of Lexington. Parliament and Congress. 
Points proved. Argument from prophecy. Prophecies. 
False prophecies. Subject difficult Were the Christian 



12 CONTENTS. 

witnesses believed ? Contest with Paganism. Power of truth. 

2. Internal Evidence, Unity of the Scriptures. The Bible a 
number of books. Its single object. The Bible a history of 
Christ. Sacrifices. Meaning of sacrifices. Their moral in- 
fluence. Conclusion of the book. Appropriate language. The 
advent of the Saviour. Its time and place. The Mediterra- 
nean sea. Interesting associations. Character of God. Lan- 
guage of nature ; of the Bible. The sufferer in the hospital. 
Jehovah just, as well as merciful. Butler's Analogy. 

3. Experimental Evidence. Case of sickness supposed. Medi- 
cine. Proof of it. The mother. The mother and her sick 
son. The unbeliever. Power of Christianity. Particular 
case. Prisons. Old and new system of discipline. Stories of 
the convicts. The disobedient son. Conversation. Stru^les 
with sin. Second story. Nature of ardent spirit. W.'s 
crime. Learning to read in prison. First Lesson. Effect of 
the Bible upon W. Sins against God. W.'s mental sufferings. 
His prayer. His way of finding the 5 1 st Psalm. His relief. 
Close of the convicts* stories. Charlestown state prison. 
Old building. Crowded night-rooms. Arms. Prison yard. 
Chapel. Prisoners going to Sabbath- school. Aspect of the 
school. Prisoners' dress. Limited circulation of the Bible. 
Fear of death. The sick young man. Sting of death. The 
dying mother. Practical directions. Difficulties. Disputes. 
Doing duty. . . . . . 120 

CHAP. VIII — Study of the Bible. 

Way to study the Bible. The young man's experiment. The 
family circle. Distribution of books. Interest of the children. 
Particular directions. Familiar sounds. The motto in the 
school-room. Description from the Bible. Vivid concep- 
tions. Picturing the scene to the mind. Clear conceptions. 
West's Picture of Christ rejected. Effect upon the assembly. 
Writing questions. God's command to Abraham. Questions 
upon the passage. Questions written by a boy. Many faulty. 
Utility of writing questions. Many questions on one verse. 
Experiment tried by a mother. A Sabbath-school teacher. 
Re-writing Scripture. The boy's evening work. Actual case. 
Passage. Difficulty arising. Explanation of it. Story of 
Micah, a specimen. Two specimens on the same subject. 
Questions. Collating the Scriptures. Plan tried by James 
and John. Effect of this method. Three accounts of Paul's 
conversion. Advantages of the plan. List of lessons. Dif- 
ficulties to be anticipated. Studying by subjects. The Sab- 
bath. Jerusalem. Ijist of topics. Too little intellectual 
study of the Bible. Object of the historic form. Reading 
practically. Daily reading of the Bible. Useless reading. The 
apprentice. Reading two verses aright. • • 195 



CONTENTS. 13 

CHAP. IX.— -The Sabbath. 

History of the Sabbath. Change from Saturday to Sunday. Be- 
ginning of the Sabbath. Idle controversies. A Father's com- 
mand to his boys. The question about the clock and the diaL 
Universal principle. Two doves. A day of twenty-three and 
a half hours. A day at the pole. A day lost. No sunset for 
months. Sabbath in Greenland. Change to first day. No 
change in the command. The creation. Principle import- 
ant. Non-essentials. Liability to evasion. Human and 
divine laws. Spirit of the law. James* way of reading the 
Bible. A boy studying his lesson. The boat. The care- 
ful mother. Way to interest children. Conversation with 
the children. Ingenuity and effort necessary. The heart to 
be reached. Variety. Remarks of a clergyman. Necessity 
of variety. Religious books. Way of spending the Sabbath. 
Various duties. System in religious exercises. Waste of time 
prevented. Rest on the ^ablmth. Distinct duties to be per- 
formed. Way to make self-examination interesting and use- 
ful. Minuteness of self-examination. Prayer. Studying 
the Bible, and conversation on the Sabbath. Frivolous con- 
versation. Public worship. ^Responsibility of the hearers. 
The farmer and his boys. Duty of the hearers to be interest- 
ed. Sinister motives at church. Way to detect them. 
Heartless worship. Way in which it is indicated. Appear- 
ance of evil. The summer evening. A walk. Walking, 
riding, sailing on the Sabbath. . . . 225 

CHAP. X. — Trial AND DisciFUNE. 

1. Nature of Trial The steam-boat on trial. Efforts of the 
engineer. Improvements. Final results. Her power. Safe 
and successful action. Life a time of triaL Trials of child- 
hood. The child and the forbidden book. Commands. Pain. 
Advantage of trial in childhood. Putting playthings out of 
reach. Conversation with a mother. Tnals not to be shun- 
ned. Instruction and practice. The merchant's plan for 
bis son. A voyage of difficulty. Its effects. 

2. The useB of Tried. Self-knowledge. The deceived mo- 
ther. True submission distinguished from false. The en- 
gineer was watchful. Trial a means of improvement The 
boy studying division. The moral and arithmetical question. 
Practical directions. Gk>d*s providence universal. Losses 
of every kind from God. The careless engineer. Neglect 

of duty. Concluding remarks. . .. • 256 

CHAP. XL — Pebsonal Improvement. 

1. Moralimprovement, General improvement a Christian duty. 
Moral improvement. Faults. The vain boy. Way to re- 
form liim. Conversation with his father. Instances otvumt'^. 



14 CONTENTS. 

The boy's list Effect of this confession. Secret confession 
to be minute. Secret prayer often too general. Way to 
make prayer interesting. Formal confession. Excuses. 
Way to make secret prayer interesting. Private prayer. Ex- 
amples of minute confession. The father's letter. Object 
of this illustration. Faults to be corrected. Young and old 
persons. Other means of correcting faults. Exposure to 
temptation. Conversation between the boy and his friend. 
Great and small temptations. 

Growing in grace. Unavailing efforts. The mother. The man 
of business. The dejected Christian. Direct efforts* Free- 
dom of feeling and freedom of action. Way to mould the 
heart. Metaphjrsical controversy. Story of the Duke of 
Gloucester. Richard's artful plan. The council. Violent 
measures. Murder of the boys. Analysis of the story. 
Richard's wicked character. Sense in which character is 
voluntary. Distinction between character and conduct. 
Importance of it. Moral obligation. Ways of influencing 
the character. Effect of Christian knowledge. The mother. 
The child. Gratitude. Christian action. Why Howard 
became interested for prisoners. Paul. Dependence upon 
the Holy Spirit. An evil heart Divine influence necessary. 

2. Iwtellectuat improvemenL A finished education. Object of 
education. ]. To strengthen the powers. Robinson Cnisoe*s 
supposed experiment with Friday. Conic sections. Difficult 
studies. 2. Acquisition of knowledge. 3. Skill. Three ex- 
periments with Friday. Teaching him to count Study of 
mathematics. Imperfect education. Neglect of important 
duties. Intellectual progress of a young mother. 1 . Reading 
system. Variety. Thorough r^ing. Short works. 2. 
Chnversaium. Difficulty of cultivating it Means of culti- 
vating it . Experiments proposed. Plans and experiments. 
Digesting knowledge. 3. Wriiiag. Private Journals. Form 
and manner. Running titles. Family Journal. By brothers 
and sisters. Its advantages. Subjects. Notes and abstracts. 
True design of taking notes. Form of books. Plan. Va- 
riety. Specimens. Reynolds. Humboldt Chronology. 
Synagogues. History of the Bible. Sir Humphrey Davy. 
Story of the sea-captain. Hiring children. The Saviour's 
thirst on the cross. Deceiving children. Narratives. Ellen, 
or boast not thyself of to-morrow. The dying-bed. The 
patient's interest in religion. Her address to her husband. 
Her affecting remarks to her children. Moral aspect of what 
is seen and heard. Power of the pen. . • 274 

CHAP. XII. — Conclusion. 

Responsibility of religious teachers* Injury to be done by this 
book. Imperfect self-application. A useless way of reading. 333 



THE 



YOUNG CHRISTIAN; 



OB, 



A FAMILIAR ILLUSTRATION OF THE PRINCIPLES OF 

CHRISTIAN DUTY. 



CHAPTER I. 

CONFESSION. 
'' Confess your faults one to another. 



ft 



I WISH, in this first chapter, to point out to my reader 
something in the nature and effects of confession, which 
every one has perhaps at some time experienced, but which 
few sufl&ciently consider. I mean its power to bring peace 
and happiness to the heart. But to make myself clearly 
understood I must suppose a case. 

Two boys, on a pleasant winter eyening, ask their fa- 
ther to permit them to go out upon the river to skate. 
The father hesitates, because, though within certain 
limits, he knows there is no danger, yet he is aware that 
above a certain turn of the stream the current is rapid and 
the ice consequently thin. At last, however, he says, 
" You may go, but you must on no account go above the 
bend. * 



18 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

The boys accept the condition, and are soon among their 
twenty companions shooting swiftly over the smooth, black 
ice, sometimes gliding in graceful curves before the bright 
fire which they have built in the middle of the stream, — 
and sometimes sailing away into the dim distance in search 
of new and unexplored regions. 

Presently a plan is fonned by the other boys for going in 
a cheerful company, far up the stream, to explore its shores 
and then return again in half an hour to their fire. Our 
two boys sigh to think of their father's prohibition to them. 
They faintly and hesitatingly hint that the ice may not be 
strong enough, but their caution has no efiect upon their 
comrades, — and the whole set forth, and soon are flying with 
full speed towards the limit prescribed. Our boys think 
they may safely accompany them till they reach the boun- 
dary which they are forbidden to pass ; — but while they do 
so, they become animated and intoxicated with the motion 
and the scene. They feel a little foreboding as they approach 
the line, but as it is not definitely marked, they do not ab- 
ruptly stop. They fall a little in the rear, and see whirling 
through the bend of the river the whole crowd of their com- 
panions — and, after a moment's hesitation, they follow on. 
The spot once past, their indecision vanishes ; — ^they press 
forward to the foremost rank,— -forget their father,— their 
promise, — their danger. God protects them, however. They 
spend the half hour in delight, — return down the river to 
their fire, — and, at the close of the evening, they take oflF 
their skates, and step upon the firm ground and walk to- 
wards their home. 

The enjoyment is now over, and the punishment is to 
come. What punishment ? I do not mean that their father 
will punish them. He knows nothing of it. He trusts his 
boys, and, confiding in their promise, he will not ask them 
whether they have kept it. They have returned safely, and 
the forbidden ice over which they have passed never can 
speak to tell of their disobedience. Nor do I mean the pu- 
nishment which God will inflict in another world upon un- 
dutiful children. I mean another quicker punishment, and 
which almost always comes after transgression. — And I 
wish my young readers would think of this more than they 
do. 

I mean the loss of peace qfmind. 



CONFESSION. 19 

As the boys approach their father's dwelling, unless their 
consciences have become seared by oft-repeated transgres- 
sion^ their hearts are filled with uneasiness and foreboding 
care. They will walk silently. As they enter the house^ 
they shrink from their father s eye. He looks pleased and 
happy at their safe return. But they turn away from him 
as soon as they can, and prefer going to another room, or in 
some other way avoiding his presence. Their sister, perhaps, 
in the gaiety and happiness of her heart, tries to talk with 
them about their evening's enjoyment, — ^but they wish to 
turn the conversation. In a word, their joeace of mind is gone, 
—and they shrink from every eye, and wish to go as soon 
as possible to bed, that they may be unseen and forgotten. 

If they have been taught to fear God, they are not happy 
here. They dare not—strange infatuation! — ^repeat their 
evening prayer ; — as if they supposed they could escape 
God's notice, by neglecting to call upon him. At last, 
however, they sink to sleep. 

The next morning they awake with the customary cheer- 
fulness of childhood, — ^until, as they look forth from their 
window, they see the clear ice-bound stream which tempt- 
ed them to sin, winding its way among the trees. They 
say nothing, but each feels guilty and sad. They meet 
their father and mother with clouded hearts, and every ob- 
ject at all connected with their transgression awakens the 
remorse which destroys their happiness. They carry thus 
about with them a weary and heavy burden. 

I suppose that in such cases most boys would continue to 
bear this burden, until at last they become insensible to it, 
i. e. until conscience becomes seared. But though by habit 
in sin the stings of remorse may be blimted, yet peace never 
would return. By repeating transgression a great many 
times, we all come at last to feel a general and settled un- 
easiness of heart, which is a const^mt burden. Ask such 
an individual if he is unhappy. He tells you no : he means, 
however, that he is not particularly unhappy just at that 
time. His burden is so uniform and constant, that he comes 
to consider it at last as a necessary part of his existence. 
He has lost all recollection of what pure peace and happiness 
is. A man who has lived long by a waterfall at last becomes 
so habituated to the noise, that silence seems a strange luxu- 
ry to him. So multitudes who h^ave had an unquiet con- 



20 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

science for their familiar companion for many years, without 
a single interval of repose, when they at last come and con- 
fess their sins, and find peace and happiness, are surprised 
and delighted with the new and strange sensation. 

This peace cannot come by habit in sin. A seared con- 
science is not a relieved one. But what is the way by 
which peace of mind is to be restored in such a case as the 
above ? It is a very simple way. I wish it was more ge- 
nerally understood and practised upon. 

Suppose one of these boys should say to himself scflis day 
as he is walking alone, ^* I am not happy, and I have not 
been happy since I disobeyed my father on the ice. I was 
very foolish to do that, for I have suffered more since that 
time than ten times as much pleasure would be worth I 
am resolved to go and confess the whole to my father, and 
ask him to forgive me, and then I shall be happy again." 

Having resolved upon this, he seeks the very first op- 
portunity to relieve his mind. He is walking, we will ima- 
gine, by the side of his father, and for several minutes he 
hesitates — ^knowing not how to begin. He makes, how 
ever, at last, the effort, and says in a sorrowful tone, 
" Father, I have done something very wrong.'* 
" What is it, my son ?" 

He hesitates and trembles, — and after a moment's pause, 
says, " I am very sorry that I did it." 

^^ My son," says the father, '^ I have observed, for a day 
or two, that you have not been happy, and you are evident- 
ly unhappy now. I know that you must have done some- 
thing wrong. But you may do just as you please about 
telling me what it is. If you freely confess it and submit 
to the punishment, whatever it may be, you will be happy 
again ; if not, you will continue to suffer. Now you may 
do just as you please." 

'^ "Well, father, I will tell you all. Do you remember that 
you gnre us leave to go upon the river and skate the other 
evening ?" 
^^Yes." 

" Well, I disobeyed you, and went upon the ice, where 

you told us not to go. I have been unhappy ever since, 

and I resolved to-day that I would come and tell you, and 

ask you to forgive me." 

I need not detail the conversation that would follow. But 



CONFESSION. 2J 

there is not a child among the hundreds and perhaps thou- 
sands who will read this chapter, who does not fully under- 
stand, that hj such a confession the hoy will relieve himself 
of his burden, restore peace to his mind, and go away from 
his father with a light and happy heart. He will no more 
dread to meet him and to hear the sound of his voice. He 
can now be happy with his sister again, and look upon the 
beautiful stream winding in the valley without feeling his 
heart sink within him imder a sense of guilt, — ^while aU the 
time, perhaps, his brother, who would not come and ac- 
knowledge his sin, has his heart still darkened, and his 
coimtenance made sad by the gloomy recollection of unfor- 
given sin. Yes, confession of sin has an almost magic 
power in restoring peace of mind. 

Providence seems to have implanted this principle in the 
human heart, for the express purpose of having us act upon 
it. He has so formed us, that when we have done wrong, 
we cannot feel at peace again, until we have acknowledged 
our wrong to the person against whom it was done. And 
this acknowledgment of it removes the imeasiness as effec- 
tually as fire removes cold, or as water extinguishes fire. It 
operates in all cases, small as well as great, and is infallible 
in its power. And yet how slowly do young persons and 
even old persons learn to use it. The remedies for almost 
every external evil are soon discovered, and are at once ap- 
plied ; but the remedy for that uneasiness of mind which re- 
sults from having neglected some duty or committed some 
sin, and which consists in simple confession of it to the per- 
son injured, — ^how slowly is it learned and how reluctantly 
practised. 

I once knew a boy who was intrusted with a letter to be 
carried to a distant place. On his way, or just after his ar- 
rival, in attempting to take the letter out of his pocket sud- 
denly, he tore it completely in two. He was in consterna- 
tion. What to do he did not know. He did not dare to 
cany the letter in its mangled condition, and he did not dare 
to destroy it. He did accordingly the most foolish thing he 
could do ; — ^he kept it for many days doubting and waiting, 
and feeling anxious and unhappy, whenever it came in his 
sight. At last he thought that this was folly, and he took 
his letter, carried it to the person to whom it was addressed, 
saying, 



22 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

" Here is a letter which I was intrusted with for you, and 
in taking it out of my pocket I very carelessly tore it in 
two. I am sorry for it, but I have no excuse." 

The receiver of the letter said, it was no matter, and the 
boy went home suddenly and entirely relieved. 

My reader will say. Why, this was a very simple way of 
getting over the difficulty. Why did he not think of it be- 
fore? 

I know it was a simple way. The whole story is so sim- 
ple, that it is hardly dignified enough to introduce here, but 
it is true, and it exactly illustrates the idea I am endeavour- 
ing to enforce here, viz. that in little things, as well as in 
great things, the confession of sin restores peace of mind. 

I will now mention one other case which illustrates the 
same general truth, but which is in one respect very strik- 
ingly difierent from all the preceding. 

A merchant was one morning sitting in his coimting- 
room preparing for the business of the day, when his boy 
entered with several letters from the post-office. Among 
them was one in a strange hand-writing and with the 
words, " Money enclosed" written upon the outside. As the 
merchant was not at that time expecting any money, his 
attention was first attracted to this letter. He opened it 
and read somewhat as follows : — 

'^ Sir— , Jan. 4, 1831. 

'^ Some time ago I defrauded you of some money. You 
did not know it then, and I suppose you never would have 
known it unless I had informed you. But I have had no 
peace of mind since it was done, and send you back the 
money in this letter. Hoping that God will forgive this 
and all my other sins, 

I am. 

Yours, 



»> 



I remarked that this case was to be totally different from 
all the others in one respect. Reader, do you notice the 
difference ? It consists in this, viz. that here not only was 
the sin confessed, but reparation was made. The man not 
only acknowledged the nraud, but he paid back the money. 
And if any of my readers are but little acquainted with hu- 



CONFEI^SION. 23 

man nature^ they may perhaps imagine tliat it was the re- 
paration, and not the confession, which restored peace of 
mind. But I think I can show very clearly^ that making 
reparation is not effectual. Suppose this man, instead 
ot writing the above letter, had just come into the store and 
asked to buy some article or other, and in paying for it, had 
managed dexterously to put in the hands of me clerk a 
larger sum than was due, so as to repay, without the mer- 
chant's knowledge, the whole amount of which he had 
defrauded him. JDo you think this would have restored 
his peace of mind ? No, not even if he had thus secretly 
paid back double what he had unjustly taken. It was the 
confession; the acknowledgment of having done wrong, 
which really quieted his troubled conscience, and gave him 
peace. 

It is not probable that this confession was sufficient to 
make him perfectly happy again, — ^because it was incom- 
plete. The reparation was perfect, but the acknowledg- 
ment was not. The reader will observe that the letter has 
no name signed to it, and the merchant could not by any 
means discover who was the writer of it. Now, if the man 
had honestly told the whole — ^if he had written his name 
and place of residence, and described fully all the circum- 
stances of the original fraud, he would have been much 
more fully relieved. All confession which is intended to 
bring back peace of mind when it is gone, should be open 
and thorough. There are, indeed, many cases where, fromi 
peculiar circumstances in such a case as this, it is not the 
duty of the individual to give his name. This, however, 
does not affect the general principle, that the more full and 
free the confession is, the more perfect will be the restora- 
tion of peace. 

So strongly is this principle fixed by the Creator in the 
human heart, that men who have committed crimes to which 
the laws of the land annex the most severe public punish- 
ments, after enduring some time in secrecy the remorse 
which crime almost always brings, have at last openly come 
forward, and surrendered themselves to the magistrate,—" 
and acknowledged their guilt, — and have felt their hearts 
relieved and lightened, by receiving an ignominious public 
pimishment in exchange for the inward tortures of remorse. 
Even a murderer has been known to come forward to relieve 



24 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

the horrors of his soul by confession, — ^though he knows 
that this confession will chain him in a dark stone cell, and 
after a short but gloomy interval extend him in a coffin. 

My reader, you can try the power of confession, and enjoy 
the relief and happiness it will bring, without paying such a 
fearful price as this : — ^but these cases lead me to remark 
upon one other subject connected with confession. I mean 
punishment. Sometimes, as I before remarked, when a per- 
son confesses some wrong, he brings himself imder the neces- 
sity of repairing the injury done, and at other times, of sub- 
mitting to punishment. Parents sometimes forgive their 
children when they have done virrong, if they will only con- 
fess it ; and though this ought sometimes to be done, there is 
yet great danger that children, in such cases, will soon ac- 
quire a habit of doing virrong, and then coming to confess it 
with a careless air, as if it was not of much consequence, or 
rather as if confessing the sin destroyed it, and left them per- 
fectly innocent. 

I should think, on this accoimt, that the father whose 
sons have disobeyed him on the ice, would be much at a loss 
to know what to do, after one of his boys had so frankly ac- 
knowledged it. I can suppose him saying to his son, " Well, 
my son, I am glad you have told me freely all about this. 
You did very wrong, and I am very much at a loss to know 
what I ought to do. I will consider it, and speak to you by 
and bye, about it. In the mean time you may be assured, 
that I forgive you from my heart, and if I should conclude 
to do any thing farther, it will not be because I am now 
displeased, but because I wish to save you efiectually firom 
the suflfering of doing wrong in future." 

When the father is left alone to muse by himself upon the 
subject, we may imagine him to be thinking as follows. 

" Well, I should not have thought that my boys would 
have broken their promise and disobeyed me. I wonder if 
my eldest boy disobeyed also. The youngest only i^ke of 
himself — shall I ask him ? — No. Each shall stana on in- 
dependent ground. If the other sinned too, he too may come 
voluntarily and obtain peace by confession, or he must con- 
tinue to bear the tortures of self-reproach. And now, if I 
take no farther notice of the transgression, which is already 
acknowledged, I am afraid that my son will the next time 
yield more easily to temptation, thinking that he has only 



CONFESSION. 25 

to acknowledge it to be forgiyen. Shall I forbid their skat- 
ing any more this winter ? — or for a month ? — or shall I re- 
quire them, every time they return, to giye me an exact 
account of where they hare been ? — I wish I could forgive 
and forget it entirely, but I am afraid I ought not." 

Thus he would be perplexed ; and if he was a wise parent, 
and under the influence of moral principle, and not of mere 
parental feeling, he would probably do something more than 
merely to pass it by. The boy would find that confession 
to such a father is not merely nominal, — ^thatit brings with 
it inconvenience, or deprivation of enjoyment, or perhaps 
positive punishment. Still he would rejoice in the opportu- 
nity to acknowledge his sins ; for the loss of a little pleasure, 
or the sufiering of pimishment, he would feel to be a very 
smaU price to pay for returning peace of mind, and he would 
fly to confession as a refuge from self-reproach whenever 
he had done wrong. 

Let the parents or the teachers who may read this take 
this view of the nature of confession, and practise upon it in 
their intercourse vnth their children and their pupils. Let 
them meet them kindly when they come forward to ac- 
knowledge their faults ; sympathize vdth them in the strug- 
gle which you know they must make at such a time, and 
consider how strong the temptation was which led them 
to sin. And in every thing of the nature of pimishment which 
you inflict, be sure the preveniiofi of future guiU isyourw/e 
motive, and not the gratification of your own present feeling 
of displeasure. If this is done, those under your care will 
soon value confession as a privilege, and will often seek in 
it a refuge from inward suffering. 

Yes, an opportunity to acknowledge yirrong of any kind 
is a great privilege ; and if any of my readers are satisfied 
that what I have been advancing on this subject is true, I 
hope they will prove by experiment the correctness of these 
principles. Almost every person has at all times some little 
sources of uneasiness upon his mind. They are not very 
well defined in their natiure and cause, but still they exist, 
and they very much disturb his happiness. Now, if you 
look vdthin long enough to seize hold of and examine these 
feelings of secret uneasiness, you will find that, in almost 
every case, they are connected with something nrrong which 
you have done. That anxious brow of yours then is clouded 



26 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

with remoise ; — ^we call it by soft names, as care, solicitude, 
perplexity i — ^but it is generally a slight remorse, — so weak 
as not to force its true character upon your notice, but yet 
strong enough to destroy peace of mind. A great deal of 
what is called depression of spirits arises from this source. 
There are duties which you do not faithfully discharge, or 
inclinations which you habitually indulge, which you know 
ought to be denied. Conscience keeps up, therefore, a con- 
tinual murmur, but she murmurs so gently that you do •not 
recognise her voice, — and yet it destroys your rest. You feel 
restless and unhappy, and wonder what can be the cause. 

Let no one now say, or even suppose, that I think that all 
the depression of spirits which exists in human hearts, is 
nothing but a secret sense of conscious guilt. I know that 
there is real solicitude about the future, unconnected with re- 
morse for the past; — and there is often a sinking of the spirits 
in disease, which moral remedies will not touch. These 
cases are, however, comparatively few. A far greater pro- 
portion of the restlessness and of the corroding cares of hu- 
man hearts are produced, or at least very much exaggerated, 
by being connected with guilt. 

I suppose some of my readers are going over these pages 
only for amusement. They will be interested, perhaps, in 
the illustrations, and if of mature or cultivated minds, in the 
point to which I am endeavouring to make them tend. I am 
afraid, however, that there are few who are reading really 
and honestly for the sake of moral improvement. To those 
few, however, I would now say : Do you never feel unquiet 
in spirit, restless or sad ? Do you never experience a secret 
uneasiness of heart, of which you do not know the exact 
cause, but which destroys, or at least disturbs your peace ? 
If you do, take this course. Instead of flying from those 
feelings when they come into your heart, advance boldly to 
meet them. Grasp and examine them. Find their cause. 
You will find, in nine instances out of ten, that their cause is 
something wrong in your own conduct or character. Young 
persons will genersdly find something yirrong towards their 
parents. Now go and confess these faults. Do not endea- 
vour to palliate or excuse them, but endeavour, on the other 
hand, to see their worst side ; and if you confess them freely 
and fully, and resolve to sin no more, peace will return, at 
least so far as these causes have banished it from your heart. 



CONFESSION. 27 

After I had written thus far, I read these pages to a gen- 
tleman who yisited me, and he remarked that before I clos- 
ed the chapter, I ought to caution my readers against ac- 
quiring the habit of doing wrong, and then coming carelessly 
to confess it, without any real sorrow, as though the acknow- 
ledgment atoned for the sin and wiped all the guilt away. 

^' I was once," said he, " visiting in a family, and while 
we were sitting at the fire, a little boy came in and did 
some wanton, wilful mischief." 

*' Why, my child," said the mother, " see what you have 
done. That was very wrong; but you are sorry for it, I 
suppose. Are you not ?" 

^^ Yes, Ma'," said the boy carelessly, running away at 
the same time to play. 

^^Yes," said the mother, "he is sorry. He does wrong 
sometimes, but then he is always sorry for it and acknow- 
ledges it You are sorry now, are you not, my son?" 

" Yes, M^\" said the boy, as he ran capering about the 
room, striking the furniture and hislittle sister with his whip. 

My friend thought there was some danger that this sort 
of confession might be made. And it is undoubtedly often 
made. But it does no good. Confession must come from 
the heart, or it will not relieve the heart. 

* This anecdote shows the necessity of some punishment in 
all governments. If a father forgives the disobedience of 
his children simply upon their confessing it — ^I mean, if he 
makes this his settled and regular course — ^his children will 
soon disobey, expecting to make peace by confession as a 
matter of course, and the confession will thus not only be- 
come an useless form, but will become the very lure which 
tempts them to sin. A teacher once made a rule, that if any 
irregularity occurred in any of the classes, the assistant who 
heard the class was to send the person to him. At first the 
pupils felt this very much. A scholar would come with 
tears in her eyes to acknowledge her fiiult, although it was 
perhaps only a very slight one. The teacher innicted no 
punishment, but asked mem to be careful in future, and sent 
them away kindly. Soon, however, they began to feel less 
penitent when they had done wrong. They came more and 
more as a matter of form, until at last they would come and 
state their feult as carelessly as if they were merely giving 
their teacher a piece of indifferent information. No ; con- 



28 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

fession must never be understood as making any atonement 
for sin. Whenever you acknowledge that you have done 
wrong, do it with sincere penitence,— and with a spirit, 
which would lead you to miake all the reparation in your 
power, if it is a case which admits of reparation ; to submit 
to the just punishment, if any is inflicted ; and always to 
resolve most firmly that you will sin no more. 

Let all my readers, then, whether old or young, look at 
once around them, and seek diligently for every thmg wrong 
which they have done towards their fellows, and try the ex- 
periment of acknowledging the wrong in every case, that 
they may see how much such a course will bring peace and 
happiness to their hearts. When, however, I say that every 
thing wrong ought to be acknowledged, I do not mean that 
it is, in every case, necessary to make b, formal confession in 
language. Acknowledgments may be made by actions as 
distinctly and as cordially as by tvords. An example will 
best illustrate this. 

A joumejnnan in a carpenter's shop borrowed a plane of^^ 
his comrade, and in giving it back to him, they dropped it 
and dulled it. The lender maintained that the borrower 
ought to sharpen it, while the borrower said that it was not 
his fault, and an angry controversy arose between them. It 
would have taken but a few minutes to have sharpened the 
instrument, but after having Dnce contended about it, each 
was determined not to yield. The plane was laid down in 
its damaged state, each declaring that he would not sharp- 
en it. 

The borrower, however, did not feel easy, and as he lay 
down that night to rest, the thought of his roolish contention 
made him unhappy. He reflected, too, that since his friend 
had been willing to lend him his instrument, he ought to 
have borne himself all the risk of its return. He regretted 
that he refused to do what now, on cool reflection, he saw 
was clearly his duty. 

On the following morning, therefore, he went half an hour 
earlier than usual to the shop, and while alone there, with 
the help of grindstone and hone, he put the unfortunate 
plane into the best possible order, laid it in its proper place, 
and when his companion came in he said to him pleasantly, 

'' I wish you would try your plane, and see how it cuts 
this morning." 



CONFESSION. 29 

Now was not tbis a most fall and complete acknowledge 
ment of having been wrong ? And yet there is not a sylla- 
ble of confession in language. Any way, by which you 
can openly manifest your conyiction that you have been 
wrong, and your determination to do so no more^ is sufficient. 
The mode best for the purpose will vary with circumstances. 
Sometimes by words, sometimes by writing, and sometimes 
by action. The only thing that is essentialis, that the heart 
should feel what in these various ways it attempts to express. 

I doubt not now but that many of my readers who have 
taken up this book with a desire to find religious instruction 
in it, have been for some time wishing to have me come to 
the subject of the confession of sin to God. You feel that 
the greatest of all your transgressions have been against 
Him ; and you can have no true peace of mind again^ until 
He has forgiven you. I have no doubt that this is the state 
of mind of very many of those who will read this chapter. 
But confession of sin is the same in its nature and tendency 
when made to God as when made to your fellow-man. 
When you have finished this chapter, then shut the book, 
and go alone before your Maker, and acknowledge aU your 
sins. Acknowledge them frankly and fully, and try to see 
and feel the worst, not by merely calling your offences by 
harsh names, but by calmly looking at the aggravating cir- 
cumstances. While you do this, do not spend your strength 
in trying to Jeel strong emotion. You cannot feel emotion 
by merely trying to do so. There is no need of any terror, 
— ^no need of agony of body or of mind, — ^no need of gloom 
of countenance or anxiety of heart. Just go and sincerely 
acknowledge your sins to God, and ask him to forgive you 
through Jesus Christ, and he will. 

But perhaps some one of you may say, " I am surprised 
to hear you say that there is no need of strong agitation of 
mind, before we can be forgiven for sin. I am sure that 
there often is very strong feeling of this kind. There is 
terror, and agony of mind, and afterwards the individual 
becomes a sincere Christian.** 

It is true, there is sometimes strong and continued agi- 
tation, but it is only because those that suffer it are unwilling 
to ifield to God and confess their sins to him. As soon as 
this unwillingness is gone, and they come to their God and 



30 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

Saviour with all their hearts^ the mental suffering yanishes, 
I said, that if you were willing now to confess your sins to 
God with sincere penitence, you may at once be happy. 
Of course, if you are iinwilling — ^if you see that you are 
sinning against him, and will not come and make peace,^- 
you then have indeed cause to tremble. 

There is a great mistake prevalent on this subject, espe- 
cially among the young, though the subject is often clearly 
enough explained, both from the press and the pulpit. God's 
command is, repent at once^ and believe on the Lord Jesus 
Christ, and you shall have peace. I have in this chapter 
used the word confess, instead of repent, for sincere confession 
is only a manifestation of penitence. Now I do not find that 
the Bible requires any thing previous to repentance. It does 
not say that we must be. miserable a week or a day, or an 
hour. I never heard any minister urge upon his hearers the 
duty of suffering anguish of mind, and all the horrors of re- 
morse, a single moment in order to prepare the soul for Christ. 
It is doubtless true, that persons do often thus suffer, and are 
perhaps led bj it in the end to fly to the refuge. But they 
ought to havejled to the refuge without this steering, in the 
beginning. The truth is, that Gt)d commands men every- 
where to repent. It is a notorious fact, that they will not 
comply. When the duty of humbly confessing their sins to 
God is clearly brought before them, there is often so great 
a desire to continue in sin, that a very painful struggle con- 
tinues for some time. Now this struggle is all our own 
fault, — it is something that we add, altogether ; — God does 
not require it. He says, come to me at once. Ministers in 
the pulpit do not urge it ; so far from desiring it are they, 
that they always urge their hearers to come at once to the 
Saviour and be happy, — and when any of their hearers are 
suffering in consequence of their indecision, the pastor, so 
far from wishing them to continue in this state as a part of 
their duty, urges them with all his power to terminate it at 
once, by giving up their hearts to God and to happiness. 
And yet so reluctant are men to give up their hearts to 
God, and so exceedingly common is this guilty struggle, 
that by the young it is often considered as a painful part 
of duty. They think they cannot become Christians with- 
out it. Some try to awaken it and continue it, and are sad 
because they cannot succeed. Others are serving their 



CONFESSION. 31 

Maker, endeavouring to grow in grace and to prepare for 
heaven, but they feel but little confidence in his sympathy 
or affection for them, because just before they concluded to 
yield to God, sin did not make such violent and desperate 
efforts in their hearts, as in some others, to retain its hold. 

No, my reader, there is no need of any struggle or of any 
suffering. If this chapter has led you to be wiUing to con- 
fess your sins, you may confess them now, and from this 
moment be calm, and peaceful, and happy. 

My readers will recollect, that I mentioned, in the early 
part of this chapter, two points connected with confession, 
viz. reparation and punishment. In confessing sins to God, 
we have no reparation to him to make, and no pimishment 
to suffer. We have a Saviour, and we fly to him. He makes 
reparation, and he has already suffered for us. We must 
come trusting in him. I hope very many of my readers 
will see that both duty and happiness urge them to take the 
simple course I have endeavoured to describe and illustrate, 
and that they will now take it, — and follow me through the 
remaining chapters of this book, with hearts bent on loving 
and serving God. 



CHAPTER II. 



THE FRIEND. 



** To whom shall we go ?' 



There is a very excellent infant school in one of the chi 
towns of Switzerland, where many young children are cc 
lected iinder the care of a most kind and faithful superii 
tendant and assistant, to receire moral and inteUectuial ii 
struction. Whenever a new pupil is admitted, she lool 
with fear and trembling upon the strange scene before he 
A large open room is filled with the children standing i 
rows, or collected in busy groups ; and in the pleasant pla^ 
groimd, yerdant with grass and trees, many others are se€ 
lull of actiyity and happiness. 

It is the custom whenever a new scholar enters the scho< 
for the teacher to collect all the children in the great roo: 
-—extending them in a line around it — and then he wall 
into the midst, leading the little stranger by the hand, an 
something like the following conversation ensues. 

Teacher. " Here is a little girl, who has come to joi 
our school. She is a stranger, and is afraid. Will you a 
promise to treat her kindly ?** 

Pupils. (All answering together.) ^' Yes, Sir, we will 

Teacher. " She has told me that she will try to be a goo 
girl and to do her duty, but sometimes she will forget, I ai 
afraid, and sometimes she will yield to temptation, an 
do wrong. Now which of the older children will be h< 
little friend, to be with her for a few days, till she becom< 
acquainted with the school, and tell her what she ought \ 



THE FRIBND. 33 

do, and help her to watch herself^ that she may avoid doing 
wrong ?" 

Several voices at once. " I will, I will, Sir." 
The teacher then selects from those who thus volunteer 
one of the hest and oldest children, and constitutes her the 
fiiend and protector of the stranger. They are together 
wherever they go. A strong mutual attachment springs up 
between them. If the stranger is injured in any way/ the 
protector feels aggrieved ; — ^kindness shown to one touches 
almost as effectually the other, — and thus the trembling 
stranger is guided and encouraged, and led on to duty ana 
to strength by the influence of her protector, — though that 
protector is only another child. 

We all need a protector, especially in our moral interests. 
The human heart seems to be formed to lean upon some- 
thing stronger than itself for support. We are so surrounded 
with difficidties and temptations and dangers here, that we 
need a refuge in which we can trust. Children find such a 
protector and such a refuge in their parents. How much 
safer you feel in sickness, if your £^ther or your mother is 
by your bedside. How often, in a summer evening, when 
a dark heavy cloud is thundering in the sky, and the win- 
dow glitters with the brightness of the lightning, do the 
children of a family sigh for their father's return, and feel 
relieved, and almost safe, when he comes among them. But 
when man is matured, he can find no earthly protector. 
He must go alone, unless he has a friend above. 

A protector and friend ought to possess two distinct qua- 
lifications, which it is very difficiilt to find united. He 
ought to be our superior in knowledge and power , so that we 
can confide in his protection, and yet he ought to be in the 
same circumstances with ourselves, that he may understand 
and appreciate our trials and difficulties. 

Now my object in this chapter is to endeavour to show 
my readers, that they need, and that they can have, just such 
a protector and friend. One that has power to save to the 
uttermost, and yet one that knows by his own experience 
all your little trials and cares. I know that if any of you go 
and confess your sins to God, and begin a life of piety now, 
that you will, without aid from above, wander away into sin, 
forget your resolutions, displease God more than ever, 

o 



84 YOUNG CIiniSTIAN. 

and more than ever destroy your own peace of mind. I 
i?*ish, therefore, to persuade all those who desire hereafter to 
do their duty, to come now and unite themselves in indis- 
soluhle bonds with the moral protector and friend whose 
character I am about to describe. 

In the epistle to the Hebrews, 2d chapter and 1 6th verse, 
there occurs the following remarkable passage : — " For veri- 
ly he," t. e. Christ, '' took not on him the nature of angels, 
but he took on him the seed of Abraham. Wherefore in 
all things it behoved him to be made like unto his brethren, 
that he might be a merciful and faithful high priest in things 
pertaining to God." Here you see how the difficulty which 
I named above is surmounted. Our powerful Protector 
came to this earth, lived here thirty years, tasted of every 
bitter cup which we have to drink, in order that he might 
know by experience all our trials and troubles, and be 
able more effectually to sympathize ^ith us and help us. 
He took not on him the nature of angels, but he took on 
him the seed of Abraham, i, e, the nature of man. 

I wish my readers would pause and reflect a moment 
upon these two elements in the character of a valuable pro- 
tector, — Yiz, power ajid sympathy, and consider how seldom 
they are united. I will give one or two examples which 
may help me to illustrate the subject. 

A mother with a large family, and but slender means to 
provide for their wants, concluded to send her eldest son to 
sea. She knew that, though the toils and labours of a sea- 
faring life were extreme, they could be borne, and they 
brought with them many pleasures, and many useftd results. 
She agreed, therefore, with a sea-captain, a distant relative 
of hers, to admit her boy on board his ship. The captain 
became really interested in his new friend, said he would 
take good care of him, teach him his duty on ship-board, 
and help him on in the world, if he was diligent and 
faith^. The boy looked with some dread upon the pro- 
spect of bidding farewell to liis mother, to his brotners 
and sisters, and his quiet home, to explore unknown and 
untried scenes, and to encounter the dangers of a stormy 
ocean. 

He, however, bade all farewell, and was soon tossing upon 
the waters, feeling safe imder his new protector. He soon 



TUU FRIEND. 35 

found, however, that the captain had power, but that he had 
not sympathy. He would sometimes, in a stormy night, 
when the masts were reeling to and fro, and the bleak wind 
was whistling through the frozen rigging, make him go aloft, 
though the poor boy, unaccustomed to the giddy height, was 
in an agony of terror, and in real danger of falling headlong 
to the deck. The captain had forgotten what were his own 
feelings when he was himself a boy, or he would probably 
hare taught this necessary part of seamanship in a more 
gentle and gradual manner. He thought the boy ought to 
learn, and lus want of sympathy with his feelings led him to 
a course Which was severe, and in fact cruel, though not in- 
tentionally so. The captain never spoke to his young charge 
excepting to command him. He took no interest in his little 
concerns. Once the boy spent all his leisure time industrious- 
ly in rigging out a little ship, complete. '* lliis," thought 
he, *' will please the captain. He wants me to learn, and 
this will show him that I have been learning." As he went 
on, however, from day to day, the captain took no notice 
of his work. A word or a look of satisfaction from his pro- 
tector would have gratified him exceedingly. But no ; the 
stem weather-beaten officer could not sympathize with a 
child, or appreciate his feelings at all; and one day, 
when the boy had been sent away from his work for a 
moment, the captain came upon deck, and after looking 
around a moment, he said to a rough-looking man stand- 
ing there, " I say. Jack, I wish you would clear away a 
little here ; cdll those lines, — and that boy's bauble there, 
you may as ^ ell throw it overboard, he never will make 
any thing of it." 

Commands on board ship must be obeyed ; and the poor 
cabin-boy came up from below just in time to catch the 
captain's words, and to see his little ship fly from the sailor's 
hands into the waves. It fell upon its side, its sails were 
drenched with the water, and it fast receded from view. 
The boy went to his hammock and wept bitterly. His heart 
was wounded deeply, but the stem captain did not know it. 
How could he sympathize with the feelings of a child ? 

And yet this captain was the real friend of the boy. He 
protected him in all great dangers, took great care of him 
jvhen in foreign ports, that he should not be exposed to 



36 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

sickness^ nor to temptation. When they returned home he 
recommended him to another ship, and where, through the 
captain's influence, he had a better situation and higher wages ; 
and he assisted him in yarious ways for many years. Now 
this boy had a protector who had power, but not sympathy. 

This boy, howeyer, might hare had a friend, who would 
have sympathized with him fully, but who would have had 
no power. I might illustrate this case also, by supposing, in 
the next ship which he should enter, that the captain should 
feel no interest in him at all, but that he should have with him 
there a brother, or another boy of his own age, who would be 
his constant companion and friend, — entering into all his 
feeUngs, sympathizing with him in his enjoyments and in his 
troubles, — but yet having no power to protect him from real 
evils, or to avert any dangers which might threaten. I might 
have supposed such a case, and following the boy in im- 
agination into the new scene, I might show that jryw- 
pathy alone is not sufl&cient. But it is not necessary to 
do this. All my readers, doubtless, already fully under- 
stand the distinction between these two, and the necessity 
that they should be united in such a protector as we all 
need. 

The great Friend of sinners unites these. He is able 
to save to the uttermost all that come unto God through 
him, and he can fully sympathize with us in all our trials 
And cares, for he has been upon the earth, — suflFeriiig all 
that we have to suffer, and drinking of every cup which is 
presented to our lips. He became flesh, i. * he became a 
man, and dwelt among us, so that, as the Bible most forcibly 
and beautifully expresses it, " we have not an high priest 
which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities, 
but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without 
sin." 

It must be borne in mind that our Saviour did not com- 
mence his public ministrations till he was thirty years of age. 
Thirty years he spent — ^in what ? Why, in learning by 
slow and painful experience what it is to be a human being 
in this world of trial. Have I a reader who is only ten or 
twelve years of age ? Remember the Saviour was once as 
young as you, — exposed to just such little difficulties and 
trials as you are. He has gone through the whole from in- 



THE FBIEND. 37 

fancy upward, and he does not forget. You may be sure, 
then, that he will sympathize with you. If any thing is 
great enough to interest you, you may be sure it is great 
enough to interest him in your behalf. He remembers his 
own childhood, and will sympathize with the feelings of yours. 

This plan of coming into this world and becoming one 
of us, and remaining in obscurity so long, that he might 
learn by experiment what the human conoition is in all its 
details, was certainly a rery extraordinary one. It is spoken 
of as very extraordinary everywhere in the Bible. You 
have all heard of Howard the philanthropist. When he 
was thirty or forty years of age, there were everywhere in 
Europe jails and dungeons filled with wretched prisoners, 
some of whom were guilty and some innocent. They were 
crowded together in small, cold, damp rooms. Their food 
was scanty and bad, dreadful diseases broke out among 
them, and when this was the case, they were in a vast mul- 
titude of cases left to suflfer and to die in unmitigated agony. 
Very few knew their condition, and there were none to pity 
or relieve them, until Howard undertook the task. He left 
his home in England, and went forth— encountering every 
difficulty and every discouragement — ^until he had explored 
thoroughly this mass of misery, and brought it to public 
view, and had done every thing which the case admitted 
to mitigate its severity. 

This was extraordinary enough, and it attracted imiversal 
attention. All Europe was surprised that a man should de- 
vote years of life to a most arduous and hazardous labour, 
exposing himself to the most loathsome influences and to the 
worst diseases, without any prospect of remuneration, and 
all for the sole purpose of relieving the suflferings of criminals, 
of men whom the world had cast off as unfit for human so- 
ciety. It was, I acknowledge, extraordinary ; — ^but what 
wouldhave been the sensation produced if Howard could not 
have gained admission to these scenes, so as effectually to 
accomplish his object, without becoming himself a prisoner, 
and thus sharing for a time the fate of those whom he was 
endeavouring to save ? Suppose he should consent to this. 
Imagine him approaching foi: this purpose some dreary pri- 
son. He passes its dismal threshold, and the bolts and bars 
of the gloomiest dungeon are turned upon him. He lays 
aside the comfortable (kess of the citizen for themany-colouT'^ 



38 YOUNG CHRtSTIAN. 

ed garb of confinement and disgrace. He holds out his arm 
for the manacles, and lies down at night upon his bed of 
straw, and lingers away months, or perhaps years of wretch- 
edness, for no other purpose than that he may know fully 
rvhat wretchedness is. He thus looks misery in the face, and 
takes it by the hand, and he emerges at last from his cell, 
emaciated by disease, worn out by the gloom of perpetual 
night, and his heart sickened by the atmosphere of sin and 
shame. Suppose he had done this, how strongly could he, 
after it, sympathize with the sufferings of a prisoner ; and 
how cordially, and with what confidence, can the inmates 
of those abodes come to him with their story of wo. 

Now we hare such a Saviour as this. He has been among 
us. He has himself experienced every trial and every suf- 
fering which we have to endure. So that if we choose him 
for our friend, we may come to him on every occasion, sure of 
finding not ojAj power to relieve us, but sympathy to feel for 
us. No matter what may be the source of our trial, whether 
great or small. If it is great enough to interest us, it is great 
enough to interest him for us. Perhaps some young child, 
who reads this, has been pained to the heart by the unkind- 
ness of some one in whom he had reposed all his confidence. 
The action which showed this neglect or imkindness was so 
trifling, that perhaps the little sufferer feels that no one can 
sympathize with him in apparently so small a cause of sor- 
row. But Jesus Christ was once as young a child as you ; he 
too doubtless had companions and friends, and if he did not 
experience unkindness and ingratitude at their hands, child- 
hood was the only time of his life in which he was free from 
these injuries. He doubtless knows them full well: and there 
is one thing in which the sympathy of our Saviour differs 
from that of every other friend. He judges not from the 
magnitude of the cause of sorrow, — ^but from the real effect 
of that cause upon the heart which suffers it. A child is per- 
plexed with the difficulties of simple division in school. He 
tries to be patient and quiet in spirit, and if he loves the Sa- 
viour, the ^viour will sympathize with him just as much in 
that trial, as he does in the perplexity of the merchant plan- 
ning his distant voyages, or of the president of a mighty na- 
tion in his various cares. It matters not with our great 
Friend, whether the object of human solicitude is a plaything, 
a fortune, or a kingdom. All are equally trifles in themselves 



THE FRIEND. 39 

to him. All that he looks at is their moral power over the 
heart which is influenced hy them. If a child is agitated by 
a trifling cause^ he looks at the greatness of the agitation and 
suflFering, not at the insignificance of the cause. But it is 
not so with men. They judge from external circumstances. 
Napoleon Buonaparte was imprisoned for his crimes upon an 
almost solitary island, and the whole civilized world looked 
upon him with strong compassion. And yet there are hiin- 
dreds and thousands in every city in Europe who suffer 
every hour far more than he did, but whose anguish of spirit 
attracts but little attention because it arises from a less mag- 
nificent cause. But our Redeemer looks at the heart, and 
estimates its feelings. If any thing interests us, therefore, we 
need never fear that he will regard it as too insignificant 
to interest him. 

In all the greater trials of life, I mean those which come 
from greater and more permanent causes, we may confidently 
expect sympathy and fellow-feeling if we come to the Sa- 
viour. Does poverty threaten you? He knows what poverty 
is, better than you, — ^for years he knew not where to lay his 
head. Do you suffer from the unkind treatment of others ? 
He has tried this in the extreme, and can fully sympathize 
\\4th you. Do you weep over the grave of a beloved friend ? 
Jesus wept from this cause long before you. In fact, he 
went about the world, not only to do good^ but to taste of 
suffering, that he might know, with all the vividness of ex- 
perience, exactly what sufl*ering in all its variety is. 

We all love sympathy when we are suflbring, — but there 
is one occasion on which we feel the need of it still more. I 
mean in temptation. We need sympathy when we are strug- 
gling with temptation, and still more when we have done 
wrong, and are reaping its bitter fruits. A dreadful murder 
was once committed, which aroused the alarm and indigna- 
tion of an extensive community. Every one expressed the 
strongest abhorrence of the deed, and made the greatest effort 
to procure the arrest and punishment of the criminal. And 
this was right. But with this feeling there should have been, 
in every heart, strong compassion for the miserable criminal. 

He was arrested, tried, and condemned to die ; and a few 
hours before the execution of the sentence of the law, I 
went, with a clergyman who often visited him, to see him 
in his cell. 



^ VOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

When we had entered his gloomy prison, the jailer closed 
behind us its massive iron door, and barred and locked it. 
We found ourselves in a spacious passage with a stone floor, 
and stone walls, and stone roof, and with narrow iron doors 
on each side, leading to the cells of the various prisoners, 
We ascended the stairs, and found every story assuming the 
same rigid features of iron and stone. In a comer of the 
upper story was the cell of the murderer. 

A little grated window opened into the passage-way. The 
jailer tapped softly at the window, and informed the prisoner^ 
in a kind and gentle tone, that the clerg3nD[ian had come. 

" Should you like to have us come in ?" asked the jailer. 

The prisoner instantly assented, and the jailer unbolted 
and unbarred the door. " Strange !" thought I. '' Here is 
a man- who has outraged the laws of both God and man, and 
a whole community has arisen injustice, and declared that 
he is unworthy to live, and to-morrow, by the hand of vio- 
lence, he is to die. And yet his very keeper treats him so 
tenderly, that he will not come into his cell without first ob- 
taining permission !'' 

As we passed through the narrow aperture in the thick 
stone wall which the iron door had closed, the whole aspect 
of the room and of the prisoner was one which efiectually 
removed my surprise that he should be treated with kindness 
and compassion. He was pale and haggard, and he trem- 
bled exceedingly. He seemed exhausted by the agony 
of remorse and terror. A few hours before his wife had been 
in his cell, to bid him a final farewell, and the next day he 
was to be led forth to execution in the presence of thousands. 
In the mean time, the walls, and floor, and roof of his cell, 
of continued, iminterrupted stone and iron, seemed to say to 
him, wherever he looked, " You shall not escape" It seem- 
ed as if the eye would have rested with a feeling of relief 
upon a board or a curtain, even if it concealed a stone be- 
hind, — ^with so forbidding and relentless a gripe did this dis- 
mal cell seem to hold its unhappy tenant. As I looked be- 
tween the heavy iron bars of his grated window, upon the 
distant plains and hills, and thought how ardently he must 
wish that he were once more innocent and free, I forgot the 
cold-blooded brutality of the crime, and only mourned over 
the misery and ruin of the man. 

The world does, in some cases, sympathize with one suf- 



THE FRI£ND« 41 

fering from remorse; but generally men are indignant with 
the oflfender if his crime is great, and they treat him with ri- 
dicule and scorn if it is small. Jesus Christ, however, pities 
a sinner. He loyed us while we were yet in our sins ; he 
came to sare us. He forgot our deep guilt, and only sym- 
pathized with us in our suifering. 

This disposition of our Sariour, to look not so much at the 
guilt which we have incurred, as at the sufferings into which 
it has brought us, is everywhere very apparent in his whole 
history. Often the greatest sinners came to him, and he 
never reproached them, unless they came in pride and stub- 
bornness of heart. He always endeavoured to relieve them of 
the burden of guilt, and to give them assurance of pardon and 
peace. On one occasion how kindly does he say to a very 
guilty sinner, '^I do not condemn thee, go and sin no more." 
Instead of intending to add to the burden of guilt by exhibit- 
ing coldly the contrast of his own bright example, or by his 
severe rebukes, he says, " Come unto me, all ye that labour 
and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." 

Persons who wish to be saved from sin very often distrust 
the Saviour's willingness to receive them. They acknow- 
ledge, in general terms, his kindness and compassion, and 
think that he is, in all ordinary cases, willing to save the 
chief of sinners, but they think there is something peculiar 
in their case, which should prevent them from coming to him 
in confidence. I observed that this peculiarity is almost al- 
ways one of two things : — 1. That they do not engage ar- 
dently enough in the work of salvation ; or, 2. That they 
have often resolved before and broken their resolutions. 

Do not some of you, my readers, feel unwilling to come to 
the Saviour, because you think that you do not feel a suffi- 
cient interest in the subject ? You know that you are sin- 
ners, and would like to be free from sin. You would like 
such a friend as I describe the Saviour to be, but you have 
no sufficiently strong conviction, and you think the pro- 
mises are not for you. 

Or perhaps, some of you, though you feel a deep interest 
in the subject, may be discouraged and disheartened by the 
sins you mid yourselves constantly committing, and by your 
repeatedly broken resolutions. You think the Saviour must 
be wearied out with yourcontinualbackslidings and sins, and 
you are ready to give up the contest, and to think that final 
holiness and peace is not for you. 



42 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

Now there are throughout our land^ vast multitudes who 
are vainly endeavouring to make their hearts hetter, in order 
to recommend themselves to their Saviour's care. You 
must, indeed, endeavour hy every effort, to make your heart 
betteK, but not as a means of recommending yourself to the 
Saviour. Come to him at once, just as you are, and seek 
his sympathy and assistance in the work. 

Inquirers after the path of piety are very slow to learn 
that the Saviour is the friend of sinners. They will not learn 
that he came to help us up while we are in our trials and 
difficulties, not after we get out of them. How many say in 
their hearts, I must overcome this sin, orfree myself from that 
temptation, and then I will come to the Saviour. I must 
have clearer views of my own sins, or deeper penitence, or 
awaken true love to God in my heart, and then, but not till 
then, can I expect Christ to be my friend. What ! do you 
suppose that it is the office of Jesus Christ to stand aloof 
from the struggling sinner, until he has, by his own unaided 
strength, and without assistance or sympathy, finished the 
contest, and then only to come and offer his congratulations 
afler the victory is won ? Is this such a Saviour as you 
imagine the Bible to describe ? 

At the door of one of the chambers in which you reside, 
you hear a mourning sound, as of one in distress. You 
enter hastily, and find a sick man, writhing in pain, and 
struggling alone with his sufferings. As soon as you under- 
stand the case, you say to him, 

" "We must send for a physician immediately ; there is 
one at the next door, who vnll come in in a moment." 

'* Oh no," groans out the sufferer; "I am in no state to send 
for a physician. My head aches dreadfully — I am almost 
distracted with pain. I fear I am very dangerously iU." 

'* Then we must have a physician immediately," you re- 
ply ; " run, and call him," you say, turning to an attendant, 
" ask him to come as soon as possible." 

" Oh, stop I stop !" says the sick man, " wait till I get a 
little easier; — ^my breath is very short, and my puis? very 
feeble, and besides I have been getting worse and worse 
every half- hour for some time, and I am afraid there is no 
hope for me. Wait a little while, and perhaps 1 may feel 
better, and then I will send for him." 

You would turn, after hearing such words, and say in a 



THE FRIEND. 43 

gentle yoice to the attendant^ " He is wandering in mind. 
Call the physician immediately/* 

Now Jesus Christ is a physician. He comes to heal your 
sins. If you wish to be healed, come to him at once, just as 
you are. The soul that waits for purer motives, or for a 
deeper sense of guilt, or for a stronger interest in the subject, 
before it comes to Christ, is a sick person waiting for health 
before he sends for a physician. Jesus Christ came to help 
you in obtaining these feelings, not to receive you after you 
have made yourself holy without him. You have, I well 
know, great and arduous struggles to make with sin. Just 
as certainly as you attempt them alone, you will become dis- 
couraged, and fail. Come to the Saviour, before you begin 
them, for I do assure you^ you will need help. 

One great object which our Saviour had in view in re- 
maining so long in the world, was to understand our tempta^ 
turns, and the contests which they bring up in the heart. 

It is very often the case, that persons are struggling 
with temptations and sins almost in solitude, and those to 
whom they are directly accountable do not appreciate the 
circumstances in which they are placed, and the efforts they 
make to overcome temptation. I presume that teachers very 
often blame their pupils with a severity, which they would 
not use, if they remembered distinctly the feelings of child- 
hood. Perhaps a little boy is placed on a seat by his inti- 
mate friend, and commanded upon pain of some very severe 
punishment not to whisper. He tries to refrain, and succeeds 
perhaps for half an hour in avoiding every temptation. At 
last some unexpected occurrence or some sudden thought 
darts into his mind, — his resolutions are forgotten, — the pre- 
sence of the master, the regulations of the school, and the 
special prohibition to him all flit from his mind, and after the 
forbidden act, which occupied but an instant, is done, he 
immediately awakes to the consciousness of having diso- 
beyed, and looks up just in time to see the stem eye of his 
teacher upon him, speaking most distinctly of displeasure 
and of punishment. Now, if any severe punishment should 
follow such a transgression, how disproportionate would it be • 
to the guilt. Suppose the boy may indeed have done wrong, 
— but now slight must the wrag be in the view of any one 
Yiho could look into the heart ai|4 estimate truly its moral 



44 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

movements in such a case. It is unquestionably true^ and 
every wise teacher is fully aware of it, that in school disci- 
pline there is constant danger that the teacher will esthnate 
erroneously the moral character of the actions he witnesses, 
just because he has forgotten the feelings of childhood. He 
cannot appreciate its temptations or understand its difficul- 
ties, and many a little struggler with the inclinations which 
would draw Inm from duty, is chilled and discouraged in his 
efforts, because the teacher never knows that he is making 
an effort to do his duty, or at least never understands the 
difficulties and trials which he finds in his way. 

Suppose now that such a teacher should say to himself^ 
and suppose he could by some magic power carry the plan 
into effect, — " I will become a little child myself, and go to 
school. I will take these same lessons which I assign, and 
endeavour to keep myself the rules which I have been en- 
deavouring to enforce. I will spend two or three weeks in 
this way, that I may learn by actual experience what the dif- 
ficulties, and temptations, and trials of childhood are.*' Sup- 
pose he could carry this plan into effect, and, laying aside 
his accumulated knowledge, and that strength of moral 
principle which long habit had formed, should assume the 
youth, and the spirits, and all the feelings of childhood, and 
should take his place in some neighbouring school, unknown 
to his new companions, to partake with them in all their 
trials and every temptation. He toils upon a perplexing 
lesson, that he may know by experience what the perplexity 
of childhood is. He obeys the strictest rules, that he may 
understand the difficulty of it, and he exposes himself to the 
unkindness or oppression of the vicious boys, that he may 
learn how hard it is patiently to endure them. After fully 
making the experiment, he resumes his former character, 
and returns to his station of authority. Now if this were 
done, how cordially, how much better can he afterwards 
sympathize with his pupils in their trials, and with what 
conndence can they come to him in all their cares. 

Now we have such a Saviour as this. The Word was 
made flesh, i, e. became man and dwelt among us. He took 
not on him the nature of angels, but the nature of man. 
" Wherefore it behoved him in all things to be made like 
unto his brethren, that he might be a merciful and faithful 
high priest," " We have |iot an high priest that cannot be 



THE FRIEND. 45 

touched with the feeling of our infirmities^ hut was in all 
points tempted like as we are." 

My reader will doubtless observe, that this case is some- 
what similar to that of Howard, which I imagined in the 
former part of this chapter ; and perhaps you may imagine, 
that if my paragraphs had been well arranged, this supposi- 
tion would have come in connexion with that But no. I 
was then upon the subject of sympathy with suffering, I 
imagined Howard to become a prisoner, that he might un- 
derstand and sympathize with the sufferings of prisoners. 
Now I am speaking of the subject of temptation and strugghs 
against sin, and I imagine the teacher to become a child, that 
he may appreciate the trials and temptations of childhood. 

We may trust in the sympathy of our Saviour in this last 
respect as well as in the other. His disposition to feel com- 
passion and sympathy, and not indignation, at those who 
had brought themselves into difficulty by doing wrong, was 
very often manifested while he was upon the earth, and we 
may be sure his character is not in this respect altered now. 

But it is time that I should bring this chapter to a close. 
The sum and substance of what I have been endeavouring to 
illustrate in it is this. If you confess all your sins, and seek 
their forgiveness in the way which the gospel points out, 
resolve henceforth to lead a life of piety, you will need a 
friend and helper. You will want S3nmpathy both in your 
silverings and in your struggles with sin. Jesus Christ 
will sympathize with you, and help you in both. I once 
knew a benevolent gentleman whose fortune rendered him 
independent, but whose medical knowledge and skill were 
of a very high order, and he practised constantly without 
fee or reward, for the simple purpose of relieving suffering. 
The only things necessary to secure his attention, were to 
be sick, to need his aid, and to send for him. He did not 
wish his patients to become convalescent before he would 
visit them. Nor did he inquire how often they had been 
sick before. There was one poor lad who took cold, I be- 
lieve by breaking through the ice in the winter, and he was 
rendered a helpless cripple for years, and yet this gentleman 
or some of his family, visited him almost daily during all this 
time, and instead of getting tired of their patient, he became 
more and more interested in him to the last Now our Re- 
deemer is such a physician. He does not ask any prepara- 



40 YOUNO CXIRISTIAN. 

tion before we send for him. Nor does lie get tired of us 
because he has helped us back from our wanderings to duty 
and happiness a great many times. Some one asked him 
once, how often he ought to forgive his brother after repeat- 
ed transgressions. " Shall I forgive him seven times ?" was 
the question. *' Forgive," said the Saviour,- " not only seven 
times, but seventy times seven." How strange it is, that 
after this, a backsliding Christian can ever hesitate to come 
back at once after he has wandered, with an assurance that 
God will forgive. 

He will not break the bruised reed. How beautiful and 
striking an illustration of our Redeemer s kindness to those 
who have sinned. A planter walks out into his grounds, 
and among the reeds growing there, there is one — ^young, 
green and slender, — which a rude blast has broken. Its 
verdant top is drenched in the water which bathes its root ; 
and perhaps he hesitates for a moment whether to tear it 
from the spot and throw it away. But no. He raises it to 
its place, carefully adjusts its bruised stem, and sustains it 
by a support till it once more acquire its former strength 
and beauty. Now, Jesus Christ is this planter. Every back- 
sliding humbled Christian is a bruised reed ; and oh how 
many are now thriving and vigorous, which his tenderness 
in the hour of humiliation has saved. 

Come, then, to this friend, all of you. Bring all your 
interests and hopes and fears to him. He will sympathize 
in them all. And whenever you wander, never hesitate a 
moment to return. 



47 



CHAPTER III. 



PRAYER. 



*' Whatsoever ye shall ask in my name, he will do it. 



*i 



As I have on this subject many separate points to discuss, 
I shall arrange what I have to say under several distinct 
heads^ that the view presented may be the better understood 
and remembered. 

I. The power of prayer. This subject may be best illus- 
trated by describing a case. 

A kind and affectionate father, whose son had arrived at 
an age which rendered it necessary for him to prepare for 
the business of life, concluded to send him from home. 
Their mutual attachment was strong, — and though each 
knew it was for the best, each looked upon the approaching 
separation with regret. The father felt solicitous for the 
future character and happiness of his boy, as he was now to 
go forth into new temptations and dangers, — and the son 
was reluctant to leave the quiet and the happiness of his fa- 
ther's fireside, for the bustle of business, and the rough ex- 
posures of the crowded city, where he was for the future to 
find a home. The hour of separation, however, at last ar- 
rived, and the father says to him at parting, 

" My son, be faithful ; do your duty ; and you will be 
happy. Remember your parents — ^the eflForts they have 
made, and the affection they now feel for you. Watch 
against temptation, and shun it. I will supply all your 
wants. When you wish for any thing, write to me and you 
shall have it. And may God bless you, and keep you safe 
and happy." 

My reader will observe, that this language, which is not 
fiction but fact, for it has in substance been addressed in a 



48 VOUNO CHRISTIAN. 

thousand instances, under the circumstances above described, 
contains a promise to send the son whatever he shall ask for. 
But the meaning of it is not — and no boy would understand 
it to be — that every possible request which he might make 
would be certainly granted. Although the promise is made 
in the few simple words, *' whenever you want any thing, 
write me and you shall have it," yet the meaning expressed 
fully would be, " whenever you wish for any thing which, 
as mr as you can see, is proper for you, if you will let me 
know it, I will send it, unless I see that it is better for you 
not to have it, or unless there are other special reasons 
which prevent my complying." 

There are a great many ways in which such a boy s re- 
quests might be refused, and the father would not be con- 
sidered by any person as breaking his promise. 

1. He may ask something which the lather knows would 
in the end injure him. Suppose he should request his father 
to supply him with double his usual quantity of pocket- 
money, and the father should see clearly that the effect of 
granting the request would be to cultivate in him careless 
and extravagant habits of expenditure, and to divert his at- 
tention from his business. In such a case the father would 
undoubtedly refuse, and no one would imagine that he was 
breaking his promise. The boy, if he had done right, would 
not have asked. 

2. He may ask something which, if granted, would inter- 
fere with the rights or happiness of others. There was a watch, 
we will imagine, hanging up in his father s house, used by all 
the family, — ^the only time-piece accessible to them. Now sup- 
posing the boy, growing selfish and vain, and thinking that 
his importance among his comrades would be a little in- 
creased by a watch, should write to his father to send that 
to him. Who would think that his father would be obliged 
to comply on account of his parting promise to his son to 
supply all his wants ? Christians very often make such 
seC&sh requests, and wonder why their prayers are not heard. 
A &Tner who has one field which needs watering will pray 
for rain, with great earnestness, forgetting that God has to 
take care of the ten thousand fields all aroimd his own, and 
that perhaps they need the sun. A mother who has a son 
at sea, will pray for prosperous winds for him, forgetting 
that the ocean is whitened with sails, all under God's care* 



PRAYEK. 49 

and that the breeze which bears one onward must retard 
another. But more on this subject presently. 

3. He may ask in an improper manner. Suppose the 
father should take from the post-office a letter in his son's 
handwriting, and on breaking the seal, should read as follows. 

" Dear Father, — 

You must let me come home next week to Christmas. I 
wanted to come last year, but you would not let me, and 
now / must come. I want you to write me immediately, 
and send it back by the driver, telling me I may come. 

I am your dutiful son. 



Who would think that a father ought to grant a request 
made in such a way as this ? It is to be feared that Chris- 
tians sometimes bring demands instead of requests to God. 

I have mentioned now three cases in which the father 
might, without breaking his promise, refuse the requests of 
his boy. Where it would be injurious to him, unjust to 
others, or where the request is made in an improper manner. 
All promises of such a sort as this are universally con- 
sidered as liable to these exceptions. 

Our Saviour tells us, *' Whatsoever ye shall ask the Fa- 
ther in my name, he will do it." This is common language ; 
such as men address to men, and is to be understood exactly 
in the same way, — in just such a sense and with just such 
exceptions. The language means, if it is honestly used, not 
that every one of our requests will, in ordinary cases, have a 
real influence with the Creator, in regard to things entirely 
beyond our control. It must mean that, generally, all our 
proper requests will be granted. At the same time, it must 
be liable to the exceptions above stated, which apply in all 
similar cases. God must reserve the right to deny our requests, 
when they are made in an improper spirit, and when they 
ask what would injure us, or interfere with the general good. 

If any of you have, in accordance with the views I pre- 
sented in the two preceding chapters, confessed your past 
sins, and chosen Jesus Christ for your friend, you will take 
great pleasure in bringing your requests to God. And you 
may, in doing this, sometimes pray for success in some en- 
terprise when God sees that it is, on the whole, best that 



50 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

you should fail. A man may ask that God will place him 
in some important station of influence or usefulness, when 
the eye that can see the whole discovers that the general 
good will be promoted by another arrangement. Thus, in 
many similar ways your prayers may sometimes come with- 
in the excepted cases, and then God will not grant them. 
These cases, however, you will generally avoid, and in a 
vast majority of instances your prayers will be heard. 

There is even among Christians a great deal of distrust of 
the power of prayer. Some think it exerts a good iiifluence 
upon their own hearts to pray, and thus they continue the 
practice, without, however, having any very cordial belief 
that they are really listened to and granted as requests by the 
great Jehovah. Many persons imagine that prayer has an 
efficacy in some such way as this. A man asks God to 
protect and bless him in his business. By offering the pray- 
er every d.ay, he is reminded of his dependence, he thinks of 
the necessity of his own industry and patient effort, and thus, 
through the influence of his prayer, the causes of prosperity 
are brought to operate more lully in his case, and prosperity 
comes. 

But this is not granting a request. This natural, inevi- 
table consequence of the petition, as an exercise of the man's 
mind, is not and cannot honestly be considered as God's 
granting the request. '^ Whatsoever ye shall ask the Father, 
he shall do it." The Father shall do it. This is a promise 
that God shall do something which we ask him to do, — ^not 
that the natural effect of our asking will be favourable in 
its influence upon us. 

There is another way in which it seems to me there is a 
great deal of want of faith in God in regard to the efficacy of 
prayer. / It is often said that requests may not be granted in the 
precise form in which they were offered, but that they are al- 
ways answered in some way or other. A mother, for instance, 
who has a son at sea, prays morning and evening for his safe 
return. Letter after letter comes, assuring her of his continu- 
ed safety, until at last the sad news arrives that his ship has 
been dashed upon a rock or sunk in the waves. Now, can it 
be said that the mother's prayer was granted ? Suppose that 
she was, by this afflicting providence, weaned from the world 
and prepared for heaven, and thus inconceivably benefited by 
the event. "Was this, in any common or correct use of Ian* 



PRAYER. 51 

guage, granting the request in another form, or was it deny- 
ing it because it was inconsistent with her greatest good ? 
Suppose a child asks his father to let him keep a knife he 
has found, and the father takes it away, knowing that he 
will probably injure himself with it. Is this granting his re- 
quest in another form ? No. We ought, whenever the par- 
ticular request we make is not granted, to consider it a de- 
nial, and to suppose that it comes under one of the cases of 
exceptions I have already specified. 

There is indeed such a thing as granting a request in an- 
other form from that in which it was made. A family, one 
of whose members is in feeble health, prays for that member, 
that God would restore him. They come sincerely and ear- 
nestly to the throne of grace, and ask God to spare his life and 
make hini well. Instead, however, of growing better, he 
grows suddenly worse. He is attacked with violent sick- 
ness, and his fnends think that their prayer cannot be heard, 
and suppose that they must follow him to the grave. The 
sickness, however, soon passes away, and instead of carrying 
him to the tomb, by means of some mysterious influence, 
which is in such cases often exerted upon the constitution, 
he rises from his sick-bed with renewed bodily powers, and 
as his strength gradually returns, he finds that his consti- 
tution is renewed, and health entirely restored. Now, this 
is granting the request, because the thing requested, that is, 
the restoration to health, is obtained, but the manner was 
unexpected ; but if the man should die, no matter what 
great benefits to all resulted from his death. It is certainly 
not right to say that the request waS granted in any way. 
It was denied, because God saw it was best that it should 
be denied. 

Let us then keep constantly in view the fact, that our pe- 
titions are and must be often denied, — positively and abso- 
lutely refused. The language which our Saviour uses, 
though without any specified exceptions, contains the excep- 
tions that in all human language are in all such cases im- 
plied. The feelings, however, which, in this view of the 
subject, we ought to cherish, may properly be presented 
under the following head. 

II. A submissive spirit in prayer. We ought unquestion- 
ably to bring a great many requests to God, relating to our 
daily pursuits. "We ought to express to him our common 



52 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

desires, ask success in our common enterprises and plana. 
Yoimg persons, it seems to me, ought to do this far more 
than they do. They ought to bring all their little interests 
and concerns, morning and evening, to their Friend abore. 
Whatever interests you, as I have already once or twice re- 
marked, will interest him. Bring to him freely your little 
troubles and cares, and express your wants. If the young 
cannot come to God rvith their own appropriate and peculiar 
concerns, they are in reality without a protector. If, how- 
ever, we are in the habit of bringing all our wants to Gtod, 
we shall often ask for something which it is far better for us not 
to have. We cannot always judge correctly. But unless we 
know that what we ask is dangerous, or that it will be inju- 
rious, it is proper to ask for it. K we do or might know, to re- 
quest it would be obviously wrong. David prayed- very ear- 
nestly that his child might live, but God thought it not best to 
grant the petition. David did right to pray, for he probably 
did not know but that the request might be safely granted. 
Let us feel, therefore, when we come with our petitions, that 
perhaps God will think it best for us that they should be denied. 

This is peculiarly the case in praying for deliverance from 
danger. Our hearts may be relieved and lightened by com- 
mitting ourselves to God's care, but we can never feel on 
that account sure that we are safe. God very often makes 
sickness, or a storm at sea, or the lightning, or any other 
source of common danger and alarm, the means of remov- 
ing a Christian from the world. You do not know but that 
he will remove you in this way. The next time a thunder- 
storm arises in the west, it may be God's design to bring 
one of its terrific bolts upon your head, and you cannot of 
course avert it by simply asking God to spare you. He will 
listen to your prayer, take it into kind consideration, and if 
you ask in a proper spirit, he will probably give you a calm 
{ind happy heart even in the most imminent danger. But 
you cannot be sure that you will be saje. The ground of 
your peace must be, that God will do what is best, not that 
he will certainly do rvhat you wish. 

From one of the small seaport towns of New England a 
packet once set sail for Boston. These packets, which are 
iatended to carry passengers, have one large cabin. The 
berths (which perhaps I ought to inform some of my younger 
readers, are a sort of large shelves, upon which passengers 



PBAYER. 53 

at sea sleep, one above the other) are arranged around this 
cabin, and a moveable partition, which can be thrown open 
by day, divides the room at night into two parts. On board 
one of these packets, then, a few years ago, a number of 
persons, ladies and gentlemen, previously entire strangers to 
each other, found themselves slowly sailing out of an eastern 
harbour on a coasting voyage of about two hundred miles. 
They did not know how long they were to be together, — 
what adventures might befall them, or what dangers they 
might share. They were, however, to spend their time in 
the same room ; and as they were tossing upon the waves 
in the same vessel, a sense of common interest and of com- 
mon danger brought them at once to terms of intimacy. 

The next morning there was scarcely a breath of air. 
The vessel heaved gently on the water, whose surface was 
polished like glass, though it swelled and sunk with the un- 
dulations of distant storms. In the tedium of waiting for 
wind, each one of the passengers and crew amused himself 
in his own way. Here you might see a cluster talking, — 
there two or three passengers gathering around a sailor who 
was letting down his line for fish. Others in various places 
had their books. 

A Christian traveller who was present sat down upon the 
quarter-deck, and opened a little bundle of books and news- 
papers and tracts, which he had provided for the occasion. 

Presently a gentleman who had been sitting for half an 
hour gazing, for want of other employment, upon every 
sprig of sea-weed or floating bubble he could see, advanced 
to him, and asked. 

Will you lend me something to read V* 
Certainly, sir, any thing I have. I do not know that 
they will be interesting to you ; most of my stock here is 
of a religious character, and I do not know whether you 
will take any interest in it." 

The gentleman replied that he should. He selected a 
newspaper or a tract, took his seat again and began to read. 
Presently a lady made the same request — others looked as 
though they wished too, but hesitated. Our traveller ob- 
serving this, said to all within hearing, 

" If any others of the company would like any thing I 
have, I should be happy to have them take it. I always 
carry a supply of reading when I travel, though I select 



« 



54 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

my books perhaps too much to suit my own taste alone. 
"What I have here is chiefly of a religious character, and it 
may not be so generally interesting on that account. You 
are heartily welcome to any of these, however, if you please. 
It is rather dull sitting here with nothing to do." 

The books and tracts were soon generally in circulation, 
the passengers were nearly all busy in reading them, and the 
time passed swiftly away. Our traveller became known as 
a Christian ; and were I now upon the subject of Christian 
influence, I might describe many interesting occurrences 
which took place, the Christian acquaintances which he 
formed, and the conversations he had with various persons 
on board the vessel. But I am going so much into detail 
in this story, that I fear you have almost lost sight of our 
subject, which is the duty of praying to God with the feel- 
ing that he will, after all, do as he pleases about granting 
the request. I must hasten to the conclusion of my story. 

The passage was an uncommonly long one. They hoped 
to reach their port in two days, but after ten had passed 
away, they were still far from Boston, night was coming on, 
and, what was still worse, the captain, who stood anxiously 
at the helm, said there were signs of an approaching storm. 
A dark haze extended itself over the whole southern sky. 
The swell of the sea increased. The rising wind moaned in 
most melancholy tones through the rigging. The captain 
gave orders to take in sail, to make every thing snug about 
the vessel, and had supper prepared earlier than usual, ^' be- 
cause," said he, " I expect from the looks of the sky yonder, 
that, an hour hence, you will not manage a cup of tea very 
handily." 

The passengers ate their supper in silence. Their hearts 
were full of foreboding fears. The captain endeavoured to 
encourage them. He said that they were not far from Bos- 
ton. He hoped soon to see the light. If they could make 
out to get into the harbour before it began to blow very hard, 
they should be safe. " Yes," said he, *' I am in hopes to 
land you all safely at the T before ten o'clock. Unless we 
can get fairly into the harbour, however, I shall have to put 
about and stand out to sea ; for if we are to have a storm, 
we must not stay tossing about near the rocks.*' 

The storm increased. Sail after sail was reefed or taken 
in, but still the spirits of the company were sustained by 



PRAYER. 



55 



knowing that they were advancing towards Boston, and by 
the hope that they should soon stand upon the firm shore. 
So great, however, was the pitching and rolling of the ship, 
that most of the passengers retreated to their berths and 
braced themselves there. A few of the more hardy or more 
experienced remained upon deck, clinging to the masts or 
to the rigging, and watching with intense interest the dis- 
tant glimmering of the Boston light, which had a short time 
before come into view. 

^' We are not very far from the light,'* said the captain, 
' but it blows pretty hard." 
'' Do you think we shall get in ?" asked a passenger. 
'' I do not know," said he, shaking his head, " it is a bad 
night. I will, however, try for it." 

The passengers watched the light. They observed that 
the captain did not like to talk while he was at the helm, 
and they forbore to ask him questions. They knew that as 
long as they were going towards the light, there was hope, 
and they watched it, therefore, with a very eager eye. 
Sometimes the ship would veer a little from her course, and 
as the light moved oflF to the right or to the left, they were 
filled with solicitude, lest the captain was going to abandon 
the effort, and put out again to sea. 

He kept, however, steadily on another half hour, though 
wind and wave seemed to do their utmost to compel him to 
return. The light grew larger and brighter as they ap- 
proached it, but the wind increased so rapidly that the cap- 
tain seemed much perplexed to know what to do. He put 
the helm into the hands of a sailor, and went forward and 
stood there looking into the dark, gloomy horizon, \mtil he 
was completely drenched with the spray. In a few min- 
utes he returned suddenly. 

" Tis of no use," said he ; and then, taking the helm again, 
he called out in his loudest voice, to the sailors who were 
before, which, however, the roaring of the waves almost 
drowned, 

'' Ready, about." 
The sailors answered, " Ready." 

A moment after, the captain's voice was again heard, in 
^he loud but monotonous tone of command, 

" Helm s a lee." 
. There was a bustle at the bows of the ship. A great 



50 TOUNO CHRISTIAN. 

sail flapped in the wind with a sound of thunder. The 
ropes rattled. The boom swung with violence across the 
dcck^ and the bow, which had been pointed directly to the 
light-house, which had been their only star of hope, swept 
swiftly aro^ind the horizon, until it left it behind them. 
The vessel plunged into the waves, and, to complete the 
causes of terror, a loud sound, like a clap of rattling thim- 
der, burst close over their heads, arousing every passenger, 
and producing universal alarm. It was the splitting of the 
topsail. 

The melancholy intelligence was soon spread below that 
the effort to reach Boston was abandoned, and that they 
were now standing out to the open sea, and that they must 
be all night exposed, imsheltered, to the violence of the 
storm. Although the commotion had been already enough 
to fill the passengers with fear, yet to an eye accustomed to 
the ocean there had not been any real djmger. But real 
danger soon came. The wind increased, and the vessel 
laboured so much in struggling against its fury, that even 
the captain thought it doubtful whether they should ever 
see the land. 

When I commenced this description, I had no intention 
of giving so full a narrative of the circumstances of a storm 
at sea, and perhaps my reader has almost forgotten what is 
my subject, and for what purpose I have introduced this in- 
cident. My design was to illustrate the feelings with which 
prayer ought to be offered in danger, and I wished, there- 
fore, to give you a vivid idea of a situation of danger on 
the deep. Our passengers were now in imminent danger. 
They were all in their berths below, for so violent was the 
motion of the vessel that it was not safe to attempt to stand. 
The wish was intimated by some, and the desire soon ex- 
tended to aJl, that a prayer should be offered, and they 
looked to our Christian traveller to express their petitions 
at the throne of grace. 

Now many persons may have such conceptions of the na- 
ture of prayer, as to suppose that if this company should 
now sincerely unite in commending themselves to God's 
protection, that he would take care of them, and that they 
might feel perfectly safe. Many cases have occurred in 
which Christians, who have been in the midst of danger, 
have fled to Jehovah for protection, and have had their 



PRAYS K. 5^ 

tears immediately quelled, and felt a calm and Lappj assur- 
ance that God would bring them through in safety. But 
such an assurance is not well grounded. Are real Christians 
never lost at sea ? Do real Christians, who on their sick-beds 
pray that God would restore them to health, never die ? Is a 
Christian^ who on commencing a journey asks divine pro- 
tection, never overturned in a coach ? Is the family which 
always asks in its evening prayer, that God will grant them 
quiet repose, never called up by the sudden sickness of 
a child, or aroused at midnight by a cry of fire ? Facts 
universally testify that God does not grant every request. 
He reserves to himself the right, after hearing the petition, 
to grant or to deny as may seem best io him. 

Then, you will say, what good does it do to pray to God 
in danger, if we can have no assurance that we shall be 
safe ? It does great good. You cannot be sure that you 
will be certainly preserved Jrom Ihat danger, but you can 
rest calmly and peacefully in the assurance that God v^ill do 
what is on the whole for the best, " And will this feeling," 
you ask, '^ enable any one to rest in peace, while he is out 
at sea in a storm, and in danger every moment of sinking ?" 
Yes, it will, if fully possessed. If we could feel assured 
that God was our friend, and if we had entire confidence 
in him, no danger would terrify us. A man would be calm 
and happy in all situations. Christians have very often 
been calm and happy when not danger but certain death 
was approaching, so strong has been their confidence in God. 
Even Socrates who had no revelation to guide him, but 
whose affection for the unseen God controlled him at all 
times, even he, though the future must have been venr dark 
and gloomy, met his fate not merely with fortitude, but 
with calmness and peace. 

He was in a cold dungeon, where his enemies had im- 
prisoned him, from jealousy of his extensive influence in 
behalf of virtue. He was condemned to die, and in a few 
days the cup of poison was to be brought to him to drink. 
His wife came to his prison to bid him farewell : but she 
was so overwhelmed with agitation and sorrow, that she 
could not remain. His other friends were around him in 
tears, but he was all the time immoved. He talked of the 
principles of duty, the peace and the joy o: virtue, and of 
his hopes of a happy immortality, after the poison should 



68 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

Lave done its work. Presently they brought him the fatal 
cup. His friends were overwhelmed with the most agi- 
tating sorrow, — ^but he did not fear. He confided in divine 
protection, and took the poison from the jailor's hands and 
drank it all. He walked about a little while, and then lay 
down upon his bed and died. He trusted in an unknown 
God, and hoped for immortality, and he did not fear. And 
shall a Christian, who knows the affection of his Father, and 
who knows that there is a future world of peace and joy, 
shall he refuse to be calm in danger, unless he can first be 
sure that he shall certainly be preserved uninjured ? No. 
When we ask God's protection in danger, we may in all 
ordinary cases expect protection. He has promised to grant 
our requests, imless special reasons prevent. Now, as we 
never can know what these special reasons' are, we can never 
be cei*tain of security, and consequently the foundation of 
our peace and happiness at such times must be, not the 
belief that we are certainly safe, but a calm and happy 
acquiescence in God's will. Not a sparrow falls to the 
ground without his knowledge, — still sparrows often do fall 
AH that we can be absolutely certain of is, that whatever 
happens to us will come with the knowledge and permission 
of our best and greatest friend — ^and every calamity which 
comes in this way we ought to be willing to meet. 

But to return to our ship. The passengers were all be- 
low. It was no longer safe for them to attempt to stand in 
any part of the vessel, and the Christian traveller, looking 
out from the berth to which he had retreated, called upon 
God to save them from their common dai^ger. What pray- 
er he offered I do not know. I learned the circumstances 
of the danger of this packet, first from a father on shore who 
was waiting the arrival of his boy who was on board when 
the storm came on, and afterwards from several of the pas- 
sengers when they had all safely reached the land. I do not 
therefore know what the prayer was, but that I may the 
more distinctly convey to my young readers an idea of the 
spirit with which prayer in danger should be offered, I will 
write a prayer which it seems to me might, with propriety, 
on such an occasion, be offered. Let us imagine, then, 
that the terrified passengers in their various berths in the 
dark cabin, listen and hear, as well as the howling of 
the tempest and the roaring of the waves wiU permit, the 



PRAYER. 59 

following petition, in which they endeavour cordially to 
join. 

'' Almighty God, thou hast promised to be with two or 
three who unite to call upon thee, wherever they are ; we 
come therefore with full confidence that thou art with us 
now, and that thou, who dost rule winds and waves, art 
really present, to hear what we have to say as we come be- 
fore thee. 

'^ Grant, Holy Spirit, that all of us who are now present, 
exposed to this danger, may come with our whole hearts to 
thee. When in health and safety, we break thy commands 
and neglect our duty, and then when dsmger comes and no 
arm but thine can help, we are ashamed and afraid to come 
to thee. But O, our Father, let not one of us hesitate now. 
We thank thee for teaching us by so irresistible a proof, how 
dependent we are upon thee. May we all be willing to learn 
the lesson, and may we bow humbly before thee now, even 
if we have never bowed before. 

'^ We come to ask that thou will protect us in this dan- 
ger, and bring us safely to our homes. Thou canst protect 
from greater dangers than these. Wilt thou protect us ? 
Save us from finding our watery grave here in the deep, 
and save our beloved parents and brothers and sisters at 
home from the anxiety they must even now feel, and from 
the anguish which tidings of our destruction / must give. 
Almighty Father, save us, we pray thee. 

" Nevertheless, not our will, but thine be done. We see 
but a part, and thou seest the whole. If thou seest it to be 
best that we should go down here to a watery grave, we 
would acquiesce in thy will. We have solemnly given our- 
selves to thee, and chosen thee for our portion. We have, 
if we love thee at all, committed ourselves to thy care and 
to thy disposal. We have rejoiced in this dependence upon 
thee when we have been in health and safety, and we will 
not shrink from our covenant to be thine now we are in 
danger. Do with us as seemeth good in thy sight, only 
give to us all a calm and happy acquiescence in thy will. 
Pardon our sins, so that we may be at peace with thee, and 
whether we are to live or die, may our hearts be thine." 

Such may have been the spirit of the prayer. Such, I 
presume, was the spirit of the petition offered on this occa- 
sion. Every heart which will sincerely offer such a pray- 



60 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

m 

er, when in danger, will feel relieved by it from its solici- 
tude and fear. I am aware that in a case of imminent ex*: 
posure of life, the terror excited is often a physical feeling 
which moral causes will not fully control. Still this calm 
acquiescence in God's superior wisdom and power will do 
more than any other feeling can to produce peace. 

III. Sincerity of Prayer, Prayer is in all ordinary cases, 
and it ought to be, a calm and peaceful exercise, not an 
agitating one. Many persons waste the hour of prayer in 
trying to feel some deep agitation, imagining that sincere 
and acceptable prayer cannot be offered without it. You 
must be sincere when you pray, but you may be calm. 
Read our Saviour's model of prayer, " Our Father who art 
in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come ; 
thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give ns this 
day our daily bread," &c. What a peaceful quiet spirit it 
breathes. The only question in regard to your prayer be- 
ing acceptable is this. Do you wish for any thing which you 
know no one but God can grant, and are you willing to 
ask him in the name of Jesus Christ ? If so, come at once 
and ask him. That is all that is necessary to constitute 
prayer. Ask with that degree of feeling which your inter- 
est in the request prompts, and no more. If you wish to 
increase your Jeeling, you cannot do it in any way except 
by increasing your interest in the request. You may give 
additional vividness to your idea of the value of the object 
sought, by thinking of it, and considering how great a bless- 
ing it would be to you if granted, and thus you may in- 
crease your ardour in prayer. But all direct attempts to 
produce this ardour by eflPort will fail, or if they succeed in 
producing some sort of excitement, it is not a healthy, ac- 
ceptable interest in prayer. 

Now, after this explanation, those who read this can 
easily tell whether they are prepared to offer this night ac- 
ceptable prayer to God. Do you wish to have God take 
care of you while you sleep ? I do not mean, do you wish 
to be sdTe, every body wishes to be safe ; but do you wish 
to have God at your bedside protecting you ? If you do 
not, if the feeling of his presence would be a burden to you 
• and a restraint, of course you will not ask him to come. 
But suppose you are desirous of having him present, are 
you then willing to ask him ? I do not inquire whether 



PRAYER. 61 

you are willing to struggle a long time with your heart to 
awaken deep feeling enough to justify, in your opinion, 
coming to God. Are you willing, as you retire to rest to- 
night, to hreathe a short and simple petition to God to come 
and he your friend and protector for the night, to acknow- 
ledge that you do not deserve his protection, and that you 
ask it in the name of Jesus Christ ? Tf you are willing to 
do this, and if you actually do it, and if you ask with that 
degree of feeling which your sincere desire for God's protec- 
tion prompts, you may lie down in peace, sure that you 
have offered acceptable prayer. 

But here I must mention a difficulty which, many and 
many a time, has been brought to me by serious-minded per- 
sons who wish to pray to God, but who think they should 
not pray aright. I presume this difficulty has occurred to 
many who will read this chapter. I fancy I can perceive 
thoughts like these passing through the mind of some 
thoughtful conscientious one, who has taken up this book, 
honestly desiring to find in it religious instruction. 

" If I understand the author aright, he says, that if I to- 
night pray to God to protect me, just because I want proiec- 
tiofiy or rather because I want his protection, that will be ac- 
ceptable prayer. But it seems to me that that would be mere 
selfishness. I wish for a great many things which I know 
none but God can grant, but if I ask them only because I feel 
the need of them, it is only a selfish desire for my own 
happiness, and I cannot expect to be heard. I should like 
such a friend as Jesus Christ, to come to him in all my 
trials and troubles, and to seek strength in temptation. But 
then this is all love of my own happiness. I cannot be 
happy in sin ; — ^there is a foreboding, and a burden from 
which I wish to be relieved. But unless I have a higher 
motive than a wish to obtain peace and happiness Qiyself, 
I cannot expect to be heard." 

I have no doubt there are multitudes who are substantial- 
ly in this state of mind. They are deterred by this difficul- 
ty from coming cordially to their great friend above. I 
have stated the difficulty as distinctly and fully as I can, 
adopting as nearly as possible the words in which it has often 
been presented to me. I hope you will attend carefully to 
my reply, and if it is satisfactory now, lay it up in your me- 
iDories, and never be embarrassed by this difficulty again. 



62 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

My reply is substantially this, that a desire for the pence 
and happiness of piety is a perfectly proper motive for com- 
ing to God. It is the motive that the Bible everywhere 
presents. It is not, in any proper sense of the term, selfish- 
ness. 

First, I say it is a perfectly proper motive. God is our 
great creator and protector, and he made us weak and de- 
pendent, but desirous of peace and happiness, for the very 
purpose of having us look to him for it. He never intended 
to make a universe of stoics, in which each one should be 
entirely indifferent about his own happiness. The spectacle 
which he wishes to see is, all happy, and all happy in him 
He wishes us to desire and seek this happiness, and to come 
to him for.it. 

Again, I say that the Bible everj^here presents the 
peace and happiness of piety as the motive why we should 
seek it. Jesus stood and cried, in a great concourse of peo- 
ple, " Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, 
and I will give you rest." How strange that any one can 
imagine, after this, that a love of rest, and a desire to be re- 
lieved of burden, is not a proper motive for coming to Jesus 
Christ. The prodigal son, perhaps the most striking and 
complete emblem of the penitent sinner which the Bible con- 
tains, says, " How many hired servants of my father have 
bread enough and to spare, while I perish with hunger ; I 
will arise and go to my father." Who would think, after 
reading this parable, that any sinner would be afraid to come 
to the Saviour, because his only motive is to have his wants 
supplied. Look at the thousands who came to our Saviour 
to be healed of their diseases, or to be rescued from some 
suifering. Did he ever turn them away because they were 
selfish ? -A nobleman came once. His son was at the 
point of death. Parental aflPection urged him on. He came 
and begged the Saviour to come and save his son. He was 
so far from being under the influence of any high philoso- 
phical notions of faith and disinterestedness, that when the 
Saviour began to speak of faith and the influence of miracles 
upon it, he almost interrupts him by saying, " Come do\^Ti 
ere my child die." And did the Saviour repulse him be- 
cause he was influenced by wrong motives ? It was not a 
wrong motive. He wanted happiness, and he was willing 
to come to Jesus Christ for it. And God wishes to see th« 



PRATER. 63 

whole human race eager for the pure joys of pietj, and 
flocking around his throne to obtain them. Oh, if any of 
you are weary with the burden of sin, and long for the peace 
and happiness of piety, come boldly for it. Never fear that 
God will call it selfishness, and drive you away. 

Once more ; I said this could not be called selfishness. 
Desiring the happiness of virtue, and taking the proper 
measures to preserve it, never is called selfishness, except by 
persons lost in the mazes of metaphysics. Suppose two 
children, whose parents had taught them habits of regularity 
and order so fully that they take pleasure in the systematic 
arrangement of all their little property, come and ask their 
fiither to let them have a large desk which stands useless 
in the garret, to bring to their little room as a place of deposit 
for their books, and papers, and toys. Suppose now he 
should inquire of the boys, and should find that they have 
planned the disposal of their effects exactly in the shelves 
and drawers of the desk, and are anticipating much enjoy- 
ment from the expected acquisition. He sees their counte- 
nances brightened with animation, as they wait breathlessly 
to catch his answer, and then to fly away and commence 
the removal. Now suppose the father should stop them by 
such absurd words as these : — 

'^ My boys, I am very sorry to find that you are so selfish. 
I strongly suspect that the reason why you want that desk, 
is because you expect some pleasure from it. Perhaps you 
think you will enjoy your property more by seeing it well 
arranged in such a good storehouse, or perhaps you think 
you can spend rainy afternoons in your room more pleasant- 
ly if you have it. Now, that is very wrong. That is self- 
ishness. To desire any thing for the sake of the happiness 
it affords is selfishness. Unless you can ask from some 
better motive than that, I cannot grant your request." 

I do not think that any gravity of countenance which 
could be assumed would lead the boys to imagine that their 
father could be serious in this. Certainly no parent would 
ever say it ; and if earthly parents know how to give good 
gifts to their children, how much more shall your heavenly 
Father give his Holy Spirit to them that ask him ? that is, 
to them that ask him for it as a good gift, — something 
which is to do good tb them. 

But what is selfishness ? Why, if the desk, instead of ly« 



64 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

ing useless in the garret^ was used by the older brotherSi 
and the younger wished to take it away, that would be self- 
ishness. A disposition to encroach upon the rights and 
enjoymetUs of others, in order to secure our own, is selfish- 
ness, and we must not come to God with this spirit. If any 
one, however, desires peace and happiness, and is satisfied 
that God only can give it, let him come and ask. ** Ho, 
every one that (hirsteth, come unto the waters." Grod never 
will repulse you because thirst urges you to come. 

IV. The Earnestness of Prayer, Importunity in prayer 
is a subject in regard to which the conceptions of the young 
are often in error. By very many it is understood to mean 
something very much like a teazing spirit. But how can 
such a spirit be felt by one who knows that God is always 
ready to grant, unless imperious reasons compel him to deny ? 
I believe the word importunate is not applied to prayer in 
the Bible. The widow is said to have been importunate in 
entreating the unjust judge ; but then the reason why she 
was obliged to repeat and urge her request in such a way, 
was the very injustice of the judge, which has no parallel 
in God's character. The Saviour in that case does by no 
means intend to say that we are to come to God with a feel- 
ing that he is disinclined to grant our requests, and that we 
are to overcome his reluctance by the pertinacity with which 
we urge our claim. Far less should we ever come to him 
with the tone of demand, claiming what we ask as if it 
were our due. We should come humbly, and T\nth a calm, 
but not an indifferent spirit. If we ask sincerely, God yAVL 
certainly hear us, and he will certainly grant our requests, 
unless good reasons prevent. If good reasons do prevent, 
the judge of all the earth is not a weak-minded monarch, 
who will be led to what he knows is on the whole not for 
the best, because he cannot bear to refuse an urgent and 
long-continued petition. No ; a spirit of entire submission 
to God's overruling hand is an essential part of the spirit 
of prayer. 

It is a very common impression among young persons, 
and perhaps some of mature minds are not entirely free from 
the same perplexity, that in order to render prayer accepta- 
ble the Christian must have a full belief that his request 
will be granted. This is called the prayer of faith. Henoe 
many persons, when they strongly desire some spiiitual bless- 



PRAYER. 65 

ing for themselves or others, make a great deal of effort 
while they pray for it to believe that they shall receive it. 
Come with me to the morning prayer-meeting. A few 
Christians whose duties of business press upon them during 
the day assemble by the grey light of the dawn around the 
early fire of some Christian neighbour. They read and re- 
flect a moment upon a few verses of the BiWe. They sing 
a hymn, and are just about to kneel before God to unite 
in prayer for his blessing upon themselves and upon their 
families and neighbours during the day, when perhaps one 
of the number addresses the meeting as follows : 

" My brethren, we come this morning to ask great bless- 
ings, but we must have faith or we cannot expect that God 
Avill hear us. He has promised to hear us, and to give us 
whatever we ask believing. Let us believe then firmly and 
cordially that God will hear us. And let us ask for great 
blessings. God is ready to give us the greatest if we only 
have mth." 

They then unite in prayer, and there kneels with them, in 
a comer of the room, imnoticed perhaps by all but God, a 
young disciple who has hesitatingly asked of the master of 
the house pennission to enjoy the privilege of joining that 
circle of prayer. She understands the word of exhortation 
which was given to mean that she must fully believe that 
the blessings to be asked will certainly be granted. She 
tries, therefore, as she listens to the words of the prayer, to 
believe this. Perhaps the first request is, that God would 
pour out his Spirit upon all present, and purify them> and 
keep them that day devoted to his service and free from all 
sin. Now she thinks it right to pray for this ; she sincere- 
ly desires it, but she cannot really believe that it will be 
fidly granted. Then she reproves herself for her unbedi^. 
She struggles against the feeling that it is not probable that 
all present will be perfectly pure and holy during that day. 
She struggles against it, but she cannot conquer it. Belief 
rests on evidence, not on determination. 

The next petition is for a powerful revival of pure religion 
in that neighbourhood ; that, by a divine influence ex- 
erted over their hearts. Christians may be led to love their 
Maker more and to serve him better, and those who are 
living in sin may universally be awakened to a conviction 
of their guilt and danger, and be persuaded to servo Jehovah. 



66 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

Now our young Christian sincerely desires this ; she hopes 
for it, but she is distressed because she cannot cordially be- 
lieve that it will certainly come, and she considers this feel- 
ing a want of faith. She rises from her posture of devotion, 
feeling anxious and unhappy because she does not feel ab- 
solutely sure that what she has asked is on the whole for 
the best, and that it will certainly be granted. 

Now all her difficulty arises from misunderstanding the 
nature of the £iith which ought to be exercised in prayer. 
The remarks made meant, or they ought to have meant, 
that we are to come to God confident that he will do what 
is on the whole for the best, — not positive that he will do 
exactly what we ask, God never has given assemblies of 
Christians authority to mark out a course for him to piirsue 
in such a sense as that he shall be bound to pursue it. He 
has promised to give us what we ask ; but still the excep- 
tions, universally understood to be implied by this language 
in other cases, are attached to it in this. We must offer 
our petitions trusting in God, — ^believing, as the Bible ex- 
presses it, that he is, and that he is the rewarder of them that 
diligently seek him; but after we have offered our most 
earnest requests, we must leave the matter with him. This 
is what is meant by the prayer of faith so often alluded to 
by Christian ministers. And tliis was the kind of &ith 
our Saviour required of those who came to him to be heal- 
ed. Believest thou, said he, that I am able to do this ? 
— ^not that I shall do it. When the apostles and brethren 
came together to pray for Peter, they were so far from be- 
lieving liat their prayer for his deliverance would be grant- 
ed, ihki they were incredulous when they saw him. They 
trusted in God, and believed that he would do what was 
right. This confidence in him was the faith they exercis- 
ed. Believing that ye shall receive them^ then^ must mean 
believing that G^d is able and willing to grant, except in 
those few cases where imperious reasons compel him to 
deny. He sees many material considerations in every case 
which are entirely beyond our view, and we must leave hira 
to decide. 

It is very often said that prayer for spintual blessings 
will always be heard and granted. But we can be no more 
absolutely certain in this case than in any others. God 
does often withhold the influences of his Spirit, as we all 



PRAYER. 67 

Icnow full well. Who of us can tell what are the causes ? 
Look, at yonder mother. She has an only son. Her first 
prayer in regard to him was^ that Gt>d would make him 
his. She consecrated him to his Maker's service at his ear- 
liest hreath. She rocked him to sleep in infancy^ singing 
a hymn of acknowledgment that he was the Lord's. As 
soon as he could understand the lesson^ she taught him his 
duty to his great Creator. She has often knelt with him in 
prayer^ and her whole heart is set upon having her only 
son devoted to the service of God. But all her efforts are 
fruitless, and her prayers are not answered. Her son grows 
up in indifference ahout God, which perhaps becomes, 
when he has arrived at maturity, open hostility. How 
many such mothers there are. She was prayings too, for 
spiritual blessings, for the conversion of a son to God, but 
the sovereign Ruler leaves him, notwithstanding these sup- 
plications, to his own chosen way. 

Yes, Gokl is a Sovereign. He dispenses aZ/his favours as 
he himself thinks best. He listens to our reques^ts, and 
takes them into kind consideration, bufc he reserves to him- 
self the right to make the ultimate decision. Let us then 
come to lum with real sincerity, and with a deep sense of 
our need of the blessings we ask, but always with this hunv- 
ble feeling that God sees farther than we, and can judge 
better, and that he will himself make the ultimate decision 
in regard to every thing we ask. 

And we must remember that this is just as true vdth re- 
gard to spiritual blessings as to any other. The cause of re- 
hgion advances in the world in a manner which we cannot 
predict nor account for. I do not pretend to say precisely 
how i^ and in what respects this progress depends upon 
the agency of man, and how far upon power which is in 
the hands of God. But every one, whatever may be his 
ideas of the boundlessness of human freedom, acknowledges 
that a most important agency in determining where the gos- 
pel shall triumph, and where it shall fail, and in regulating 
its progress throughout the earth, rests in the hands of the 
Supreme. Now, what Christian is there who can imder- 
stajid the principles which guide Jehovah in the exercise 
of the power which he so obviously possesses ? How many 
secretly think that the sudden conversion of a whole city 
perhaps to God would be a glorious achievement of the Re- 



68 TOUNO CHRISTIAN. 

deemer, and £uicj that if we had the power over the heart 
which God possesses, we would produce the eflFect at once, 
and exhibit the magnificent spectacle of the undisputed 
reign of holiness and peace in a communitj of a hundred 
thousand. Suppose now eyery Christian in some great city 
were to unite in a sincere and heartfelt prajer that Grod 
would pour out his Spirit universally among them, and in 
a single day awaken all the multitudes around them to piety. 
It is indeed unquestionably true that if this united prayer 
should be offered, and should be accompanied by the efforts 
which sincerity in the prayer would ensure, that most un- 
common effects would follow. But who believes that the 
whole city would be converted in a day ? No one. Why ? 
Because this is not according to the analogy of God's work- 
ing in spreading the Gospel. And why does he not work 
according to this analogy, converting whole communities at 
once, leading them to him as he now often leads individuals 
in an hour of silence and solitude ? Why does not God 
work in this manner ? Some one may say, because Chris- 
tians are so cold and negligent in duty. Why then does 
not the power which raised up Paul, raise up thousands 
like him now, and enkindling within them the spirit and 
devotedness Oi the great Apostle, send them forth to bring 
the world at once to him ? — Who can tell ? 

No ; we cannot direct. God guides by his own wisdom 
the chariot of his coming. We can ask, but we cannot 
dictate. If we attempt to take the reins, he holds them up 
far above our reach, and the wheels roll on where GxmI 
points the way. 

The experienced Christian who reads these remarks, in- 
tended to show that God really controls and directs every 
thing relating to the progress of piety in the world, will 
immediately say, " How liable we are to pervert this truth 
so as to excuse our own neglect of duty." Yes, it is so. 
Men are everywhere so prone to throw off responsibility 
from themselves, that the minister of the gospel is often 
almost afraid to describe fully and cordially God's supreme 
power over the heart, for fear that men will lose their sense 
of their own accoimtability. A mother will ask that God 
will change the hearts of her children, and sometimes wait, 
as she expresses it, for God's time to come, while she in 
the mean time does nothing, or at most she goes over the 



PRAYER. 69 

same formal round of duties, without acting with the spirit 
and the enterprise and the ingenuity which she would ex- 
ercise if she knew that something depended upon her own 
eflforts. But this perversion of Scripture truth is not neces- 
sary or unavoidable. However diflScult it may be for us to 
understand how man can be folly jfree and fully account- 
able while God retains so much direct power over his heart 
as the Bible so distinctly describes, — it is possible cordi- 
ally to feel the accountability, and at the same time sincere- 
ly to acknowledge the dependance. Look at the case of 
that Christian teacher. She prays most earnestly that God 
would come and bless the school to which she belongs. 
She brings individual cases in secrecy and solitude before 
God. She prays that faults may be forgiven — froward dis- 
positions softened — and all brought under the influence of 
Christian love. She asks that God will pour out his Spirit 
and difliise peace and happiness over the school-room, im- 
proving every character, purifying and ennobling every heart, 
and making the dejected happy, and the happy happier 
still. She has seen such an influence diffused over the 
school — she knows it is from above, and she looks to him 
who rules human hearts to come into her circle with his 
benigA influences once more. Now, does she after this go 
away and spend her time in inaction, on the ground that 
God only can change the heart, and that she has done all 
in her power by bringing the case to him ? No, she comes 
to her morning duties in the school-room with a heart full 
of desire to do something to promote what she has asked 
God to bestow. And she does accomplish something. By 
her kindness she wins her companions to her confidence 
and love, and in thousand nameless ways which never can 
be described, but which a heart full of love will always be 
discovering, she carries forward very efiectually in her little 
circle the cause for which she prays. 

It is so universally. When a minister allows his sense 
of his entire dependence on God to become feeble or indis- 
tinct, his eflbrts, instead of increasing, diminish too. It 
may be called the Christian paradox, that he who, in theory, 
underrates most completely the influence of human effbrtsj 
and exalts that of the Spirit of God in the salvation of men, 
is ordinarily most indefatigable in those very eflbrts which 
he knows are of themselves utterly fruitless and vain. 



70 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

And here I might close this long chapter bj urging mj 
readers to commence immediately the practice of bringing 
all their wants and cares to Grod. I trust some have been 
persuaded by it to do so. Some of mj young readers, 
however, probably wish to know what became of flie packet 
ship which I left in imminent danger out in the bay ; for 
that narrative is substantially true, though I was not an 
eye-witness of the scene. When I left them they were 
tossing about upon the waves. The storm was increasing, 
the captain had almost given them over for lost, and those 
of the passengers who were not prepared to die, were greatly 
agitated by remorse and terror. Things continued in this 
state for some hours, and very few of those on board ex- 
pected to see another morning. The passengers in the ca- 
bin, however, before long perceived that the violence of the 
tempest was a little abating. The thunder of the winds 
and waves grew somewhat less, and though the pitching 
and tossing of the ship rather increased than dimiiiishe<C 
they began to cherish a little hope. Some of the number 
even feu into a troubled sleep. 

At last there were indications of the morning. The dim 
forms of objects in the cabin began to be a little more 
distinct. The grey light of day looked down through the 
narrow window of the deck. As the passengers aroused 
themselves one after another, and looked forth from their 
berths, they perceived at once that the danger was over. 
They went to the deck clinging to something firm for sup- 
port, for the wind was still brisk, and the sea still heaved 
and tumbled in great commotion. But the danger was 
over. The sky was clear. A broad zone of light extended 
itself in the east, indicating the approaching sun, and not 
many miles distant there was extended a level sandy shore, 
lined with dwellings, and opening to a small harbour, filled 
with vessels which had sought shelter there from the fiiry 
of the storm. It was Province-town, at the extremity of 
the cape. I need not say that the passengers and crew as- 
sembled once more, before they landed, at the throne of 
grace, to give thanks to God for having heard their prayer 
and granted them protection. 



71 



« 



CHAPTER IV. 



CONSEQUENCES OF NEGLECTING DUTY. 



If ye know these things, happy are ye if ye do them.** 



I HAVE now in the several chapters which the reader has 
already had the opportunity of perusing, endeavoured clearly 
to explain the first steps to he taken in Christian duty, and 
the principles and feelings hy which they ought to he guid- 
ed. I think that all who have read these pages must hi^ve 
understood clearly and distinctly what they ought to do. 
Take for example the subject of the first chapter ; Confes- 
sion. You cannot read or even think upon that subject for 
half an hour, without seeing jplainly that you have disobey- 
ed God again and again, and that you have, by thus doing; 
what you know to be wrong, destroyed your peace of mind» 
and displeased your Maker. This no one can deny. There 
is a vast variety of religious opinion and religious contro- 
versy in the world, but I believe no sect helieving the exis- 
tencie of a deity "was ever heard of, which maintained that 
man does not do wrong, or that he ought not to acknow- 
ledge his sins to God. 

But when you saw clearly that you had done wrong, an<l 
destroyed your peace, did you go and seek reconciliation f 
How many probably read Siat chapter, and distinctly un- 
derstood what duty it urged upon them, and saw the rea- 
sonableness of that duty, and yet shut the book, and laid it 
away, without ever intending at all to set resolutely aboiifc 
doing it. To understand clearly what duty is, and to have 
a disposition to do it, are very different things. 

I nave during the precedii^ chapters been confined ex- 
clusively to explaining what the duty of my readers is. I 
have said scarcely any thing to persuade you to do it, and 
as I have gone on from page to page, and endeavoured so 



72 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

to explain and illastrate the principles of pietj that eyerjr 
one could clearly understand, the melancholy reflection has 
often forced itself upon me, " How many now will read or 
hear read, these things, and yet entirely neglect to do any 
thing I describe." " Melancholy reflection !" you will say 
perhaps ; '' why do you call it a melancholy reflection ? If 
satne are induced to do their duty in consequence of your 
explanations, you may rejoice in the good which is done, 
and not think at all of those who disregarded what you say. 
The book will certainly do them no harm/* 

Will do them no hsrai ! I wish that could be true. But 
it is not. The religious teacher cannot console himself with 
the thought that when his efforts do no good, they will do 
no harm. For he must, if he speaks distinctly, and brings 
fairly forward a question of duty, cause every one of his 
readers to decide Jw* it or against it ; and when a person 
decides against duty, is he not injured ? Is not good prin- 
ciple defeated and weakened, and his heart hardened against 
a future appeal ? 

The chapter on Confession of Sin, for example, has been 
amdoubtedly read by multitudes, who shut the book and laid 
it aside, without at all attempting to perform the duty there 
pointed out. The duty was plainly brought before them. 
He could not, and probably would not, deny its obligation. 
But instead of going accordingly to God and seeking peace 
and reconciliation to him by a free confession of guilt, — 
they laid the book away, and after a very short time, all the 
serious thoughts it suggested yanished from their minds^ 
and they returned as before to their sins. Now this is de- 
ciding once more distinctly against God, 

For to decide against 6od, it is not necessary to use the 
actual language of disobedience. Suppose that a father sends 
a child to call back his little sister who is going away con- 
trary to her father's wishes. The boy runs and overtakes 
her, and delivers his message. The child stops a moment, 
and listens to the command that she should return immedi- 
ately to her home. She hesitates — thinks of her father, and 
of her duty to obey him, and then looks over the green fields 
through which she was walking, and longs to enjoy the for- 
bidden pleasure. There is a momentary struggle in her 
heart, and then she turns away and walks boldly and care- 
lessly on. The messenger returns slowly and sadly home. 



CONSEQUENCES OF NEGLECTING DUTY. 73 

But why does he return sadly ? He has done his duty in 
delivering the message. Why shoidd he be sad ? He is sad 
to think of the double guilt which his sister has incurred. 
He thinks that the occasion^ which his coming up to his sis- 
ter presented, might have been the means of her return and 
of her forgiveness, but that it was the means of confirming 
her in disobedience, and of hardening her heart against the 
claim of her father. 

It is just so with the messages which a Christian teacher 
brings to those who listen to his words. If they do not lis- 
ten to obey, they listen to reject and to disobey, and every 
refusal to do duty hardens the heart in sin. There can be 
no question therefore that such a book as this must, in many 
cases, be the innocent means of fixing human soids in their 
sins, as the gospel itself, while it is a savour of life unto life 
to some, to others is a savour of death imto death. 

Reader, is your name on the sad catalogue of those who 
read religious books, and listen to religious instruction, 
merely to bring the question of duty again and again before 
your minds, only to decide that you will not do it ? If it is, 
read and consider attentively the narrative to which the re- 
mainder of this chapter is devoted. It has never before 
been published. I providentially met with it in a manu- 
script while writing these chapters, and it teaches so forcibly 
the lesson that ought now to be impressed upon my readers, 
that I requested of the clergjrman who wrote it permission 
to insert it here. The circumstances are of recent occur- 
rence, and the reader may rely upon the strict truth and 
faithfulness of the description. 

The reader will observe, however, that there are no re- 
markable incidents in this case. There are no peculiar cir- 
cumstances of any kind to give interest to the narrative. 
It is only a plain common instance, such as are occurring 
all around us by tens of thousands, of the consequences of 
being only almost persuaded to be a Christian. 



STORY OF LOUISA. 

Shortly after my settlement in the ministry, I observed 
in the congregation a young lady whose blooming counte- 
nance and cheerful air sho^ved pci*fect health and high ela- 



74 YOITNG CHRISTIAN. 

tion of spirits. Her appearance satisfied me at once that 
she was amiahle and thoughtless. There was no one of my 
charge whose prospects for long life were more promising 
than her own, and perhaps no one who looked forward to 
the future with more pleasing hopes of enjoyment. To her 
eye the world seemed bright. She often said she wished to 
enjoy more of it before she became a Christian. 

Louisa, (for by that name I shall call her,) manifested no 
particular hostility to religion, but wished to live a gay and 
merry life till just before her death, and then to become 
pious and die happy. She was constant in her attendance 
at church, and while others seemed moved by the exhibition 
of the Saviour's love, she seemed entirely unaffected. Upon 
whatever subject I preached, her coimtenance retained the 
same maiks of indifference and unconcern. The same easy 
smile played upon her features, whether sin or death, or 
heaven or hell, was the theme of discourse. One evening 
I invited a few of the yoimg ladies of my society to meet at 
my house. She came with her companions. I had sought 
the interview with them that I might more directly ujge up- 
on them the importance of religion. All in the room were 
affected — and she, though evidently moved, endeavoured 
to conceal her feelings. 

The interest in this great subject manifested by those 
present was such, that 1 informed them that I would meet 
in a week from that time any who wished for personal con- 
versation. The appointed evening arrived, and I was de- 
lighted in seeing, with two or three others, Louisa enter my 
house. 

I conversed with each one individually. They generally 
with much frankness expressed their state of feeling. Most 
of them manifested much solicitude respecting their eternal 
interests. Louisa appeared different from all the rest. She 
was anxious, and unable to conceal her anxiety, and yet 
ashamed to have it known. She had come to converse with 
me upon the subject of religion, and yet was making an 
evident effort to appear indifferent. I had long felt inte- 
rested in Louisa, and was glad of this opportunity to con- 
verse with her. 

^^ Louisa," said I, "I am happy to see you here this 
evening, and particularly so, knowing that you have come 
interested in religion." 






C0N8KQUBNCES OF NEGLECTING DUTY. 7^ 

Slie made no reply. 

" Have you long been thinking upon this subject, Louisa ?" 

*' I always thought the subject importimt, sir, but have 
not attended to it as I suppose I ought." 

*' Do you now feel the subject to be more important than 
you have previously ?" 

*' I don't know, sir; I think I want to be a Christian/' 
Do yon feel that you are a sinner, Louisa ?" 
I know that I am a sinner, for the Bible says so, but I 
suppose that I do not feel it enough." 

" Can you expect that God will receive you into his favour 
while you are in such a state of mind as that ? He has made 
you, and he is now taking care of you, giving you every 
blessing and every enjoyment you have, and yet you have 
lived many years without any gratitude to him, and contin- 
ually breaking his commandments, and now do not feel that 
you are a sinner. What should you think of a child whose 
kind and affectionate parents had done every thing in their 
power to make happy, and who should yet not feel that she 
had done any thing wrong, though she had been every day 
disobeying her parents, and had never expressed any grati- 
tude for their kindness ? You, Louisa, would abhor such a 
child. And yet this is the way you have been treating your 
Heavenly Father. And he has heard you say this evening 
that you do not feel that you have done wrong, and he sees 
your heart, and knows how unfeeling it is. Now, Louisa, 
you must be lost unless you repent of your sins, and ask 
humbly and earnestly for forgiveness. And why will you 
not ? You know that Christ nas died to atone for your sins. 
Grod will forgive you for his Son's sake, if you are penitent." 

To this Louisa made na xeply. She did not seem dis- 
pleased, neither did her feelings appear subdued. 

After addressing a few general remarks to my young 
friends, we kneeled in prayer, and the interview closed. 
Another meeting was appointed on the same evening of the 
succeeding week. Louisa again made her appearance with 
the same yoimg ladies, and a few others who were not pre- 
sent the first evening. She appeared much more deeply 
impressed. Her coldness and reserve had given place to a 
Cirank expression of interest and exhibition of feehng. 
*' Well, Louisa," said i> aB in turn I commenced convex- 



76 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

sation with her, " I was almost afraid that I should not see 
you here this evening." 

" I feel sir/' said she, *' that it is time for me to attend 
to mj immortal soul. I have neglected it too long." 

" Do you feel that you are a sinner, Louisa V* 

« Yes, sir^ I do." 

" Do you think, Louisa, you have any claim upon Grod 
to forgive you ?" 

" No, sir. It would be just in God to leave me to perish. 
I think I want to repent, but I cannot. I want to love God, 
but I do not know how I can." 

*^ Do you remember, Louisa, that Christ has said, ' Who- 
soever he be of you that forsaketh not all that he hath, he 
cannot be my disciple V " 

" Yes, sir." 

" Well, Louisa, now count the cost ; are you ready to give 
up all for Christ ? Are you ready to tm-n from your gay 
companions, and lay aside your frivolous pleasures, and ac- 
knowledge the Saviour publicly, and be derided, as perhaps 
you will be, by your former friends, and live a life of prayer 
and of effort to do good ?" 

She hesitated for a moment, and then replied, ^^ I am 
afraid not." 

Well, Louisa, the terms of acceptance with God are 
plain, and there is no altering them. You cannot serve God 
and Mammon. If you woidd be a Christian, you must re- 
noimce all sin, and with a broken heart surrender yourself 
entirely to the Saviour." 

The evening's interview closed as before, and a similar 
appointment was made for the next week. Some of the 
oung ladies present, I had reason to believe, had accepted 
he terms of salvation. The next week about the same num- 
ber were present, but Louisa was not with them. A slight 
cold had detained her. But the week after she again ap- 
peared. To my great disappointment I found her interest 
fast diminishing. Though not exhibiting that cold reserve 
which she at first manifested, she seemed far less anxious 
than at our last interview. The Spirit was grieved away. 
This was the last time she called to see me ; but alas, I was 
soon called to see her, under circumstances which at that 
time were but little anticipated. These social meetings 



^1 



CONSEQUENCES OP NEGLECTING DUTY. 77 

continued for some time, and many of Louisa's associates I 
have cause to hope became the disciples of Jesus. 

Two or three months passed away, and my various duties 
so far engrossed my mind, that my particular interest in 
Ix>uisa's spiritual welfare had given place to other solici- 
tudes, when one day as I was riding out making parochial 
visits, one of my parishioners informed me that she was 
quite unwell, and desired to see me. In a few moments I 
was in her sick-chamber. She had taken a violent cold, 
and it had settled into a fever. She was lying in her bed, 
her cheek glowing with the feverish hue, and her Ups parch- 
ed with thirst. She seemed agitated when I entered the 
room, and the moment I stood by her bed-side and inquired 
how she did, she covered her face with both hands, and 
burst into a flood of tears. 

Her sister, who was by her bed-side, immediately turned 
to me and said, " Sir, she is in great distress of mind. Men- 
tal anxiety has kept her awake nearly all night. She has 
wanted very much to see you, that you might converse with 
her." 

I was fearful that the agitation of her feelings might 
seriously injure her health, and did all in my power to 
soothe and pacify. 

" But, sir," said Louisa, *' I am sick and may die ; I know 
that I am not a Christian, and oh if I die in this state of 
mind, what will become of me ? what will become of me ?'* 
and again she burst into tears. 

What could I say ? Every word she said was true. Her 
eyes were opened to her danger. There was cause for 
alarm. Sickness was upon her. Delirium might soon ensue. 
Death might be very near, and her soul was unprepared to 
appear before God. She saw it all. Shejelt it all. Fever 
was burning in her veins. But she forgot her pain, in view 
of the terrors of approaching judgment. 

I told her that the Lord was good, and that his tender 
mercies were over all his works ; that he was more ready 
to forgive than we to ask forgiveness. 

*' But, sir," said she, '' I have known my duty long, and 
have not done it. I have been ashamed of the Saviour, and 
grieved away the Spirit, and now I am upon a sick-bed, 
and perhaps must die. Oh if I were but a Christian I 
should be willing to die." 



78 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

I told her of the Saviour's love. I pointed to many of 
God's precious promises to the penitent. I endeavoured to 
induce her to resign her soul calmly to the Saviour ; but all 
that was offered was unavailing. Trembling and agitated, 
she was looking forward to the dark future. The Spirit of 
the Lord had opened her eyes to the truth, and by bier own 
reflections, had led her into this state of seasonable alarm. 
The interview was indeed an affecting one ; anxiety was de- 
picted upon her flushed countenance, and she was restless, 
and groaning under the accumulated ills of body and of 
mind. I knelt by her bed-side, and fervently prayed 
that the Holy Spirit would guide her to the trutfi, and 
that the Saviour would speak peace to her troubled soul. 
Oh, could they who are postponing repentance to a sick- 
bed have witnessed the mournful suffering of this once 
merry girl, they would shudder at the thought of a death- 
bed repentance. How poor a time to prepare to meet Qod 
when the mind is enfeebled by disease, when the body is 
restless or even racked with pain, and when mental agita- 
tion frustrates the skill of the physician. Yet so it is. 
One half of the world are postponing repentance to a dying 
hour. And when sickness comes, the very knowledge of 
being unprepared for death hurries the miserable victim of 
delay to the grave. 

The next day I called again to see Louisa, Her fever 
was still raging, and its fires were fanned by mental suffer- 
ing. Poor girl ! thought I, as the first glance upon her 
countenance shewed me the strong lineaments of dei^air. 
I needed not to ask her how she felt. Her countenance 
told too powerfully her feelings ; and I knew that while 
her mind was in this state, restoration to boldily health was 
out of the question. 

'' And can you not, Louisa," said I, '' trust your soul with 
the blessed Saviour who died for you ? He has said, ' Come 
unto me all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will 
give you rest' " 

" Oh, sir, I know that the Saviour is merciful, but some- 
how or other I cannot go to him ; I do not know why, oh 
I am miserable indeed." 

'' Do you think, Louisa, that you are penitent for sin ? 
If you are, you are forgiven ; for God, who gave his Son 
to die for us, is more ready to forgive than we to ask for- 



CONSEQUENCES OF NEGLECTING DUTY. 7^ 

giveness. He is more ready to give good gifts to his chil- 
dren than any earthly parent to give hread to his hungry 
child*" 

I then opened the Bible to the 15th chapter of Luke, 
and read the parable of the prodigal son. I particularly 
directed her attention to the 2()th verse, *' But when he was 
yet a great way ofif^ his father saw him, and had compassion, 
and ran and fell upon his neck, and kissed him." 

" Oh, sir," said she, '^ none of these promises seem 
meant for me ; I can find no peace to my troubled spirit ; 
I have long been sinning against God, and now he is going 
to take me to render up my account, and oh ! what an ac- 
count have I to render ! The doctor gives me medicine, 
but I feel that it does me no good, for I can think of nothing 
but my poor soul. Even if I were perfectly well, I could 
hardly endure the view of my sins which God has given - 
me. If my sins were forgiven, how happy should I be ; 
but now — Oh !" her voice was stopped by a fit of shudder- 
ing which very much agitated those aroimd her bedside 
with the fear that she might be dying. Soon, however, hei 
nerves became more quiet, and I kneeled by her bedside to 
command her spirit to the Lord. 

As I rode home, her despairing countenance was unceas- 
ingly before my eyes. Her lamentations and her mourn- 
ful groans were continually crying in my ears. As I 
kneeled with my family at the domestic altar, I bore Louisa 
upon my heart to the throne of grace. All night I tossed 
restlessly upon my pillow, dreaming that I was urging con- 
solation by this sick-bed. 

Another morning came. As I knocked at the door of 
her dwelling I felt a most painful solicitude as to the answer 
I might receive to my inquiries for her. 

** How is Louisa, this morning ?" said I to the person 
who opened the door. 

^' She is fast failing, sir, and the doctor thinks she cannot 
recover. We have just sent to her friends to come and see 
her before she dies.' 

" Is her mind any more composed than it has been ?" 

" Oh no, sir ; she has had a dreadful jiight : she says that 
she is lost, and that there is no hope for her." 

I went into her chamber. Despair was pictured more 
deeply than ever upon her flushed and fevered countenance. 



8b 



YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 



I was surprised at the strength of hodj she still manifested^ 
as she continually turned from side to side in her restless- 
ness. Death was drawing nearer ; — she knew it. She had 
lived in the world without God, and she felt that she was 
unprepared to appear before him. A few of her young 
friends were standing by her bedside. She warned chem 
in the most aiffecting terms, to prepare for death while in 
health. She told them of the mental agony she was then 
enduring, and of the woes which were thickly scattered 
through that endless career she was about to enter. All 
her conversation was interapersed with the most heart-rend- 
ing exclamations of despair. She said she knew that God 
was ready to forgive the sincerely penitent, but that her 
sorrow was not sorrow for sin, but dread of its awful pe- 
nalty. 

I had already said all that I could say to lead her to the 
Saviour. Indeed, her understanding seemed to be suffi- 
ciently enlightened, but the Lord had come to her and 
shewed her the siniPulness of her unreconciled heart. Who 
could stand and witness such a scene as this, knowing that 
the trembling immortal was soon to be ushered into eternity, 
and not pray almost with an agony of earnestness, that God 
would have mercy upon her soul? And how evident 
must it have been to any one, that there was no power but 
divine power, which could liberate her mind from the gloom 
and darkness in which it was enveloped. It was God who 
had opened her eyes to a view of her situation ; it was Grod 
who had rolled over the mind these surges of despair ; and 
it was God who alone could say to them '' peace be still." 



"Jesus can make a dying bed 
Feel soft as downy pillows are. 



»» 



But no Saviour was casting his love around this dying- 
bed. No rays of peace beamed upon that departing soul. 
Youth and beauty were struggling beneath the strong arm 
of death, and as that eye, which but a few days before had 
sparkled with gaiety, gazed forward to eternity, it was fixed 
in an expression of despair. 

" By many a death-bed I had been. 
And many a sinner's parting scene, 
But never aught like this.** 

There was nothing that could be said. The meanings 



CONSEQUENCBh OF NEGLECTING DUTY. 81 

of the sufferer mingled with the prayer^ which was almost 
inarticulately uttered^ from the emotions which the scene 
inspired. 

Late in the afternoon I called again. But reason was 
disenthroned, and as I looked upon her restless moyementc 
I was forcibly reminded of the lines of Watts 

♦* So when a raging fever burns, 
We turn from side to side by turns ; 
And 'tis a poor relief we gain. 
To change the place but keep the pain/' 

The senseless moanings of delirium showed the distress 
even of her shattered mind. Her friends were standing 
around her, but she did not recognise them. Every eye in 
the room was filled with tears, but poor Louisa saw not and 
heeded not their weeping. It was a scene which neither 
pen nor pencil can pourtray. At the present moment that 
chamber of death is as vividly present to my *' mind's eye " 
as it was when I looked upon it through irrepressible tears. 
I can now see the disorder of the dying-bed, — the restless 
form^ — ^the swollen veins, — the hectic burning cheek, — the 
eyes rolling wildly around the room, — and the weeping 
friends. Who can describe such a scene ? And who can 
imagine the emotions which one must feel, who knew her 
previous history, and who knew that this delirium succeed- 
ed temporal, and perhaps preceded eternal despair ? Louisa 
could no longer fisten to my prayers ; she could no longer 
receive the precious instructions of God's holy word. And 
what could be offered as consolation to her friends ? No- 
thing. '' Be still and know that I am God," was all that could 
be said. I could only look and listen with reverence, in- 
wardly praying that the sad spectacle might not be lost up- 
on any of us. For some time I lingered aroimd the solemn 
scene in silence. Ifot a word was spoken. All knew that 
death was near. The friends w^ho were most deeply affect- 
ed, struggled hard to restrain the audible expression of 
grief. In silence I had entered the room, and in silence and 
sadness I went away. 

Early the next morning 1 called at the door to inquire for 
Louisa. 

" She is dead, sir," was the reply to my question. • 

" At what time did she die ?" 

" About midnight, sir." 

F 



82 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 



" Was her reason restored to her before her death V 
'' It appeared partially to return a few moments before she 
breathed her last, but she was almost gone, and we could 
hardly understand what she said." 

^' Did she seem to be in any more peaceful frame of mind?** 
" Her friends thought, sir, that she did express a willing- 
ness to depart, but slie was so weak, and so for gone, that it 
was impossible for her to express her mind with any clear- 
ness/' 

The next time I called at the house, Louisa was pale in 
her cofl&n, cold and lifeless in her shroud. Her friends had 
assembled to attend her funeral, and from every part of the 
room loud sobs interrupted my address and prayer. Her 
body now moulders in the grave-yard, and her spirit has 
entered upon its eternal home." 



83 



CHAPTER V. 



ALMOST A CHRISTIAN. 



" Ve will not come unto me." 



The melancholy story related in the last chapter is not an 
uncommon one. It is the story of thousands. All that is 
necessary, reader, to make that case your own, is that you 
should feel such a degree of interest in religious duties as to 
open your eyes clearly to their demands, but yet not enough 
to induce you cordially to comply with them, — and then 
that death should openly approach you, while you are thus 
unprepared. The gloomy forebodings and the dreadful re- 
morse which darkened Louisa's last hours must in such a 
case be yours. 

It was not my intention, when forming the plan of this 
work, to have it present religious truth and duty in gloomy 
or melancholy aspects. Religion is a most cheerful and 
happy thing io practise, but a most sad and melancholy 
thing to neglect ; and as undoubtedly some who read this 
book, will read it only to imdcrstand their duty, without at 
all setting their hearts upon the performance of it, I ought 
to devote one or two chapters particularly to them. The 
case of Louisa, though it was a melancholy one, was real ; 
and what has once occurred may occur again. You will 
observe, too, that all the suffering which she manifested in 
her dying hour was the work of conscience. The minister 
did all he could to sooth and calm her. Examine all the 
conversation he had with her at her bedside, and you will 
find that it was the language of kind invitation. He did all 
in his power to allay the storm which conscience, far more 
powerful than he, was urging. 

Sometimes such a dying scene as this is the portion of an 
individual who has lived a life of open and unbridled wick- 



84 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

edness. But, generally, continued impiety and vice lulls 
the conscience into a slumber which it requires a stronger 
power than that of sickness or approaching death to awaken. 
Louisa was almost a christian. She was nearly per- 
suaded to begin a life of piety. — In just such a state ot 
mind, my reader, as it is very probable you may be. Per- 
haps since you have been reading this book you have been 
thinking more and more seriously of your Christian duty, 
and felt a stronger and stronger intention of doing it, at least 
at some future time. You ought after having read the first 
chapter, to have gone at once and fully confessed all your 
sins to Grod, and made your peace with him. When you 
read the second, you should have cordially welcomed the 
Saviour as your fiiend, and chosen him as your Redeemer 
and portion. You ought to have been induced by the third 
to begin immediately a life ©f prayer, and to have been con- 
stant and ardent at the throne of grace since you read it. 
But perhaps you neglected doing all these things. You 
understand very clearly what Christian duty is. It is 
plain to you that there is a Being above with whom you 
ought to live in constant communion. You understand 
clearly how you are to begin your duty, if you have ne- 
glected it heretofore, — ^by coming and confessing all your 
sins, and seeking forgiveness through Jesus Christ who has 
died for you. Tlius you know clearly what duty is. The 
solitary difficulty is, that you will not do it. 

But why ? What can be the cause of that apparent in- 
fatuation which consists in continually neglecting a duty 
which you acknowledge to be a duty, and which you know 
it would increase your happiness to perform ? Were I to 
ask you, I know exactly what you would say. At least 
it is very probable you would say what I have known a 
great many others say in your situation. It would be this. 

*' I know I am a sinner against God, and I wish to repent 
and be forgiven, and to love and serve my Maker, but / do 
not see hotv I can" 

My reader, is i\nsyour state of mind ? Many persons do 
use this language, and use it honestly : that is, they use it 
honestly, if they mean by it, what the language properly 
does mean, that they see the propriety and duty and the 
happiness of a new life, so that in some sense they desire it, 
but that some secret cause, which they have not yet dis- 



ALMOST A CHRISTIAN. 85 

covered, prevents their obedience. I design, in this chapter, 
to help you to discover what that cause is. If you really 
wish to discover and to remove it, you will read the chapter 
carefuUy, — with a willingness to be convinced, and you will 
often pause to apply what is said to your own case. 

There are three very common causes, which often operate 
to prevent persons who are almost Christians from becom- 
ing so altogether. 

I. A spirit of procrastination. Waiting for a more con- 
venient season. The following case illustrates this part of 
our subject. 

A boy of about twelve or fourteen years of age, a member 
of an a^demy in which he was pursuing his studies prepa- 
ratory to his admission to college, sees the duty of com- 
mencing a Christian life. He walks some evening at sun- 
set, alone, over the green fields which surround the village 
in which he resides, and the stillness and beauty of the scene 
around him bring him to a serious and thoughtful firame 
of mind. God is speaking to him in the features of beauty 
and of splendour in which the face of nature is decked. 
The glorious western sky reminds him of the hand which 
spread its glowing colours. He looks into the dark grove 
in the edge of which he is walking, and its expression of 
deep unbroken soHtude brings a feeling of calm solemnity 
over his soul. The declining sun, — the last ^nt whispers 
of the dying evening breeze, — ^the solitary and mournful 
note which comes to him from a lofty branch of some tall 
tree in the depth of the forest, — these, and the thousand 
other circumstances of such a scene, speak to him most dis- 
tinctly of the flight of time, and of the approach of that 
evening when the sun of his life is to decline, and this world 
cease for ever to be his home. 

As he muses in this scene, he feels the necessity of a pre- 
paration for death, and as he walks slowly homeward, he is 
almost determined to come at once to the conclusion to com- 
mence immediately a life of piety. He reflects, however, 
upon the unpleasant publicity of such a change. He has 
many irreligious friends, whom it is hard to relinquish, and 
he shrinks &om forming new acquaintances in a place he 
is soon to leave. He reflects that he is soon to be trans- 
feired to college, and that there he can begin anew. He 
resolves that when he enters college walls, he will enter a 



86 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

Christian ; that he will, from the first, he known as one de- 
termined to do his duty towards Grod. He will form no irre- 
ligious friendships, and then he will have none to sunder. 
He will fall into no irreligious practices, and then he will 
have none to abandon. He thmks he can thus avoid the 
awkwardness of a puhUc change. He is ungenerous enough 
to wish to steal thus secretly into the kingdom of heaven, 
without humbling any of his pride by an open admission 
that he has been wrong. He waits for a more convenient 
season. 

When he finds himself on college ground, however, his 
heart does not turn any more easily to his duties towards 
God. First, there is the feverish interest of the examina- 
tion, — then the novelty of the public recitation-room, — the 
untried^ unknown instructor, — ^the new room-mate, — and 
all the multiplied and varied excitements which are always 
to be found in college walls. There are new acquaintances 
to form, new countenances to speculate upon, and new 
characters to study, and in those and similar objects of oc- 
cupation and interest, week after week glides rapidly away. 
At last one Saturday evening, the last of the term, he is 
walking over the college grounds, and among the other se- 
rious reflections that come upon his mind, there are the 
following. 

" One whole term has now passed, and what have become 
of all my resolutions to return to God ? How swiftly the 
weeks have glided away, and I have been going farther 
and farther from God and from duty. I find that I cannot, 
in college, any more than in any other place, become a Chris- 
tian without effort and self-denial. I must come boldly to 
the duty of giving up my heart to God, and commencing 
publicly a Christian life, and whenever I do this it must be 
hard at first. I will attend to the subject this vacation. I 
shall be quiet and retired at home, and shall have a favour- 
able opportunity there to attend to my duty and make my 
peace with God. I will come back to college, next term, 
a new man." Such are his reflections. Instead of resolving 
to do his duty now, he looks forward again, notwithstand- 
ing his former disappointment, to another more convenient 
sea f on. The bustle of the closing term, and the plans and 
preparations for the approaching vacation, soon engross his 
mmd, and instead of coming to his Maker at once^ and 



ilLMOST A CHRISTIAN. 8? 

going home a Christian, be puts it off in hopes to return one 
Vain hojje ! He wiU undoubtedly come back as he goes, 
procrastinating duty. 

Term after term, and vacation after vacation, pass away, 
and the work 6f preparing for another world is still post- 
poned and neglected. The longer it is postponed the worse 
it is^ for he is becoming more and more known as an irre- 
ligious young man, and becomes more and more intimately 
connected with those whose influence is all against religion. 
He soon quiets conscience with the reflection that while he 
is in the lower classes, he is much more under the control 
of public opinion ; others, older and more advanced than he, 
take the lead in forming the sentiments of the community, 
and it is harder for him to act independently now, on a sub- 
ject which affects his standing in the estimation of his com- 
panions, than it will be when he shall have passed on to a 
higher class, and shall have influence in forming a public 
sentiment, to act upon others, instead of having others form 
it for him. 

The closing months of college life at last come on, bring- 
ing with them less and less disposition to do his duty. He 
has become familiarized to the idea of living without God. 
His long and intimate acquaintance with irreligious com- 
panions has boimd him to them by ties which he is not 
willing to sunder : not ties of affection — for there is seldom 
much confidence or love in such a case ; they are ties of 
mere acquaintance, mere community of sentiment and ac- 
tion. He dreads to break away from what gives him little 
pleasure, and is thus boimd by a mysterious and imrea- 
sonable, but almost hopeless slavery. He leaves college 
either utterly confirmed in insensibility to religious truth, 
or else, when he occasionally thinks of the subject, faintly 
hoping that, in the bustle of future life, some more convenient 
season may occur, which he may seize as a time for mak- 
ing his peace with God. 

This is the history of many a college student, and by a 
slight change of the circumstances of the description, it 
might be made the history of thousands of others in every 
waJk of life. The secret of this procrastination is this. 
The subject of it is deluded by the chimerical hope of finding 
some opportunity of comingto God, without real submission^ 
of changing sides on a most momentous subject, without the 



88 YOUNG CHRISTIAN, 

mortification of changing, — of getting right without the hu- 
miliating acknowledgment of having been wrong. Now 
these difficulties, which constitute the straitness of the gate 
through which we must enter, cannot be avoided. We can- 
not go round them, — we cannot climb up some other way, 
and it is useless to wait for some other way to offer. The 
work of coming directly and decidedly to your Maker, to 
confess sin and to ask its forgiveness, must be done. The 
public acknowledgment that you have been wrong, which a 
public change of conduct implies, must be made, and it will 
be painfiil. Irreligious firiends must, as intimates and asso- 
ciates, be abandoned, and whenever that is done it will re- 
quire an effort. These steps must be taken, and the diffi- 
culty of taking them is increased, not diminished, by the 
lapse of time. 

My reader, is not the reason why you cannot repent of 
sin and love God, this, — ^that you can never say, ^' I am 
willing to do it now 9'* Are you willing to be, from this 
time, the servant and follower of Jehovah, or are you try- 
ing the mad experiment of postponement and delay ? 

II. Love of the world. This is the second of those 
three secret obstacles to piety which I was to mention. I 
mean secret obstacles in the way of those who think that 
they wish to be penitent, but that they cannot. I am not 
now considering the causes which are operating so exten- 
sively in chaining the great mass of mankind down in their 
bondage to sin. I speak only of those who feel some in- 
terest in this subject, who think they desire salvation, and 
are wiUing to do what God requires, but cannot. Under 
this second head I am to endeavour to shew that many of 
my readers, who are in this state of mind, are prevented 
from doing their duty by a secret love of the world. I shall 
not, however, succeed in showing this, unless you co-operate 
with me. If while you read it you put yourself in an at- 
titude of defence, you can easily set aside what I hare to 
say. I shall suppose, however, that you really wish to 
know, and that you will apply what I present, with im- 
partiality and candour to yourselves. 

In one sense, it is right to love the world. GM has 
made it for our enjoyment, and filled it with sources of 
happiness, for the very purpose of having us enjoy them. 
We are to look upon it therefore as a scene in which the 



ALMOST A CHRISTIAN. 89 

Creator intended that we should be happy, and we are to 
deriye from it all the happiness that we can. 

There are, howerer, temptations in this world, as all will 
admit ; that is, pleasures which beckon us awaj from duty. 
When a young person begins to think of religious duty, 
these pleasures, which have perhaps long been enjoyed, 
come up to view, — ^not very distinctly, but still with so 
much effect as to blind the mind and harden the heart. 
Perhaps, my reader, you can think of some irreligious com- 
panion whom you know you must give up, if you become 
an open and decided Christian. Even if you do not give 
up him, you expect that he will give up you, if such a change 
should take place in your character. Now, although you 
do not distinctly make a comparison between the pleasures 
of his society on the one side, and the peace and happiness 
of religion on the other, and after balancing their claims, 
decide against God and duty, — although you make no for- 
mal decision like this, yet the image of that friend, and the 
recollection of the past pleasures of his society, and the pros- 
pect of future enjoyment, come into your mind, and secret- 
ly hold you a prisoner. The chain is wound aroimd your 
heart, and its pressure is so gentle that you scarcely per- 
ceive it. Still it holds you firmly, and until you loosen the 
link, it will hold you. You do right while you are in this 
state of mind to say that you cannot love God. Our Saviour 
says the same — ^' If any man come to me, and hate not," 
that is, is not cordially willing to give up, if necessary, "his 
father and mother, and wife and sisters, yea and his own life 
also, he cannot be my disciple." You cannot be the disciple 
of Christ till you are willing to give up the world in all its 
forms. 

Perhaps it is not 2k friend which keeps you from the Sa- 
viour, but some other object. You may indulge yourself in 
some practice, which conscience secretly condemns. Per- 
haps there is a favourite amusement, which you must give 
up, if you should become a consistent Christian. You do not 
distinctly bring this up before your mind, into formal com- 
parison with the hope of a happy immortality, and decide 
that it is superior. It insinuates itself into your mind, and 
shuts its avenues against the light. You wonder that you 
do not see and feel, and cannot discover the cause. 

III. Fear of the world. Where love of the world binds 



do TOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

one soul in sin, \ihefear of it, in some form or other, binds 
ten. Every one is surrounded by a circle of influence, it 
may be small or great, which is hostile to piety. To take the 
attitude of a humble Christian, in the presence of this circle 
of acquaintances and fiiends ; to abandon your past course of 
conduct, with the acknowledgment that it has been entirely 
wrong ; and to encounter the cold and forbidding or perhaps 
scornful looks of those whom you have been accustomed to 
call your friends, — all this is trying. You shrink from it. 
You do not very distinctly take it into consideration, but it 
operates with an influence the more unmanageable, because 
it is unseen. My object in alluding to it here, therefore, is 
to bring it out to view, that you may distinctly see it, and 
bring fairly up the question whether you will be deterred 
by such a consideration from doing your duty towards your 
Makei;^ 

These three reasons are ordinarily the causes why those 
who are almost Christians do not become so altogether. 
They are strong reasons. They hold a great many indivi- 
dual in lasting bondage, and they probably hold many of 
my readers in their chains, and will probably continue to 
do so, after this plain exposition of them. It is no small 
thing, and, with hearts and habits like ours, it is no easy 
thing, to become a Christian. The inquiry is not unfire- 
quently made, why the preaching of the gospel in this world 
produces such partial effects, and surprise is expressed that 
so few are found to comply with its reasonable claims, and 
to respect its awful sanctions. But when we look at those 
circumstances in the case which exhibit the greatness of the 
sacrifice which every man must make who really becomes 
a Christian in a world like this, we may rather be suiprised 
that so many are found to come to the Saviour. 

Jesus Christ foretold all these obstacles. He was very 
frank and open in all his statements. He never has in- 
tended to bring any one into unforeseen difficulties. He 
stated very plainly what he expected of his followers ; he 
described the sacrifices they must make to please him ; the 
troubles they must endure ; and when he left them at last, 
he told them plainly that if they should persevere in his 
service, after he was gone, they must go on expecting to 
suffer, to bleed and to die in his cause. 



ALMOST A CHRISTIAN. 91 

*' Whosoever he he of you that forsaketh not all that he 
hath^ he cannot be my disciple." How strong an expres- 
sion ! What an entire surrender of the individuals address- 
ed, does it require ! And yet he says, " my yoke is easy, 
and my burden is light." How is this ? Does not the first 
declaration imply that the service of Christ is a hard ser- 
vice ? And does not the latter imply that it is easy ? 
There are two classes of passages in the scriptures, which 
seem, on this point, to speak a different language. But the 
explanation is this. It is hard for you to come to Jesus 
Christ. Worldly pleasures beckon you away. Dangers 
and difficulties frown upon you, and above all the rest, 
pride, — ^pride, that most unconquerable of enemies, stands 
erect, and says you must not take the attitude of a hum- 
ble Christian. Now, all these obstacles you must overcome. 
The world must be reHnquished ; the claims of even father 
and mother must give way. The trials which, in a life of 
piety, will await you, must be boldly encountered; and 
pride must yield. But when this is done, — ^the surrender 
once made, — all is happy. The yoke is easy and the bur- 
den is light. If the heart is really submissive to God, if 
its own affections have indeed been crucified, and if God 
really reigns there, peace comes ; and peace and happiness 
will really reign, imless returning pride and worldliness re- 
new the struggle. The government of God in the soul is 
a government which regulates, but does not enslave ; it dif- 
fuses over the heart unmingled peace and happiness. 

Let all then distinctly understand that there is no becom- 
ing a disciple of Jesus Christ without real submission, and 
submission is no pleasant work for human nature to perform. 
It is hard for us to acknowledge that we have been wrong ; 
to bow to a power which we have long opposed ; and thus 
publicly and openly to change sides, on a subject which di- 
vides the world. But it must be done. Enmity to God, 
or imcompromising submission to his will, is the only alter- 
native. 

It is right that this should be the only alternative. Just 
look at the facts. The Creator of all has proclaimed as the 
law of his empire, that all beings should love him supremely, 
and their fellows as themselves. We have always known 
that this was his law, we know too that it is reasonable in 
its nature, and most excellent in its tendency. No man 



92 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

can say that it is not exactly calculated to difiiise uniyersal 
happiness ; nor can any man deny that its almost unceas- 
ing violation in this world has failed the world with misery 
and crime. Now, excellent and reasonable as this law is, 
there are millions in the human family who have spent 
all their lives in the continued, unceasing violation of it. 
lliey know that they never have, for a sin^ moment , loved 
God supremely, or loved their neighbours as themselves. 
Now all of us who are or who have been in this state, 
have been plainly taking sides against God, and against 
the general happiness. We have been violating Imown 
duty, living in acknowledged sin, and the effect has not been 
confined to ourselves. The influence has extended. Our 
example has been in favour of irreHgion, and as our sin 
has thus been public, can we complain that God should 
require our aclmowledgment to be public too ? No ; sub- 
mission to God must be entire, imqualifled, unreserved, or 
we cannot expect God to receive it 

But let me be more particular. Perhaps some young 
man who reads this is almost persuaded to be a Christian. 
He is still an irreligious man. I do not mean that he is op- 
posed to religion, but that he is without piety. Were I to 
address such an one individually, I would say to him, — 
" You, sir, are probably to remain twenty or thirty years 
in the commimity of which you now form a part. These 
years will be in the very prime of your life. Your influ- 
ence is now great j it is increasing, and it must increase. 
God has brought you into this scene. Your original powers 
and your education you owe to him. The habits of indus- 
try and of integrity which you have acquired would not 
have been yours without his aid. He has held you up and 
brought you forward — and now, as the opening prospects 
of usefulness and happiness lie before you, he wishes you 
to come to him, and to assist in the execution of his plans 
for the promotion of human happiness. Will you come ? 
There will be a great deal of suffering which you can al- 
leviate, during the twenty years that are before you, if you 
will set your heart upon alleviating suffering. There will 
be much vice which your influence may prevent, if you will 
exert it aright. You may be the means too of bringing 
many an unhappy sinner to the Saviour who died for him, 
during the long years which are to come, if you will but 



ALMOST A CHRISTIAN. 93 

come and lore that Sayiour yourself, and seek to promote 
his cause." *' But no," do you say ? "I have been, I ac- 
knowledge, in the wrong, but I cannot bow to truth and 
duty, and humble pride, abandon my ground, and stand be- 
fore the world the acknowledged victim of folly and sin." 
Then you cannot serve God. Unless you will do this, you 
cannot be Christ's disciple. 

Is there an unchristian parent who reads these pages ? 
God has something for you to do for him in your family 
circle. You are moulding the hearts of these children by 
your influence, and the lineaments which your daily exam- 
ple is calling forth there, are to last. You are doing work 
for a very long iuturity. You endeavour to promote the hap- 
piness of your children for this life, but God wishes to make 
them happy for ever, and he invites you to come and co- 
operate with him in the noble design. But you cannot co' 
operate with him until you join him. If you have been 
against him thus far, you cannot join him without submis- 
sion. *' But ah I" you say, ** that word submission ! It is 
hard to 'submit." I know it is hard. For example, you 
have perhaps neglected family prayer. You cannot be God's 
£riend and do your duty Mly till it is begun. ' You cannot 
join with him in promoting the eternal happiness of your 
son or your daughter, till you are willing to make up your 
mind to bow before your Maker at your fireside altar, for 
thejirst time. And when you do it for the first time, you 
aclmowledge the guilt of past neglect, you take the attitude 
of a humbled, altered man. This is submission, and with- 
out it you cannot enter the kingdom of heaven. God asks 
you to do this, but his sole motive for asking it is, that he 
may make you a happy fellow-worker with him. 

Look at that youth, the favoured object in the circle of 
friends and companions in which he moves. His upright 
character has commanded respect, and his amiable disposi- 
tion has secured aflFection. His companions seek his society 
— they observe and imitate his example — they catch and 
adopt his opinions. He has never now said a word against 
religion. He complies respectftdly with all its external ob- 
servances, and in fine does all which he can do without be- 
ing personally humbled. But how would he shrink from 
having it whispered about in the circle in which he moves 
that he is anxious for the salvation of his soul. How un« 



94 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

willing would he be that it should be known that he went 
to his pastor for pei*sonal religious instruction, or that he had 
taken any step which should admit before all, that he had 
been himself, personally, a guilty rebel against God, and 
that he wished to change sides now, and do good as open- 
ly and as publicly as he had before done injury. But oh ! 
reflect ; you have taken an open stand against God ; and 
are you not willing to take an open stand in his favour ? 
I know it is painful — ^it is the very crucifixion of the flesh. 
But God cannot propose any other terms than that those 
who have been open enemies should become open friends, 
and no generous mind can ask any easier conditions. 

Indeed sometimes it has appeared to me that if another 
mode of entering the kingdom of heaven had been proposed, 
that we should see ourselves its impropriety. Suppose the 
Saviour were to say to a sinner thus : *' You have been my 
enemy I know. In the controversy which has existed be- 
tween God and his revolted subjects, you have taken the 
wrong side. You have been known to be without piety, 
and for many long years you have been exerting an influ- 
ence against God, and against the happiness of the creation. 
But I am ready to forgive you if you will return to me now. 
And as publicly giving up, in such a controversy, is always 
painful to the pride of the human heart, I will excuse you 
from this. You may come secretly and be my friend, to 
save you the mortification of publicly changing sides, in a 
question on which your opinions and your conduct have 
long been known/' 

To this a spirit of any nobleness or generosity would 
reply, *' If I have been in the wrong, and I freely acknow- 
ledge that I have, I choose openly to avow it. My re- 
cantation shall be kno^vn as extensively as my sin. I will 
not come and make my peace secretly with God, and 
leave my example to go on alluring, as it has done, others 
to live in sin. If pride remonstrates, I will cut her down ; 
and if my companions deride my change, I will bear their 
reproaches. They cannot injure me as much as my un- 
godly example and influence has injured them." 

Whether, however, the sinner sees the necessity of his 
being really humbled before he is forgiven or not, Grod 
sees it, every holy being sees it, and Jehovah's determina- 
tion is fixed. We must submit, or we cannot be pardoned. 



ALMOST A CHRISTIAN. 95 

Do you not now, my reader, see what is tlie reason why 
you cannot be a Christian ? You say you vdsh, but can- 
not, and in nine out of ten such cases, the difficulty is, you 
are not cordially willing to give up all to God, Pride is 
not yet humbled, or the world is not yet surrendered,— 
and until it is, you cannot expect peace. You know you 
have been wrong — and you wish now to be right — but this 
cannot be without an open change, and this you shrink from. 
The jaUer who came trembling to know what he must do to 
be saved, was told to believe and be baptized immediately. 
How humiliating ! To appear the next morning a spectacle 
to the whole community, — a stem public officer, bowed down 
to submission through the iDfluence of the very prisoners 
committed to his charge. Yet he was willing to encounter 
it, and you, — ^if you can just consent to yield — to yield every 
thing — throw down every weapon, and give up every refuge, 
and come now to the Saviour, bearing your cross, — that is, 
wringing life and reputation, and all you hold dear, and 
placing it at his supreme disposal, you may depend upon 
forgiveness and peace. But while your heart is full of re- 
servations, while the world retains its hold, and pride is un- 
subdued, and you are thus unwilling, openly and decidedly, 
to take the right side, is it imjust or unkind in God to con- 
sider you as upon the wrong one ? — Far be it from me to 
advocate ostentation in piety. The humble retiring Chris- 
tian, who commimes with his own heart and with God, is 
in the best road to growth in grace and to usefulness ; but 
every one ought to be willing that the part he takes in this 
great question should be known. 

I now dismiss this subject, not to resume it again in this 
volume. Knowing as I did that there would imdoubtedly 
be many among the readers of this book, who can only be 
called almost Christians^ I could not avoid devoting a 
chapter or two to them, I have now explained as distinctly 
as I have been able to do it, the submission of the heart 
which is necessary in becoming a Christian, and what are 
the difficulties in the way. I should evince but a slight 
knowledge of the human heart, if I were not to expect that 
many who read this will still remain only almost Christians. 
I must here, however, take my final leave of them, and in- 
vite the others, — those who are willing now cordially to 



96 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

take the Saviour as their portion^ to go on with me through 
the remaining chapters of the book^ which I shall devote 
entirely to me instruction of those who are altogether 
Christians. 



CHAPTER VI. 



DIFFICULTIES IN RELIGION. 



"The secret things belong unto the Lord our God." 

The Young Christian, conscientiously desiring to know 
and to do his dutj, is at the outset of his course per- 
plexed by a multitude of difficulties which are more or less 
remotely connected with the subject of religion, and which 
will arise to his view. These difficulties in many cases can- 
not he removed. The embarrassing perplexity, however, 
which arises from them, always can, and it is to this sub- 
ject that I vnsYi to devote the present chapter. My plan 
will be, in the first place, to endeavour thoroughly to con- 
vince all who read it that difficulties must be expected, — 
difficulties, too, which they cannot entirely surmount ; and, 
in the second place, to explain and illustrate the spirit vrith 
which they must be met. 

It is characteristic of the human mind not to be willing 
to wait long in suspense on any question presented to it for 
decision. When any new question or new subject comes 
before us, we grasp hastily at the little information in regard 
to it within our immediate reach, and then hurry to a deci- 
sion. "We are not often vrilling to wait to consider whether 
the subject is fairly within the grasp of our powers, and 
whether all the facts which are important to a proper con- 



DIFFICULTIES IN RELIGION. 97 

sideration of it are before us. We decide at once. It is not 
pleasant to be in suspense. Suspense implies ignorance^ and 
to admit ignorance is humiliating. 

Hence most persons have a settled belief upon almost 
every question which has been brought before them. lu 
expressing their opinions thej mention things which they 
believe, and things which they do not believe, but very few 
people have a third class of questions, which they acknow- 
ledge to be beyond their grasp, so that in regard to them 
they can neither believe nor disbelieve, but must remain in 
suspense. Now this is the secret of nine-tenths of the 
difference of opinion, and of the sharp disputes by which 
this world is made so noisy a scene. Men jump at con- 
clusions before they distinctly understand the premises, and 
as each one sees only a part of what he ought to see before 
forming his opinion, it is not surprising that each should see 
a different part, and should consequently be led to different 
results. They then fall into a dispute, each presenting his 
own partial view, and shutting his eyes to that exhibited 
by his opponent. 

Some of the mistakes which men thus fall into are me- 
lancholy ; others only ludicrous. Some European traveller 
showed a map of the world to a Chinese philosopher. The 
philosopher looked at it a few moments, and then turned 
vnth proud and haughty look, and said to the bystanders — 
'^ This map is entirely wrong ; the English know nothing 
of geography. They have got China out upon one side of 
the world, whereas it is, in fact, exactly in the middle" 

Multitudes of amusing stories are related by travellers of 
the mistakes^ and misconceptions, and false reasonings of 
semi-barbarous people, about the subjects of European 
science and philosophy. They go to reasoning at once, and 
fall into the grossest errors, but still they have much more 
confidence in their silly speculations than in any evidence 
which their minds are capable of receiving. 

But you will say, do you mean to compare us with such 
savages ? Yes, the human mind, in its tendencies, is every- 
where the same. The truths which relate to the world of 
spirits are to us what European science is to a South Sea 
islander. Our minds experience the same difficulty in grasp- 
ing them, and we hurry to the same wild speculations and 
false conclusions. 

o 



98 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

It is not surprising that the truths contained in a revela- 
tion from heaven should be beyond our grasp. We cannot 
even feirly grasp the truths relating to the mere physical 
motions of this earth. We know^ for instance^ that the dis- 
tinction downwards is only towards the earth. Now let 
your imagination extend half round the globe. Think of 
the people who are standing upon it, exactly opposite to 
ourselves, and to try to realize that downwards is towards 
the earth there. You believe it, I know, but can you, in 
the expressive phrase of children, make it seem so ? 

Again, you know, if you believe that the earth revolves, 
that the room you are in revolves with it, and that con- 
sequently it was six hours ago in a position the reverse of 
what it now is, so that the floor was in a direction correspond- 
ing to that of the walls now. Now, can you, by any mental 
effort, realize this ? Or will you acknowledge that even 
this simple astronomical subject is beyond your grasp ? 

Once more. Suppose the earth and sun and stars were 
all annihilated, and one small ball existed alone in space. 
You can imagine this state of things for a moment. Now 
there would be, as you well know, if you have the slightest 
astronomical knowledge, no down or up in such case, for 
there would be no central body to attract. Now when you 
fancy this ball, thus floating in empty space, can you re- 
alize that there would be no tendency in it to move in one 
direction rather than another ? You may believe, on au- 
thority, that it would not move ; but fix your mind upon it 
for a moment, and then look oflf from it, first in one direc- 
tion, then in another, until you have looked in every direc- 
tion, and can you make all these seem the same ? No, we 
cannot divest ourselves of the impression that one of iiiese 
is more properly up, and the other more properly down, 
though the slightest astronomical knowledge will convince 
us that this impression is a mere delusion. Even this simple 
and unquestionable truth is beyond the grasp of the human 
mind, at least until after it has, by very long contemplation 
on such subjects, divested itself of the prejudices of the 
senses. 

Is it surprising, then, that when a revelation comes to us 
from a world which is entirely unseen and unknown, de- 
scribing to us in some degree God's character, and the prin- 
ciples of his government, that there should be many things 



DIFFICULTIES IN RELIGION. 99 

in it which we cannot understand ? No. There axe, and 
from the nature of the case must he^ a thousand difficulties, 
insuperable to us at present. Now if we do not cordially 
feel and admit this, we shall waste much time in needless 
perplexity. My object in this chapter is to conyince all 
who read it, that they must expect to find difficulties, in- 
superable difficulties, in the various aspects of religioustnith, 
and to try to persuade you to admit this, and to repose 
quietly in acknowledged ignorance, in those cases where 
the human mind cannot know. The difficulties are never 
questions of practical duty, and sometimes are very remote- 
ly connectea with any religious truth. Some of them I 
shall however describe, not with the design of explaining 
them, because I purposely collect such as I believe cannot 
be explained satisfactorily to young persons ; but with the 
design of bringing all cordially to feel that they must be 
ignorant, and that they may as well acknowledge their 
ignorance at once. 

First difficulty. It is a common opinion that God exist- 
ed before the creation of the world, alone and unemployed, 
from eternity. Now the difficulty is this. How could a 
being who was infinite in benevolence and power waste all 
that time, when it might have been employed in making 
millions and millions happy ? The creation was not far from 
six thousand years ago, and six thousand years compared 
with the eternity beyond are nothing. So that it follows 
that almost the whole of the existence of a benevolent and 
omnipotent Being, who delights in doing good and promot- 
ing happiness, has been spent in doing nothing. 

±*erhaps some one will make a feeble effi)rt to escape 
from the difficulty by supposing, what is very probably true, 
that other worlds were created long before this. But let 
such an one consider, that however remote the first creation 
may have been, there is beyond it, so far as we can see, an 
eternity of solitude and inaction. 

Remember, I say, so Jar as we can see, for I am far from 
believing that Jehovah has ever wasted time. I know no- 
thing about it. I can see and reason just far enough to 
perceive that the whole subject is beyond my grasp, and I 
leave it, contented not to know, and not to pretend to 
know, any thing about it. 

After reading these remarks at one time to an assembly 



100 YOUNG CBRISTIA$r. 

of young persons, several of them gathered around me, and 
attemptea to shew that there was in fact no difficulty in this 
first case. 

" Why/' said I, '^ what explanation hare you ?" 

" I think," was the reply, ^' that God might have been 
creating worlds from all eternity, and thus never have been 
unemployed/' 

*' If that had been the case," replied I, '^ would or would 
not some one of these worlds have been eternal ?" 

' Yes, Sir," they all answered with one voice. 

" Then you suppose that some of these worlds were eternal 
and others not. The first which were created had no begin- 
ning, but after a time, according to this hypothesis, Je- 
hovah began to create them at definite periods. This is 
evidently absurd. Besides, those which were eternal must 
have existed as long as God has existed, and if you admit 
that, it seems that you must admit that they are indepen- 
dent of God, for if they have existed for ever, they could 
not have been created." 

One of the party attempted to avoid this by saying, that 
though the whole series of creations has been eternal, yet 
that every particular creation may have been at some defi- 
nite point of time, so that each one world has had but a li- 
mited existence, though the whole series has been eternal. 

" But," said I, ** can you conceive — clearly conceive — of 
an eternal series of creations of matter, without believing 
that some matter itself is eternal ? And if you suppose 
matter itself to be eternal, can you understand how God 
can have created that which has existed as long as he has 
himself?" 

This was the substance of the conversation, which, how- 
ever, in all its details, occupied half an hour. And I believe 
all who engaged in it cordially acknowledged, that the 
whole subject was entirely beyond the grasp of their minds. 

As this book may fall into the hands of some theological 
scholar, I beg that he will bear in mind that I do not pre- 
sent this subject as one that would perplex him, but as one 
which must perplex the young. I maintain that whatever 
trained metaphysicians may understand, or fancy that they 
can understand, it is entirely beyond the reach of such 
minds as those for whom this book is intended. 

Second difficulty. When in a still and cloudless summer 



DIFFICULTIES IN RELIGION. 101 

ereninor, you have looked among the stars of the sky, you 
have often wondered at the almost houndless extent of the 
creation. That feint star which twinkles so feebly, that 
you almost fear that the next gentle breeze will extinguish 
it, or that the next light cloud will sweep it away, has 
burned with the same feeble but inextinguishable beam ever 
since the creation. The sun has blazed aroimd the heavens 
— storms have agitated and wrecked the skies — the moon 
has waxed and waned over it — but it bums on the same. 
It may be obscured by some commotion of the elements 
for a time, but when cloud and storm have passed away, 
you will find it shining on imchanged, in the same place, 
and with the same brightness, and with precisely the same 
hue, which it exhibited before the flood. 

It is a great blazing sun, burning at its immense dis- 
tance with inconceivable brightness and glory, probably sur- 
rounded by many worlds whose millions of inhabitants are 
cheered by its rays. Now, as you all well know, every star 
which twinkles in the sky, and thousands of others which 
the telescope alone brings to view, are probably thus sur- 
rounded by life and intelligence and happiness in ten thou- 
sand forms. Stand now in a summer evening under the 
open sky, and with these views, estimate as largely as you 
please the extent of the creation. However widely you 
may in imagination expand its boundaries, still it seems to 
human reason that it must have a limit. Now go with me 
in imagination to that limit. Let us take our station at the 
remotest star, and look upon the one side, into the regions 
which God has filled with intelligence and happiness, and 
on the other side, into the fer wider regions of gloomy dark- 
ness and soHtude that lie beyond. Make the circle of the 
habitable imiverse as large as you will — how much more 
extensive, according to any ideas of space which we can 
form, must be the dreary waste beyond. The regions which 
God has filled by his efforts and plans dwindle to a little 
fertile island, in the midst of a boundless ocean. But why 
is this? Who can explain or understand how a Being 
boundless in power, and desirous of promoting the greatest 
possible amount of enjoyment, can leave so immense a 
portion unoccupied, and confine all his efPorts to a region 
whicl^ though immense to our conceptions, is after all but 



102 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

a little spot^ a mere point compared with the boundless ex- 
panse around ? 

Now, I by no means believe that there is such an im- 
mense void as my reasoning seems to prove there must be. 

My object is to show that on these subjects which are be- 
yond our grasp, we may reason plausibly, and only plunge 
ourselves in difficulties without end. Therefore on such sub- 
jects I distrust all reasoning. I never reason, except for the 
purpose of showing how utterly the subject is beyond our 
grasp, and in regard to such questions I have no opinion. 
I believe nothing and disbelieve nothing. 

Third difficulty. The existence of suffering. Itseemstome 
that the human mind is utterly incapable of explaining how 
suffering can find its way into any world which is under 
the control of a benevolent and an omnipotent God. If he 
is benevolent, he will desire to avoid all suffering, and if 
he is omnipotent, he will be able to do it. Now this reason- 
ing seems to be a perfect moral demonstration. No per- 
son can reply to it. Some one may faintly say that the 
suffering we witness is the means of producing a higher 
general good, and then I have only to ask, but why could 
not an omnipotent Being secure the higher good without 
the suffering f And it is a question which it seems to me no 
man can answer. The only rational course which we can 
take, is to say, sincerely and cordially, we do not know. We 
are just commencing our existence — just beginning to think 
and to reason about our Creator's plans — and we must ex- 
pect to find hundreds of subjects which we cannot under- 
stand. 

Fourth difficulty. Human accountability. Instead of 
calling this a difficulty, I ought to call it a cluster of diffi- 
culties, for unanswerable questions may be raised without 
end out of this subject. 

Look at yonder gloomy procession. In the cart there sits 
a man, who has been convicted of piracy and murder upon 
the high seas, and he is condemned to die. Now, that 
man rvas taught fi-om his youth to be a robber and a mur- 
derer. He was trained up to blood. Conscience did, 
doubtless, remonstrate. There was a law MTitten on his 
heart which condemned him, but he was urged on by his 
companions, and perhaps by his very father, to stifle its 



DIFFICULTIES IN RELIGION. 103 

voice. Had he been bom and brought up in a Christian land, 
with a kind Christian parent, and surrounded by the influ- 
ences of the Bible, and the church, and the Sabbath school, he 
would undoubtedly never have committed the deed. Shall he 
then be executed for a crime, which, had he been in our cir- 
cumstances, he would not have committed, and which his 
very judge, perhaps, would have been guilty of, had he been 
exposed to the temptations which overwhelmed the prisoner ? 

In a multitude of books on metaphysics, the following 
train of reasoning is presented. The human mind, as it 
comes from the hand of the Creator, is endued with certain 
susceptibilities to be affected by external objects. For in- 
stance, an injury awakens resentment in every mind. The 
heart is so constituted, that when the youngest child re- 
ceives an injury which it can understand, a feeling of resent- 
ment comes up in the heart. It need not have been so. 
We might unquestionably have been so formed, that mere 
compassion for the guilt of the individual who had inflicted 
it, or a simple desire to remove the suffering, or any other 
feeling whatever, might rise. But God decided, when he 
formed our minds, what should be their tendencies. 

He has not only decided upon the constitutional tenden- 
cies of the mind, but has arranged all the circumstances to 
which each individual is to be exposed. And these, so far 
as we can see, constitute the whole which affects the forma- 
tion of character, the original tendencies, — and the circum- 
stances of life by which they are developed or restrained. 
God has, therefore, the whole control in the formation of 
the character of every individual. 

This seems, at least to a great many minds, perfect de- 
monstration. There is no evading it, and it brings us at 
once to that greatest of all questions, in physics or meta- 
physics, in the whole circle of human inquiry, — a question 
which has caused more disputes, destroyed more Christian 
peace of mind, given rise to more vain systems formed by 
philosophical attempts to evade the difficulty, than almost 
any other question whatever. How can man he account- 
ahlct when God has had such entire control in the formation 
of his character ? 

1 know that some among my readers will think that I 
make tHe difficulty greater than it is. They will think they 
can see much to lighten it, and will perhaps deny some of 



104 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

my assumptions. Q£ ^uch an one I would simply ask, were 
he before me — after {laying heard all he should hare to say 
on the subject — *' Can you, sir, after all, honestly say that 
you understand, clearly understand, how man can be fully 
accountable, and yet his heart be as much under divine con- 
trol as you suppose it is V* Every honest man will acknow- 
ledge that he is often, in his thoughts on this subject, lost 
in perplexity, and forced to admit the narrow limit of the 
human powers. 

But again. No one denies that Qodjbreknofvs perfectly 
every thing that happens. Now, suppose a father were to 
say to his child, '^ My son, you are going to a scene of temp- 
tation to-day, you will be exposed to some injury, and wiU 
be in danger of using some harsh and resentful words. Now, 
I wish you to be careful. Bear injury patiently, and do not 
use opprobrious language in return." 

All this would be very well ; but suppose that in addition 
the father were to say, " My son, I have contrived to as- 
certain what 1/ou will say, and I have written here upon 
this paper every word you will utter to-day." 

" Every word you think I shall speak, you mean," says 
the boy. 

*'No," says the father, "every word you will speak; 
they are all written exactly. I have, by some mysterious 
means, ascertained them, and here they are. And it is ab- 
solutely certain, that you will speak every thing which is 
written here, and not a syllable besides." 

Could any boy, after such a statement, go away believ- 
ing what his father had said, and yet feeling that he him- 
self could be, notwithstanding, free to act and speak that 
day as he pleased ?* 

Now God knows, as all will acknowledge, every thing 
which will take place, just as certainly as if it were written. 
The mere fact of expressing it in language would make no 
Jifference. We may consider our future conduct to be as 
clearly known, and as certain, as if our histories were mi- 

* Let it be remembered that 1 am writing for the young, ayd am entimerating 
difiiculties insui^erable to them. A mind long acctistoined to the accuraqr of meta- 
physical inquiries, will see that the antecedent certainty of any act proves only the 
greatness of the intellect which can foresee it,— it has nothing to do with the freedom 
of the moral agent by which it is performed. If any one supposes that there ie no 

Ereat difficulty /or the younfr in this subject, let him try to convince an intelligent 
oy, that, under such circumstances as are above described, he could be free to speak 
Itently or angrily* aolely according to hisown firee-wiiL 



DIFFICULTIES IN RELIGION, 105 

nutelj written ; and where is the man^ (with perhaps the 
exception of a few who hare nuide metaphysical philosophy 
a study for years,) who will not acknowledge that this truth, 
which nobody will deny, throws a little perplexity over his 
mind, when he looks at that boimdless moral freedom and 
entire accountability, which the Bible and human consci- 
ousness both attribute to man ? 

Fifth difficulty. It is common to prove the existence of 
God from his works, in the following manner. We see 
created objects ; they must have had a cause, for nothing can 
arise out of nothing. There must have been, therefore, 
some great first cause, which we call God. 

Now, this reasoning is very plausible ; but suppose the 
infidel to whom you present it should say, 

" But what broi^ht God into existence ?" 

You answer, " He is uncaused'* 

'' Very well," he replies, " then he came from nothing, 
so that it seems something can come from nothing." 

" No," you reply, " he existed from eternity." 

*' And, I suppose," replies the Atheist, " that the world 
has existed imcaused from all eternity, and why is not my 
supposition as good as yours ? There are no more marks of 
design in the structure of this earth, than there are in the 
nicely balanced and adjusted powers and attributes of Je- 
hovah." 

Now this does not shake my confidence in the being of a 
God. I know there is a God, — and every man knows there 
is ; though they who are resolved to break his laws some- 
times vainly seek shelter in a denial of his existence : Like 
the foolish child, who when at midnight the thunder-storm 
rages in the skies, buries his face in his pillow, and fancies 
that he finds protection from the forked lightning by just 
shutting his eyes to its glare. No ; it only shakes my con- 
fidence in all abstract reasonings upon subjects which are 
beyond my grasp. 

Sixth difficulty. How can God really answer prayer with- 
out in fact miraculously interrupting the course of nature ? 
That God does answer prayer by an exertion of his power, 
in cases to which human influence does not reach, seems 
evident from the following passage. '' The efiectual, fervent 
prayer of a righteous man availeth much. EUas was a man 
subject to like passions as we are« and he prayed earnestly 



106 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

that it might not rain, and it rained not on the earth by the 
«pace of three years and six months. And he prayed again, 
and the heayen gave rain, and the earth brought forth her 
fruit." Jamesv. 16, 17> 18. Notwithstanding the difficulty 
of reasoning with an infidel who is determined not to be con- 
vinced, the proof from marks of design is conclusive to 
every unbiassed mind. Now, if the natural effect of prayer 
as an exercise of the heart were all, this illustration would 
be altogether inappropriate. It must teach that the prayers 
of men will have an influence with Jehovah, so that he shall 
order differently from what he otherwise would do events 
beyond human control. Now, how can this in fact be done 
without a miracle ? A miracle is nothing more than an 
interruption of the ordinary course of nature. Now, if the 
ordinary course of nature would, in any case, bring us 
what we ask, it is plain we do not owe it to God's answer- 
ing prayer. If the regular course of nature would not bring 
it, then it seems that God cannot grant the request without 
interrupting, more or less, that course, and this is a miracle. 
This reasoning appears simple enough, and it is difficult to 
see how the conclusion can be avoided. 

But, to make the point plainer, let me suppose a case. A 
mother, whose son is sick in a foreign port, asks for prayers 
in a seaman's chapel, that he may be restored to health and 
returned in safety. The young man is perhaps ten thou- 
sand miles from home. The prayer can have no power to 
put in operation any earthly cause which can reach him. 
If it reaches him at all, it must be through the medium of 
the Creator. 

Now we are compelled to believe, if we believe the Bible, 
that the prayer will, in all ordinary cases, have an influence. 
The efficacy of prayer in such cases as this is so universally 
taught in the Bible, that we cannot doubt it, and yet retain 
that volume as our guide. But how can God answer this pray- 
er without in reality interfering miraculously with the laws of 
nature ? If the young man would have recovered without it, 
then his restoration cannot very honestly be said to be in an- 
swer to prayer. If he recovers, when without the prayer he 
would have died, then it seems very plain that God must in- 
terfere somewhere, to interrupt what would have been the 
ordinary course of nature. He must arrest supematurally 
the progress of the disease, or give to medicines an efficacy 



DIFFICULTIES IN RELIGION. lO? 

vhich, without his special interference, they would not have 
possessed, or suggested to his physician a course of treat- 
ment which the ordinary laws of thought would not have 
presented to his mind ; either of which, according to any 
philosophical definition, is a miracle. 

Now undouhtedly God, in some secret way that we can- 
not now understand, can, without disturbing the laws of na- 
ture, grant our requests. The difl&culty is merely one to our 
limited powers, hut to these powers it is insurmountable. 

I might go on with such an enumeration to an indefinite 
length ; but I have, I hope, already brought up points enough. 
And let my reader remember, that it is not necessary for my 
purpose that he should admit that all these questions are be- 
yond the grasp of his mind. It is enough for my present 
object that each one will admit that some of them are. One 
will say that he can understand the subject of God's answer- 
ing prayer; another will think there is no difl&culty in regard 
to God's foreknowledge of human actions, and thus every 
reader will perhaps flbad some one of these which he thinks he 
understands. But will not all acknowledge that there are 
some which he cannot understand ? — if so, he will cordially 
feel that there are subjects connected with important reli- 
gious truth, which are beyond the grasp of the human mind, 
and this conviction is what I have been endeavouring to 
establish. 

The real diflBculties which I have brought to view in the 
preceding pages are few. They are only brought up again 
and again in diflferent forms, that they might be more clear- 
ly seen. Eternal duration ; infinite space ; the nature of 
moral agency ; these are the fountains of perplexity, from 
which, in various ways, I have drawn in this chapter. 
They are subjects which the human mind cannot grasp, and 
they involve in difl&culty every proposition of which they 
form an element. You may remove the difl&culty from one 
part of the ground to the other, you may conceal it by 
sophistry, you may obscure it by declamation, but after all 
that you have done, it will remain a difl&culty still, and the 
acute and candid mind will see its true character, through 
all the forms in which you may attempt to disguise it. The 
disputes and the theorizing with which the theological world 
is filled, on the subject of moral agency for example, — the 
vain attempts to form some philosophical theory which will 



108 TOUNO CHBISTIAN. 

explain the subject, remind me of the labours of a schoolboy 
in endeayounng to solve an equation containing one irration- 
al term. He transposes the troublesome surd from one side 
to the other, — ^he multiplies and divides it, — ^he adds to it 
and subtracts from it, — ^he tries involution and evolution up- 
on it, but notwithstanding every metamorphosis, it remains a 
surd still, and though he may have lost sight of it himself, by 
throwing it into some complicated multinomial expression, 
the practised mathematician will see, by a glance of the 
eye, that an insuperable difficulty is there. 

It is just so with these great moral subjects ; they contain 
intrinsic and insurmountable difficulties ; and wherever they 
come they bring difficulty, which it is most philosophical to 
acknowledge, not to deny or conceal. We ought to be will- 
ing to remain in ignorance on such subjects, if we can only 
distinctly know our duty. It is indeed best in ordinary cases 
to look into the subject, — to examine it carefully, so as to 
find where the difficulty is, see what firm ground you have 
all around it, and let the region of uncertainty and ignorance 
be circumscribed by a definite boundary. But when this is 
done, look calmly upon the surface of the deep which you 
know you cannot sound, and acknowledge the limit of your 
powers with a humble and quiet spirit. 

In order to avoid that mental anxiety which the contem- 
plation of insurmountable difficulty is calculated to awaken, 
it is well to make a broad and constant distinction between 
a theoretical and practical question. The inquiry wheU 
duty is, is in every case a practical question. The princi- 
ples upon which that duty is required, form often a mere 
question of theory, into which it is of no importance that 
we should be able to enter, ^all the Sabbath commence 
on Saturday evening or on Sunday morning ^ That is a. 
practical difficulty. Your decision of it will affect your 
practice at once. " Why did God appoint one day in seven 
rather than one in six, or one in eight, for holy time?" 
That is just as plainly theoretical. Now almost every ques- 
tion relating to the reasons which influenced the Creator in 
his dealings with men, every one in regard to the essence 
of his character, the constitution of man as a moral being, 
and the ground of his obhgations to God, the principles by 
which the magnitude and the duration of future punish- 



DIPFICULTIRB IN RELIGION. 109 

ments are fixed, — these are all theoretical qaentionB, If we 
believe tlie plain declarations of the Bible in regard to the 
Jiacts on these subjects, — those facts will indeed influence 
our conduct, — ^but we may safely leave the theory to him 
who has the responsibility of reigning in the universe. 

Take for instance the question of future punishment. 
There is a great deal of speculation among theological wri- 
ters on what ought and what ought not to be done with im- 
penitent sinners who continue in sin during their period of 
probation. But what reasonable man, wno will reflect a 
moment, can imagine that any human mind can take in 
such a view of God's administration as to enable it really 
to grasp this question ? What powers can comprehend so 
fully the nature and the consequences of sin and punishment, 
— ^not for a few years only, but /or ever, and not upon a few 
minds only, but upon the universe, as to be able to form any 
opinion at all in regard to the course which the Supreme 
ought to take in the punishment of sin ? Why, the noisy, 
riotous tenants of a crowded jail-room are far more capable 
of discussing the principles of penal jurisprudence, than we 
are of forming any opinion, upon abstract grounds, of the 
proper extent and duration of future punishment. The 
jailer would say to his prisoners, if they remonstrated with 
him on the severity of Qieir sentence, " the law decides this 
question, we have nothing to do with it. The law will 
be executed." And so, if a man should attempt to reason 
with me, to prove on abstract grounds that eternal or that 
limited punishment is the just one, might I not say to him, 
" Sir, why do you perplex me with the question of the pun- 
ishment of the enemies of God ? I have not that punish- 
ment to assign. God says that the wicked shall go away 
into everlasting punishment. He has decided. I cannot stand 
on the eminence which he occupies, and see what led him to 
this decision. My only duty is to believe what he says, and 
to escape as swiftly as I can to the refuge from that storm." 

Nine-tenths of the difficulties which beset the paths of 
young Christians and young converts would be avoided by 
such a spirit as this ; — ^by our taking God's decisions, and 
spending our strength in performing the practical duties 
which arise from them, and leaving the grounds of those de- 
cisions with him. 

This principle may be applied in a multitude of cases in 



110 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

which Scripture declarations are a ground of douht and dif- 
ficulty to Christians. " 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." So far as this text 
is considered in its practical aspects, how plain and simple 
it is ; and yet how easy to lose ourselyes in the theoretical 
specidations to which it may give rise. The duties it re- 
quires are plain and simple. Do your duty with patient 
fidelity, but feel at the same time a humble sense of your 
dependence upon God. The theory upon which these two 
duties are founded is lost in obscurity which the human 
mind cannot penetrate. 

The words " work out," &c. seem to imply that the power 
necessary to change the heart rests with man, while the lat- 
ter part of the verse, "for it is God," &c., seems to attribute 
it to God. How is this ? what degree of agency has man 
himself in the production of those holy feelings which the 
Bible represents as necessary to salvation, and what part 
devolves upon the Creator? This is a question which, as has 
been already remarked, has come up in a thousand forms. 
It has been the foundation of many a captious cavil, as 
well as of many an honest doubt. If the Bible had taught 
us that man alone had power over his conduct, so as to be 
entirely independent of an over-rulii^ hand, we could un- 
derstand it. Or if it had maintained that God reigned in 
the himian heart, and controlled its emotions and feelings 
to such an extent as ioj'ree man from the responsibility, this 
too would be plain. But it takes neither oi these grounds. 
In some passages it plainly teaches us that all the responsi- 
bility of human conduct rests upon the individual being who 
exhibits it. In other places we are informed that the great 
God is Supreme in the moral as in the material world, and 
that he turns the hearts of men as surely and as easily as the 
rivers of water. And these two truths, so perplexing to phi- 
losophy, are brought, by a moral daring for which the Bible 
is remarkable, directly side by side in the passage before us. 
There is no softening of language to obscure the distinct- 
ness of the difficulty ; — there are no terms of limitation to 
bring it in within narrow bounds; — there is no interpretation 
to explain, — ^no qualifications to modify. But it stands fiiir 
and legible, and unalterable upon the pages of the word of 
God, saying to us in language which we cannot misunder- 



DIFFICULTIES IN RELIGION. Ill 

stand ; — you must make active and earnest efforts your- 
selves in the pursuit of holiness^ — and you must still submit 
to the power that rules in your hearty and look for assistance 
to GkKl^ who works in you to will and to do. 

It ought however to be S£(id again and again, that the 
difficulty is not a practical, but a theoretical one. There 
is no difficulty in making the efforts required by the former 
part of the passage, and at the same time in feeling the de- 
pendance on God required in the latter. The difficulty is 
in understanding the principle upon which the two are 
founded. It seems to me that this is a very fundamental 
point. Persons seeking, or thinking that they are seek* 
ing, to enter the kingdom of heaven, are often encum- 
bered with these very difficulties. They cannot understand 
the comparative influence which God and man have over 
the human heart, and hence they remain at a stand, not 
knowing what to do. They forget that the difficulty, great 
as it is, IS one of speculation, not of action, and therefore they 
ought not to waste a thought upon it, until at least they have 
made peace with God. Two separate duties are required. 
We can understand them well enough, — and they are not 
inconsistent with each other. Exert yourselves to the ut- 
most in seeking salvation. What difficulty is there in this ? 
Place all your hope of success in God, What difficulty is 
there in this ? And what difficulty is there in making ex- 
ertion ourselves, and feeling reliance on God at the same 
time ? There is none. It has been done a thousand time.s. 
It is doing by thousands now. It can be done by all. But 
we cannot understand, it may be said, the principle upon 
which these two duties are enjoined. True, we cannot un- 
derstand it. The theory is involved in darkness in which 
any who choose may easily lose titemselves. But the duties 
are plain. God has enjoined thenijc and, as dutiful children, 
we ought to feel that if he clearly tells us what we are to do, 
he may properly concealdn many cases the reasons of his 
requirements. 

There are three or four Very common evils, which, by tak- 
ing up the subject of this chapter so formally^ I have been 
wishing to remove. I will mention them. 

1. The useless perplexity of religious inquirers, A young 
person, perhaps one of my readers, is almost persuaded to 
be a Christian. You reflect upon your lost condition as a 



112 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

sinDer, and feel desolate and unhappy. You think of God's 
goodness to you, and are half inclined to come to him. In- 
stead, however, of thinking only of your duty, and spending 
all your strength in resisting temptation, and in commencing 
a life of practical piety, you immediately seize upon some 
theoretical difficulty connected with theology, and trouble 
yourself about that. Perhaps you cannot undeistand how 
God influences the human heart, or how man can be ac- 
countable if the Holy Spirit alone sanctifies. '' How can I 
work out my own salvation," you say, ^' if it is Q^d who 
worketh in me to will and to do ?" Or perhaps you perplex 
your head about the magnitude or the duration of future 
punishment — or the number who will be saved, — as though 
the administration of Jehovah's government would come 
upon your shoulders if you became a Christian, and you 
must therefore understand thoroughly its principles before 
you incur such a responsibility. How absurd ! Can you 
not trust God to manage his own empire, at least until 
after you have come yourself fully over to his side ? 

Suppose a child were to show a disobedient and rebellious 
spirit in school, and should be called upon by his teacher to 
reform, and should, after pausing a moment, begin to say, 
^' I ought to conduct myself differently, I know, and I think 
seriously of returning to my duty. But there are some things 
about it which I do not understand." 

^' What things ?" says the teacher. 

" Why," says the boy, '' I do tiot see what I should do if 
you and my father were to command me to do opposite 
things. I do not clearly understand who I ought to obey." 

" I)o you not know," replies the teacher, " that you now 
disobey me in cases where your &,ther and myself both wish 
you to obey ? Come and do your duty in these. You have 
nothing to do with such a question as you mention. Come 
and do your duty." 

^^ But," says the boy, ^' there is another great difficulty, 
which I never could understand. Suppose my father or you 
should command me to do something wrong. Then I should 
be bound to obey my father, and also bound not to do what 
is wrong. Now I cannot understand what is my duty in 
such a case." 

Thus he goes on. Instead of returning immediately to 
the right path, becoming a dutiful son and a docile pupil at 



DIFFICULTIR8 IN RELIOION. 113 

once, im the thousand plain cases which are eveiy day oc- 
curring, he looks erery way in search of difficulties, with 
which he hopes to perplex his teacher, and excuse his ne- 
glect of duty. 

Speculating inquirer, — are you not doing the same? 
When it is most plainly your duty to begin to love God and 
serve him at once, in the thousand plain instances which 
occur daily, instead of doing it with all your heart, trusting 
in God that he will do right, — do you not search through 
the whole administration of his government for fancied diffi- 
culties,— difficulties to your feeble powers, — ^feeble original- 
ly, but rendered feebler still by your continuance in sin ? 
With these difficulties you embarrass yourself, and strive to 
perjrfex your minister, or your Sabbath School teacher, or 
your parent,— ^nd thus find a momentary respite from the 
reproaches of a wounded spirit, by carrying the war away 
from your onn conscience, which is the proper field, into 
your pastor's or your parent's intellect, WTiile the argument 
is going on here, your sense of guilt subsides,— conscience 
is seared, and you fall back to coldness and hardness of 
heart. Now, why will you thus waste your time and your 
moral strength on questions in regard to which you have 
no responsibility, instead of walking in the plain path of 
duty, which lies open before you ? 

2. Useless perplexities of Christians, In bringing up 
to view, so plainly, the insuperable difficulties connected 
with religious truth, I have been hoping to divert the 
minds of experienced Christians from being perplexed and 
embarrassed by them. Once make up your mind fully and 
cordially that there are depths which the soimding-line of 
your intellect will not and cannot reach, and you will re- 
pose in the conviction that you do not and cannot now 
know, with a peace of mind which you cannot in any other 
way secure. How many persons perplex themselves again 
and again, and go on perplexing themselves all through life, 
to understand thoroughly the precise and exact relation 
which Jesus Christ bears to the Father. The Bible gives 
us clearly, and in simple and definite language, aU about 
the Saviour which it is of practical importance for us to 
know. The Word was God, and the Word became flesh, or 
man. Now just be willing to stop here. '' But no," sajrs 
some one who loves his Saviour, and wishes to understand 



114 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

his character, '' I want to have clear ideas on this subject, 
I want to know precisely what relation ke sustains to the 
Father, before he became man. Was he in all respects 
identical ? or was he a different being, or a different per- 
son, and what is the difference between a person and a 
being ? When he became man, I want to know precisely 
how the two natures came together.** 

You want to know, but how will you ascertain ? Does 
the Bible tell you ? It tells you that your Saviour was God, 
and that he became man. If you rest upon the Bible> you 
must stop here. Will you trust to your own speculations, 
will you build up inferences upon what the Bible states, and 
think, if you are cautious in your reasoning, you can be 
safe in your conclusions ? You cannot be safe in your con- 
clusions. No mind can be trusted a moment to draw con- 
clusions from well established premises, on a subject which 
it does not fully grasp. 

If you doubt this, just make the following experiment. 
Undertake to teach the elements of geometry to a class of in- 
telligent young people, and as they go on from truth to truth, 
lead them into conversation, induce them to apply the active 
energies of their minds to the subject, in reasoning them- 
selves from the truths which their text-book explains, and 
you will soon be convinced how far the human mind can 
be trusted in its inferences on a subject which is beyond its 
grasp. Your pupils will bring you apparent contradictions, 
arising, as they think they can show, from the truths estab- 
lished, and will demonstrate, most satisfactorily to them- 
selves, the most absurd propositions. In one case, an 
intelligent scholar, in a class in college, attempted to de- 
monstrate the absurdity of the famous forty-seventh. He 
drew his diagram, and wrote out his demonstration, and 
showed it to his class, and it was long before any of them 
could detect the fallacy. In another case, a class, just be- 
ginning the study, were told that the trisection of an arc was 
a difficult problem, and soon after, a member brought a 
solution, which consisted in trisecting the chord, and trans- 
ferring the divisions by radii to the arc. The mathematical 
reader will understand this, and all may understand that, 
in both these cases, the pupil made out a chain of reasoning 
perfectly satisfactory to his own mind, which, however, led 
to absurdity and fsdsehood. 



DIFFICULTIES IN RBLI6I0N. 115 

You say perhaps, " Well, this was because they had just 
begun the study ; they knew scarcely any thing about it. 
Such mistakes would only be made by the merest begin- 
ners." 

That is exactly what I wish you to say, and to admit the 
same thing in regard to ourselyes as students of religious 
truth. We are mere beginners ; we know almost nothing 
of such subjects as God, eternity, and the constitution of 
mind. The moment, therefore, we leave the plain proposi- 
tions of the Bible, which are all that are necessary for us to 
understand, — and go to drawing inferences^ we involve our- 
selves in absurdity and falsehood, no matter how directly 
and inevitably our inferences seem to follow. Whenever I 
hear a man attempting to prove, from the nature of the 
case, that the Word could not have been God, and after- 
wards have become flesh, or that God cannot reign in the 
heart, as the Bible says he does, and yet leave man free 
and accountable, I always think of the college sophomore, 
endeavouring, by his own reasoning, to upset the proposi- 
tion of Pythagoras. 

These subjects, which are too difficult in their very na- 
ture for our powers, are the source of very many of the un- 
happy controversies which agitate the church. The mind 
is not capable of grasping fully the whole truth. Each side 
seizes a part, and, building its own inferences upon these 
partial premises, they soon find that their own opinions 
come into collision with those of their neighbours. Moral- 
ists tell the following story, which very happily illustrates 
this species of controversy. 

In the days of knight-errantry, when individual adven- 
turers rode about the world, seeking employment in their 
profession, which was that of the sword, two strong and 
warlike knights, coming from opposite directions, met eacih 
other at a place where a statue was erected. On the arm 
of the statue was a shield, one side of which was of iron, 
the other of brass, and, as our two heroes reined up their 
steeds, the statue was upon the side of the road, between 
them, in such a manner, that the shield presented its sur- 
fiice of brass to the one, and of iron to the other. They 
immediately fell into conversation in regard to the structure 
before them, when one incidentally alluding to the iron 
shield, the other corrected him, by rpmarking that it was 



116 TOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

of brass. The knight upon the iron side^ of course, did not 
receiye the correction. He maintained that he was right, 
and, after carrying on the controyersy for a short time hy 
harsh language, they gradually grew angry, and soon drew 
their swords. A long and furious comhat ^isued, and 
when at last hoth were exhausted, unhorsed, and lying 
wounded upon the ground, — ^they found that the whole 
cause of their trouhle was, that they could not see both 
sides of a shield at a time. 

Now, religious truth is sometimes such a shield, fvith vari- 
ous aspects, and the human mind cannot clearly see all at a 
time. Two Christian knights, clad in strong armour, come 
up to some such object as moral agency, and yiew it from 
opposite stations. One looks at the power which man has 
oyer his heart, and laying his foundation there, he builds up 
his theory upon that alone. Another looks upon the diyine 
power in the human heart, and, laying his own separate 
foundation, builds up his theory. The human mind is in- 
capable, in fact, of grasping the subject, — of understanding 
how man can be free and accountable, and yet be so much 
under the control of God as the Bible represents. Our 
Christian soldiers, howeyer, do not consider this. Each 
takes his own yiew, and carries it out so far as to interfere 
with that of the other. They conyerse about it, — ^they talk 
more and more warmly — ^then a long controyersy ensues — 
if they have influence oyer others, their dispute agitates the 
church, and divides brethren from brethren; and why? 
Why, just because our Creator has so formed us, that we 
cannot, from one point of view, see both sides of the shield 
at the same time. The combatants, after a long battle, are 
both unhorsed and wounded; their usefulness and their 
Christian character is injured or destroyed. 

Now, what is the true course for us to take in regard to 
such a subject ? Simply this. Look at our dependance on 
God for a change of heart and for the exercise of right feel- 
ing, just as the Bible presents this subject, and go cordially 
and fully just a^sfar as the Bible goes^ which is a great way. 
Fix in your heart that feeling of dependance and humility^ 
which this view is calciilated to give. Then look at the 
other aspect of this subject, the active power of man, and 
go here just as far as the Bible goes ; and carefully learn 
the lesson of diligence which it teaches. Suppose you can- 



DIFFICULTIES IN RELIGION. 117 

not find where the two come together^ be willing to be 
ignorant of a theory which God has not revealed. 

It has been my design^ in presenting this subject^ to con- 
Tince Christians that they cannot understand every thing 
connected with Christian theology, and to try to induce 
them to repose willingly and peacefully, and in a sense of 
ignorance which they fully realize and frankly acknowledge. 

3. Difficulties qf children. I have discussed this subject 
too with direct reference to children, for the sake of trying 
to guard you against two faults. One is coming to your 
parents or teachers with questions, and expecting that they 
can, in all cases, give a satisfactory answer. They cannot. 
They do not know. The wisest parent, — ^the highest intel- 
lect, is incapable of answering the questions which the 
youngest child can ask in regard to the truths of Christianity. 
Do not expect it, then. You may ask questions freely, but 
when the answers are not perfectly satisfactory to you, con- 
sider the subject as beyond the grasp of your present powers. 
Be satisfied if you can understand the principles of duty, 
and spend your moral strength in endeavouring to be as 
faithful as possible there. 

There is one other suggestion which I wish to make to 
you. When you carry questions or difficulties of any kind 
to your parents or teachers, be very careftd to be actuated by 
a sincere desire to learn, instead of coming, as young per- 
sons very often do, with a secret desire to display their own 
acuteness and discrimination in seeing the difficulty. How 
of);en have young persons brought questions to me, when it 
has been perfectly evident that tneir whole object was, not to 
be taught, but to show me their own shrewdness and dex- 
terity. They listen, in such cases, to what I say, not to be 
taught by it, but to think what they can reply to it, and 
bring objection upon objection with a spirit which refuses 
to be satisfied. Be careful to avoid this. Ask for the sake 
of learning. Listen with a predisposition to be satisfied 
with the answer ; and never enter into argument, and take 
your side, and dispute with your parent or your teacher. If 
you have this spirit, and exercise it, an intelligent parent 
will always detect it. 

4. Difficulties qf parents and teachers, — I wish to have 
this discussion the means of helping parents and teachers, 
and older brothers and sisters, out of one of their most com- 



118 ' YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

mon difficulties. 1 mean that of answering questions 
brought to them by the young. Learn to say, " I do not 
know." If you really will learn to say this frankly and 
openly, it will help you out of a vast many troubles. 

You are a Sabbath school teacher, I will imagine. A 
bright-looking boy, whose vanity has been fanned by flat- 
tery, says to you before his class, 

" There is one thing in the lesson I do not understand. 
It says God made the earth first, and afterwards the sun. 
Now the sun stands still, and the earth and all the planets 
move round it. It seems to me therefore that he would 
have been more likely to have created the sun first — for 
that is the largest, and is in the middle — and afterwards 
the planets." 

As he says this, you see a half-smile of self-complacency 
upon his coimtenance, as he looks round upon his classmates, 
to observe how they receive this astonishing display of youth- 
ful acumen. If now you attempt any explanation, he does 
not follow you with any desire to have the difficulty remov- 
ed. He either is absorbed in thinking how shrewdly he dis- 
covered and expressed the difficulty, or else, if he listens to 
your reply, it is to find something in it upon which he can 
hang a new question, or prolong the difficulty. He feels a 
sort of pride in not having his question easily answerable. 
He cannot be instructed while in this state of mind. 

" What then would you say to a boy in such a case V* 
you will ask. 

I would say this to him, " I do not understand that very 
well myself. I know nothing about the creation but what 
that chapter tells me. You can think about it, and perhaps 
some explanation will occur to you. In the mean time, it is 
not very necessary for us to know. It is not necessary for 
you to understand exactly how God made the world, in or- 
der to enable you to be a good boy next week." 

Take another case. You are a sister. You love the 
Saviour, and have endeavoured to win your younger sister's 
heart to him. You have taught her to feel the happiness 
of confessing her sins, and doing her duty, and through your 
kind and gentle influence she is growing up daily to piety. 
Every evening, when she lies down to sleep, you sit a few 
minutes by her bedside, and review with her the duties and 
the sins of the day, and accompany her in her evening prayer 



DIFFICULT JUS IN RELIGION. 119 

for forgiveness and peace and protection. You have ex- 
plained to her the sympathy of her Saviour, and taught her 
to repose her trust in him. She has accordingly studied 
his character, she reads with interest what the Bible says 
of him, and she brings with confidence her questions to you. 

" Sister," she says to you, just as you are about to bid 
her good night, " I wish you would explain to me one thing 
which I do not fully understand. If Jesus Christ was God, 
how could he pray to Grod while he was in the garden ? I 
never could understand this, I have thought a good many 
times I would ask you." 

She says these words with a tone and maimer which 
speak humility and a sincere desire for instruction. She 
looks and speaks as if she was exposing ignorance, not, as 
in the other case, displaying sagacity. Still you cannot 
explain this difficulty. The greatest theologicsd scholar in 
Christendom will acknowledge that he cannot remove it 
from his own mind, and how can you expect to remove it 
from that of a child ? If you attempt it, you perplex your- 
self and her. She thinks you understand it, because you 
attempt to explain it, and she is distressed because she can- 
not follow you. 

'' What shall I say then ?" you will ask. 

Say this, — " I do not understand it, sister. The Bible 
says that Jesus Christ was Grod and was with God. This 
seems clearly to mean that he was in some sense the same, 
but in some sense different. But I cannot clearly conceive 
how. I must believe what the Bible says about it, and per- 
haps in another world we shall understand it. In the mean 
time we can trust in the Saviour, and love him, and he will 
take care of us, and save us at last. You are willing, are 
you not, to go on trying to do your duty, and seeking to 
please him, and to wait till God shall show you at some 
future time his full character ?" 

" Yes, sister," she may be expected to reply ; " good 
night." 

And thus, universally, the possession of a humble, docile 
spirit, and a consciousness of the weakness of our powers, 
will disarm every theoretical difficulty of its power to per- 
plex us, or to disturb our peace. 



120 



CHAPTER Vll. 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 

** God, who at sundrj times, and in divers manners, spake in time 
past unto the fathers by the prophets, hath in these last daysspo- 
Ken unto us by his Son/^ 

The first inquiry which meets us in entering upon the 
consideration of this subject is, — '^ What sort of eyidence 
are we to expect?" The only proper answer is, that sort of evi- 
dence which men require to produce conviction and to con- 
trol the conduct in other cases. The human mind is so consti- 
tuted that men are governed by a certain kind and a degree of 
evidence, in all the concerns of life, — a kind and a degree 
which is adapted to the circumstances in which we are 
placed here. This evidence, however, almost always falls 
very far short of demonstration or absolute certainty. Still 
it is enough to control the conduct. By the influence of it 
a man will embark in the most momentous enterprises, and 
he is often induced by it to abandon his most favourite plans. 

Still it is very far short of demonstration or absc^ute cer- 
tainty. For example, a merchant receives in his counting- 
room a newspaper, which marks the prices of some species 
of goods, at a foreign port, as very high. He immediately 
determines to purchase a quantity and to* send a cargo there. 
But suppose, as he is making arrangements for this purpose, 
his clerk should say to him, '' Perhaps this information may 
not be correct. The correspondent of the editor may have 
made a false statement for some fraudulent purpose, or the 
communication may have been forged ; or some evil-mind- 
ed person having the article in question for sale may have 
contrived by stealth to alter the types, so as to cause the 
paper to msd^e a ^dse report, at least in some of the copies." 

Now, in such a case would the merchant be influenced in 
the slightest degree by such a sceptical spirit as this ? Would 



EVIDBNCBS OF CHRISTIANITY. 121 

he attempt to reply to these suppositions, and to show that 
the channel of communication between the distant port and 
his own counting-room could not have been broken in upon 
by fraud, somewhere in its course, so as to bring a false 
statement to him ? He could not show this. His only reply 
must be, if he should reply at all, " The evidence of this 
printed sheet is not perfect demonstration, but it is just such . 
evidence in kind and degree as I act upon in all my busi- 
ness. And it is enough. Were I to pause, with the spirit 
of your present objections, and refuse to act whenever such 
doubts as those you have presented might be entertained, I 
might close my business at once, and spend Hfe in inaction. 
I could not, in one case in ten thousand, get the evidence 
which would satisfy such a spirit." 

Again. You are a parent I suppose. You have a son 
travelling at a distance from home, and you receive some 
day a letter from the post-office, in a strange hand- writing, 
and signed by a name you have never heard, informing you 
that your son has been taken sick, at one of the villages on 
his route, and that he is lying dangerously ill at the house 
of the writer, and that he has requested that his &ther might 
be inf(»nned of his condition, and urged to come and see 
him before he dies. 

Where now is the father who, in such a case, would say 
to himself, '^ Stop, this may be a deception. Some one may 
bave forged this letter to impose upon me. Or there may 
be no such person. Before I take this journey, I must write 
to some responsible man in that village, to ascertain the 
facts." 

No ; instead of looking with suspicion upon the letter^ 
scrutinizing it earefully to find marks of counterfeiting, he 
would not even read it a second time. As soon as he had 
caught a glimpse of its contents, he would throw it hastily 
aside^^ and urging the arrangements for his departure to the 
utmost, he would hasten away, saying, '' Let me go, as soon 
as possible, to my dying son." 

I will state one more case, though perhaps it is so evident, 
upon a moment's reflection, that men do not wait for perfect 
certainty in the evidence upon which they act, that I have 
already stated too many. 

Your child is sick, and as he lies tossing in a burning 
fever on lus bed, the physician comes in to visit him. He 



122 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

looks for a few minutes at the patient, — examines the symp- 
toms, — and then hastily wiites an almost illegible prescrip- 
tion, whose irregular and abbreviated characters are entire- 
ly unintelligible to all but professional eyes. You give this 
prescription to a messenger, — ^perhaps to some one whom you 
do not know, and he carries it to the apothecary, who from 
the indiscriminate multitude of jars, and drawers, and boxes, 
filled with every powerful medicine and corroding acid and 
deadly poison, selects a little here and a little there, with 
which, talking perhaps all the time to those around him, he 
compounds a remedy for your son. The messenger brings 
it to the sick-chamber, and as he puts it into your hands, 
do you think of stopping to consider the possibiUty of a mis- 
take ? How easily might the physician, by substituting one 
barbarous Latin name for another, or by making one little 
character too few or too many, so alter the ingredients, or 
the proportions of the mixture, as to convert that which was 
intended to be a remedy to an active and fatal poison. How 
easily might the apothecary, by using the wrong weight, or 
mistaking one white powder for another precisely similar in 
appearance, or by giving your messenger the parcel intended 
for another customer, send you, not a remedy which would 
allay the fever and bring repose to the restless child, but an 
irritating stimulus, which should urge on to double fury the 
raging of the fever, or terminate it at once by sudden death. 

How possible are these, but who stops to consider them ? 
How absurd would it be to consider them ! You administer 
the remedy with unhesitating confidence, and in a few days 
the returning health of your child shows that it is wise for 
you to act, even in cases of life and death, on reasonable 
evidence, without waiting for the absolute certainty of moral 
demonstration. 

Now this is exactly the case with the subject of the 
Christian religion. It comes purporting to be a message 
from heaven, and it brings with it just such a kind of evi- 
dence as men act upon in all their other concerns. The 
evidence is abundantly satisfactory : at the same time, how- 
ever, any one who dislikes the truths or the requirements 
of this gospel may easily, like the sceptical clerk in the 
case above mentioned, make objections and difficulties in 
abundance. A man may be an infidel if he pleases. There 
is no such irresistible weight of arjgument that the mind is 



EVIDENCES OF CURI8TIANITY. 123 

absoliitelj forced to admit it^ as it is to believe that two 
and three make five. In regard to this latter truth, such is 
the nature of the human mind, that there is not, and there 
cannot be, in the whole human family, an individual who 
can doubt it. In regard to Christianity, however, as with 
all other truths of a moral nature which regulate the moral 
conduct of mankind, there is no such irresistible evidence. 
The light is clear, if a man is willing to see, but it is not 
so vividly intense as to force itself through his eyelids, if he 
closes them upon it. Any one may walk in darkness if he 
will. 

The evidences of Christianity are usually considered as 
of two kinds, historical and internal. There may properly 
be added a third, which I shall call experimental. These 
three kinds are entirely distinct in their nature. 

1. If we look back upon the past history of Christianity, 
we find that it was introduced into the world under very re- 
markable circumstances. Miracles were performed, and 
future events foretold, in attestation of its divine origin, and 
the founder was restored to life after being crucified by his 
enemies. These, with the various circumstances connected 
with them, constitute the historical evidence of Christianity. 

2. If now we examine the book itself, — its truths, its 
doctrines, its spirit, — we find that it is exactly such, in its 
nature and tendency, as we should expect a message from 
Jehovah, to such beings as we, would be. This is the in- 
ternal evidence. 

3. Now, if we look upon the effects which the Bible pro- 
duces aU around us upon the guilt and misery of society, 
wherever it is faithfully and properly applied, we find it effi- 
cient for the purposes for which it was sent. It comes to 
cure the diseases of sin, and it does cure them. It is in- 
tended to lead men to abandon vice and crime, and to bring 
them to God, and it does bring them by hundreds and thou- 
sands. If we make the experiment with it, we find that it 
succeeds in accomplishing its objects. This we may call the 
experimental evidence. 

These three kinds of evidence are so entirely distinct in 
their nature, that they apply to other subjects. You have 
a substance which you suppose is phosphorus. For what 
reason ? Why, in the first place, a boy, in whom you place 
confidence, brought it for you from the chemist's, and he 



124 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

said it was phosphorus. This is the historical evidence. It 
relates to the history of the article hefore it came into jour 
possession. In the second place^ jou examine it^ and it looks 
like phosphorus. Its coloiir^ consistence and form all agree. 
This is internal eyidence. It results from internal exami- 
nation. In the third place^ jou try it. It hums with a 
most bright and yivid flame. This last may he called ex" 
perimental evidence ; and it ought to be noticed^ that this 
last is the best of the three. No matter what grounds of 
doubt and hesitation there may be in regard to the first and 
second kinds of evidence^ if the article simply proves its 
properties on trial. If any one should say to you, " I have 
some reason to suspect that your messenger was not honest, 
he may have brought something else ; or this does not look 
exactly like real phosphorus ; it is too dark or too hard," — 
your reply would be, " Sir, there can be no possible doubt 
about it, — just see how it bums !" 

Just so with the evidences of Christianity. It is interest- 
ing to look into the historical evidences that it is a revela- 
tion from heaven, and to contemplate also the internal indi- 
cations of its origin ; but, after all, the great evidence on 
which it is best for Christians, especially young Christians, 
to rely for the divine authority of the Bible, is its present, 
universal and irresistible power in changing character, and 
saving from sufifering and sin. 

I. HISTORICAL EVIDENCE. 

If the Creator should intend to send a communication.of 
his will to his creatures, we might have supposed that he 
would, at the same time of his making it, accompany the 
revelation with something or other which should be a proof 
that it really came from him. Monarchs have always had 
some way of authenticating their communications ynih their 
subjects or with distant officers. This is the origin of the 
use of seals. The monarch at home possesses a seal of a 
peculiar character. When he sends any communication to 
a distance, he impresses this seal upon the wax connected 
with the parchment upon which the letter is written. This 
gives it authority. No one else possessing such a seal, it is 
plain that no one can give the impression of it, and a seal 
of this kind is very difficult to be counterfeited. Various 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 125 

other devices have been resorted to by persons in authority 
to authenticate their communications. 

In the same manner we must have expected that Jehovahy 
when he sends a message to men, will have some way of 
convincing us that it really comes from him. There are so 
many bad men in the world who are willing to deceive man- 
kind^ that we could not possibly tell, when a pretended reve- 
lation comes to us^ whether it was really a revelation from 
heaven^ or a design of wicked men, unless God should set 
some marks upon it, or accompany it with some indications 
which bad men could not imitate. 

The Bible professes to have been accompanied by such 
marks. They are the power of working miracles and fore- 
telling future events^ possessed by those who brought the 
various messages it contains. It is plain that man, without 
divine assistance^ could have had no such power. If this 
power then really accompanied those who were the instru- 
ments of introducing the Christian religion into the world, 
we may safely conclude that it was given them by God, 
and as he would never give his power to sanction impos- 
ture^ the message brought must be from him. 

The way then to ascertain whether these miracles were 
actually performed, is like that of ascertaining all other mat- 
ters of fact^ by calling upon those who witnessed them for 
their testimony. 

The manner in which these witnesses are to be examined, 
is similar to that pursued in ordinary courts of justice. It 
is similar, I mean, in its principles, not in its forms. I 
know of nothing which shows more convincingly the satis- 
factory nature of this evidence, than a comparison of it with 
that usually relied on in courts of justice. In order to ex- 
hibit the former then distinctly, I shall minutely describe 
the course pursued ; and to make my description more de- 
finite, I shall select a particular case. 

I was once walking in the streets of a large city, in which 
I was a stranger, loolang around for any str&ing exhibitions 
of human character or efforts, when I saw several persons, 
of apparently low rank in life, standing before the door of 
what was apparently some public building. I thought it 
was probably a court^room, and that these were the men 
who had been called as witnesses, and that they were wait- 
ing for their turn to testify. As courts are always open to 



126 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

the public, I concluded to go in and hear some of the causes. 
I walked up the steps, and entered a spacious hall, and at 
the foot of a flight of stairs, saw a little painted sign, saying, 
that the court-room was above. I passed up, and pushed 
open the light baize door, which admitted me to the room 
itself. 

At the end at which I entered, there were two rows of 
seats, one row on each side of an aisle which led up through 
the centre. These seats seemed to be for spectators, for 
those on one side were nearly filled with women, and 
those on the other by men. I advanced up the aisle until 
I nearly reached the centre of the room, and then took my 
seat among the spectators, where I could distinctly hear 
and see all that passed. Before me, at the farther end of 
the room, sat the judge in a sort of desk, on an elevated 
platform, and in front of him was another desk, lower, which 
was occupied by the clerk, whose business it was to make 
a record of all the causes that were tried. There was an 
area in front of the judge, in which were seats for the 
various lawyers, and in boxes at .the sides were seats 
for the jury, who were to hear the evidence, and decide 
what facts were proved. On one side of the room was a 
door, made of iron grating, with sharp points upon the top, 
which led, I supposed, to an apartment where the prisoners 
were kept. 

Not long after I had taken my seat, tht clerk said that 
the next cause was the trial of O. B. for housebreaking. 
The judge commanded an oflficer to bring the prisoner into 
court. The officer went to the iron door I have described, 
unlocked it, and brought out of the room into which it 
opened, a prisoner. He looked guilty and ashamed. His 
face was pale, not as though he was afraid, but as if his con- 
stitution had been impaired by vice. They brought him 
into the middle of the room, and placed him in a sort of 
pew, with high sides, and shut him in. He leaned against 
the front of it, looked at the judge, and began to listen to 
his trial. 

The clerk read the accusation. It was, that he had bro- 
ken open an unoccupied house once or twice, and taken 
from it articles belonging to the owner of the house. The 
judge asked him if he pleaded guilty or not guilty. He 
saia not guilii/. The judge then asked the jury at die side 



EVIDENCES OP CHRISTIANITY. 127 

to listen to the evidence, so that they might be prepared to 
decide whether this man did break open the house or not. 

Men not accustomed to speak in public assemblies could 
not easily give their testimony in such a case, so that it 
would be fully understood in aH the important points. In 
fact, very few know fully what the important points are. 
Hence it is necessary that there should be lawyers present, 
who deal, ask questions, and thus examine the witnesses in 
such a manner as to bring out fully all the facts in the case. 
There is one lawyer appointed by the government, whose 
business it is to bring to view all the facts which indicate 
the prisoner's guilt, and another, appointed by the prisoner, 
who takes care that nothing is omitted or lost sight of 
which would be in the prisoner's favour. WTien the prisoner 
has not appointed any counsel, the judge appoints some 
one for him ; this was done in the case before us. 

The first witness who was called was the owner of the 
house. It is necessary that each witness who is called 
should be a man of good character, and that he should tes- 
tify only to what he saw or heard. No one is permitted to 
teU what some one else told him, for stories are very likely 
to be altered in repetition, so that, in a complicated case, 
each man goes only so far as his own personal knowledge 
extends. And, in order to be sure that the jury shall have 
his own story, he is obliged to come personally into court, 
and tell the story in presence of all. The owner of this 
house was probably a man of business, and a great deal of 
valuable time would have been saved if he had been per- 
mitted to write down his account and send it in : but no — 
every witness, where it is possible, must actually come into 
court, and present his evidence with his own voice. This 
remark it is important to remember, as the principle will 
come to view when we consider the other case. 

The owner testified that he owned a certain house, that 
he moved out of it, and locked it up, leaving some articles 
in an upper chamber ; that one day he went in and found 
that the houise had been entered, I believe by a window, 
and that the chamber-door had been broken open, and some 
of the articles taken away. He said that he then employed 
a watchman to sleep in the house, and to try to catch the 
thief. 

Here h% had to stop, for although he knew how the 



128 YOUN« CHUISTIAN. 

watchman succeeded, he w&s not permitted to tell, for he 
did not see it. No man testifies except to what he has seen 
or heard. 

The watchman was next called. The lawyer for the 
government asked him, 

^' Were you employed by the owner of this house to watch 
for a thief in it ?" 

" Yes, sir." 

'^ What did he tell you when he engaged you ?" 

" He told me that his house had been broken open, and 
he wished me to watch for the thief." 

'' Did you do it V 

" Yes, sir." 

" Well, relate to the jury what occurred that night." 

*' I watched several nights. For some nights nothing 
occurred. All was quiet till morning." 

" In what room did you stay ?" 

" In the room under the chamber from which the articles 
had been stolen." 

" Well, go on with your account." 

'^ At last, on the 15th of June, as I was then watching, 
about three o'clock in the morning, I heard a noise. Some 
one was coming softly up stairs. He went up into the room 
over my head, and, after remaining a few minutes there, he 
began to come down. I immediately went out into the 
entry and seized him, and took him to the watch-house. 
The next morning he was put in prison." 

The lawyer then pointed to the prisoner at the bar, and 
asked if that was the man. The witness said it was. 

The judge then asked the counsel for the prisoner whe- 
ther he had any questions to ask, and he did ask one or two, 
but they were not material. The jury then consulted to- 
gether, and all agreed that the prisoner was proved guilty, 
and the judge ordered him to be sent back to the prison, till 
he should determine what punishment must be assigned. 

This is substantially the way in which all tnals hxe con- 
ducted. Three or four points are considered very necessary. 
1. That the witnesses should be of good character. 2. That 
they should have actually roitnessed what they describe. 
And 3. That the precise account which they themselves 
give should come into court. These points the judge or 
the lawyers secure. The latter they obtain by having the 



SVIDBNCBS OF CHRISTIANITY. 129 

witness himself always come, if it is possible^ even if he has 
to leave most important business for this purpose. If^ from 
sickness^ or any other similar cause^ he cannot come^ his 
testimony is taken down in writing, and signed by himself, 
and that paper, the very one which he signed, must be 
brought into court and read there. This is called a depo- 
sition. The second point is secured by not allowing any 
man to go any farther in his testimony than he himself saw 
or heard. So that, sometimes, when the case is complicat- 
ed, a very large number of witnesses are called before the 
whole case is presented to the jury. The first they secure, 
by inquiring into the character of the witnesses. If any 
man can be proved to be unworthy of credit, his testimony 
is set aside. 

Now, all these points must be looked at in examining the 
evidence of the Christian miracles. 

1. We must ascertain that we have the exact account 
given by the witnesses themselves. 

2. We must ascertain that they had distinct opportunities 
to witness what they describe. 

3. We must have evidence that they are credible ; that 
is, that they are honest men, and that their word can be 
relied upon. 

These three points I shall examine in order, in reference 
to the Christian miracles. The witnesses are the four evan- 
gelists, Matthew, Mark, Luke, John ; and the first inquiry, 
according to the list above presented, is to determine whe- 
ther we have exactly the account which they themselves 
give. Witnesses are commonly called into court to tell 
their own story there, and then there can be no mistake. 
If that is impossible, as I remarked above, their deposition 
is taken, with certain forms, and the very paper they ori- 
ginally signed is brought and read in court But neither 
of these courses can be taken here. For, in the first place, 
the witnesses have been for a long time dead, so that they 
cannot come forward to give their testimony ; and, though 
they did write a full account at the time, yet it was so many 
years ago, that no writing could remain to the present pe- 
riod. Time has entirely destroyed all vestiges of the writ- 
ings of those days. 

I presume all my readers are aware, that not long after 
the time of our Saviour, the barbarians from the North, in 

I 



130 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

innumerable hordes^ begdn to pour down upon the Roman 
empire, until at last they subverted and destroyed it. Very 
many of these barbarians became nominal Christians^ and 
preserved some copies of the Bible, and, in fact^ they saved 
many extensive and valuable libraries of manuscripts^ in 
rolls, (the art of printing not being then known,) but they 
destroyed most of the institutions and the accumulated pro- 
perty of civilized life, and brought a long period of igno- 
rance and semi-barbarism, called the dark ages, upon the 
world. After some time, however, there began to be, in va- 
rious parts of Europe, a gradual improvement. The monks 
in the various convents, having no other employment, begai^ 
to explore the old libraries, and to study the books. They 
made themselves acquainted with the languages in which 
they were written, and when the art of printing was in- 
vented, they published them. In consequence, however, of 
the immense numbers of manuscripts collected in some of 
the libraries, a long time elapsed before they were fully ex- 
plored, and even now the work is not absolutely completed. 
New writings are occasionally brought to light, and pub- 
Kshed. The work of deciphering such old, worn-out, faded, 
and almost illegible parchment rolls, is very great. 

A great deal of interest was felt, at the very first, by these 
explorers, to find the oldest copies of the Bible, or of any 
parts of the Bible. They wished to have the most accurate 
and authentic copy possible, and the more ancient the copy, 
the more probable it was that it was taken directly from the 
original, and consequently the more it was to be depended 
upon. If they coidd have found a manuscript which was 
evidently the very copy originally written by the author 
himself, it would have been considered invaluable. 

The number of manuscripts of the whole, or of parts of 
the Hebrew Bible, thus found, and now preserved in various 
libraries of Europe, is more than four hundred, and of the 
Greek Testament, not far from one hundred and fifty. They 
are scattered all over Eiirope, and are preserved in the li- 
braries with great care. The oldest of them, however, was 
written several hundred years after the death of Christ, so 
that we now cannot ever have the actual account written 
by the original witnesses. The two methods usually relied 
on, therefore, in courts of justice, for being sure that the 
actual story of the witness himself is presented in court, fiul 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. l^^l 

in this case. We must resort, therefore, to another method, 
equally certain, but a little different in form. 

The evidence relied upon to prove that the books we have 
now^ or rather the ancient manuscripts in the libraries in 
Europe from which they are translated, are really the same 
with the accounts originally written by the witnesses them- 
selves, is this. Immediately after they were written, a great 
many other Christian writers very much interested in these 
accounts, began to quote them in their own letters and books. 
They quoted them much more copiously than it is custo- 
mary to quote now, because the art of printing puts every 
important book within the reach of all who are interested 
in it. Then, the original accounts were only in manuscript, 
and, consequently, could be seen and read only by a few. 
These few, therefore, in their writings made frequent and 
copious extracts from them ; and these extracts have come 
down to us separately, and each one proves that the pas- 
sage it contains, which is in the account now, was in that 
account when the quotation was made. 

An imaginary instance will make this plain. The Vatican 
manuscript, as it is called, that is, a very ancient manuscript 
preserved in the Library of the Vatican at Rome, is suppos- 
ed to have been written about four hundred years aftav 
Chiist. It contains, we will suppose, John's Gospel, just as 
we have it now, in our Bibles. This proves, that if the real 
original account which John gave was altered at all, after 
he wrote it, it was altered before that time. Now, suppose 
a Christian at Antioch, living two hundred years before the 
Vatican manuscript was written, had been writing a book, 
and in it had mentioned John's Gospel, and had copied out 
a whole chapter. This book he leaves at Antioch. It is 
copied there again and again, and some copies are found 
there at the revival of learning, after the dark ages. Here 
we have one chapter proved to have been in John's account, 
two hundred years earlier than the date of the Vatican ma- 
nuscript. In the same manner, another chapter might have 
been quoted in another book, kept at Alexandria, — another 
at Rome, &c. And the fact is, that these quotations have 
been so numerous, that they have formed an uninterrupted 
succession of evidences, beginning but a very short time 
after the original accounts were written, and coming down 
to modem times. Every chapter and verse is nol) \iA^^^^ 



132 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

confinned in this way, but every thing in the least degree 
important is. All the material facts, and every particular 
in regard to which there could bo any necessity for this 
evidence, are furnished with it. Learned men have taken 
a great deal of pains to explore and collect this mass of 
evidence in favour of the genuineness of the sacred books. 
These quotations have been most carefully examined and 
republished, so that all who are inclined to go into an exa- 
mination of them can do so. Dr. Paley, in his Evidences 
of Christianity, has presented enough to satisfy any mind 
of sufficient attainments to appreciate such an argument. 

I say of sufficient attainment, for it requires not a little. 
There are very few, excepting professed scholars, who can 
have time to go fully enough into an examination of this 
subject to form an independent judgment. I have not at- 
tempted in the above remarks to present you with the ar- 
gument itself, but only to explain the nature of it. As I 
remarked before, I do not think the historical argument is 
calculated to come with so much force to the minds of 
Christians generally, as one of another kind which I shall 
presently exhibit. All ought, however, to understand its 
nature. 

We may consider, then, the fact, that these almost in- 
numerable quotations from the writers of the New Testa- 
ment, and translations from them, forming a series which 
commenced soon after the writings first appeared, and con- 
tinuing, in iminterrupted succession, down to the present 
time, as abundant evidence that the story we nofv have is 
the story originally given by the witnesses themselves. This 
evidence does satisfy all who fiilly examine it. And this 
is the first point in the investigation. 

But the question will arise in the minds of many of my 
readers. Why is it necessary to prove so fully and formally 
such a point as this ? Why is it necessary to show so care- 
f tdly that these are precisely, in all important respects, the 
very accounts originally written by the witnesses them- 
selves ? The answer is this. Unless this point were very 
carefully and fully proved, we might have supposed that the 
prevailing belief of the truth of the Christian miracles, and 
the general circulation of our present books, might have 
arisen in this way. Suppose, that eighteen hundred years 
ago, a good man, named Jesus Christ, had been dissatisfied 



EVIDENCES OP CHRISTIANITV. 133 

with the prevailing errors and superstitions, and had tauglit 
a purer system of religious and moral duty. His followers 
become strongly attached to him. They repeat to one an- 
other his instructions, folloAV him from place to place, and 
soon attract the attention of the authorities of the country. 
Like Socrates, he is persecuted by his enemies and put to 
death. After his death, his disciples make greater and 
greater efforts to promote his principles. They relate, wdth 
some exaggeration, the incidents of his life. His benevo- 
lence and kindness to the sick and to the afficted is gradu- 
ally, as the stories are repeated again and again, magnified 
to the exertion of miraculous power. One extraordinary 
narrative after another gradually gains credit and circula- 
tion. No one intends to deceive, but according to the uni- 
versal tendency in such cases, even where stories that strong- 
ly interest the feelings are circulated among good men, the 
accounts gradually and insensibly assume a marvellous and 
miraculous air, and, after a time, when years have elapsed, 
and no method of ascertaining the truth remains, these ex- 
aggerated and false stories are committed to writing, and 
these writings come down to us. This supposition might 
very plausibly have been made. But the evidence afforded 
by the series of quotations I have above described, cuts it 
off altogether. That long and uninterrupted series carries 
us irresistibly back to the very time when the events oc- 
curred. There is no time left for exaggeration and mis- 
representation. We prove that the accounts which we now 
have were written on the spot, — that they were in circula- 
tion, and exposed to rigid scrutiny, at the very time in which 
the events themselves took place, — and we are thus compelled 
to believe that the original records, made at the time, have 
been preserved unaltered to the present day. 

^^ But does this," you will ask, *' prove that the accounts 
are true ?" Most certainly not. We have not yet attempt- 
ed to prove them true. We have not yet come to the ex- 
amination of the evidence itself at all. The original wit- 
nesses, if we admit that these accounts were written by 
them, may have been mistaken, or they may have been false 
witnesses. We have said nothing yet on these points. The 
reader must bear in mind what is the precise point now up. 
It is simply to show that the accounts we have now, what- 
ever they may contain, are the very accounts wKicK i\\x, toxU 



134 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

nesscs themselves wrote. The depositions are properly au- 
thenticated ; not, indeed, by the common legal forms — seal 
and signature and witness, — but by abundant eyidence, — 
and evidence of exactly the kind which is always most re- 
lied on, and entirely relied on in all other cases where the 
examination of very ancient documents comes up. This 
point being thus settled, we are now prepared to examine 
the evidence itself, in reference to the other points I have 
mentioned. As it is very desirable, in order to have clear 
views of any argument, that a distinct view of its parts 
should be kept in mind, the reader is requested to look back 
to page 129, for an enumeration of the points to be exam- 
ined, and he ynW. recollect that we have yet discussed only 
the first, and proceed now to the second. 

2. TVe must ascertain that the writers of these accounts 
had distinct opportunities to witness what they describe. 

Now, in regard to this, their own testimony is to be taken. 
It is common to ask witnesses on the stand, in a court of 
justice, about the opportunities they had of knowing certain- 
ly, or the possibility that they might be mistaken, and they 
give their own account of the situation in which they were 
placed. This account is admitted and believed, like all 
their other testimony, unless something appears which shows 
that the witness is not to be trusted, and then all his state- 
ments are abandoned by the jury together. 

I noticed in the trial above described, that the counsel for 
the prisoner was particular on this point. He asked the 
witness, after he had told all the story about his detecting 
the man in the chamber, as follows : — 

*' But are you sure that that (pointing to the prisoner,) 
was the man V* 

"Yes, perfectly sure. I could not be mistaken, for I 
took him at once to the watch-house." 

This was decisive ; it proved that the witness had a most 
excellent opportunity to know what he described, and that 
there was no possibility of mistake. Suppose, however, that 
the thief had been active enough to have run dovm stairs 
and escaped, allowing the witness only a glimpse of his 
person, and the next day the witness had met a man in the 
street whom he supposed was the same, and had procured 
his arrest and trial, the jury would, in this case, have placed 
far less confidence in his tcstimouy, even if they knew that 



EVIDENCES or CURI8TIANITY. 135 

he was a rery honest man^ and intended to tell the truth. 
The difficulty would have been the want of a full and 
unquestionable opportunity to know what the truth was. 

In the same manner^ if there is any thing which might 
operate to produce delusion, a jury would receive testimony 
with great hesitation. For example, suppose a witness 
should testify that he saw some supernatural appearance in 
^ing through a dark wood by night. Few would believe 
nim, however honest a man he might be, on account of 
the great danger of being deceived in going through a 
scene full of irregular objects, such as the varieties of vege- 
tation, the broken rocks, the whitened trunks of decaying 
trees, — and going through too at night, when all forms 
are vague and indeterminate, and easily modified by the 
imagination or the fears. Again, an honest man, one in 
whose word I place great confidence, may tell me of a 
cure for rheumatism. He says he has tried it, and it 
always does great good. I receive his testimony with 
great doubt, because he cannot probably, with the little 
• experience he has, know how much the benefit he experi- 
enced was owing to the supposed remedy, and how much 
to other causes. If the same man should come home from 
Boston, and say that the State House was burnt, that he 
saw it ell in flames, or any other extraordinary fact, — ^far 
more extraordinary than the efficacy of a remedy for rheu- 
matism, — I should believe him, if it was only a case where 
he had distinct and unquestionable opportunity to observe, 
and where no room was left for mistake or delusion. 

Now if we examine the miracles which our Saviour per- 
formed, and the opportunity which the disciples had of wit- 
nessing them, we shall see that there could not have been 
a mistake. Remember, however, that I am not now saying 
that their story must be true» I am only here showing that 
they could not have been mistaken. They must have knofvn 
whether what they were saying was true or not. The case 
could not be like that of a man telling a ghost-story, — some- 
thing which he thinks is true, but which is, in reality, not 
so. The things done were done in open day. They were 
done in presence of multitudes ; and they were of such a 
nature, that those who witnessed them could not be deceiv- 
ed. Healing what are called incurable diseases ; feeding 
multitudes with a small supply of food ; walking on the 



136 yOUNO CHRISTIAN. 

sea ; rising from the grave, after remaining upon die crosg 
till Roman soldiers were satisfied that life was gone. Who 
could be a better judge of death than a Roman soldier ? 
These and a multitude of other similar things might be 
given as proofs that these witnesses could not be mistaken 
in what they described. They knew whether they were true 
or not. And, consequently, if the third point, that is, their 
honesty, should be proved, we must believe what they say. 
If they had informed us only of a few miraculous events, 
and those seen by a few people — or of such a character as 
to render the witnesses peculiarly liable to be deceived, we 
might have admitted their honesty, but denied the truth of 
their statements. As it is, however, we cannot do this. 

Not only were the facts themselves of so open and public 
a character that there could not be any mistake about them, 
but the writers of our accounts were eye-witnesses of them. 
They did not obtain a knowledge of them by hearsay or 
report. They wrote what they themselves saw and heard. 
It is noticeable that they themselves placed peculiar stress 
upon this circumstance. Luke begins his Gospel by saying, 
" It seemed good to me, having had perfect understanding 
of all things from the first, to write imto thee." John, at 
the close of his book, distinctly records the fact, that the 
writer of the account was one of the principal actors in the 
scenes he describes ; Peter, in his defence of himself before 
the Jewish authorities, says he cannot but speak the things 
he has seen and heard : and perhaps the most striking of 
all is, that when the apostles came together to elect one to 
take the place of Judas, they restricted themselves in their 
selection to those who had been, from the beginning, wit' 
nesses of the whole, " Wherefore," was the proposition, " of 
these men which have companied with us all the time that 
the Lord Jesus went in and out among us, beginning from 
the baptism of John unto that same day that he was taken 
up from us, must one be ordained to be a witness with us of 
his resurrection." These men understood the laws of the 
human mind in regard to believing testimony. They knew 
^ell what was necessary to make out a case — and they 
secured it. 

We have now explained how the two first points in our 
chain of reasoning are established, and we may consider it 
as certain, in the first place, that though our witnesses are 



EVIDENCES OP CHRISTIANITY. 137 

not living, and, consequently, cannot present ns their testi- 
mony in person, and although so long a time has elapsed 
that their original writings are worn out and destroyed, yet 
that we have abundant evidence that we have the real ac- 
count which they delivered ; and, in the second place, that 
they could not be mistaken in the facts to which they give 
their testimony, as they were eye-witnesses of them, and the 
facts are of such a nature that there could be no delusion. 
There is no possible way now, after these two points are 
established, by which their testimony can be set aside, 
except by the supposition that they were impostors. Thin 
brings us to our third and last point mentioned on page 129. 

3. We must have evidence that our witnesses are credi- 
ble, t. e. that they are honest men, and that their word 
can be relied upon. 

The evidence on this point is, if possible, more complete 
and more absolutely unquestionable than upon either of the 
others. The honest and candid maimer in which they re- 
late their story is evidence. It is plain, straight-forward, 
and simple. Their writings have exactly the air and tone 
pf men conscious that they are telling the truth, but aware 
that it will be regarded with very different feelings by their 
readers. They narrate, frankly and fully, the events in 
which they or their companions were to blame, and they 
do nothing more in regard to the guilt of their enemies. 
There are no palliating or extenuating statements or ex- 
pressions on the one side, nor any disposition to apply epi- 
thets of odium or exaggeration upon the other. The story 
is simply told, and left to work its own way. 

How differently do men act in other cases. How easily 
can you tell upon which side the writer is, when he gives 
an account of circumstances relating to a contest between 
two individuals or two parties ! Open any history of the 
battle of Waterloo, or of the campaign in Kussia, and how 
long can you doubt whether the author is a friend or an 
enemy of Napoleon ? Now, turn to St. John's account of 
the trial and crucifixion of the Saviour, a most imparalleled 
scene of cruel suffering, and there is not a harsh epithet, 
and scarcely an expression of displeasure, on the part of the 
writer, from the beginning to the end of it. You would 
scarcely know what was the writer's opinion. Take, for in- 
8tance> the account of the choice of Barabbas by the Jews. 



138 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

Another writer would have said, " The Jews were so bent 
on the destruction of their innocent and helpless victim, 
that when Pilate proposed to release him, in accordance 
with their custom of having a prisoner annually set at 
libertv on the day of their great festival, they chose a base 
malemctor in his stead ; they preferred that a robber, justly 
condemned for his crimes, should be let loose upon society, 
rather than that the meek and lowly Jesus should again go 
forth to do good to all." But what does John say ? There 
is no attempt, in his account, to make a display of the guilt 
of the Jews. No eflfort to throw odium upon them. No 
exaggeration, no colouring. " "Will ye," says Pilate, ^' that 
I release unto you the King of the Jews ? Then cried 
they all again, saying. Not this man, but Barabbas. Now 
Barabbas was a robber." 

In the same spirit is the whole account — ^not only the 
narrative of this writer, but all the writers of the New Testa- 
ment. It breathes a spirit of calm, composed dignity, which 
scarcely any thing can equal. In the midst of one of the 
greatest moral excitements which the world has ever seen, 
and writing upon the very subject of that excitement, and 
themselves the very objects of it, they exhibit a self-posses- 
sion and a composure almost without a parallel. Ebcposed 
to most extraordinary persecution, and consequent suflPering, 
they never revile or retort upon their oppressors. It is im- 
possible to avoid the conclusion, when reading the chapters 
of the New Testament, that the writers understood and felt 
the moral sublimity of the position they were occupying. 
They seemed to have considered the little community in 
M'hich they were then placed, and whose members did in- 
deed, for that time, have control over their persons and 
their lives, as in reality nothing to them. They felt that 
they were speaking, not to a few thousand contemporaries 
in Judea, but to a thousand millions of human beings, scat- 
tered over the earth, and coming, generation after genera- 
tion, to read their story, down to the end of time. They 
rise most effectually above all the influences then pressing 
so strongly upon them, and, in calm and fearless independ- 
ence, offer their testimony. They could not have done 
this, it is not in human nature to have done it, had they 
not been sustained by this consideration, viz. they knew 
thai they were ieUing the truth on the most fnofnentous 



EVIDENCES OP CHRISTIANITY. 139 

subject ever presented to men, and that they were tell- 
ing IT to the whole world. 

Another proof of their honesty is, that they were entirely 
disinterested ; or rather, they were interested to conceal the 
truth, not to tell it. Their testimony brought them nothing, 
and could bring them nothing, but reproach, and suffering, 
and death. They saw this in the history of the Saviour, 
and, instead of endeavouring to keep them unconscious of 
the sufferings that awaited them, he plainly and frankly 
foretold all, just before he left them. He told them in the 
most affecting manner — the communication he made is re- 
corded in the fifteenth and sixteenth chapters of the Gospel 
according to St. John — all that should befall them. " You 
must not expect,** said he, in substance, " to find the world 
more kind to you than it haa been to me. They have per- 
secuted me, and they will persecute you. They will put you 
out of the sjmagogues, and whosoever killeth you will tlunk 
he doeth God service. I tell you these things beforehand, 
so that, when the time shall come, you will remember that 
I told you, and be comforted then. I wish you to under- 
stand the dangers and trials that await you. You must not, 
however, be dejected or discouraged because I have told 
you these things. It is necessary for me to go away, and 
it is necessary for you to encounter these evils ; but it is 
only for a little time. The years will pass away swiftly, and 
when you have done your duty here, you shall come to me 
again, and find a perpetual home with me and my Father 
in a happier world." 

Such was the substance of this part of our Saviour's fare- 
well address. His disciples listened to it in sadness, but 
they did not shrink from their duty. A very few hours 
after hearing these last words of their Master, in their place 
of retirement, they found themselves gazing in terror, and 
at a distance, at that dreadful throng which was pouring 
out of the gates of Jerusalem, to see their beloved Master 
struggling upon the cross. They were overwhelmed by this 
scene ; but terror triumphed only for a time. Immediately 
after the Saviour's ascension, we find them assembled, mak- 
ing calmly, but with fixed determination, their arrange- 
ments for future efforts, and waiting for the command from 
above. One hundred and twenty, in an upper chamber, 
planning a campaign against the world ! They kiieYr)l\>L!^^ 



140 YOUNO CHRISTIAN. 

must have known, that they themselves went forward to 
suffering and to death. They went forward, however ; — ^they 
told their story ; — they suffered and died. And must not 
these have been honest men ? 

The way in which men are interested is always to he 
looked at, in judging of their testimony. If a juryman is 
interested in the result of a trial, he is set aside ; he can- 
not judge impartially. If a witness is interested at all, his 
testimony is received with a great deal of caution, or else 
absolutely rejected ; and, whenever a case is of such a na- 
ture, that all those who were witnesses of the facts are in- 
terested on one side or on the other, it is extremely difficult 
to ascertain the truth. A very striking example of this is 
furnished by the circumstances of the battle of Lexington at 
the commencement of the American Revolution. Each of 
the parties, anticipating a struggle and desirous of being 
prepared for it, had made efforts to get as much of the arms 
and ammunition of the country as possible into its own 
hands, and the British general in Boston, understanding 
that there was at Concord a supply of military stores, con- 
ceived the design of sending a party in the night to Concord 
to obtain it. He kept his design, or rather tried to keep it, 
secret. Late in the evening the troops embarked in boats 
on the west side of the peninsula on which Boston is built, 
and sailed across the cove to the mainland. 

This was done in silence, and, it was hoped, in secrecy. 
The Americans, however, in some way heard of the plan. 
The country was alarmed. Men rode on horseback at mid- 
night from town to town, ringing the bells and calling out 
the inhabitants, and, by three o'clock in the morning, a 
number of troops were collected at Lexington, to oppose 
the progress of the British detachment. 

Now, neither party wished to begin the contest. Like 
two boys eager for a quarrel, each wished to throw the 
odium of striking the first blow upon the other. This diffi- 
culty is, however, usually soon surmounted, and in this case 
the musketry was soon speaking distinctly on both sides. 
After a momentary conflict, the Americans were dispersed, 
and the British moved on to the place of their destination. 

Now, after all this was over, there arose the question, — 
not in itself very important, one would think, — but yet 
made so by those concerned at the time, " "Who began this 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 141 

affray ? Who fired first ?" To determine this point, the 
American Congress are said to have instituted a formjil in- 
quiry. They examined witnesses who were on the spot 
and saw the whole, and they found abundant and satisfac- 
tory evidence that the British soldiers fired first, and that 
the Americans did not discharge their pieces until they were 
compelled to do it in self-defence. The British Parliament 
entered into a similar inquiry, and they came to an equally 
satisfactory conclusion, — only it happened to be exactly the 
reverse of the other. They examined witnesses who were 
on the spot and saw the whole, and they found abundant 
evidence that the American soldiers fired first, and that the 
British did not discharge their pieces until they were com- 
pelled to do it in self-defence. Now, the reason for thii dis- 
agreement unquestionably was, that each nation examined 
only its own soldiers, and the soldiers on both sides were 
interested. Suppose, now, that there had been in the Ame- 
rican army a considerable number who admitted that the first 
guns were fired from their own ranks ;— suppose that, in 
consequence of this their testimony, they brought upon 
themselves the dislike of the whole army, and, to a great 
extent, of the nation at large, how strong would have been 
the reliance placed upoa sugh testimony. '* There cannot 
be a doubt," the British would have said, " that you fired 
upon us first, — half of ^our own troops say so." This 
would have been a very fair inference. When men bear 
testimony contrary to their o^vn interests or feelings, they 
are generally believed. 

We have thus abundant evidence that the original propa- 
gators of the Gospel were honest men, and this completes 
the three positions necessary to prove that the Chnstian 
miracles were actually performed. 

1. We are sure that the witnesses are honest men. 

2. The facts are of such a nature that the witnesses could 
not have been deceived in them. 

3. It is proved that we have exactly the account which 
they themselves gave. 

The miracles being once proved, the divine authority oj 
the religion is proved ; for no man can imagine that the Deity 
would exert his power in producing miraculous effects to 
give authority to a message which he did not send. 

There is one other independent head of the external evi- 



142 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

dences of Christianity. It is the argument from prophecy. 
They who brought the communication which is offered to 
us as a message from heaven, said that they were endued 
with the power, not only of working miracles, but oi fore- 
telling future events. In some cases, human sagacity can 
foresee what is future, and even distant. They, however, 
professed to exercise this power in cases to which no human 
skill or foresight could have extended. Such a power as 
this is evidently miraculous, and they who possessed it 
must have received it from the Creator. 

One or two examples will clearly illustrate the nature of 
this argument. A great number of the prophets who ap- 
peared in the early years of the sacred history foretold the 
coming of a Saviour. Precisely what sort of a Saviour he 
was to be was not distinctly foretold, — at least, not so dis- 
tinctly as to remove all misconceptions on the subject. So 
certain is it, however, that such prophecies were uttered, and 
generally published, that there prevailed throughout the 
Jewish nation, and even to some extent in neighbouring 
countries, a general expectation that an extraordinary per- 
sonage was to appear. We have evidence enough of this, 
not merely from the Scriptures themselves, but from a mul- 
titude of other writings, which appeared at that time, and 
which have come down to us by separate and independent 
channels. There can be no question, in the mind of any 
one who will examine the subject, that the coming of Christ 
y^as predicted with so much distinctness as to produce an 
almost universal expectation of the appearance of some very 
extraordinary personage. And the event corresponded 
with the prediction. A most extraordinary personage ap- 
peared, — the most extraordinary, as all will acknowledge, 
— Christians and infidels, — ^that ever appeared upon the 
earth. 

Our Saviour's prediction of the destruction of Jerusalem 
is another example. The scene was described with aston- 
ishing minuteness and accuracy, sixty or seventy years be- 
fore it took place ; and there was, at the time of the pre- 
diction, no reason whatever, so far as human foresight could 
extend, to expect such a catastrophe. 

Now, to examine fully this species of argument, several 
points ought to receive special attention. First, we must 
ascertain that the prophecy was really anterior to the event 



EYIDBNCBS OF CHRISTIANITY. 143 

which is alleged to haye occurred in fiilfilment of it. This, 
now^ in regard to writings and facts so ancient as those of 
the Scriptures^ is a peculiarly difi&cult task. Secondly, that 
the event is such an one as human foresight could not have 
foreseen. Thirdly, that there were not, in similar writings, 
a multitude of other prophecies rvhich Jailed, and that those 
only have heen preserved which have apparently succeed- 
ed. Among the ignorant and vulgar, nothing is more com- 
mon than a belief in the powers of fortune-tellers, or of the 
prophetic meaning of signs and dreams. The reason why 
this imposture retains its ascendency is, that the Jew suc- 
cessful cases are remembered, and talked about, and the 
cases of Jailure are neglected and forgotten. If a person 
predicts at random in regard to common events, he must 
sometimes be successful ; and if his votaries will forget the 
unsuccessful attempts, he may soon have the reputation of 
a conjuror. Now, we must ascertain that the prophecies of 
the Bible are not of this character, i . e. a few lucky predic- 
tions, among a multitude which failed. Fourthly, we must 
ascertain that the events themselves were not under the 
control of men, in such a way as to enable those who were 
interested in the success of the prophecy to bring about 
the corresponding result. 

Now, to examine thoroughly all these points, so as really 
to form an independent judgment upon them, and to take 
nothing upon trust, requires, in some instances, no little 
maturity of mind, and in others, no little scholarship and 
laborious research. The young must, almost entirely, take 
this argument upon trust. I can only explain its nature, 
and thus prepare you to read more understandingly other 
works on this subject, — and say that those who have gone 
into it most thoroughly, as is the case with all the historical 
evidences of Christianity, have been most convinced of the 
firmness of the ground. The most profound scholars in all 
Christian nations have been the most decided in their be- 
lief of the Christian religion. 

This completes the view which I intended to give of the 
historical argument. It would require a volume to present 
the argument itself in all its detail. My design has been to 
give my readers a clear idea of the nature of this kind of 
reasoning, not to make them minutely acquainted with all 
the facts upon which the various pillars of the argument 



144 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

are founded. And here I might rest this part of my sub- 
ject, were it not that there is one consideration which cor- 
roborates very much the conclusion to which we have 
come. The question very naturally arises in our minds, 
" Was this story believed at the time ? It seems to be a 
plain case, that the disciples of Christ made out very deci- 
sive evidence of their divine commission ; but the people 
who lived at that time, and upon the spot, had a much bet- 
ter opportunity of judging in this case than we have. — ^Now, 
did they believe this account ?" 

This is a fair question. It is always asked in similar 
cases. A merchant will ask, " Is the report believed which 
was circulated on 'Change to-day V " Was it generally be- 
lieved in London, that such or such an event would take 
place ?** And this belief or disbelief on the part of those 
who have the best opportunities of knowing, is sometimes 
regarded as the strongest evidence which can be procured. 
It is right, therefore, to ask whether the extraordinary story 
of the Christians was beUeved by those who were upon the 
spot, to discover error or imposture, if any was to be found 

The answer is, it was believed. The story spread with a 
rapidity to which no other revolution in the public mind can 
afford a parallel. When the hundred and twenty assem- 
bled in their upper room, paganism was enjoying undisturb- 
ed and unquestioned possession of the whole Roman empire. 
Paganism reigned in every crowded city and in every dis- 
tant province. Her temples crowned a thousand summits, 
and the multitude, whose interests were identified with the 
support of her rights, might, at any time, arm themselves 
with all the power of the Caesars to resist the encroachments 
of truth. A hundred and twenty, with the story of a cruci- 
fied Gralilean rising from the dead, came forth to attack this 
mighty fabric ; and they prevailed. Opprobrium and ridi- 
cule, — gentle persuasion and stem menaces, — imprison- 
ment, fire and sword, — ^torture and death, tried all their 
power. And with what did the fearless assailants in this 
most unequal war attempt to contend against such an array 
as this ? Why, simply with their own repeated declaration, 
Jesus Christ did rise from the grave ; and you ought to re- 
pent of your sins and believe on him. And they conquered. 
" The truth is great, and it will prevail," said a Roman 
writer. He coiUd not have found an example like this. 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 145 

The simple declaration of a sufficient number of competent 
witnesses, after a most energetic struggle^ preTails over one 
of the greatest ciyil and military powers which the world 
has ever seen. Yes ; the story was believed. It spread 
with unexampled rapiditT> and reyolutionized the empire. 

But we must pass to tne second species of evidence we 
have enumerated. 

II. INTERNAL EVIDENCE. 

I come now to consider what is commonly called the /»- 
iernal Evidence that the Bible is a message from Heaven. 
This evidence consists of an examination of the contents of 
the book, to see whether the truth and declarations it con- 
tains are such as we may suppose would really come from 
our Maker. We ought to enter upon such an examination 
as this^ however, with great caution ; for, if the book is 
really a message from heaven, we are to receive it, whatever 
it may contain. It is not for us to decide what our Maker 
ought, and what he ought not, to communicate to us. It 
is interesting, however, to examine the contents of the 
Scriptures, to see the indications with which the volume is 
filled, that it is from another world. Some of these indica- 
tions I shall mention. 

1. The remarkable simplicity of its whole design. It 
seems to have one simple and single object from the begin-^ 
ning to the end, and this is very remarkable, if we consider 
how many distinct authors it has, and in how distant periods 
it was written. The Bible is not a book, but a library. It 
consists of a large number of books entirely separate and 
distinct, bound up together. The times at which the vari- 
ous parts were written are scattered over a period oijvfteen 
hundred years. The authors are most numerous. It would 
be a very interesting exercise for young persons to attempt 
to make out an accurate list of them. They are of evenr 
variety of character and standing, learned and unlearned, 
rich and poor, kings, poets, generals. There is every va- 
riety in the character of the authors and of the style ; and 
yet one single, simple design, is kept in view, from the be- 
ginning to the end, with a steadiness which is astonishing. 
But what is that object ? It may be stated thus. 

The Bible is a history of the redemption of' this race by 

K 



146 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

Jesus Christ, and it is nothing more. From the beginning 
to the end of it, with a rery few, if any, exceptions, it is 
nothing but that. Open at Genesis, and follow on, chapter 
after chapter, and book after book, until jou come to the 
final benediction in the last chapter of Revelation, it all 
bears upon this. Now, if this book was planned by the Su- 
preme, and if he superintended its execution during the 
fifteen centuries while it was in progress, all this is easily 
accounted for. Nothing else can account for it. 

But I must show more fully that this is the single and 
simple aim of the Scriptures. Let us briefly review its con- 
tents. It begins by explaining simply and clearly the crea- 
tion of the world, and God's design in creating it His in- 
tention was to have had a happy community to tenant it, 
who should be imited in each other, and united to him ; 
forming one £unily of undivided hearts and aims, all inter-* 
ested in the common welfare, and all looking to him as to 
the common bond of union and the conmion source of hap- 
piness. " Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy 
heart, and thy neighbour as thyself," was unquestionably 
the law originally written on the human heart. 

Men sinned, however, — they broke God's law, and the 
Bible then describes the consequences of sin, in bringing 
suffering upon the human family. The earth was filled with 
violence. One dreadftd experiment was tried, by the flood, 
of the power of punishment — ^retribution — to bring men 
back to duty, but they who escaped the flood escaped only 
to go on in sin. 

It is noticeable that in one of the very first chapters of the 
Bible, the coming of the Saviour is foretold, and from that 
time, the sacred history marks out and follows with minute 
accuracy the line of succession which is to conduct us to 
that Saviour. There were a vast many nations on the 
earth, or existing in embryo, at the time when the Israelites 
were in Egypt, whose history is far more important, in 
every respect but one, than was the history of the Jews. 
There were the Egyptians, the Assyrians, and the Persians. 
The sacred history neglects them all, and turns its whole 
attention to a body of Egyptian slaves — and why ? Why, 
it was because among these slaves there was the ancestor of 
the coming Messiah, 

The Bible represents Jehovah as conducting this nation. 



EVIDBNCBS OF CHRISTIANITY. 147 

by Kis own hand, to a country which was to be their home, 
in order that he might preserve them separate from the rest 
of mankind, and make them the keepers of his communica- 
tions with men. A great deal of the Old Testament history 
is occupied in giving us an accoimt of the particular insti- 
tutions established among this people, and of the circum- 
stances of their own private history. In regard to their in- 
stitutions, there seem to have been two distinct objects. One 
was to preserve them separate from the idolatrous nations 
around, in order that the worship of the true God might be 
the better preserved. The other object, perhaps more im- 
portant, was effected by the institution of sacrifices. Of 
this I shall presently sp^cik more fully. This Jewish nation, 
however, in its institutions and history, is followed by the 
sacred vmters, who keep all the time as close as possible to 
the line of succession which is conducting to Jesus Christ. 
The coining Saviour is often alluded to, especially when- 
ever any great crisis occurring in their history furnishes an 
occasion, upon which Ood makes to some leading individual 
a distinct communication in regard to his plans. 

It is remarkable how large a number of the individuals 
whose lives are given in the Old Testament were the an- 
cestors of Christ, and how steadily there is kept in view the 
future coming of the Son of God. 

I have mentioned sacrifices. The design of Jehovah in 
establishing these rites so early, and taking such effectual 
precautions to secure their observance, seems to have been 
this, — ^to familiarize the minds of men to the idea, that there 
must he something more than penitence to atone for sin. We 
are all much more ready to admit this in reference to any 
other government than to the divine. Many a father sees the 
inef&cacy of pardon, merely upon the ground of sorrow and 
confession, to restrain his sons from sin, and many a politi- 
cian vdll admit the folly of such a course in civil society, 
who yet think that God may govern his dominions on such 
a principle. In all God's dealings, however, with man, he 
has taken other ground. Sacrifices were instituted so early , 
that they have spread to almost every people under the sim. 
Wherever you go — to the most distant heathen nation— 
to the most barbarous tribe, or to the remotest island of the 
ocean, and you will find almost all prepared, by the very 
customs which have been handed down from the time o€ 



)48 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

Noah, to admit the necessity that there must be retributive 
suffering where there has been sin, God accustomed the 
Jews, when they had done wrong, to bring an offering, — 
not to lead them to suppose that the sufferings of bulls and 
goats could take away sin, but that some atonement was ne- 
cessary. The effect upon their minds was undoubtedly 
this : — ^A man having committed some sin, instead of merely 
confessing his guilt, and expecting forgiveness, as a matter 
of course, came with the innocent dove, or the harmless 
lamb, and offered it in sacrifice ; and when he did it, if he 
did it in the right spirit, he unquestionably felt that his sin 
had done an injury to the government of God, which he 
himself' could not repair. He could not come back to in- 
nocence alone. The ceremony must have had a most power- 
ful influence in producing a practical conviction that sin, 
once committed, could not be recalled by the individual who 
had committed it, but must involve consequences beyond 
his control. That is precisely the conviction necessary to 
enable us to avail ourselves of the redemption of Christ. It 
is exactly the preparation of heart to lead us to him. We 
have sinned, and the evil we have done it is out of our 
power to remedy. We may stop sinning, but the evil in- 
fluence of our past guilt must be checked by some other 
agency, far more powerful than any penitence of ours. The 
Jews, then, by coming habitually to the sacriflces of their 
law, had this feeling thoroughly wrought into all their 
thoughts and feelings on the subject of sin and pardon. 
When they came with sincere penitence to offer the sacri- 
fice required by the law, and with such a feeling as I have 
described, they were undoubtedly forgiven, through the 
mediation of a far greater sacrifice, which was only repre- 
sented by the dove or the lamb. 

If we thus look at the Jewish history and institutions, and 
see their spirit and design, we shall see that they all point to 
Christ. One single object is aimed at in all. After the his- 
tory is brought down to the return from the captivity, it is 
suddenly concluded — and why ? Because all is now ready 
for the coming of Christ. There is a chasm of some hun- 
dred years, not because the events of that time are less inter- 
esting than of the preceding, — ^to the eye of the mere scholar 
or political historian they are more so ; — ^but because they 
do not bear at all upon the great event, — the redemption of 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 149 

mankind by Jesus Christy — to which the whole Bihle tends. 
The nation in which the promised Saviour is to appear, is 
followed in its yarious difficulties and adyentures until it 
becomes finally established in the country where the Mes- 
siah is to appear, and then left. There could not be a 
stronger proof that the Bible has the history of Christ 
for its great object, or that that object is kept steadily in 
yiew. 

As we draw towards the deyelopment of the drama, how- 
ever, the story becomes more minute, and the interest in- 
creases. The great Redeemer at length appears. We have 
from four separate writers a narrative of his life ; we have 
a simple account of the first efforts to spread the news of 
salvation through him ; we have a few of the writings of 
some of those who originally received his instructions, and 
then a revelation of the future — in some respects clear and 
distinct, in the awful pictures of scenes to come, which it 
draws, and in others dark, and as yet unintelligible to us, 
comes in to close the volume. 

There is something deeply sublime in the language with 
which this final conclusion of the sacred volume is announ- 
ced. Perhaps it was intended to apply particularly to the 
book of Revelation itself, but we can scarcely read it with- 
out the conviction, that the writer felt that he was bringing 
to a close a series of communications from heaven, which 
had been making for fifteen hundred years. The great sub- 
ject of the whole was now fairly presented to mankind. The 
nature and the effects of sin, the way of salvation, and the 
future scenes through which we are all to pass, had been 
described, and he closes Avith the invitation — oh, how cor- 
dially is it expressed — *' And the Spirit and the bride say. 
Come, — and let him that heareth say. Come ;*' — that is, 
spread the invitation far and wide ; let every one that hear- 
eth it, pass along the sound. '^ Let him that is athirst, come, 
and whosoever will, let him take of the water of life freely.** 

And then he says, — and how appropriate is this language 
for the last language of the Bible, — 

'' I testify unto every man that heareth the words of the 
prophecy of this book, if any roan shall add unto these 
things, God shall add unto him the plagues that are written 
in this book ; and if any man shall take away from the 
words of the book of this prophecy, God shall take away his 



150 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

part out of the book of life, and out of the holy city, and 
from the things which are written in this book." 

Yes, the plan and object of the Bible is single and simple 
from beginning to end. Amidst all that endless variety 
which makes it an inexhaustible mine of interest and in- 
struction, the great ultimate object is never lost sight of or 
forgotten. That design is the redemption of the world by 
the Son of God ; a design which is surely great enough 
for God to announce to his creatures. 

There is something interesting in the time and /)/ace select- 
ed for the advent of the Saviour. This earth being a globe, 
of course has not, that is, its surface has not, any geographi- 
cal centre ; but if we take into view its moral and political 
condition and history, it has some parts far more suitable 
to be radiant points from which any extraordinary message 
from heaven is to be disseminated than others. It would 
be difficult to find a place more suitable for such a purpose 
than the very country chosen by Jehovah as the scene of 
the suffisrings and death of Christ. Look upon the map, 
and you will find that the land of Canaan is situated upon 
the eastern coast of the Mediterranean sea, and if you look 
east, west, north and south, at the various connexions of 
this spot, you will find that no other on earth will compare 
with it, for the purpose for which it was selected. Egypt 
and the other regions of Africa on the south, are balanced 
by Syria and the Caucasian countries on the north. There 
were the Persian and Assyrian empires on the east, and 
there were the Grecian and Roman empires on the west. 
India and China, with their immense multitudes, are upon 
one side, and modem France and England, and Germany, 
with their vast political power, upon the other. Then look 
upon the Mediterranean sea, — on the borders of which Ca- 
naan lies, — ^bathing, as it does, the shores of three quar- 
ters of the globe, and bearing upon its bosom almost every 
ship that sailed, for the first five thousand years of this 
earth's history. Palestine is a most remarkable spot for 
such a purpose. If no such communication had ever been 
made from heaven, and the earth had remained in dark- 
ness and paganism to the present day^ its history having 
remained in other respects the same as it has been, and we 
had looked over it to find the best station for an embassy 



EVIDBNCE8 OF CHRISTIANITY. 151 

froin aboye^ Judea would have been the yeiy spot. We 
should have pointed to the Leyant, and said, here is the 
moral centre of the world. If a missionarj from hearen is 
to be sent, let him be stationed here. 

It is astonishing how much of the interesting history of 
the human race has had for its scene the shores of the Me^ 
diterranean sea. Egypt is there^ There is Greece. Xer- 
xes, Darius, Solomon, Caesar^ Hannibal, knew no extended 
sea but the Mediterranean. The mighty armies of Persia, 
and the smaller but invincible bands of the Grecians, passed 
its tributaries. Pompey fled across it, — ^the fleets of Home 
and of Carthage sustained their deadly struggles upon its 
waters ; and imtil the discovery of the passage roimd the 
Cape of Good Hope, the commerce of the World passed 
through the ports of the Mediterranean. If we go back 
to ancient times, we And the Phenician sailors, — ^the first 
who ventured upon the unstable element, — slowly and fear- 
fully steering their little barks along the shores of this sea ; 
aud if we come down to modem times, we see the men of 
war of every nation proudly ploughing its waves, or riding 
at anchor in its harbours. There is not a region upon the 
face of the earth so associated with the recollection of all 
that is interesting in the history of our race as the shores of 
the Mediterranean sea ; nor a place more likely to be chosen 
by the Creator, as the spot at which he would establish his 
communication with men, than the land of Judea. 

The time selected is as worthy of notice as the place ; I 
mean now, the time of the advent of the Messi^. The 
world had been the scene of war and bloodshed for many 
centuries. Empire after empire had arisen upon the ruins 
of the preceding ; none, however, obtaining a very general 
sway. At last, the Roman power obtained imiversal ascen- 
dency, and all was at peace. A very considerable degree of 
civilization and knowledge prevailed over a great part of 
the then known world, and every thing was favourable to 
the announcement and rapid spread of a message from 
heaven, provided that the message itself should come pro- 
perly audienticated. The message did come, and it was 
properly authenticated, and the peculiar suitableness of the 
time and place selected were seen in the very rapid spread 
of the gospel over almost half the globe. 
- There is another topic of internal evidence of the truth 



152 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

of Christianity. The character and administration of God, 
as exhibited in the Bible^ correspond precisely with the 
same character and administration as exhibited in the light 
of nature. They both exhibit God as most benevolent in 
his feelings and character, but most decided and efficient in hi* 
government. In both, we find him providing most fully for 
the happiness of his creatures — ^but in both we see him 
frowning upon sin with an awful seyerity of judgment, from 
which our feelings shrink. This is a fundamental point, 
and it ought to be fully understood. Let us look then at 
God as he reveals himself in his providence, and then com- 
pare the views which the Bible presents of him. 

See yonder child beginning life, with streams of enjoy- 
ment coming in at every sense. He is so formed that every 
thing he has to do is a source of delight. He has an eye ; 
God has contrived it most ingeniously to be the means by 
which pleasure comes in every moment to him. He has an 
ear, so intricately formed that no anatomist or physiologist 
has yet been able to understand its mysteries ; God has so 

Slanned it, that he drinks in with delight the sounds which 
oat around him. How many times, and in how many 
ways does he find enjoyment by its instrumentality ! The 
tones of conversation — the evening song of his mother — the 
hum of the insect — the noise of the storm, the rumbling of 
distant thunder, — ^for how many dififerent but delightful 
emotions has the Creator provided ! So with all the other 
senses ; and now, after you have examined in this way the 
whole structure, body and mind, of this being, follow him 
out to a summer's walk, and see how a benevolent Creator 
pours upon him, from all the scenery of nature around, an 
almost overwhelming tide of delight. God smiles upon him 
in the aspect of the blue heavens, — in the verdure of the 
fields, in the balmy breath of air upon his cheek, and in the 
very powers and faculties themselves, which he has so 
formed, that every motion is delight, and every pulsation is 
a thrill of pleasure. Such a revelation does nature make to 
us of the character of God, and of his feelings towards his 
creatures, and the Bible corresponds. " God is love." 

But nature speaks to us sometimes in another tone. Let 
this child grow up, and abandon himself to vice and crime, 
and after the lapse of a few years let us seek him again. 
How changed will be the scene. To see him you must fol- 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. J 53 

low me to the hospital-room of an alms-house ; for he has 
eiyen himself up to vice, and endured suffering, as a vaga- 
bond in the streets^ until society can no longer endure to 
witness his misery, and they send him to an asylum, out of 
their sight, in mercy both to themselyes and to him. He 
lies upon his bed of straw, in uninterrupted agony. His 
bones are gnawed and his flesh corroded by disease which 
riots upon him. Every emotion is torment, every pulsation 
is agony. For the God who has so formed the human con- 
stitution, that in innocence, and in the health which gene- 
rally attends it, all is happiness and peace, has yet so formed 
it, that vice can bring upon it sufferings, awful sufferings, 
of which no one but the miserable victim can conceive. I 
once saw in an alms-house a sufferer, whose picture has 
been in my imagination while I have written the above. 1 
have used general terms in my description. I might have 
given a much more detailed and vivid picture of his con- 
dition, but it was too shocking. Were my readers to see 
the scene, even through the medium of a description of or- 
dinary clearness, the image of it would haunt them day and 
night. As I stood by the side of this man, and reflected 
that God had brought him into that condition, and that 
God mas holding him there, and probably would hold him 
in the same awful suffering wlule life should remain, I 
could not help reflecting, " with what an efficient and de- 
cided a moral governor have we to do !'* No man would 
have held this miserable being in his sufferings a moment. 
The superintendant of the hospital would have released him 
instantly if it had been in his power. But God had the 
power, and God held the guilty breaker of his law under 
the dreadful weight of its penalty. Man shrinks from 
witnessing suffering, even where it is necessary to inflict 
it ; biit this feeling will not measure, and it has no power 
to limit, God's dreadful energy in the punishment of sin. 
All nature tells us so, and the language which the Bible 
uses is the same, " God is a consuming fire." Our feelings 
can no more contemplate with composure, as our hearts are 
now constituted, the judgments which the Bible denounces 
against the wicked in another world, than they can the 
agonies of delirium tremens, or the gnawings of the diseases 
with which God overwhelms the dissipated and the vile. 
In both cases there is a severity whose justice we must ad-« 



154 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

mit, but whose consequences we cannot calmly follow. If 
any one thinks that I describe the character of God in too 
dark and gloomy colours^ 1 haVe only to say, that all nature 
and all revelation unite in painting God tn the most dark 
and gloomy colours possible, as he exhibits himself torbards 
those who persist in breaking his laid. He is love to his 
fiiends, but he is a consuming fire to his foes ; and ereiy 
one ought to go to the judgment, expecting to find a monarch 
thus decided and efficient^ in the execution of his laws, 
presiding there. 

"The Lord reigneth, let the earth rejoice" says the 
Psalmist ; — and again he says, ** The Lord reigneth, let the 
people tremble" We have abundant evidence, both in na- 
ture and revelation, that we must rejoice with trembling 
under the government of God» For that government is 
most efficient and decided against sin ; — and we are sinners. 

There are many other points of correspondence between 
the character and administration of God, as described in 
the Bible, and as exhibited in the constitution of Nature. 
But I must not stop now to describe them. Butler, in an 
admirable work usually called Butler s Analogy, has ex- 
plored this ground fully, and I would recommend to all my 
readers, who take an interest in this subject, to obtain and 
study that work. I say study it, for it is not a work to be 
merely read, in the ordinary sense of that term ; it must 
be most thoroughly studied, and studied too by minds in 
no inconsiderable degree mature^ in order to be fully ap- 
preciated. 

I have endeavoured, by thus mentioning several points 
in which evidence may be found in favour of the truth of 
the Scriptures from an examination of their contents, to 
illustrate the nature of the Internal Evidence. I have not 
designed to present the argument fiilly.* Having accom- 
plished, however, the purpose intended, I now proceed to 
the third head I proposed. 



* I would recommend to those of my readers who are interested in this part of my 
subject Uie examination of the following works : — Chalmers' Evidences of Chri»- 
tianity ; Paley'g da ; Alexander's da : Leslie's Short Method with Deists ; Paley^ 
Horse Paulin« ; Butknr's Analogy. • 



EVIDBNCS8 OF CHRISTIANITY. 155 



III. EXPERIMENTAL EVIDENCE. 

The EaperimetUal Eyidelice of the truth of Christianity 
is that eTidencej as I have aheady explained^ which results 
from witnessing its moral pofver over the human heart. 
This is the most convincing of all. It is direct. There is 
no lahorious examination of witnesses to hring the truth to 
us — ^no groping in the dimness of ancient times^ and strain«- 
ing the sight to ascertain the forms of objects and the char- 
acters of occurrences there. All is before us. We can 
see distinctly, for the proof is near. We can examine it 
minutely and leisurely, for it is constantly recurring. 

I haye remarked, that I considered this species of evidence 
as fkr more calculated to make a strong impression upon the 
mind than either of the two preceding heads I have describ- 
ed, on account of the difficulty, on the part of those whose 
lives are not devoted to literary pursuits, of looking back 
eighteen hundred years, and judging with confidence of evi- 
dence in regard to events that occurred then. But I have 
often heard it remarked, by men amply qualified to investi- 
gate such subjects, that the power of the Bible, as they have 
often seen it exerted, in bringing back to virtue and to hap- 
piness some miserable victim of vice and crime, has made a 
far stronger impression upon them, in favour of its divine 
origin, than any examination of the laboured arguments of 
learned men. Now this must be so, not only in the case of 
Christianity, but in all similar cases. 

Suppose that some dreadful plague should break out in 
London, and after raging for many months, — suspending 
all business,— driving away from the city all who could fly, 
and carrying consternation and death into all the families 
that should remain, — suppose that, after all this, the news 
should arrive that in some distant part of the earth a remedy 
had been discovered for the disease. We will imagine it 
to have been in China. Perhaps the same disease had bro- 
ken out in former times at Canton, and some plant growing 
in that vicinity had been found to be a specific against it. 
It would cure the sick and protect the healthy. The go- 
vernment of Great Britain concludes to send a ship to 
China, to obtain a supply of the remedy. After waiting 
the proper time for the voyage, a telegraph announces the 



156 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

arrival of the ship on her return. She sails up the Thames^ 
comes to anchor, — and soon the remedy, for which they 
haye all waited so anxiously, is in full circulation ahout 
the city. Now, which will interest the people of London 
most in such a case ? Will it he an examination of the 
officers of that ship, in order to satisfy themselves that they 
are not imposing some spurious article on the nation ? Will 
they lay aside the remedy itself, and allow the sick to die, 
and the well to be attacked, while they examine the proof 
that this ship has actually been to China, and that her super- 
cargo was really faithful in obtaining the identical article for 
which he was sent ? No, all such inquiries, if they are 
made at all, would be left to the few official agents by whom 
the ship had been employed. The mass of the population 
would turn themselves to the remedy itself, with the eager 
question, " Will this medicine cure ?" And, notwithstand- 
ing any scepticism or opposition of a few, who might be 
interested in sustaining some other mode of treatment, the 
imported remedy, if found successful upon trial, would soon 
be in universal circulation among the sick all over the city. 

Now, shall a man who is still under the power and do- 
minion of sin, with this great remedy, which has saved and 
is continually saving thousands all around him, entirely 
within his reach, shall he waste his time in speculations and 
inquiries in regard to the manner in which Christianity came 
into the world, instead of flying to it at once as the remedy 
for all his sin and suffering ? No ; come at once and try the 
remedy. It restores others to health and happiness, and it 
will restore you. Come and be saved by it, and then you 
may inquire at your leisure how it came into the world. 

In regard to the case I supposed above, I have spoken of 
the scepticism or opposition of those who might be interest- 
ed in some other mode of treatment. Suppose one of these 
men, interested in the continuance of the disease, and inhu- 
man enough to desire, on this account, to perpetuate the 
misery of his fellows, should come into some wretched tene- 
ment, in a crowded part of the city, and should find there 
one or two inmates, suffering all the power of the disease. 
They are children. The mother has been away to some 
public office, from which the remedy is distributed to the 
poor, and has obtained a supply for her dying boys. As she 
comes to their bedside, and begins with trembling joy to ad- 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 157 

minister it, her hand is arrested by the visitor, who sajs to 
her, ** Stop, how do you know that this is a real remedy for 
this disease ? I believe it is all an imposition. That ship 
never came from China. I believe the captain and crew 
all united in an attempt to impose upon the community. 
At any rate, you have yet no evidence to the contrary. 
You have not examined her papers — you have seen no 
official docimients — you have heard no witnesses. If you 
are wise, you will look into this subject a little before you 
place your confidence in a remedy which will probably, 
after all, prove only imposture and delusion." 

What would be the reply ? The mother, if she should 
stop to say any thing, would say this : — 

" I have not time to examine any documents or witnes- 
ses; my children are dying. Besides, this medicine has 
cured hundreds in this city, and is curing hundreds more. 
Nay, I was myself sick, and it has cured me. That is the 
evidence I rely upon. I believe it will save them, and 
there is nothing else to try." 

That is in substance what she would say, and they who 
wished to be saved from sin should say the same. You suf- 
fer now under this disease, and you must suffer more here- 
after, and nothing but Christianity pretends to be able to 
save. It is successful wherever it is tried. Now, suppose 
an infidel, or a vicious man, interested in perpetuating sin 
in this world, and inhuman enough to be willing that the 
sufferings of sin should continue to burden his fellows, should 
come and say to you, " This religion is delusion ; — it is all 
an imposture." You need not — ^you ought not to go with 
him into any examination of documents and witnesses. You 
ought only to say, " Christianity saves others, and makes 
them virtuous and happy — and I hope it will save me." 

But I must present more distinctly the evidence that 
Christianity has power to rescue from sin, and that it ex- 
hibits this power now in the world. "And now, how shall 
I show this ?" thought I when I first began to reflect on 
the way in which I should treat this part of my subject. 
" How shall I present most clearly and vividly to the young 
the moral power of Christianity ?" I thought first of the ele- 
vated rank, in knowledge, in civilization, to which all Christ- 
ian nations had attained, and concluded to show, if I could, 
that the passions and sins of men always, when lefr to them- 



158 YOUNG CHRISTIAN 

selves, loaded communities with a burden whicli repressed all 
growth^ kept the mind from expanding and the arts of life 
firom flourishing, and boimd down the whole in barbarism or 
in subjection to despotic power. Among the thousands of 
nations which this earth has seen, there have not been more 
than half a dozen exceptions to this. Christianity controls 
these passions, and purifies communities to such an extent, 
that mind is free ; and then the energies with which God has 
provided them freely expand. Religion has taken oflF the 
pressure which had imprisoned them, and thus Christian 
nations have arisen to a rank, and power, and freedom 
which no other communities have ever attained. There is 
not a savage Christian nation on the globe. A savage 
Christian ! It is a contradiction in terms. 

But I thought that such general views and statements 
were not calculated to produce so distinct and clear an im- 
pression upon the mind, especially upon the young, and 
then I thought that I might point every one of my readers 
to some particular cases, which have occurred, undoubtedly, 
vdthin the observation of every one. There is not a village 
in our land where are not to be seen some of the triumphs 
of the gospel. There is a vicious man reclaimed, or a care- 
less selfish ungovernable young man made humble, and 
faithful, and docile, by the power of the Bible. Such cases 
are vnthin the observation of every one ; and if each one of 
my readers would look at some such case, which has occurred 
vdthin his own immediate reach, and examine all its cir- 
cumstances, he would find in it an overwhelming proof that 
the Bible is indeed a remedy for sin. But the difficulty is, 
that such cases are so common that they lose all their power 
to impress us. When vaccination was first found to be an 
efficient protection from a most terrible disease, it excited 
universal attention and surprise, and the cases of reform 
from vice and sin now continually taking place in every 
truly Christian country would be regarded with admirationf 
were they solitary. But they are common — very common, 
and they produce a comparatively faint impression. 

But to show distinctly the efficacy of this remedy for sin, 
I shall point you to its operation in particular cases. And 
in choosing the cases to present, I have selected some where 
the disease had indeed made great progress, but which are 
in other respects very common. They are both cases of 



EVIDEMCSS OF CHRISTIANITY. 159 

conyicts in a state prison. I might perhaps hare selected 
narrations iar more interesting and striking in their atten- 
dant circumstances^ but I have chosen to present those 
which may be taken as a fair specimen of the ordinary ef- 
fects of the Bible in saving from sin. My object is utility, 
and it is therefore far better to secure sound logic than to 
bring forward a romantic story. 

l^e reason I take the cases of convicts, is^ because I am 
now considering Christianity in regard to its power to heal 
the disease^ sin, — of course the more violent the form of the 
disease, the more clear is the exhibition of power in the re- 
medy which cures it. The prisons of our country may be 
considered as hospitals, moral hospitals ; where those whose 
disease has become so violent and malignant that it is no 
longer safe to allow them to go at large in society, are shut 
up, so that they can injure no one, at least for a time. It has 
been and it is now the practice in many countries to shut 
up these miserable victims together, and leave them to them- 
selves. Of course they grew worse and worse. The prac- 
tice is as absurd as it would be to send a hundred patients, 
in all the stages of fever, consumption, and plague, into one 
great crowded hospital together, with no physician, no me- 
dicine, and no attendants but turnkeys, and there to leave 
them, each one, by the unobstructed intercommunication, 
conveying his own peculiar infection to all the rest ; the 
whole exposed to every cause that can aggravate disease, and 
thus forming one living mass of pestilence and corruption. 
Such have been a great many prisons, and those who entered 
them came out far worse than when they went in. 

Some philanthropists formed, some years ago, tEie plan of 
visiting these prisons, and carrying the Bible there, believing 
that its moral power would be great enough to cure even 
those desperate cases of disease. And it has succeeded. A 
vast number of the most abandoned men have been entirely 
reformed by it, I do not mean that they have pretended 
to be reformed while in the prison, but have been proved 
to have been reformed by their good conduct after having 
been restored to society, when the time of their imprison- 
ment had expired. 

As I remarked above, I have concluded to take as speci- 
mens of the power of Christianity some of these cases. The 
account of the first was taken down from the individual's 



160 YOUNG CHRISTIAN; 

own lips while he was in prison, hy a gentleman who visit- 
ed him there. ' There is nothing at all extraordinary in it, 
except that the individual was a very had man. I give the 
account in his own language, except that I have in one or 
two instances inserted a few words, to make the sense more 
clear, and I have omitted some of the very frank confessions 
of his vices and crimes, which could not be properly intro- 
duced into this book. 

THE FIRST convict's STORY. 

'* When I had been in prison about eighteen months, I 
began to think of my past ways, and to see that I had sin- 
ned against God — to think about dying, and where I should 
fo when I die and appear before God. When I first came 
ere I did not think any thing about dying. I had no just 
idea of the Holy Scriptures, and did not Imow any thing of 
the Lord. I first began to think about my former life, when 
I had been here about eighteen months. Once I went off 
firom all my friends, and never let any of them know where 
I was going. I led one of my brothers away, and it was the 
means of his death. After I lost my brother I went home 
again, and my father blamed me for leading him away. I 
had been two years from home, and my parents said that I 
was the means of my brother's death. They tried to make 
me steady and get me work at home then, but I would not 
be steady more than a few months before I went off again. 
My father told me I was fitting myself for State's prison. 
I went away, however, and it was only about two months 
before I committed my crime, and was put into jail. That 
was the first time I ever saw the inside of prison. I often 
used to think of my brother after I came into the prison. 
A great many nights I used to see a black coffin placed before 
me, and hear a voice telling me I must go soon and follow 
him. I not only thought of these things, but all my wicked 
thoughts and all my actions were presented before me — what 
I haa done, and how I had walked in the sight of the Lord. 
I used to be a very vicious man, and all the places where 
I had been would appear before me. And I used to be a 
violent blasphemer too, and a riotous person ; and I saw a 
sign which said, this is the road adulterous persons and 
blasphemers go. 



EVIDENCES OP CHRI8TTANITT. 161 

" After I had thought ahout my wicked life, I felt that 
I had incinred the holy displeasure of the Lord, and de* 
served all that he could inflict upon me. I thought that I 
could not suffer too much. I could then see the hand of 
the Lord, how it had followed me in every place where I 
had heen. I found that it was the law of the Lord that 
brought me here, for sins which I had committed against 
God, and not against my fellow-men." Here the gentle- 
man who was visiting him asked him, 

" How does your heart appear to you now V* 

" My heart appears, at times, set upon evil, and then 
again sometimes I feel that I shall get to heaven ; and then 
again I feel very much discouraged. Whenever wicked 
thoughts arise in my heart, I sometimes feel that the Lord 
has given me up. Then again, there is something to en- 
liven my feelings, and all my wicked thoughts go away. 
My worldly thoughts will he drawn away, and my mind 
will be on heavenly things. I did not know what it meant 
when my heart used to bum within me, until I asked my 
teacher in Sabbath school, if man's heart would be warm 
when he had right feelings of heart." 

" Do you find temptation to sin now V asked the gen- 
tleman. 

*' Yes, sir.' 
What do you do V 

'' I trust in the Lord.' 
Do you yield to your evil passions and lusts now V 

" I have sometimes. I feel now that the Lord will keep 
me from them. There is nothing that causes me to grieve 
so as that very thing." 

" Does it take away yoiu: happiness ?" 

« It did for a time." 

" What security can you have that when you go out you 
will not do just as you have done ?" 

" All my hope is in the Lord. I rely upon the mercy 
of the Lord to keep me. Of myself I can do nothing, I 
rely upon the mercy of the Lord." 

" Was you a drunken man ?" 

" I have been intoxicated a number of times, but I was 
never much given to it" 

In the course of conversation the convict said, 

" I want to ask if, after men have repented of their sins, 

L 



xes, bit" 



163 TOUNO CHRISTIAN* 

there will erer be times when they will give up to their 
lusts?" 

'' It is a rerj had toga if they do^" replied the gentleman. 

** Once, when I was greatly tempted^ I wept before the 
Lord night after nighty and there was a man appeared to me 
in the room and said to me^ ' thy sins are pardoned ;' and 
since that I hare been no more tempted^ and I think it 
was to show me that I had trusted too much to my own 
heart I thought I had been so long without any tempta- 
tion that I was £iirly weaned. I thought so — but then I 
was tempted — and now I know I trusted more to my own 
heart than I did to the Lord." 

Such was the substance of the conrersation^ taken down 
by the gentleman on the spot, and copied by me for this 
book from his original record. And I beg that my readers 
will not forget^ uiat my object in presenting it is not to 
offer them a remarkable or an interesting story. There is 
nothing remarkable in it, and, excepting for the purpose of 
my argument, nothing particularly interesting. It is, how- 
ever^ a remarkably fair specimen of the ordinary operation 
of religious truth, in conyicting of sin^ and bringing man 
back to his duty. 

But I must postpone the comments upon this story which 
I intend to make, until I have given the second narratiye. 
The reason why I present two, is because no one that I 
could obtain exhibits as fully as I could wish all the im- 
portant points I wish to bring to view. 

SKCOND convict's STORY. 

( 

There lived in one of the middle States some years ago, 
a man whom I shall call W. I suppress his real name. 
His character was bad, and he lived with another man, 
whose character was worse than his own. 

His employer having some quarrel with another man, 
wanted W. to kill him. He endeavoured^ for five or six 
months, to induce him to do it, but he did not succeed. 
W., however, showed a degree of indecision about it, which 
encouraged his wicked employer to persevere. A good man 
would have refused an application like that, in such terms, 
and in such a mamier, that it never would have been renewed. 



XVIDENOES OF CHSISTIANITY. 163 

The employer, however, understood his character, and, 
like all other bad men who endeavour to induce others to 
commit crime, he knew of an agent which would effectually 
assist him to prevail upon W. to do the fatal deed. That 
agent was ardent spirit, — ^the universal stimulus to crime. 
He accordingly gave it to him, not in such quantities as 
completely to intoxicate him, but moderately — only enough 
to destroy what little conscience he had, and yet leave him, 
in a considerable degree, the possession of his faculties. 

After he had drunk the rum, he went and lay down to 
sleep in the skirts of a wood, where they expected to com- 
mit the murder. In a little while, another man who had 
been employed to assist in this work, came and woke him 
up, and said to him, " If we mean to do any thing, we had 
better do it now." W. accordingly rose, and they went to- 
gether. When they came to their victim. Jack shot at him, 
and then his accomplice took the gun and beat him over 
the head till he was dead. 

Two persons were hung for this crime, and W. was sen- 
tenced to the State prison for a long time. The man whom 
they.had killed was a very bad man, but as W. afterwards 
said, that was no cloak for him. 

When W. came to the prison, he was very ignorant. He 
did not know his own age accurately, and he could not 
read. There was in that prison, however, a very faithful 
chaplain, who, knowing that the Bible alone coidd be the 
means of reforming the miserable convicts, always placed 
that book before them immediately. When they could not 
read, he used to teach them. I have been told that this 
course has been taken to teach them. The first lesson was 
the first word in the Bible — I-n, 

" That word is In" the teacher would say to the prisoner 
in his celL "Can you see how many letters there are 
initr 

** Two," the prisoner would reply, after examining it. 

"Yes," answers the teacher. "The first letter is called 
t ; the second n. These letters are very common in the 
Bible, and in all reading. See if you can find another n, 
anywhere on this page." 

The prisoner then would look very attentively along the 
lines until he found the letter required. If he made a mis- 
take, and found an m or an r instead, the ieac\i^t ^Qra\.\ 



164 YOUNO CHRISTIAN 

explain the difference, and call his attention more fully to 
the true form of the n. He would also explain the dif- 
ference hetween the capital and small i, and show his pupil 
that he must expect to find the small t generally. He 
would then leave him, asking him to find as many of these 
letters as he could before the teacher should come again. 

The next lesson would be the next word, the ; and thus 
the pupil would go on slowly, spelling his way until he had 
learned to read for himself. The attempt was proposed to 
W., and he commenced it, and, although considerably ad- 
vanced in life, he made no little progi'ess in his work. He 
soon was able to read considerably, and as the truths of the 
word of God came home to his mind, they produced their 
usual effects there. They led him to see his sins, and to 
feel them — and they led him to come to the Saviour for 
pardon. His whole character was changed, but I must 
allow him to describe this change in his own words. 

These words were taken down by the same gentleman 
whom I have mentioned before. He visited him in prison, 
and, after first conversing with him in regard to the crime 
for which he had been committed, asked him, 

'^ Well, W., how do this and all your other sins now 
appear to you V* 

''Very great," said he, "but this does not appear so 
great as all my other sins against God, cursing and swear- 
ing and getting drunk. When I first began to reflect in my 
cell, I saw my sins so great, that I felt I could not be for- 
given. I was sitting down one day at my work in the 
prison, and the chaplain came along and asked me my 
crime. I told him. 

" ' That,* said he, ' is one of the greatest crimes, but then 
you may remember David's sin, and he was forgiven. Let 
your crime be as great as it will, pray to God, and put your 
trust in him, and you shall find rest to your soul.' 

" He told me also, that if I could not read, he would visit 
me in my cell and put me in the way. I shall ever love 
him while God gives me breath ; I shall love the chaplain, 
for he put me in the way to save my soul. He made me 
promise him faithfully that I would go to God and try to 
find mercy, and yet, master, I had a doubt in my heart — ^my 
sins were so heavy — whether I should be forgiven. The 
chaplain soon left me, and I went into my cell, and poured 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 165 

out my neart to God, to have mercy on me. The more I 
prayed, the more miserable I grew. Heavier and heavier 
were my sins. 

^' The next day Mr. B. came along, and I asked him to 
read a chapter to me ; as God would have it, he turned to 
the 55th chapter of Isaiah. It said, ' Every one that thirst- 
eth, come ye to the waters, and he that hath no money, 
come ye, buy wine and milk without price.* He read 
along to where the prophet says, ' Let the wicked forsake 
his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts, and let 
him return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy upon 
him ; and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon. For 
my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways 
my ways, saith the Lord. For as the heavens are higher 
than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and 
my thoughts than your thoughts.* 

'^ I found this gave me great encouragement to go on to 
pray, to see if I could find relief from all my troubles — ^the 
load of sin that was on my heart. I thought and prayed, 
and the more I prayed the more wretched I grew, the 
heavier my sins appeared to be. 

*' A night or two after that the chaplain came to my cell, 
and asked me how I felt. I told him my sins were greater 
than I could bear — so guilty, so heavy. He asked me if 
I thought praying would make my sins any less ; I gave 
him no answer. He soon left me, and I went again to 
prayer. I was almost fit to expire. In all my sorrows I 
had not a right sorrow. My sorrow was because I had 
sinned against man, 

*' The Sunday following, just after I had carried my din- 
ner into my cell, I put my dinner down, and I went to 
prayer. I rose, and just as I rose from my prayer, the 
chaplain was at the door. ^ "We are all guilty creatures,' 
he said to me, ' and we cannot be saved, except God, for 
Christ's sake, will save us. If we pray and go to God, we 
must go in the name of Jesus Christ ; if we expect to be 
saved, we must be saved through the blood and righteous- 
ness of Jesus Christ.' Then I picked up encouragement. 

" * The sins which you have committed,' he went on, 
* are against your fellow-creatures, but they are much more 
against God.' Now, I never knew before that they were 
against Gt)d. When the chaplain left me, I went to prayer 



166 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

again. I could cat nothing that day. I did not eat a 
mouth^. 

'^ I recollected at that time that a minister had told me, 
"whenever I had a chapter read to have the 51st Psalm. I 
could not see any body to get to read it, and how to find it 
I did not know ; and the Sunday follo>ving, before the keep- 
er unlocked the door, I rose up and went to prayer, and I 
prayed, ' O Lord, thou knowest I am ignorant, brought up 
in ignorance. Thou knowest my bringing up. Nothing is 
too hard for thee to do. May it please thee, O Lord^ to 
show me that chapter, that I may read it mth understand- 
ing.' I rose from prayer, and went to my Bible, and took 
it up. I began the first Psalm, and turned over and counted 
every Psalm, and it appeared to me that God was with me, 
and I counted right to the 51st Psalm. I could read a 
little, and I began to spell H-a-v-e m-e-r-c-y, &c. I look- 
ed over the Psalm, and spelt it, and read it, and then put 
the Bible down, and fell upon my knees, and prayed, * Have 
mercy upon me, O God, according to the multitude of thy 
tender mercies, blot out my transgressions. Wash me 
thoroughly from mine iniquities, and cleanse me from my 
sins, for my sin is ever before me. Against thee, thee only, 
have I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight ; that thou 
mightest be justified when thou speakest, and clear when 
thou judgest.* 

'' When I came to the words, ' Deliver me from blood- 
guiltiness,' I was struck dumb. I could not say any more 
at that time. I fell upon my knees, and prayed to God to 
have mercy upon me for Christ's sake. But I only grew 
more and more miserable. The load of my sins was heavier 
and heavier. 

" All that I had ever done came plain and open in my 
sight, and I was led to see that I must perish ; there was 
no help for me ; all my sin was upon my own head." 

Such is the miserable criminal's account of the suffering 
to which he was brought, by the sense of guilt which the 
Bible was the means of fastening upon his soul. He con- 
tinued in this state for some time, until at last, as he him- 
self describes it, one day when he was prajdng in his cell 
his burden of guilt was removed. He felt that he might 
hope for pardon through Jesus Christ. The relief which 
this feeling brought over his mind seems to have been 



EYIDBN0E8 OF CHSISTIANITT. 167 

almost indescribabla Every thing wore a new aspect; — 
even the gloomy prison seemed a cheerful and happy place. 
His expressions of joy would appear almost extravagant 
to any person not sufficiently acquainted with the human 
mind to understand how the whole aspect of external objects 
will be controlled by the emotions which reign in the heart 
W. concluded his narration in these words : 

" And ever since that, master, this place, where I have 
been confined, has been to me more like a palace than a 
prison, every thing goes agreeable. I find I have a deceit- 
ful heart, but Jesus tells me, if I lack knowledge, he will 
always lend, if I cast my care on Jesus and not forget to 
pray. It is my prayer morning and evening that I may 
hold out. If I die here, let me die, Lord, in thine arms. I 
have great reason to bless this institution, and every stone 
in it." 

Now, although it is not very common to obtain, in writ- 
ing, accounts of changes of character among convicts, so full 
and minute as this, yet the cases themselves are very com- 
mon, — so conmion, that where a prison is regulated in such 
a manner that the prisoners are not exposed to the evil in- 
fluence from each other, and the Bible has the opportunity 
to try its power, the whole aspect of the prison is changed. 
After I had written the above, I was conversing upon the 
subject of this chapter with a gentleman much interested in 
the improvement of prisons, and he asked me if I had ever 
visited the prison at Charlestown, Massachusetts. I told 
him I had not. 

" If you will go over with me on Sabbath morning," said 
he, " and visit the Sabbath-school formed there, you wiU see 
the moral power of the Bible far more distinctly than you 
can by any such single descriptions as these." 

I of course gladly availed myself of the opportunity to 
accompany him. We walked accordingly on Sabbath morn- 
ing, at the appointed hour, over one of those long bridges 
which connect the peninsula of Boston with the mainland. 
The prison is situated in Charlestown, on a point of land 
near the Charles river. The yard extends to the water's 
edge, to afford facilities for lading and unlading the boats 
which transport stone ; hammering granite for building being 
the principal business at which the convicts are employed. 



168 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

When we reached the outer gate of the prison-yard, vre 
pushed it open, and on closing itself after we had entered, 
it struck a bell, which gave notice to the keeper of the in- 
ner gate, that some one was coining. This inner gate, made 
of strong iron bars, was opened for us, and we passed up the 
steps of a large stone building, through which lay our pas- 
sage to the yard beyond. This building consists of one 
laige central edifice, occupied by the family of the warden, 
and by some of the keepers, and two extensive wings. In 
these wings the prisoners were formerly confined, in rooms 
of moderate size, many convicts, however, being lodged in 
one room. This was the old system of prison discipline, of 
which I have already spoken, and the prisoners almost in- 
variably grew worse instead of better, imder it. A young 
man, perhaps, just beginning a career of vice, or overcome 
for thejirsi time by some strong temptation, was placed, 
during the long hours of the night, in one of these crowded 
rooms. Of course he grew worse by such an exposure. 
Those who had grown old in sin instructed him in all 
their wicked arts. He became familiarized to infamy — 
and even while imder sentence for one crime, often form- 
ed plans for others, to be executed as soon as he should es- 
cape into society again. The consequence was, that these 
night-rooms, in the wings of this great building, were, as 
they were often called, schools of vice and crime. 

The first room we entered in this edifice seemed to be a 
sort of an office, and a row of swords and guns, which were 
arranged there, ready to be used at a moment's notice, pro- 
claimed the intention of the keepers to resort to the most de- 
cided measures if the prisoners should make any attempt to 
escape. We passed through this room, and one or two 
others, every narrow passage being guarded by a formi- 
dable door of iron, which a turnkey opened and shut for us 
as we passed. 

We entered a spacious and beautiful yard in the rear of 
this building. I say it was beautiful, because it struck the 
eye most pleasantly by its expression of neatness and indus- 
try. It was spacious, and extensive shops were arranged 
around it, in which the convicts were accustomed to work — 
and upon the smooth and level floor, I had almost said, 
of the area enclosed, were many large and beautiful blocks 
of hammered griuiite, the fruits of the prisoners' industry. 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 169 

We walked across the yard^ and came to a long stone 
bailding; one story high, behind which rose another spacious 
edifice of stone. In this last were the prisoners* cells. I am 
not certain that I shall be able to convey to my young read- 
ers a yery accurate idea of the arrangement and of the in- 
terior of these buildings, but I am very desirous of doing so, 
as it will give them clearer ideas of what I intend to present 
in regard to the moral aspects of such an institution as this. 
"Will you not, then, make an effort to picture distinctly to 
your minds what I am describing ? 

The long low building which I have mentioned had a 
strong iron door in the centre, and from that door a passage- 
way extended across to the great new prison beyond. On 
one side of this passage-way was a large room, appropriated 
to preparing food for the prisoners ; and on the other side was 
the chapel. When we came up to the iron door in the front 
of the building, we found several gentlemen who had come 
over from Boston, to act as teachers in the Sabbath school, 
waiting there for admission. They were waiting until the 
prisoners themselves should have passed into the chapel, 
for when we arrived they were coining in a long procession 
j&om their cells in the rear, into this building, each one 
bringing the tin vessel from which he had eaten his break- 
£ast, and lajdng it upon a sort of counter, as he passed on 
into the chapel. We could see this by looking through an 
opening in the iron door. 

When all the prisoners had gone into the chapel, the outer 
door was opened by a keeper, and we all passed in, — the 
heavy door was swung to behind us, and its strong bolt se- 
cured. We turned from the entry into that end of the build- 
ing which was used as a chapel. There was an aisle pass- 
ing up the centre, on each side of which were seats half filled 
with the convicts. The chaplain stood in a pulpit at the 
farther end, and on each side of him were the teachers, gen- 
tlemen from Boston, who had come to assist these unhappy 
men to read and to understand the word of Grod. 

It was a most delightful May morning, and the whole as- 
pect of the room, as I looked over it from my stand near the 
chaplain, was that of cheerfulness and happiness, not of gloom. 
The sun beamed in brightly at the windows, and the walls 
of the room, of the r^urest white, the neat benches, and the 
nicely-sanded floor, gave a most pleasant aspect to the whole. 



170 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

The congregation presented a singular and striking ap- 
pearance. Had it not been for their dress, I might have 
forgotten that I was in a prison. But they were all dressed 
in coarse clothes of two colours, one side of the body being 
red, and the other of some diflferent hue. This is the uniform 
of crime. The object of it is, I suppose, not to mortify them 
with a perpetual badge of disgrace, but to expose any one who 
should by any means escape, to immediate detection by the 
inhabitants of the country around. 

Is it possible, thought I, as I looked over this most inter- 
esting assembly, that all these men have come voluntarily 
this morning to read and study the word of God? Yes, that 
was the fact. This exercise was entirely voluntary, and out 
of two or three hundred who had been condemned for crime, 
about one-half were accustomed to come voluntarily on Sab- 
bath morning to study the book which proclaims from heaven 
free forgiveness of every sin. 

The chaplain opened the school with prayer. He then 
explained to the teachers, that the plan to be pursued was 
simply to hear the prisoners read the Bible, and explain its 
contents to them. He desired them to confine their conver- 
sation strictly to the business in hand, and requested the 
prisoners not to ask and the teachers not to answer any ques- 
tions relating to other subjects. He then distributed the 
teachers around the room, giving each one a small class. 
Three convicts fell to my charge. 

I opened almost at random in the New Testament, and let 
them read in rotation; and more apparently humble and 
docile students of the Bible I never saw. They read slowly 
and with hesitation, and I thought at first, with a little em- 
barrassment; this, however, soon passed away, and it was 
most interesting to watch the eager expression upon their 
countenances as the various truths, which were such glad 
tidings to them, came to view. We came almost accidentally 
to the parables of the one sheep and the one piece of money 
which was lost, Luke xv. ; and it seemed as if the whole 
chapter was written expressly for prisoners. 

One of these convicts, after expressing a strong interest in 
these parables, said that the Bible appeared like a very dif- 
ferent book to him now from what it did in former times. 

" How did it formerly appear to youl" asked I. 

"Oh, I used to despise it. I used to wonder why so 



lEVWiESCBa OF CHKISTIANITT. 171 

much was made of the Bible. It seemed to me that I could 
write as good a book myself." 

" Well, have your views of it changed now?" 

" Oh, yes," said he, " I am fully persuaded it is the word 
of Grod now." 

"What caused you to disbelieve it formerly] was it the 
influence of bad company?" 

"Why, sir, to be firank, it was ignorance. I had not 
studied it. I had read it a little, here and there, but not 
attentively, or with a right spirit." 

" What led you to change your views of it?" 

" I did not change my views until I came to this institu- 
tion. I had some days of solitary confinement when I first 
came, with no book but the Bible, — and when I first began 
to reflect, I recollected that a Christian family, whom I once 
hved with, seemed to eiyoy more real substantial happiness 
than any other persons I ever saw ; and this led me to think 
there might possibly be something in religion. So I thought 
I would examine the Bible in earnest ; and I found it a very 
different book from what I had supposed. I took a very 
strong interest in it, and at last a minister preached a sermon 
here from the text, * What shall I do to inherit eternal life?' 
and that I hope led me to the Saviour. I hope and trust 
that I have really given my heart to God." 

I told him that what he said gave me great pleasure, and 
that I hoped he would persevere in Christian duty, and find 
the Bible a source of happiness to him as long as he should 
live. 

" When I first came to this institution," he replied, " I 
thought it was rather a hard case to be shut up here so long. 
My time is, however, now almost out. In a few weeks I shall 
go away ; but if I have been really led to see and forsake my 
sins, I shall never have any reason to regret coming here." 

The chaplain about this time gave notice that it was 
time for the services to be closed, and I could not converse 
with my other scholars mucL One of them told me, how- 
ever, that he had been brought up by pious parents, and had 
read the Bible when he was a child ; " it was, however," said 
he, " only to please my parents. I gave no heed to it. I 
have found it, since I came to this institution, a very different 
book." 

I afterwards le^irned that there was as much reason as 



172 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

under the circumstances, there could be, to hope that all 
three of these criminals had really repented of sJh, and 
made their peace with God, and that they would return to 
society to be useful and happy while they live, and admit- 
ted to heaven when they die. 

Such cases as these, too, are becoming very numerous in 
prisons where the convicts are separated from each other and 
exposed to the influence of the word of God. Since this 
plan has been adopted in this very prison, the results have 
been most decisive. The number of prisoners, and especi- 
ally of recommitments, is very much reduced, and the 
whole number of convicts, which was formerly 375, has 
been reduced under the operation of this system to 225, 
and is now constantly reducing. 

But I must proceed with the description of my visit. At 
the close of the Sabbath school, the convicts who had at- 
tended it marched out, and presently returned with all the 
other prisoners in a long procession to attend public worship. 
They filled the chapel. The preacher addressed them on 
the subject of temperance, — and as he explained to them 
the nature of ardent spirit, and the consequences of its use, 
they listened with the most eager and uninterrupted atten- 
tion. Each had his Bible imder his arm — his only com- 
panion in his solitary cell — and it was evident, I thought, 
from the countenances of the whole assembly, that in the 
hour of stillness and solitude it had been at work upon the 
conscience of many a hardened sinner there. It seemed 
impossible for a man to look upon that assembly, under- 
standing their circumstances, and knowing how exclusive- 
ly the Bible had been used as the means of restoring them 
to moral health, and how successful it had been, and yet 
doubt whether the book was really sent from above. 

After the meeting was closed, the prisoners marched by 
divisions, in regular order, each under the care of a keeper, 
back to the great building in the rear, which contained their 
cells. As they passed through the entry, each one took from 
the place where it was deposited, a tin vessel containing 
his evening meal, and they marched in long procession to 
their silent and solitary dwellings. We followed them in- 
to the building. Its construction is peculiar, and as it is 
similar to those now almost universjtlly built for prisoners, 
I shall describe it. 



EVIDENCES OP CHRISTIANITY. J 73 

It contains a building within a building — ^the outer one 
being a mere shell, consisting of four walls and a roof, with 
rows of narrow grated windows in its sides. The inner 
building is distinct and independent, with a passage several 
feet wide all around between it and the outer walls. This 
inner building is simply a block of cells, four or ^ve stories 
high, arranged back to back, so that the doors open on each 
side into the passage-way I have already described. The 
doors, however, of the lower story only can be entered from 
the floor of the passage-way itself, and to gain access to 
the others, long narrow galleries, supported by iron pillars, 
project from every story. A staircase at one end leads 
the way to these. 

There were no windows to the cells except a grated open- 
ing in the narrow but heavy iron door. And tliis, it will be 
perceived, did not furnish an access to the open air, for the 
outer building entirely enclosed the inner, like a case. Suf- 
ficient light, however, found its way through the outer 
windows, and thence through the grated door, to cheer the 
prisoner a little in his solitude, and to allow him to read 
the pages of the word of God. 

When we came into the passage-way below, the trains 
of prisoners were passing along the galleries, and entering 
one after another, their respective cells. Each one closed 
after him the massive door, and there was something pe- 
culiarly solemn and impressive in the heavy soimd, produced 
in regular succession, as door after door closed upon the un- 
fortunate inmate. The keepers passed along after each 
prisoner of his division had entered his cell, and locked them 
in, and after the last party-coloured dress had disappeared, 
and the last bolt sounded to its place, the keepers, one after 
another, returned, and all was silence and apparent solitude. 

Though it was now the middle of a bright May afternoon, 
it was but twilight within these walls — ^the twilight of a 
prison — and so still, that one could hardly realize that 
within the so\md of his voice more than two hundred cri- 
minals were confined. And yet they were within the sound 
of one voice ; for the constniction of the building is such 
that every prisoner can hear the chaplain when conducting 
religious services in the passage-way. He stands there, not 
seeing an individual whom he addresses — ^nothing before 
him but the cold repidsive aspect of the granite walls, and 



174 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

floor^ and pillars, doors and locks of iron— rand reads the 
chapter and offers the eyening prayer in the hearing of 
hundreds ; and each prisoner^ alone in his cell^ seated upon 
his little hench, hears through the grated window the 
yoice of one unseen, explaining to him the word of Ctod, or 
guiding him in his supplications for the forgiveness of his 
sins, and preparation for heaven. 

As we stood contemplating this scene, one of the officers 
of the prison, standing there, said to my companion, 

^^ How different this from what we used to see and hear 
in the old prison." 

" Has there heen," asked I, '' a very decided change in 
the aspect of the prisoners since their removal to this 
huilding V* 

" Oh, yes," said he, '* every thing is changed. Why, when 
they occupied the old huilding, and were locked up several 
together in a room, there was nothing hut cursing and swear- 
ing, and riot, and quarrelling and hlasphemy, to he heard all 
night. How they would rave against religion, and the Bihle 
and ministers ! Nothing would have tempted me to have 
staid in the prison if that state of things had continued. 
Now it is a quiet and peaceful family." 

We passed out at last. A keeper, with a sword at his 
side and a jnsiol at his helt, closed and locked the door 
after us, and wc passed thiough the yard, and through the 
great edifice 'which I first described, out beyond the prison- 
avails, and retiurned to our homes. 

Now, if tht^re was any one thing wliich stood forth to view 
in all this sc(*ne more distiitctly and Tividlv than all the rest, 
it was that these effects wc re the woik of the Bible. The 
very essence of the whole s} stem is simply to cut off the bad 
influences which would otherwise gain access to the prison- 
er, and lay before him the Bible. ITiis was done with kind- 
ness and sympathy indeed, but still the woid of Grod was 
most evidently the remedy which was applied. The pri- 
soners came to their place of worship with their Bibles in 
their hands — ^the teachers in the Sabbath-school confined 
their efforts to reading and explaining the sacred book — 
and it was affecting to observe, that, as they went to their 
solitary cells, they found there the word of God for their 
only companion. So unquestionable is the moral power of 
this book, that the very authorities of the State, actuated 



KYIDENOBS OF CHBI8TIANITT. 175 

simply by a desire to save the community from the injuries 
of wicked men, place a Bible, at the public expense, in the 
cell of every convict committed for crime. 

Those little cells, so small that the narrow bed, when let 
down at night, leaves the prisoner scarce room to stand — 
destitute of almost every comfort — and showing by their 
whole aspect, that their design is to connect the most gloomy 
associations possible with the idea of crime — every one of 
those narrow and naked cells rrmst have its Bible, Every 
legislator knows that that is the book to call back the guilty 
criminal from his sins. And though men may, in specular 
tion, deny its authority, and question its influence in prac- 
tice, when they wish to awaken conscience in the abandoned, 
and to recall them so far at least to duty that society may 
be safe from their crimes, they are unanimous in invoking 
its aid. 

But I must return to the two convicts' stories. I did not 
intend to have digressed so far from them. My readers are 
requested to recall those narratives to mind, for I wish to ana- 
lyze them a little, that I may present more distinctly the 
nature of the process by which convalescence and ultimate 
health return to a sin-sick soul ; for I wish to consider these 
not in the light of detached and separate instances, but as 
fair specimens of cases which are constantly occurring by 
tens of thousands in every Christian land. 

I should like to have you notice the following points, 
which are brought to view by those narratives. 

1. The Bible was the means of the change. One of the 
convicts said he had no proper views of the Scriptures till 
he came to the prison. The other could not read them at 
all, and it was plainly by means of this book that they 
were brought to understand their true characters. So at 
Charlestown. The whole plan of moral influence consisted 
in bringing, in a kind and sympathizing manner, the truths 
of the word of Qod to those minds. I was told by one of 
the teachers, who was present at the time of my visit, that 
he had in his class a convict who had been repeatedly im- 
prisoned, having been confined once or twice in the old 
building. " And," said he, " it only made me worse. But 
now there is a new state of things. When I came to this 
prison, I found nothing but my Bible, and I believe it has 
made me a new man." The gentleman who had taught 



176 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

that class, said that he gave every evidence which could he 
given in so short an interview, of heing a humhled, altered 
man* 

2. Men are led to see that their sins are against God, 
This you will perceive to be very strikingly the case from a 
review of the convicts* stories. And this is one of the great 
peculiarities of the Scriptures. They lead us to see that we 
owe obligations to our Maker ; a truth that is always ne- 
glected or forgotten till the Bible brings it to view. 

But what is the meaning of our sins being against Gt)d ? 
I once knew a boy so abandoned to evil passions, and so 
utterly destitute of moral principle, that he set fire to his 
mother's house, in a fit of anger with her, for some reproof 
or punishment. I do not know whether he intended to bum 
it entirely, or whether he expected that the fire would be 
extinguished, and he should thus only frighten his mother. 
A great deal of injury was, in fact, done by the fire, which 
was however at last extinguished Now the boy very pro- 
bably supposed that this oflfence was against his mother 
alone. He had supposed that she would be displeased, and 
would attempt to punish him. He knew that he was re- 
sponsible to her authority, and thought of nothing more. 

How surprised, then, would he be, if some friend of his, 
after he had done this, should converse with him as follows : 

" Do you know what you have done ?" 

" Yes, I set my mother s house on fire. 

^' And what do you expect will be the consequence ?" 

'* Why, perhaps she will punish me, but I don't care 
for that." 

" I think you will find that that is not the worst of it.' 

" What is the worst of it ?" 

'' Why, you have broken the law of the land, and I expect 
every hour that the ofiicers will be after you to take you up." 

" The officers !" — says the boy, astonished and alarmed — 
*' I didn't know any thing about the law of the land." 

*^ There is a law of the land, you will find, and you have 
broken it, and they will have you tried and put in State's 
prison for it." 

At this the boy would perhaps pause, and turn pale, and 
his next word would probably either be, " I don't believe 
it," or else, " What shall I do ?" Perhaps he would attempt 
to excuse himself by saying, 



EVIDEKOES OF CHBI8TIANITT. 177 

"I did not know that it was against any law, — ^I only 
did it to plague my mother." 

** That makes no difference," his friend would reply, " it 
will not help you at alL The law of every community is, 
and ought to be, very decided against incendiaries, because, 
as you well know, when you set fire to your house, you en- 
dangered the others near, and in fact, the whole village. As 
to your not knowing that it was against the law, that makes 
no difference. You knew thai it vxis wrongr 

I do not know whether this boy learned that he had bro- 
ken the law, and was in great danger of punishment, by any 
such conversation as the above. I know, however, that he 
learned it in some way, and he fled. He escaped to a dis- 
tant city, but the officers found him there, and I saw him 
afterwards confined in his celL 

Now, when men sin in this world, they almost always for- 
get the very important circumstance, that they are ginning 
against God. They look upon their offences as committed 
solely against their fellow-men. They feel sometimes a 
little compimction, in regard to those few cases where their 
conduct has iiyured their fellows. They never consider 
these as offences against a &r higher law, — and as to all 
their other conduct, they feel entirely at ease in regard to it. 

Now the Bible comes in, in such cases, and where its voice 
is heeded, it holds with men much such a conversation as 
that which I have described with the boy. 

" Do you know," it says to one who has been living an 
irreligious life for many years, "what you have been 
doing?" 

" Yes," he replies, " I have very often done wrong. I have 
sometimes been idle and sometimes a little passionate, but 
then I have endeavoured to make up for lost time by sub- 
sequent industry, and I have always repaired all the iiyu- 
ries of every kind that I have done to others. On the 
whole, I have been a good neighbour, and an honest man. 
I have been kind in my family, and upright as a citizen." 

" Ah !" says the Bible, " do you not know that tliere is a 
God, and that by utterly neglecting him you have been all 
the time unceasingly breaking his law? You have been 
living for yourself, detached and separate from all around 
you, except so far as your interest or instinctive feelings have 
formed a frail tie. What a divided and miserable commun- 

M 



178 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

ity would be tlie result, if all God's creatures were to act 
upon the same principle." 

" Besides," continues the word of God, '' the sins which 
you acknowledge that you have committed, and which you 
seem to consider as chiefly against men, are in a far higher 
sense against God. They have been violations of his law, 
and he has annexed a most awful penalty to such trans- 
gressions. In fact, it is possible that some of his officers 
are now sent for you, to summon you to trial and condem- 
nation for your sins." 

Thus men are led to see by the Bible what law they have 
broken, and what punishment they have to fear. The con- 
vict whose conversation I have given above, saw, as he ex- 
presses it, that all his sins had been " against God.*' 

3. The Bible makes men feel their guilt. Undoubtedly 
many of my readers will go over the explanation I have just 
given of our connexion with God, and of the fact that all our 
sins are against hi?n, very carelessly. I do not mean that 
they will not be interested in the mere reading. I mean 
that they will not realize the truth, in its application to them- 
selves. Nothing is more common than for persons to see 
and to acknowledge the truths I have described, without 
feeling any compimction for their guilt. But the Bible 
arouses conscience. It is quick and powerful, sharper than 
any two-edged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder 
the soul and spirit." 

It is one of the most remarkable properties of the human 
mind, that a consciousness of guilt may remain a long time 
dormant in it — ^producing no uneasiness and no suffering — 
and yet after the lapse of years it will burst forth with most 
terrific power, and drive the victim of it to actual despair. 
This has often been the case. A man who has committed 
sin is like one bitten by a mad dog. The momentary 
pain is slight. The woimd soon heals. It may keep up from 
time to time a slight irritation, just enough to remind him 
occasionally of the occurrence ; but ordinarily it is forgotten, 
and he goes on with his daily amusements and pleasures 
entirely imconscious of danger. 

But though the woimd is healed, the dreadful infection 
which it has admitted to his system is circulating insidiously 
there. The poison glides hannlessly along his veins and 
arteries^ for weeks, months, years. It does not mar his en- 



EVIDENCES OP CHRISTIANITY. 17^ 

joyments or disturb his repose, but still the dreadful enemy, 
though slumbering, is there. At last, in some unexpected 
hour, it rises upon him in all its strength, and overwhelms 
and conquers him entirely. It brings agony to his body 
and indescribable horror to his soul, and hurries him 
through the most iiirious paroxysms of madness and de- 
spair, to inevitable death. 

And it is just so with sin. A murderer, for example, 
will often slumber ten, twenty, or thirty years over his crime. 
The knowledge of it will lie in his heart, like a lurking 
poison during all that time. He will recollect it without 
anxiety or compunction, and look forward to the future 
without alarm. At last, however, some circumstance, often 
apparently trifling, will awaken him. He will begin to feel 
his guilt ; conscience will suddenly rise upon him like an 
armed man^ and overwhelm him with all the horrors of re- 
morse and despair. Perhaps if one had tried a few weeks 
before to make him feel his guilt, it would have been vain, 
he was so utterly-hardened in it ; so dead in trespasses and 
sins. But now you will find it far more diflficult to allay 
or to mitigate the storm which has, spontaneously perhaps 
arisen. 

Every person, therefore, who commits sin, takes a viper in- 
to his bosom, a viper which may delay stinging him for many 
years, but it will sting him at last, unless it is removed. He 
is unaware of the misery which awaits him, but it must come 
notwithstanding. This is particularly the case with sins 
against God ; and the wonder is that the sense of guilt will 
remain so entirely dormant as it often does, so that no warn- 
ing, no expostulation, no remonstrance will disturb the death- 
like repose, and yet at last the volcano will often burst forth 
spontaneously, or from some apparently trifling cause, and 
overwhelm the sinner in sufiering. 

Now we certainly should not wish that this sufiering 
should come upon any individual, were it not, that in a vast 
multitude of cases, it leads him to repent of and to forsake 
his sins. Remorse is not penitence, it is true, but it very 
frequently leads to it. 

4. The Bible leads men to a Saviour, Men everywhere 
have the impression that penitence is not enough to remove 
and expiate guilt. Whenever we do wrong, there is implant- 
ed, as it were, in the very soul, a fearful looking forward tci 



180 TOUNO CHRISTIAN. 

punishment to come, in consequence of it We know that 
no government can be efficiently maintained, where its set- 
tled, regular plan, is to forgive always upon confession. 
Now it is found, by universal experience, and the cases I 
have narrated happily illustrate this, that when men are 
really brought to feel their sins against God, they cannot 
be quieted by any general assurances that (xod is merciful. 
They know he is merciful, but then they know he is Just 
They know he is the great moral Governor of the Universe, 
and the youngest child, or the most ignorant savage, has an 
instinct, I might almost call it, which so assures him of the 
necessity of a retribution, that he cannot rest after a repeated 
disobedience, in the hope that his penitence alone will secure 
his pardon. Hence, in all unchristian countries they have 
various ways of doing penance, that is, inflicting severe vol- 
untary suffering upon themselves, by way of retribution for 
their sins. Now, when men under such circumstances hear 
that a Saviour has died for them, it immediately brings relief. 
It is very often the case that there is not a very clear idea of 
the way in which his sufferings are of avail in opening the 
way for pardon. In fact it is not absolutely necessary that 
there should be very clear ideas on this subject. The mind, 
however darkened and ignorant, is capable of seeing that 
these sufferings may, in some way, stop the evil conse- 
quences of its sins, and open the way for pardon, and yet 
not fully understand in all their detail the various moral in- 
fluences which the crucifixion of the Son of God is cal- 
culated to produce. 

My reader, do you feel a secret but continual burden 
from a sense of your sins ? Try the experiment of coming 
and asking forgiveness in the Savioui^s name, and see if it 
does not bring relief. 

I suppose the most of my readers remember the story of 
Regulus. The ancient cities of Rome and Carthage stood 
opposite to each other, across the Mediterranean sea. As 
these two cities grew up to power and distinction nearly 
together, they were the rivals and enemies of each other. 
There was many a hard- fought battle between their armies 
and their fleets. 

At last, Regulus, a celebrated Roman General, was sent 
across the sea, to carry the war, if possible, to the very gates 
of Carthage. He was at first very successful, and he took 



' EYIDBNCBS OF CBRISTIANITT. 181 

many prisoners and sent tliem to Rome. At lengthy how- 
ever^ die scale was turned^ the Roman army was conquer* 
ed^ and Regulus himself was captured and thrown into a 
Carthaginian prison. 

After sometime^ however^ had elapsed, the Carthamnians, 
foreseeing that the Roman power would, in the end, over- 
whelm their own, concluded to send an embassy to Rome to 
propose peace. They proposed to Regulus to go on this em- 
bassy. They intrusted him with the commission, saying to 
him, " We wish you would go to Rome, and propose to 
your countrymen to make peace with us, and endeavour to 
persuade them to comply. If you do not succeed, however, 
we expect you to return to us again as our lawful prisoner. 
We shall confide in your word.' 

Regulus accepted the trust. He set off to Rome, promis- 
ing to return to Carthage, if the Romans should not accede 
to the peace. He sailed across the sea, and up the Tiber, 
and was soon approaching the gates of the great city. He 
had determined, however, to do all in his power to prevent 
a peace, knowing that it would not be for the interest of his 
country to make one. He understood* therefore, that he 
was going to his native city only to commimicate his mes- 
sage, and then to return to imprisonment, torture and death, 
at Carthage. 

His wife came out of the gates to meet him, — ^rejoicing 
in bis return. He received her dejected, silent and sad. 
<< I am a Carthaginian prisoner still," said he, '' and must 
soon return to my chains." 

He refiised to enter the city. He had, indeed, a mes- 
sage for the senate, but the Roman senate was not ac- 
customed to admit foreigners to their sessions within the 
city. He sent them word, therefore, that Regulus, no 
longer a Roman general, but a Carthaginian prisoner, was 
the bearer of a message to them, and wished them to hold, 
as usual, a meeting without the gates, for the purpose of 
receiving it. 

The senate came. They heard the proposal which the 
Carthaginians sent, and the arguments of Regulus against 
it. The arguments prevailed. They decided against peace, 
and Regulus began to speak of his return. 

** Return *" said his friends and the senators, and all the 



182 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

people of Rome. " You are under no obligation to return 
to Carthage." 

" I promised to return/' said Regulus, " and I must keep 
my word. I am well aware that the disappointed and ex- 
asperated Carthaginians will inflict upon me cruel tortiures, 
but I am their prisoner still, and I must keep my word.** 

The Romans did all in their power to persuade Regulus 
that a promise extorted under such circumstances was not 
bindings and that he could be under no obligation to return. 
But all was vain. He bade the senate, and his coimtnr- 
men, and his wife farewell, and was soon sailing back to the 
land of his enemies. The Carthaginians were enraged at 
the result of his mission. They put him to death by the 
most cruel tortures. 

When the tidings of his death came back to Rome^ the 
senate and the people, who had already been much impress- 
ed by the patriotism of Regulus, and his firm adherence to 
his word, were overwhelmed with admiration and gratitude. 
This feeling was mixed, too, with a strong desire of revenge 
upon the Carthaginians, and a decree was passed giving up 
the Carthaginian prisoners then in their hands to Marcia, 
the wife of Regulus, to be disposed of as she might desire. 
She, most unjustly and cruelly, ordered them all to be put 
to death, by the same sufferings which her lamented hus- 
band had endured. 

My story, thus far, is true ; that is, it is substantially 
true. The dialogue I have given is intended to exhibit the 
substance of what was said ; not the exact words. The 
facts, however, are correctly stated. The whole occurrence, 
as above described, is matter of history. 

In order, however, to make the use of this story which I 
have intended, I must now go on in fiction. I will suppose 
that Marcia, instead of desiring to gratify a revengeful spirit, 
by destroying the lives of the innocent prisoners at Rome, in 
retaliation for the murder of her husband, had been actuated 
by a nobler spirit, and had sent such a message as this to 
the Roman senate, in reply to their proposal to her. 

" I do not wish for revenge. It will do little good either 
to Regulus who is dead, or to his unhappy widow who sur- 
vives, to torture or to destroy the miserable captives in our 
hands. Dispose of them as the good of the State requires. 
If you think, however, that any thiog is due from the com- 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 183 

monwealth to the. memory of Regulus', or to his surriving 
friends^ let it be paid in happiness, not in suffering. There 
are, in the public prisons, many miserable convicts condemn- 
ed for their crimes. Let them be forgiven for Regulus' 
sake, if they will acknowledge their crimes and return to 
their duty." 

A Roman senate would have granted, undoubtedly, such 
a request as this, if made imder such circumstances as I 
have described. Let us suppose they had done so, and that 
the prison-doors had been opened, and the offers of pardon 
had been circulated among the convicts there. 

Now I wish my reader to bear in mind that I am not in- 
tending here to offer an illustration of the way in which 
our salvation is effected by the sufferings of the Son of 
God. No analogy drawn from any earthly transactions 
can ftdly illustrate the way in which the Lamb of God 
taketh away the sins of the world. My object is to illus- 
trate the spirit with which the offer of' mercy through him 
is to be received, and I have made this supposition for the 
purpose of placing these prisoners in a situation somewhat 
like that of condemned sinners in this world, that I may 
show how the Bible brings relief to those suffering under 
the burden of sin, by offering them mercy through a Saviour. 

A messenger comes, then, we will suppose, among the 
imprisoned malefactors — tells them he brings good news to 
them — ^an offer of pardon from the Roman senate. The 
prisoners look incredulous. They know that the Roman 
government is an efficient one, and that it is accustomed to 
execute its laws. " We are justly imprisoned," they would 
say, " and our time is not yet expired — there can be no 
forgiveness for us till the law sets us free." 

The messenger then relates to them, that in consequence 
of the distinguished services and subsequently cruel suffer- 
ings of a great Roman general, the senate had wished to 
make to his widow some public expression of the sympathy 
and gratitude of the commonwealth, and that she had asked 
it aa a boon that every penitent prisoner, willing to abandon 
his crimes and return to his duty, might be set free for her 
husband's sake. 

Now, imquestionably, if there were any who should hear 
this message who were reaJly penitent for sin, and willing 
to return to duty, theii abhorrence of their crimes would be 



184 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

increased, and their determination to be faithful citizens in 
future would be strengthened by receiving such an offer of 
pardon. Nay, it would not be surprising if some who were 
still hardened in their sins, and even in the midst of noise 
and revelry in the prison at the very time the messenger 
appeared, should be arrested, and their feelings touched by 
such an address. 

" How different," they might reflect, " is the conduct of 
Regulus from ours ! We have been, by our vices and crimes, 
bringing injuries without number upon our country. He, 
by his labours and sufferings, has been unceasingly endea- 
vouring to do her good. And Marcia, too, it was kind for 
her to think of us. When we were at liberty, we thought 
only of gratifying our own passions, — ^we made no effort 
to promote the happiness of others or to diminish their 
Bufferings. We will return to our duty, and imitate the 
example they have set for us." 

It would not be surprising if such a transaction had 
awakened these reflections in some minds ; and on the whole, 
the effect of the offer of mercy through Jesus Christ pro- 
duces very similar effects in the world to those I have above 
imagined in the prison. When men are told in general 
terms that God is merciful and wiU forgive their sins, it 
does not, in ordinary cases, reaUy relieve them. Though, 
perhaps, they do not say it distinctly, yet they/ee^ that 
God's government, to be ef&cient, must have strict laws, and 
penalties strictly executed, and they are afraid that a mere 
reliance on God*s general mercy may not be quite safe. 
Thousands trust to this till they come to their dying hour, 
and then abandon it. 

But when men are told by the word of God that Jesus 
Christ died for them, the just for the uiyust, and that they 
must come, asking forgiveness in his name and for his 
sake, it throws a different aspect over the whole case. A 
bright gleam of hope from a new and imexpected quarter 
darts in. Though they may not know fully in what way 
the sufferings of Christ may be the means of opening the 
way for their forgiveness, they still can see that it is very 
possible it might in some way do this. It is not necessary 
that we should understand fuUy the way. The convicts 
might be released without knowing all about the story of 
Begulus, or comprehending exactly how such a transacti(^ 



EYIBENCES OF CHBISTIANITY. 185 

as their relecue on his account would affect the public mind 
in Rome, so as to avoid the evil effects of laxity in the ad- 
ministration of public justica There might be many a poor 
ignorant convict who could not comprehend such subjects at 
all, and yet possess the spirit of mind which should bring 
him most fuUy within the conditions of release. Such a 
one might come to the officer appointed for the purpose and 
Bay, 

" I am very grateful to the Roman senate for offering to 
pardon me for the sake of Regulua I was really guilty of 
the crime for which I was sentenced, and the term of my 
imprisonment is not longer than I justly deserve ; but I am 
glad to be restored to freedom and to happiness now. I shall 
always be grateful to the senate, and shall cherish the memory 
of Begulus as long as I live." 

Now if a prisoner had this spirit, there is no question that 
he would be released, whether he was or was not statesman 
or philosopher enough to understand fully the moral charac- 
ter and influence of such a transaction. And so, my reader, 
if you are willing to acknowledge and to forsake your sins, 
and to accept of freedom and happiness in future, on account 
of another^s merits and sufferings, you need not distress your- 
self because you do not fvUy comprehend the nature of that 
great transaction of which Grethsemane and Calvary were the 
scene. It cannot be fiilly imderstood here. From the win- 
dows of our prison-house in this world we can see but a small 
part of the great city of God. We cannot, therefore, appre- 
ciate fully any of the plans of his government We can, 
however, fed right ourselves. We can ask forgiveness in 
Christ's name, and believe, on the authority of God's word, 
that God has set forth Jesus Christ to be a propitiation that 
we might be saved, through faith in his blood, — that is, by 
our trusting in his sufferings,— that God might be just and 
yet save those who trust in the Saviour.* 

But to return to the Roman prison. I have represented 
one prisoner as accepting the offer and going out to freedom 
in consequence of it. Let us now suppose that the public 
officer appointed by the senate to carry the message to the 
prisoners and to receive their replies, should meet in one of 
the rooms a very different reception. He passes, we will 

* See Romans ill 23-3& 



186 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

suppose, along a dark passage-way, until he comes to the 
door of a gloomy dungeon. The keeper removes the heavy 
rusty bars, and unbolts and unlocks the door, and as he opens 
it, he hears the unexpected sounds of mirth and revelry 
within. 

As he enters, he sees the wretched-looking inmates lying 
around the cold stone floor, upon their beds of straw. In a 
comer sit some, with wild and haggard looks, relating to each 
other, with noisy but imnatural mirth, the profane jest or im- 
moral story. In the middle of the room two are quarreUing 
for a morsel of food which each claims, filling the air with 
their dreadful oaths and imprecations. Near the door lies 
a miserable object half covered in his tattered garment, and 
endeavouring in vain to get a little sleep. A small grated 
window, high in the wall, admits a dim light, just sufficient 
to reveal to view the objects which compose the scene of 
vice and misery. 

The quarrellers and the rioters pause a moment, each re- 
taining his attitude, and listen while the messenger firom the 
senate lays before them the ofi>er of forgiveness and freedom. 
They gaze upon him for a few minutes with vacant looks^ 
but before he has fairly finished his message, the angry com- 
batants recommence their war, — the story-teller in the 
comer goes on with his narrative, — ^the sleeper composes 
himself again to rest, — and perhaps, some fierce and angry- 
looking criminal comes up to him and says, in a stem voice 
of defiance, " Away, — you have no business here." 

Do you think that these prisoners would be liberated for 
the sake of Regulus ? No ! The bolts and bars must be 
closed upon them again, and they must bear their sentence 
to the full. — ^This is the way that multitudes receive the 
offers of forgiveness through Jesus Christ. 

Once more. Suppose this messenger were to meet, in 
some part of the prison, one of the convicts walking back 
and forth alone in his cell, and should repeat to him the 
story which he was commissioned to bring. 

*' Forgiveness for the sake of Regulus !" says he, with a 
tone of scorn : — ^* I want no forgiveness on account of an- 
other ; you have no right to shut me up here for any thing I 
have done. It is unjust and cruel. I demand release on my 
own account, — ^without any condition, or any acknowledg- 
ment of ray dependance for it upon the sufferings of another." 



EVIDENCES OP CHBISTIANITY. 187 

Now if tlie messenger should meet i^-ith tlie exhibition of 
such a spirit as this^ he would turn away and close the holts 
and bars of the prison again upon such a convict^ and seek 
subjects of mercy elsewhere. God, too, requires of us all a 
humbled and subdued spirit, and willingness to accept of 
pardon in the name of Jesus Christ who died for us. We 
must come with the spirit which I first described ; — the 
spirit of the convict who said, 

'^ I am grateful to the Roman senate for oiSering to par- 
don me for the sake of Regulus. I was really guilty of the 
crime for which I was sentenced, and the term of my im- 
prisonment is not longer than I justly deserve. But I 
am glad to be restored to freedom's happiness now. I shall 
always be grateful to the senate, and shall cherish the me- 
mory of Regulus as long as f Hve." 

Before dismissing this illustration, I wish to remind my 
readers again, that I have been endeavouring to exhibit 
by it the spirit of mind with which we ought to receive the 
ofi^er of mercy through Jesus Christ, — not the nature of 
the atonement which he has made for sin. The case I have 
imagined could not safely occur in any human government, 
because there would be no way of ascertaining who, among 
the convicts, were truly penitent, and were really deter- 
mined on leading a life of virtue in future. Several other 
difficulties which in God's government do not exist, are 
unavoidable in every human empire. The spirit of mirid 
with which the oflPer of free forgiveness in Jesus' name is 
welcomed or refused, is all which I design this case to ex- 
plain. If the heart is really ready to acknowledge its guilt, 
and willing to accept of pardon which it does not deserve, 
the offer of a Saviour is most admirably calculated to restore 
peace of conscience, and heal a wounded spirit. And no- 
thing but the Bible can make such an offer. Thus one of 
the most powerful means by which it changes character, is 
by awakening the sensibilities of the heart, thrbugh the ex- 
hibition of a Saviour crucified for our sins ; and leading us 
to feel that we may be forgiven, and the obligation and 
authority of the law we have broken be yet sustained. 

5. Ihese changes of character are often attended with 
strong excitement^ and sometimes with mental delusion. My 
readers recollect that the first convict saw, at one time, a 



188 YOITNG CHRISTIAN. 

black coffin, according to his statement ; and at another, he 
was addressed by an audible voice in his cell, telling him 
that his sins were pardoned. Those two circumstances were 
what chiefly induced me to insert that narrative, that I 
might bring up distinctly this point, viz., that the changes of 
character produced by the Bible are often attended by mental 
delusion in little things, especially among those minds that 
have been but little disciplined by philosophical thought I 
could not have a fair specimen without including an example 
of this. 

The human mind is so constituted, as all who have 
studied its nature are fully aware, that when any subject 
of great interest, or any strong emotion, takes possession 
of it, it operates immediately upon the body, — producing 
sometimes animal excitement and sometimes delusions of 
the senses ; so that these very delusions and this very bodily 
excitement, prove the greatness and the reality of the emo- 
tions of heart which have occasioned them. If a man 
becomes very much interested in any scheme, how likely 
he is to become enthusiastic in it. And this enthusiasm 
the public usually consider as proving, not disproving, his 
sincerity. It indicates the strength of the interest which 
he feels. It is astonishing what extravagances people will 
put up with from men engaged in the prosecution of favour- 
ite plans, and wiU consider them as pleasant indications of 
the strength of the interest which is felt Brindley, a 
famous canal engineer, was so much interested in his 
favourite mode of transportation, that he used to express 
the opinion, that a canal was far more valuable to a coun- 
try than a navigable river. He was once asked what he 
supposed Providence intended in creating rivers. He said 
they were good for nothing but to feed canals. And this 
story has been copied by every biographer of Brindley ; it 
has been told again and again in lectures and conversations 
and debates, as a pleasant instance of extravagance in a 
man devoted to a favourite pursuit, which proves nothing 
but the greatness of the interest he feels in it Nobody 
ever thought the worse of Brindley for it, or distrusted his 
judgment on any point in the science of engineering. Mil-' 
lions were risked on his opinion while he was living, and 
his name is remembered with the highest respect So 
Christians of uncultivated mind will be sometimes ^xtra- 



EVIDENCES OP GHRISTIANITT. 189 

Tagant in their opinions or in their conduct, and only show 
by it the strength of the interest they feel. 

A man who is inventing a machme will get so excited 
that he cannot sleep. He will^ perhaps, in his efforts to ob- 
tain a repose^ fall into an uncertain state, between sleeping 
and waking, in which, half in reverie and half in dream, 
fancy will present him with splendid images of success. He 
will hear a voice, or see a figure, — or he will be assiu'ed by 
some extraordinary mode that he shall overcome all his 
difficulties, if he will persevere. In the morning, light and 
the full possession of his faculties return, and as he is ge- 
nerally a man of intelligence, he can analyze the operations 
of his mind, and separate the false from the true. If he 
was an unenlightened man, however, and should in the 
morning tell his story, how narrow would be the philosophy 
which would say to him, " Sir, it is all a delusion. Your 
mind is evidently turned. You had better give up your 
invention, and return to other pursuits." It would be a 
great deal more wise to neglect altogether the story of super- 
natural voices and appearances which he might tell, and 
judge of the value of his proposed invention by examining 
impartially his plan itself, and calculating on sober evidence 
the probability of success or failure. 

So, my reader^ when you hear of any thing which you 
deem extravagance or delusion among Christians, remember 
how immense a change the beginning of a Christian course 
sometimes is. The man has been all his life neglecting and . 
disliking religion. He has been engrossed in sinful pursuits 
and pleasures, and perhaps addicted to open vice. All at 
once the Bible opens his eyes — ^shows him his guilt and his 
imminent danger of ruin. He is, and he must be strongly 
excited. If he feels in any sense his condition he cannot 
sleep. Can an arrested malefactor sleep quietly the first night 
in his cell ? He must be strongly excited, and this excite- 
ment must, in many cases, bring some temporary mental de- 
lusion. He must do and say many things in which the 
calm spectators cannot sympathize. But it is most certainly 
very unphilosophical to fasten upon these, and say it is all 
delusion and wildness. The real question to be considered 
is this ; Is a bad character really changed for a good one f 
If 80^ it is a great moral change, invaluable in its nature and 
results, productive of inconceivable good to the individual 



190 YOUNG CHBISTIAN. 

himself^ and to all connected with him. The delusion isi 
momentary and harmless. In regard to the permanency of 
the change in the case of those convicts, there is one whose 
subsequent character I have no means of knowing. The 
other, however, when he was liberated, became a useful and 
respectable citizen ; and after sustaining uninjured for two 
or three years the temptations of the world, he was admit- 
ted to a Christian church, and up to the latest accounts 
which I have been able to obtain, he was a most trust- 
worthy man and an exemplary Christian. An abandoned 
profligate, imprisoned for his crimes, becomes a useful citi- 
zen and a virtuous man. Can you expect such a change 
without excitement ? How unphilosophical then is it to 
fasten upon the slight and momentary indications of it, as 
evidence that there is nothing real in the case. 

And yet, unphilosophical as this is, I have no doubt that 
there are many persons whose eyes, if they were reading the 
first convict's story, would catch at once the accounts of 
the supernatural appearances which he thought he saw, and 
they would stop short there. " Ah !" they would say, " he 
heard a voice forgiving his sins ; — he saw a black cofi&n ! — 
It is all fanaticism and delusion." This is narrow-minded- 
ness. The intellect which reasons thus is in such a state that 
it does not take a survey of the whole of a subject present- 
ed, so as to form an independent and unbiassed opinion. 
The man fastens upon one little blemish, which happens to 
be turned towards him, and seeing no farther, he condemns 
the whole. Like the inexperienced mariner, who thinks he 
has come to a barren and inhospitable land, because he 
sees nothing but precipitous rocks or sandy beaches on the 
shore which first comes to view. 

There is, however, a narrow-mindedness which may ope- 
rate in another way. Many a sincere Christian will read 
such an account, and be perfectly satisfied, because he meets 
with a few expressions of penitence, that the convict's heart 
is really changed. He thinks the criminal has certainly 
become a Christian, just because he talks like one. Where- 
as it is very possible that he is only repeating language 
which he has heard others use, for the sake of exciting 
sympathy, or pretending to be reformed in hope of pardon 
and release from his cell. Now it is as narrow-minded to 
judge from a very partial knoi/t ledge of facts in one way as 



EVIDENCES OF CHRISTIANITY. 191 

in another. An experienced Christian con indeed often 
form a tolerably safe opinion of the reality or fictitiousness 
of a pretended change, by conversation. But the great de- 
cisiye evidence, after all, b perseverance in a holy life, 

K, then, men who have been abandoned to vice become 
virtuous and trustworthy citizens, and exemplify, for years, 
the graces of the Christian character, we will put up with a 
little excitement and even delusion at the time of the change. 
For it is, after all, of comparatively little consequence whe- 
ther this excitement shows itself by some open manifestation, 
as by the black coffin rising to the disturbed imagination of 
the convict in his cell, or the loud shout, " Glory to God," 
which resounds in the Methodist camp, — or whether it is 
subdued and restrained as in the still solemnity of an in- 
quiry meeting on the evening of the Sabbath, — or in the so- 
litary sufFering of an awakened sinner mourning at midnight 
the burden of his sins. Remember that I say it is of little 
consequence, — not that it is of none. It wovdd be better if 
men would follow Jesus as readily and as easily as Matthew 
did. Jesus said \mto him, ^' Arise and follow me, and he 
arose and followed him." Immediate submission, with cor- 
dial confidence in the Saviour, will remove all mental suf- 
fering,, and all cause for it, at once and for ever. But if men 
will only give up their sins, and lead lives of actual piety, 
we will not quarrel with them about the manner in which 
they enter the new way. 

Such, then, are some of the effects of the Bible upon hu- 
man character considered in detail. I have thought it best, 
in order to show the moral power of this book as distinctly 
as possible, to analyze thus minutely the operation of it in 
some particular cases. But the argument would be very de- 
ficient if I should leave it here — ^for if these cases were un- 
common, they would prove but little. But they are not un- 
common. Even in prisons, a very large number of such 
cases have, as I have already stated, occurred, and the sub- 
jects of such changes have gone, when they have been li- 
berated, in peace and happiness to their homes. There are 
now scattered over our vast land, numbers who have been 
brought from every stage and degree of guilt to seek pardon 
through the Saviour, and to begin a life of virtue and piety. 
The influence of the Bible, too, upon the community at large 



192 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

is 80 great, that every country where it freely circulates is 
distinguished for the peace which reigns there. Vice is com- 
paratively unknown, property and life are safe, every man 
sits under his own vine and fig-tree, with none to molest or 
make him afraid. But when man is left to himself, he 
makes his home a den of robbers. K you travel on the 
Nile, or the Tigris, you must look well to your means of 
defence. Men must go in caravans in all those regions, for 
mutual protection. But how would an armed escort for a 
traveller appear, on the banks of the Connecticut or the 
Hudson? 

And yet, though benefits so great are procured to society 
by the Bible, they are procured, after all, only by a limited 
application of its moral power. It is a very small propor- 
tion of the whole population, even in the United States, 
which attends at all to the conmiands and instructions of 
the word of God. The numbers are, however, rapidly in- 
creasing. The cause of God is advancing with great rapid- 
ity, and as a military despotism or a Christian government 
must be the ultimate destiny of every nation, we can look 
only to the spread of the influence of the Bible to save our 
country from ruin. 

I will close this chapter by mentioning one more instance 
of the moral power of the Bible. It is its effect in destroy- 
ing the fear of death. The fear of death is instinctive, not 
founded on reasoning. It is reasonable for us to fear some 
things connected with death, but the chief apprehension 
which every man feels in looking forward to that hour, is 
the result of an instinctive principle which Providence has 
implanted in every man's mind ; and the only way by 
which it can be counteracted, without the Bible, is by ban- 
ishing the subject from the thoughts. That is the way that 
soldiers acquire courage in battle, — by accustoming them- 
selves not to think of death at all. It is not in human na- 
ture to contemplate its approach, habitually and calmly, 
without such a preparation as the Bible gives. 

Come in imagination to this sick-chamber. That young 
man tossing restlessly upon his pillow is soon to die. His 
physicians have given him over. His friends despair, but 
by a most absurd and preposterous species of kindness, they 
will not tell him of his danger, for they know he is unpre- 
])ared to die, and the knowledge of the approach of the 



EVIDENCES OP CHRISTIANITY. 193 

dread hour tHey think will distress him ! But the sad secret 
thej cannot conceal ; — ^he reads his sentence in their anx- 
ious looks and agitated words — his pale cheek turns paler 
with fear^ — and to the natural restlessness of disease there 
is added the oyerwhelming agitations of mental anguish. 
Can you soothe him ? Can you calm him ? Your very 
effort reveals to him his danger more distinctly^ and his 
heart sinks within him in hopeless terror. Sometimes, it is 
true, this fear of death does not reign in the heart at the 
closing hour, for reason may he gone, or the soul may sink 
into stupor. But when death is really foreseen and known 
to he near, while the faculties retain their power, the ex- 
pectation of it weighs down the human spirit with over- 
whelming fears. 

But the Bihle tells us that the sting of death is sin, and 
that Christ will give believers the victory over it. The 
Bible most faithfully keeps this promise. See that dying 
Christian mother. She knows that death is near, and has 
calmly made all her arrangements for the closing scene.— 
She is a Christian, and looks forward to an entrance into 
the world of spirits with no foreboding and no anxiety. 
Her husband, and children, and friends, stand in agitation 
and distress around her bed-side, but she is caim, A 
Christian death- bed very often exhibits the astonishing 
spectacle of composure and happiness in the one who is to 
drink the cup, while those around, who are only witnesses 
of the scene, are overwhelmed in agitation and sorrow. 
The very one who is to encounter the suffering is the only 
one who can look forward to it mthout fear. It is because 
the Bible has been shedding its influences upon her heart, 
and by a moral power, which no other means can exert, 
has disarmed death, the very king of terrors, and given to 
a weak and suffering mortal the victory over all his power. 
But I must close this chapter, and vnth it close the short 
and simple view I have been endeavouring to give of the 
evidences of Christianity. The book is designed as an il- 
lustration of Christian duty, not of Christian truth, I do 
not, therefore, go far into subjects of this nature. It is so 
necessary, however, for the peace and happiness of a young 
Christian that his mind should rest calmly and firmly upon 
a belief that the Christian religion does really come from 
heaven, that I have thought it would be useful to give thia 

N 



194 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

subject a place. I cannot but hope that my readers see 
evidence enough to satisfy them that the Bible is really the 
word of God. If you do, lay up the conviction in your 
heart, and let it guide and influence you. But let me, be- 
fore I dismiss the subject, give you two or three short prac- 
tical directions. 

1. Do not think there is no other side to this question. 
There are a great many things which may be said against 
the Bible, and some things which you cannot answer. But 
they do not touch or affect the great arguments by which the 
authority of the Bible is sustained. They are all small, de- 
tached difficulties. This is a fundamental point. Some of 
these difficulties can be satisfactorily removed ; others can- 
not. And it is no matter if they cannot. When some dif- 
ficulty, such as the difference between the genealogy of 
Christ, as given by Matthew and by Luke, is presented to 
you, do not be too anxious to explain it. Acknowledge 
that it is a difficulty, and let your mind, instead of being 
thrown into a fever by a vain effort to understand what you 
have not philological or historical knowledge enough to in- 
vestigate, just say, " I do not imderstand that point," and 
then let your mind rest, calmly and with confidence, upon 
the great but simple arguments on which the strong found- 
ations of your belief stand. 

2. Never dispute with any body upon the evidences of 
the Christian religion. The difficulty with unbelievers is 
one of the heart, not of the intellect, and you cannot alter 
the heart by disputing. When they present you with ar- 
guments against Christianity, reply in substance, '' What 
you say seems plausible, and I have no particular answer 
to it. Still it does not reach the broad and deep foun- 
dations upon which, in my view, Christianity rests ; and 
consequently, notwithstanding what you say, I still place 
confidence in the word of God." 

3. Notice this, which, if you wiU watch your own expe- 
rience, you will find to be true. Your confidence in the 
word of God, and in the truths of religion, will be almost 
exactly proportional to the fidelity with which you do your 
duty. When you lose your interest in your progress in 
piety — and neglect prayer and wander into sin — then you 
will begin to be in darkness and doubt. If you are so un- 
happy as to get into such a state, do not waste your time 



STUDir OP TUK BIBLE. 195 

in trying to reason yourself hack to belief again. Return 
to duty. Come to God, and confess your wanderings, and 
make peace with him. If you do this, light for the intel- 
lect and peace for the heart will come back together. 



CHAPTER VIII. 



STUDY OF THE BIBLE. 



"Able to make wise unto salvation.** 

It is not my intention in this chapter to give any descrip- 
tion of the Bible itself, or of its history since it came into 
the world. Nor shall I endeavour to establish its divine 
authority, or present the evidences or the nature of its in- 
spiration. My object is to point out practical duty, and 
I shall confine myself to a description of the best methods 
of reading and studying the book. 

I ought, however, to remark at the outset, that I intend 
the chapter to be of a highly practical character, and I shall 
go accordingly into minute detail. Besides, I am writing 
for the young, and shall, as I have generally done in this 
book, confine myself exclusively to them ; for I have much 
more hope that they will be influenced to follow the course 
which I shall endeavour to describe, than that my efforts 
will produce any good effect upon those who have gone be* 
yona the meridian of life. If a man has passed the age of 
thirty without the Bible, it is to be feared that he wiU go 
on imaided by its light through the remainder of his pil- 
grimage. It is different, however, with the young. You 
shrink from passing life in impiety. You know that the 
Bible can be the only safe lamp to your feet, and if you are 
not now living by its light, there is hope that you may be 
persuaded to come and give yourself iip to its guidaxic^. 



196 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

There should be a distinction made between the manner 
of reading the Bible on the Sabbath and during the bustle 
of the week. The two objects to be accomplished and the 
method of accomplishing them I shall describe. 

1. On the Sabbath, the Bible should be studied. Every 
person, old or young, ignorant or learned, should devote a 
portion of time every Sabbath, to the studi/ of the Scriptures, 
in the more strict and proper sense of that term. But to 
show precisely what I mean by this weekly study of the 
Bible, I will describe a particular case. A young man, with 
only such opportunities as are possessed by all, resolves to 
take this course. He selects the Epistle to the Ephesians 
for his first subject. He obtains such books and helps as 
he finds in his own family, or as he can obtain from a re- 
ligious friend, or procure from a Sabbath school library. 
It is not too much to suppose that he will have a sacred 
Atlas, some Commentary, and probably, a Bible Dictionary. 
He should also have pen, ink and paper, and thus provided, 
he sits down. Sabbath morning, to his work. He raises a 
short but heart-felt prayer to God that he will assist and 
bless him, and then commences his inquiries. 

The Epistle to the Ephesians I have supposed to be his 
subject. He sees that the first question evidently is, '^ mho 
rvere the Ephesians ?" He finds the city of Ephesus upon 
the map, and from the preface to the Epistle, contained in 
the Commentary, or from any other source to which he can 
have access, he learns what sort of a city it was, — what was 
the character of the inhabitants, and if possible, ivhat con- 
dition the city was in at the time this letter was written. 
He next inquires in re^xd to the writer of this letter, or 
Epistle as it is called. It was Paul ; and what did Paul 
know of the Ephesians ? had he ever been there ? or was 
he writing to strangers ? To settle these points, so evident- 
ly important to a correct understanding of the letter, he ex- 
amines the Acts of the Apostles, which contains Paul's life, 
to learn whether Paul went there ; if so, what happen- 
ed while he was there. He finds that many interesting in- 
cidents occurred during Paul's visits, and his curiosi^ is 
excited to know whether these things will be alluded to in 
the letter. He next endeavours to ascertain where Paul 
was when he wrote the letter ; and after having thus ascer- 
tained every thing relating to the circumstances of the case, 



STUDY OF THE BIliLEr 197 

he is prepared to come to the Epistle itself, and enter with 
spirit and interest into an examination of its contents. 

He first glances his eye cursorily through the chapters of 
the hookj that he may take in at once a general view of its 
object and design — perhaps he makes out a brief list of the 
topics discussed^ and thus has a distinct general idea of the 
whole, before he enters into a minute examination of the 
parts. This minute examination he comes to at last — though 
perhaps the time devoted to the study for two or three Sab- 
baths is spent in the preparatory inquiries. If it is so, it is 
time well spent, for by it he is now prepared to enter with 
interest into the very soul and spirit of the letter. While he 
was ignorant of those points, his knowledge of the Epistle 
itself must have been very vague and superficial. Suppose 
I were now to introduce into this book a letter, and should 
begin at once, without saying by whom the letter was 
written, or to whom it was addressed. It would be pre- 
posterous. If I wished to excite your interest, I should 
describe particularly the parties, and the circumstances 
which produced the letter originally. And yet, how many 
Christians there are who could not tell whether Paul's 
letter to the Ephesians was written before or after he went 
there, or where Titus was when Paul wrote to him, and for 
what special purpose he wrote. 

Take another case. The father or mother whom Provi- 
dence has placed at the head of a family contrive to close 
their worldly business at an early hour on Saturday evening, 
and gather around the table, at their fireside, all those who 
are committed to their charge. They choose some subject 
for examination, — ^real, thorough examination. Perhaps it 
is the rebuilding of Jerusalem after the captivity. The va- 
rious books calculated to assist their inquiries are distributed 
among the members of the group. The reference Bible is 
given to one — the Concordance to another — Scott or Dod- 
dridge, or Henry, to the third — ^the Bible Dictionary to the 
fourth; and then, when all are seated, and the Divine blessing 
has been asked upon their labours, the father asks them all to 
turn to any part of the Scriptures which gives information 
upon the subject. They examine first the account of the 
destruction of the city, when the Jews were carried captive, 
that they may know in what condition it was probably 
found on their return. They search in several books for an 



198 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

account of the first movements in Babylon of those who 
were desirous of return — examine the plans they formed — 
compare one account with another ; — every question which 
occurs is asked^ and the information which it seeks for ob- 
tained. The two expeditions of Ezra and Nehemiah are 
examined — the object of each, and the connexion between 
them. Under the control of a judicious parent, even secular 
history might be occasionally referred to, to throw light 
upon the subject. We may properly avail ourselves of any 
helps of this kind, so far as their tendency is really to throw 
light upon the sacred volume. The children of the family 
soon take a strong interest in the study, — ^their inquiries are 
encouraged — their curiosity is awakened, — ^they regard it a 
pleasure, not a task. Instead of the evening of Saturday, the 
afternoon or the evening of the Sabbath, if more conve- 
nient, may be used ; and if the children are members of a 
Sabbath school, their next lesson may be the subject 
Those accustomed to the use of the pen will derive great 
advantage from writing, each evening, notes or abstracts, 
expressing in a concise and simple style the new knowledge 
they have acquired ; and every difficulty should be notcid, 
that it may be presented at some convenient opportunity to 
some other Christian student, to the superintendant of the 
Sabbath school, or to a minister of the gospel. 

This method of studying the Scriptures, which I have 
thus attempted to describe, and which I might illustrate by 
supposing many other cases, is not intended for one class 
alone. Not for the ignorant peculiarly — ^nor for the wise ; 
Not for the rich — ^nor for the poor ; but for all. The soli- 
tary widow, in her lonely cottage among the distant moun- 
tains, with nothing but her simple Bible in her hand, by the 
light of her evening fire, may pursue this course of compar- 
ing Scripture with Scripture — and entering into the spirit of 
sacred story — throwing herself back to ancient times, and 
thus preparing herself to grasp more completely and feel 
more vividly the moral lessons which the Bible is mainly 
intended to teach. And the most cultivated scholar may 
pursue this course, in his quiet study, surrounded by all the 
helps to a thorough knowledge of the Scriptures which 
learning can produce or wealth obtain. 

I hope the specimens I have given are sufficient to con- 
vey to my readers the general idea I have in view, when I 



STUDY OF THE BIBLE. 199 

speak of studying the Bible in contradistinction from the 
mere cursory reading of it, which is so common among Chris- 
tians. But I must illustrate in minute detail the various 
methods of doing this ; for there are many persons who 
really wish to study the Bible more intellectually, and to 
receive more vivid impressions from it, but who really do 
not know exactly what they are to do to secure these ob- 
jects. I shall therefore describe some of the means which 
can easily be adopted, and which will be very efficient for 
this purpose. 

1. Picturing to the imagination the scenes described 

There is a very common difficulty felt by multitudes in read- 
ing the Bible, which admits of so sure and easy a remedy 
by the above direction, that I cannot avoid devoting a few 
paragraphs to the formal consideration of it. A person who 
is convinced that it is his duty to read the word of God 
and who really desires to read it, and to receive instruction 
from it, sits down on the Sabbath to the work. He opens, 
perhaps, to a passage in the gospels, and reads on, verse 
after verse. The phraseology is all perfectly £imiHar. He 
has read the same passage a hundred times before, and the 
words fall upon his ear like an old famiHar sound, producing 
no impression, and awakening no idea. After going on a 
few verses, he finds that he is making no real progress ; 
perhaps his mind has left his work altogether, and is wan- 
dering to some other subject. He begins back therefore a 
few verses, and endeavours to become interested in the nar- 
rative ; but it is to little purpose, and after spending half an 
hour in his reading, he shuts his book, and instead of feel- 
ing that renewed moral strength and peace of mind which 
comes from the proper use of the word of God, he feels dis- 
appointed and dissatisfied, and returns to his other duties 
more unquiet in spirit than before. What a vast proportion 
of the reading of the Bible, as practised in Chiistian coun- 
tries, does this description justly pourtray. 

Now, some one may say that this careless and useless 
study of Grod's word arises from a cold and indiflfereut state 
of heart towards God. It does unquestionably often arise, 
to a great degree, from this source, but not entirely. There 
is another difficulty, not connected with the moral state of 
the heart. It is this : 

Words that have been often repeated gradually lose their 



200 rOUNO CHRISTIAN. 

power to awaken vivid ideas in the mind. The clock which 
has struck perhaps many thousand times in your room, 
you at last cease even to hear. On the walls of a school- 
room there was once painted in large letters, ^* a place 

FOR EVERY THING, AND EVERY THING IN ITS PLACE," but 

after a little time, the pupils, becoming familiar with the 
sight of the inscription, lost altogether its meaning, and a 
boy would open his disorderly desk, and look among the 
confused mass of books and slates and papers there, for 
some article he had lost, and then as he looked roimd the 
room, his eyes would fall on the conspicuous motto without 
thinking a moment of the incongruity between its excellent 
precept and his own disorderly practice. It is always so. 
The oft-repeated sound falls at last powerless and unheeded 
on the ear. 

The difficulty, then, which I am now to consider is, that 
in reading the Bible, especially those portions which are 
familiar, we stop with merely repeating once more the rvords, 
instead of penetrating fully to the meaning beyond. In 
order to illustrate this difficulty and its remedy more fiJly, 
Jet me take a passage, for example the sixth chapter of St 
John, to which I have opened at random. 

^' After these things Jesus went over the sea of Galilee, 
which is the sea of Tiberias. 

" And a great multitude followed him, because they saw 
his miracles which he did on them that were diseased." 

How familiar, now, this sounds to every reader. Every 
phrase comes upon the ear like an oft-told tale, but it makes 
a very sHght impression upon the mind. The next verse, 
though perhaps few of my readers know now what it is, 
will sound equally familiar when they read it here. 

^^ And Jesus went up into a mountain, and there he sat 
with his disciples." 

Now, suppose this passage, and the verses which follow it, 
were read at morning prayers by the master of a family, 
how many of the children would hear it without being in- 
terested in it at all, or receiving any clear and vivid ideas 
from the description. And how many would there be, who, 
if they were asked two hours afterwards what had been 
read that morning, would be utterly unable to tell. 

But now suppose that this same father could, by some 
magic power, show to his children the real scene which these 



STUDY OP THB BIBLE. 201 

verses could describe. Suppose he could go back through 
the eighteen hundred years which have elapsed since these 
events occurred, and, taking his family to some elevation in 
the romantic scenery of Palestine, from which they might 
overlook the country of Galilee, actually see all that this 
chapter describes. 

"Do you see," he might say, "that wide sea which 
spreads out beneath us, and occupies the whole extent of 
the valley ? That is the sea of Tiberias ; it is also called 
the sea of Galilee. All this country which spreads around 
it is Galilee. Those distant mountains are in Galilee, and 
that beautiful wood which skirts the shore is a Galilean 
forest." 

" Why is it called the sea of Tiberias ?" a child might 
ask. 

" Do you see at the foot of that hill, on the opposite 
shore of the lake, a small town ? It extends along the 
margin of the water for a considerable distance : that is 
Tiberias, and the lake sometimes takes its name. 

" But look. Do you see that small boat coming round 
a point of land which juts out beautifully from this side of 
the lake ? It is slowly making its way across the water ; 
we can almost hear the plashing of the oars. It contains 
the Saviour and some of his disciples. They are steering 
towards Tiberias, — ^now they approach the shore, — they 
stop at the landing, and the Saviour, followed by his dis- 
ciples, walks up upon the shore." 

Suppose now that this party of observers can remain a 
little longer at their post, and see in a short time that some 
sick person is brought to the Saviour to be healed. An- 
other and another comes. A crowd gradually collects 
around him. He retreats slowly up the rising ground, and 
after a Uttle time he is seen to take his place upon an ele- 
vated spot, where he can overlook and address the throng 
which has collected around him. 

If this could be done, how strong and how lasting an im- 
pression would be made upon those minds. Years, and per- 
haps the whole of life itself, would not obliterate the impres- 
sion. Even this faint description, though it brings nothing 
new to the mind, will probably make a much stronger and 
more lasting impression than merely reading the narration 
would do. And what is the reason ? How is it that what 



202 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

1 have here said has impressed this scene upon your minds 
more distinctly than the simple language of the Bible? 
Why, it is only because I have endeavoured to lead you to 
picture this scene to your minds — to conceive of it strongly 
and clearly. Now, any person can do this for himself, in 
regard to any passage of Scripture. It is not necessary 
that I should go on and delineate in this maimer the whole 
of the account. Each reader can^ if he will task his ima- 
gination, paint for himself the scenes which the Bible de- 
scribes. And if he does bring his intellect and his powers 
of conception to the work, and read not merely to repeat 
formally and coldly sounds already familiar, but to bring 
vivid and clear conceptions to his mind of all which is re- 
presented there, he will be interested. He will find new and 
striking scenes coming up continually to view, and mil be 
surprised at the novelty and interest which this simple and 
easy effort will throw over those very portions of the Bible 
to which the ear has become most completely familiar. 

I wish now that every one of my readers would really 
try this experiment. It will do very little good merely to 
read the foregoing directions, and resolve generally to try 
in future to form vivid and clear conceptions of what is de- 
scribed when you are reading. You must make a particular 
effort to learn to do this. Now, the next time you sit down 
to reading the Bible, turn to the fifth chapter of the Gospel 
according to St. Luke, and picture to yourself as vividly as 
possible the scene described there. Do not think of a shore 
in general, but conceive of some particular shore. Give it 
shape and form. Let it be rocky or sandy, or high or low 
— ^bordered with woods or with hills, or with meadows. 
Let it be something distinct. You may, if you please, con- 
ceive it to be a long sandy beach, with a lofty bank and a 
verdant field behind ; — or you may have it an open wood 
sloping gradually down to the water's edge, — or a rocky, 
irregular coast full of indentations, — or a deep and narrow 
bay whose shores are overhimg with willows. Let it assume 
either of these forms, or any other which your fancy may 
pourtray, and which may suit the circumstances of the nar- 
rative ; only let it be something distinct — clear and distinct 
in all its parts, so that if you had power to represent upon 
canvass, by painting, the conceptions of your mind, you 
might execute a perfect picture of the whole scene. 



STUDY OP THfi BIBLB. 203 

To do this prt)perly will require time and thougHt. You 
must be alone, or at least uninterrupted, and your first effort 
■will be a difficult one. The power of forming clear and 
vivid conceptions of this kind varies greatly indifferent in- 
dividuals. The faculty can, however, be cultivated and 
strengthened by exercise. Historical painters, that is, 
painters of historical scenes, are enabled to produce very 
great effects by the possession of this power. West, foi 
example, formed in his own mind a clear, and vivid, and 
interesting conception of the scene which was exhibited 
when the crowd of angry Jews rejected the Saviour and 
called for his crucifixion. He painted this scene, and the 
great picture which he thus produced has been gazed at 
with intense interest by many thousands. 

I saw this picture in the gallery of the Athenaeum at 
Boston. The gallery is a large and lofty apartment, lighted 
by windows above, and containing seats for hundreds. As 
I came up the stairs which lead into the room, and stepped 
from them upon the floor of the apartment, I found a large 
company assembled. The picture, which was, as I shomd 
suppose, ten or fifteen feet long, stood against one side of 
the apartment, and before it, arranged upon the seats, were 
the assembled spectators, who were gazing with intense in- 
terest, and almost in perfect silence, upon the scene. As 
we came forward before the canvass, we felt the same so- 
lemn impression which had silenced the others ; and it was 
interesting and affecting to observe, as party after party 
came up the stairs, talking with usual freedom, that their 
voices gradually died away, and they stood silent and sub- 
dued before the picture of the Saviour. 

Yes ; there stood the Saviour in the middle of the picture, 
— ^passive and resigned, and with a coimtenance whose ex- 
pression plainly said that his thoughts were far away. The 
Roman governor stood before his palace, endeavouring to 
persuade the mob to consent to their prisoner s release. The 
uncovered and hard-featured soldiery sat at his feet upon the 
cross, which they had been carrying, and were holding in 
their hands the spikes with which the limbs of the innocent 
one before them were to be pierced. All the other attend- 
ant circumstances were most vividly and strikingly repre- 
sented. The mob were there, with fury, and rage, and hate, 
in every variety, upon their countenances. Barabbas was 



204 rOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

there, with his look of hardened and unsuhdu^d guilt, — dnd 
the centurion's little daughter, whose life Jesus had saved, 
stood hy her father, apparently entreating "him to interpose 
his power to rescue her preserver. 

Now, West must have possessed, in order to succeed in 
executing such a work, the power, first, of forming a clear 
mental conception of the scene, and, secondly, of represent- 
ing this scene by colours on the canvass. The former of 
these only is the one necessary for the object I have above 
described ; and you ought, while reading accounts of Scrip- 
ture scenes, to form as vivid and distinct conceptions of the 
scenes described as if you were actually intending to repre- 
sent them by the pencil. -^ 

2. Writing questions. A young man, with pen and pa- 
per before him, sits down, I will suppose, to the examination 
of some portion of the Bible, intending to write questions 
upon the passage, such as he would ask if he were hearing 
a class in a Sabbath school recite the passage. Suppose he 
opens at the account of Abraham's offering Isaac. 

The following is the passage. I copy it that the reader 
may the better imderstand the questions. 

1. And it came to pass after these things, that God did tempt 
Abraham, and said imto him, Abraham. And he said, Behold, here 
I am. 

2. And he said, Take now thy son, thine only son Isaac, whom thou 
lovest, and get thee into the land of Moriah ; and offer him there for 
a burnt-offering upon one of the mountains which I will tcU thee of. 

3. And Abraham rose up early in the morning, and saddled his ass, 
and took two of his young men with him, and Isaac his son, and clave 
the wood for the burnt-offering, and rose up, and went unto the place 
of which God had told him. 

4. Then on the third day Abraham lifted up his eyes, and saw the 
place afar off. 

5. And Abraham said unto his young men, Abide ye here with the 
ass ; and I and the lad will go yonder and worship, and come again to 
you. 

He reads this narrative carefully, verse by verse, and 
writes a question for every important fact stated. Perhaps 
the questions might be somewhat as follows. The reader in 
examining them is particularly requested to compare the 
questions individually with the verses in which the answers 
ai*e contained. I ought also to remark, that I do not offer 



STUDY OP THE BIBLB. 205 

these as examples of good questions^ but only as a specimen 
of such as I suppose most young persons would write. 

1. To what land did God command Abraham to go to 
offer up his son ? 

2. How was he to be offered ? 

3. "Was he to be offered on a mountain ? 

4. How did Abraham travel ? 

5. What time did he set out ? 

6. How many attendants had he ? 

7. How long a journey was it ? 

8. What is stated in the fifth verse ? 

I have written these questions as I imagine they migbt 
be vmtten by intelligent young persons. Some of them are, 
however, evidently not good. A leading question ought not 
to be asked, i. e. one so written as to imply what the answer 
is. Nor ought it to be so written that the answer should be 
simply yes or no. No. 3 of the above is a leading question. 
No. 8, too, is a bad question. It is not important that one 
should remember what is told in any particular verse. It 
would have been better in some such form as this — 

8. What arrangement was made after they arrived at the 
mountain ? 

In order, however, that my readers might understand 
what is actually attainable by yoimg persons in such an 
exercise, I asked a boy to write for me some questions on 
Acts xix, and I insert them just as he gave them to me. It 
was his first attempt. 



When Apollos was at Corinth, what did Paul do ? 

Whom did he find there ? 

What did he say to them ? 

What answer did they make ? 

What did he then ask them ? 

What did they say ? 

What did Paul then say ? 

When they heard this, what did they do ? 

When Paul had laid his hands upon them, what happened ? 

How many men were they ? 

Where did Paul then go ? 

What did he do ? 

What did he do when diven were hardened ? 



206 - rOUNG CHKI8TIAN. 

For how long a time did this continue ? 

What happened to those who dwelt in Asia ? 

By whose hands did God perform special miracles ? 

In what manner did Paul heal the sick ? 

What is said in the 13th verse ? 

What is the meaning of exorcist ? 

How many were there that did so ? 

What did the evil spirit say ? 

What did the man in whom was the evil spirit do ? 

What did they do? 

To whom was this known ? 

What fell on them ? 

Whose name was magnified ? 

What did many do who believed ? 

What did many do who used curious arts ? 

After these things were ended, what did Paul design to do • 

Where did he say he must go after he had been there ? 

Whom did he send into Macedonia? 

What were their names ? 

Where did he stay? 

What happened at that time ? 

What was the cause of it ? 

Who was Demetrius ? 

What accusation did he bring against Paul ? 

What did he say was in danger ? 

What did they do when they heard these things ? 

What happened to the city ? 

What else did they do ? 

What kept Paul from going in to the people ? 

My readers will all see that these questions are many of 
them quite faulty. A second attempt, if the writer had read 
the remarks I have made^ or if he had actually tried his 
questions upon a class, would probably have been much 
better. 

If any person will attempt such an exercise as this, he will 
find it among one of the most efficient means of fixing upon 
his mind the facts contained in any portion of history, which 
he can possibly devise. In order to make out the question, 
you look at the fact in various aspects and relations. All its 
connexions are considered, and the mind becomes thorough- 
ly familiarized with it. For you will find, after a very little 
practice, that the same fact may be made the subject of a 
great nimiber of different questions, and looking at these, 
and choosing between them, is a most valuable intellectual 
exercise. Take, for instance, the very question I have 



8TUDT OF TUF BIBLB. 20? 

already spoken of, particularly No. 8. See how many dif- 
ferent questions, or rather in how many forms the same 
question can he asked, some had and some good, upon the 
single verse to which it relates. 

1. What did Abraham say to the young men when he 
reached the mountain ? 

2. What plan did Ahraham form when he reached the 
mountain ? 

3. Did all the party go together to the place where Isaac 
was to be offered ? 

4. How was the party divided when they reached the 
mountain ? 

5. How many persons went with Ahraham to the place 
of sacrifice ? 

6. When Ahraham went with Isaac alone to the place of 
sacrifice, what did he say he was going for ? 

7. When Abraham left the young men behind, to go 
with Isaac alone to the place of sacrifice, did he tell them 
what he was going to do ? 

8. What did he tell them he was going to do ? Was this 
the truth ? Was it the whole truth ? Are we always bound 
to tell the whole truth ? 

The reader will thus see that one and the same fact may 
be viewed in so many aspects and relations as to suggest a 
very large nimiher of questions. After a very little prac- 
tice, several questions will accordingly suggest themselves 
to any individual who attempts the exercise, at each verse. 
He will consider which to choose. He will, in thus con- 
sidering, necessarily view the fact stated under its various 
aspects, and acquire a far more thorough and permanent 
knowledge of it than is possible in any other way. So 
great is the advantage of this method of writing questions 
upon an author which the pupil desires thoroughly to un- 
derstand, that it is not unfrequently adopted in schools,-^ 
each pupil of a class being required to write questions up- 
on a part or upon the whole of a lesson, which questions 
are then read, and answered at the recitation. 

I fancy now that I can hear some one of my readers, of 
a mind somewhat mature, saying, " I will myself try this 
experiment, and after writing the questions, I will read them 
to some young members of the family, to see if they can 
find the answers.*' Perhaps the individual who resolve,^ ow 



208 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

this experiment is the head of a family, — a mother. She 
gathers her children around after the public services on the 
Sabbath, and says to them ; — " We will study a chapter in 
the Bible. / will study, and^oi^ shall study. I will read it 
carefully, and write in this little book all the questions I can 
think of, and you at the same time may read it attentively, 
and try to understand it and remember what it says. Then 
after tea we will gather around the table before our bright 
fire, and I will read my questions, and you may see if you 
can answer them/* 

The children enter with spirit into the plan. They gather 
together into a little circle, and read their lesson aloud, verse 
by verse, questioning each other in regard to its difficulties, 
and endeavouring to anticipate the questions which the mo- 
ther is preparing. Even the little Benjamin of the family 
is interested, who, though he can scarcely read, looks at- 
tentively upon his Bible with the large print, and hoping 
that there will be some easy question which will come to 
him. 

At the appointed hour they gather with eager interest to 
their recitation. The mother finds that many of her ques- 
tions are ambiguous, some too difficult, and others could not 
be answered from the fault of the scholars — still a large pro- 
portion are understood and answered. The moral lessons 
of the chapter are brought to view, and gently but forcibly 
impressed upon the heaii. 

Are you a Sabbath-school teacher? Lay aside your 
printed question-book for one Sabbath, and write questions 
yourself upon the lesson of the day. Then compare what 
you have written with those printed for your use. Strike 
out from your own list all which are upon the other, and 
carry the rest with you to your class, and say to your pupils 
somewhat as follows : — 

" I have been writing some new questions on this lesson. 
Now, I do not suppose you can answer many of them, be- 
cause you did not have them while you were studying. But 
should you like to have me read them to you and let you 
try?" 

You vnll, in such a case, find the curiosity and interest 
of your class strongly awakened ; and though your first ex- 
periment may not folly succeed, you may say to them, '' I 
iriJJ ^ynte some more for next week. When you are study- 



STUDY OP THE BIBLK. 201) 

ing your lessons then^ I should like to have you remember 
that I am writing other questions than those in the book^ 
and endeavour to understand and remember every fact 
stated in the lesson^ so that you can answer all my questions 
as well as the printed ones. I know that it will be hard^ 
but I presume you can do it." 

A Sabbath-school teacher who will make such efforts as 
these to make his work more intellectual^ and to interest 
himself and his pupils more deeply in the thorough study 
of their lessons^ will find that both himself and his pupils 
will advance with at least double rapidity. 

3. Re-writing portions of Scripture, Read or rather 
study some portion of Scripture thoroughly, and then write 
the substance of it in your own language. I can illustrate 
this best, perhaps, by repeating the following dialogue. It 
is, I will Suppose, Sabbath evening ; the family are going 
out, and one son, a boy of 14, is to be left at home. 

" What shall I do this evening ?" asks the son. 

" What should you like to do V* 

'' I don't know. I am to be all the evening alone, and I 
want something to employ my time.'* 

The father turns to the 5th chapter of Luke, and says : 

'' Take this chapter, read the first eleven verses, and form 
a clear and distinct conception of the whole scene, just as 
if you had witnessed it. Then write an account of it in 
your own language. Be careful to write entirely in your 
own language.** 

'* Must I not use the language of the Bible at all ?" 

" No. You have two separate things to do. First, read 
the account attentively and thoroughly, in order to form in 
your own mind a distinct picture of the whole. Try to see 
it as plainly as if you had stood upon the bank and actually 
looked down upon the whole transaction. Then shut your 
Bible, and write ^our own account of it, jnst as if you were 
writing a letter to me, and describing something which you 
had yourself seen." 

Now suppose the boy engages in this work in the man- 
ner described above, with how much more interest than 
usual will he read the passage. He will scrutinize it care- 
fully ; examine every circumstance of the narrative minute- 
ly, and notice many points of interest which would ordin- 
arily escape him. 





210 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

Once when I asked a lad^ under circumstances similar to 
the ahove, to re -write this passage^ he had not heen five mi« 
nutes at his work hefore he came with a question which I 
presume hundreds of my readers have never thought to ask, 
though they all have doubtless read the passage again and 
again. I must^ however, first give the passage. 

Luke v. I. 

1. And it came to pass, that, as the people pressed upon him to 
hear the word of God, he stood by the lake of Gennesaret, 

2. And saw two ships standing bj the lake : but the fishermen 
were gone out of them, and were washing their nets. 

3. And he entered into one of the ships, which was Simon*s, and 
prayed him that he would thrust out a little from the land. And he 
sat down, and taught the people out of the ship. 

4. Now, when he had left speaking, he said unto Simon, Launch 
out into the deep, and let down your nets for a draught. 

5. And Simon answering, said unto him, Master, we have toiled 
all the night, and have taken nothing : nevertheless at thy word I will 
let down the net. 

6. And when they had this done, they enclosed a great multitude 
of fishes ; and their net brake. 

7. And they beckoned unto their partners, which were in the 
other ship, that they should come and help them. And they came, 
and filled both the ships, so that they began to sink. 

8. When Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus* knees, 
saying, Depart from me ; for I am a sinful man, O Lord. 

9. For he was astonished, and all that were with him, at the 
draught of the fishes which they had taken : 

10. And so was also James and John, the sons of Zebedee, 
which were partners with Simon. And Jesus said unto Simon, 
Fear not ; from henceforth thou shalt catch men. 

11. And when they had brought their ships to land, they forsook 
all, and followed him. 

The difficulty proposed was this : 

" In the second verse," says he, " it is said that the fisher- 
men had gone out of their boats, and were washing their 
nets, but in the third, Christ enters one of them and asks 
Simon to move off a little from the shore ; that seems as if 
Simon was in his boat." 

How apparent was it from this question that he was read- 
ing the Bible understandingly, and not merely repeating 
once more the familiar sounds by which the scenes of that 
passage are described. Upon a fittle reflection it was mani- 
fest that Simon might have remained in his boat, while the 



STULY OF THE BIBLE. 21 1 

fishermen generally had gone ashore ; — or he might have 
stood near, so as to be easily addressed by the Saviour. The 
difficulty vanished in a moment. But by the ordinary dull 
sluggish reading of the Bible, both difficulty and solution 
would have been alike unseen. 

The following was the description produced in this case. 
I copy it without alteration, that my readers may see, from 
inspection of an actual example, what degree of success they 
may expect to attain. 

Once, as Jesus was standing ne^r a lake called Gennesaret, a 
great multitude crowded around him, wishing to have him address 
them. He saw near the shore two fishing- vessels, but the fishermen 
had gone away to clean their nets. He went into one of them which 
belonged to Simon, and asked him to shove the vessel out a little 
way into the water, and he talked to the people from the deck. 
When he had finished, he told Simon to go out into the sea and cast in 
their nets in order to get some fibh. And Simon said unto him, we 
have been working all night, and have not caught any thing, but, as 
you have desired it, we will let down our nets again. Having done 
it, they took a great many fishes, and their net was broken, and there 
were so many fishes that both ships were filled and began to sink, 
Simon was so much astonished, and they that were with him, at tak- 
ing so many fishes this time, when they had been labouring all night 
and caught nothing, that (he fell down before Jesus, saying, depart 
from me, for I am a sinful man. ) Simon*s companions, James and 
John, were also surprised at the fishes. And when they had brought 
their ships to the shore, they left all their things and followed Jesus. 

The part enclosed in a parenthesis is Scripture language. 
The boy could not express that idea in any other way, and 
he adopted that method of indicating that the language of 
the Bible was, in that clause, retained. 

I have obtained also several other specimens of a similar 
character, written by persons of different ages and of vari- 
ous intellectual attainments ; two or three of which I will 
insert here. The reader will observe that these were written 
by persons of very different d^rees of mental maturity. 
The style is very dissimilar in the different specimens, and 
they show therefore more distinctly that the exercise is of 
such a nature as to be adapted to every age and capacity. 

THE STORY OF MICAH. 

A woman belonging to one of the tribes of the Israelites, from h 
mistaken idea of true religion, resolved to procure some images fuc 



1212 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

her household worship, intending- to consecrate her son to act as 
priest. She accordingly dedicated to the Lord the sum to be paid 
for making the images, and laid it aside for the purpose. This money 
was stolen from her by Micah, the very son for whose benefit chielly 
she had formed the plan. Upon missing the money she was greatly 
enraged, and pronounced in the hearing of her son the severest im. 
precations upon the sacrilegious thief. This so terrified Micah, that 
he confessed his crime, and restored the money to his mother. Her 
joy was very great at receiving again her treasure. She told her son 
to what purpose it was appropriated, and they accordingly procured 
the images. It was agreed that instead of Micah, one of his sons 
should act as priest until a more suitable person could be obtained. 
The son was accordingly provided with sacerdotal apparel, and conse- 
crated to the priesthood. 

Under these circumstances the idol-worship went on for some 
time, until there came one day to the house of Micah a wandering 
Levite, by the name of Jonathan. This man seemed to be out of 
employment, and being of the Levites, the tribe set apart for the 
holy offices, Micah thought he should do well to retain him as his 
family priest Accordingly he made to him proposals to this effect, 
offering him for his services his board, one suit of clothes, and a 
small sum of money a- year. Jonathan very gladly agreed to these 
terms, and was forthwith constituted priest. 

It happened soon after that there came to Micah*s house a num- 
ber of men who had been sent out by the tribe of Dan to survey the 
adjacent country, with a view to enlarging their own territories. 
When these men came to Micah*s house, they recognised with sur- 
prise the voice of the newly consecrated priest. They inquired how 
he came there, and what he was about. The Levite told them his 
story, and the Danites seem to have regarded the circumstances of 
the affair as perfectly proper ; for they even requested that he would 
inquire of the Lord for them if they should meet with success in their 
present expedition. The Levite pretended to make the inquiry, and 
returned to them a favourable answer. The event was such as the 
Levite predicted. The Danites succeeded in driving before them 
the inhabitants of the territories they wished to possess. After the 
conquest, as the army were passing the house of Micah, the five men 
who had first been sent out, and who had stopped at this house, in- 
formed the others that there were in it a graven and a molten image, 
and a priest with an ephod ; and, perhaps, intimating that in their 
new settlement they would ttemselves need such an establishment, 
they inquired what had best be done. After some deliberation, it 
was agreed forcibly to take from Micah his images and the sacer- 
dotal garments, and to entice the priest to go with thena Accord- 
ingly, while the rest of the army remained as guards at the entrance 
of the house, the five men before mentioned went in and commenced 
their depredations. The priest inquired in amazement what they 
were about ; " Hush,'* said the men, " say nothing, and go with us ; 
will it not be more to your advantage to be the priest of a whole 



STUDY OF THE BIBLE. 213 

tribe than of only one man ?*' The Levite was overjoyed at the pro- 
posal, and prepared immediately to set out with them. 

Great was the dismay of Micah upon finding himself thus robbed 
of priest and gods. He called his neighbours to his assistance, and 
collecting a small company together, he went in pursuit of the de- 
predators. As he approached the army, they inquired of him why 
he had come out with such a company. ** What ails you ?'* said they. 
** What aS» me r replied Micah, *' you have taken from me my priest 
and my gods, and now you ask what ailg me" — " You had better re- 
turn to your house," said some one of the number, ** or you will lose 
your life.** — Seeing that there was no possibility of prevailing against 
hundreds of armed men, Micah took the advice of the Danite, and 
returned home. 

Meanwhile the army of the Danites pursued their way to the place 
of their destination, where they established the worship of their stolen 
images under the direction of the runaway priest. 

The two following are upon the same subject, but the 
writers were 11 and 17 years of age. They are according- 
ly very different in their style and character. 

BEL8HAZZAa*8 FEAST 

The king of Babylon, named Belshazzar, made a great feast for 
all his lords, his wives and concubines. And he sent and took from 
the house of the Lord the golden and silver vessels, and he and his 
company drank wine out of them. While they were enjoying in im- 
pious mirth the feast, the fingers of a man*s band were seen on the 
plastering of the wall, over against the candlestick. Then was the 
king very much frightened, and his knees smote against each other ; 
he sent for all the wise men in the kingdom to read the writing, but 
they could not. Then he called aloud again, if any man can read it, 
he shall be clothed in scarlet, and have a chain of gold around his 
neck, and shall be the third ruler in the kingdom* Then came in his 
wife the queen, to tell him that there was a man who could interpret 
dreams, whose name was Daniel. He read the writing. Mene ; 
God hath finished thy kingdom. Tekel ; Thou art weighed and art 
found wanting. Peres ; Thy kingdom is given to the Medes and 
Persians. Then was a proclamation made that he was the third 
ruler in the kingdom. 

And the same night the king died. 

STORY OF BELSHAZZAR. 

It was night ; but the usual stillness of that hour was broken by 
the sounds of feasting and revelry. It had been a festival day in Ba- 
bylon, and the inhabitants had not y^t slink into repose. The song 
and the dance still continued, and the voice of music was heard. All 



21 i YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

seemed in perfect security, and no precautions had been taken to 
avoid the danger which bung over their devoted beads. An invad- 
ing army was, even then, surrounding the walls of the city, but those 
who ought to have defended it, coniident and secure, left it unguard- 
ed and exposed to the attacks of the enemy. Fear was excluded even 
from the walls of the palace, and the monarch was giving bis own ex- 
ample of rioting and mirth to bis subjects. A thousand of the 
noblest lords in his kingdom were feasting with him, as bis invited 
guests. They had already *< tarried long at the wine,'* when Bel. 
shazzar, in the pride and impiety of his heart, commanded bis servants 
to bring the silver and golden vessels which bad been taken by his 
grandfather Nebuchadnezzar from the temple at Jerusalem. They 
were brought and filled with wine, and, as they drank it, they extolled 
their gods of wood and of stone. 

But while they were thus sacrilegiously employed, their mirth was 
suddenly changed into amazement and consteniation. A hand like 
that of a man was seen to write upon the wall of the palace, and as 
they gazed upon it, it traced the sentence, ** Mene, Mene, Tekel, 
Upbarsin." No one among that vast company understood its mean 
ing, but to their affrighted imagination it was full of portentous im- 
port. The king, who was exceedingly terrified, sent in baste for all 
the astrologers, and those persons in whose powers of dixdnation he 
had been accustomed to place confidence ; but none could explain the 
mysterious warning. At this juncture the queen entered, and in- 
formed the king that Daniel was in the city, and that he was supposed 
to possess the wisdom of the Gods. He was hastily summoned 
into the royal presence, and after reproving the trembling and con. 
demned monarch for the pride of heart which he had manifested, re- 
vealed to him the doom which was pronounced upon him. He told 
him that his kingdom and his own life were nearly at a close ; that his 
empire should be divided between the Medes and Persians ; and also 
that his own character had been examined, and found lamentably de- 
ficient. 

The reward which bad been promised was now bestowed upon 
Daniel. He was arrayed in a kingly robe, adorned with a golden 
chain, and proclaimed the third in authority in the kingdom. £re 
the next rising sun, Belshazzar was numbered with the dead. 



QUESTIONS. 

At what time, and under what circumstances had the golden and 
silver vessels been taken from the temple at Jerusalem? 

In what language was the writing upon the wall, and why could no 
one of the wise men of Babylon interpret it ? 

Why were the Chaldeans included among the astrologers and 
soothsayers ? 

The original writing was, " Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upbarsin ;** why 
in the interpretation is Peres substituted for Ui)barsin ? 



STUDY OF THE BIBLB. 215 

It is a very good plan to write questions at the close of 
€uch an exercise^ as in the last specimen^ bringing up diffi- 
culties which have occurred to the writer while reading and 
writing the account These questions can be subsequently 
proposed to some person qualified to answer them. The 
•whole plan may be adopted more or less extensively, accord- 
ing to the time and the taste of the individual. I knew a 
young man who re-wrote the whole book of the Acts in this 
way. The result he preserved in a neat manuscript^ and 
the eflfort undoubtedly impressed the facts on his memory 
with a- distinctness which remained for years. 

4. Collating the Scriptures, The next method I shall 
describe^ by which variety and efficiency can be given to 
your study of the Scriptures, may be called collation. It 
consists of carefully comparing two or more different ac- 
counts of the same transaction. 

To illustrate it, I will imagine that two young persons sit 
down, on a Sabbath afternoon, by their fireside, to read the 
Bible, and they conclude to collate the several accounts of 
Paul's conversion. To show that this exercise does not re- 
quire any advanced age, or maturity of mind, I will imagine 
that the scholars are quite young, and will give in detail the 
conversation, as we might imagine it, in such a case to be. 
We will suppose James to be thirteen or fourteen years of 
age, and John some years younger. 

John. " Well, what shall we read V 

James, " I think it would be a good plan for us to read 
and compare the two accounts of the conversion of Paul. 
Here is the first account, in the ninth chapter of the Acts, 
and I believe he afterwards gave some account of it himself 
in his speech." 

John. " What speech ?" 

James, " Some speech he made at his trial. I will try to 
find it. It is somewhere in the last part of the book of Acts," 

The boys turn over the leaves of their Bibles, imtil at 
last James says, 

'' Here it is. I have found it. It is in the 26th chapter." 

" No," says John, " it is in the 22d, — it begins at the 4th 



verse." 



James. " Let me see it. Oh, there are two accounts in 
his speeches. That makes three in all. Would you com- 
pare them all V 



216 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

John. '' Yes, we can put our fingers into all the places, 
and read one verse of one, and then one verse of another, 
and so go through." 

James. '^ "Well, let us see where these two speeches were 
made." 

The hoys then examine the introductory remarks connect- 
ed with these two addresses of the Apostle, and learn before 
whom and under what circumstances they were made^ and 
then proceed with their comparison. 

James, " I will read first in the ninth chapter." 

" 1 . And Saul yet breathing out threatenings and 
slaughter against the disciples of the Lord, went unto the 
high priest, 

*^2. And desired of him letters to Damascus to the 
synagogues, that if he found any of this way, whether they 
were men or women, he might bring them bound unto 
Jerusalem." 

^' Now you may read as much," he continues, ^^ in the 
22d chapter." 

John. " Where shall I begin ?" 

James. (Looking at the*passage,) ^' At the 5th verse, 
I believe." 

John. (Reading.) 5. " As also the High Priest doth 
bear me witness, and all the estate of the elders ; firom whom 
also I received letters unto the brethren, and went to Da- 
mascus, to bring them which were there bound unto Jeru- 
salem for to be punished." 

" Do you see any difference, James ?" 

James. " Yes, there are two differences. It says in the 
first account) that he took letters from the High Priest 
alone, and in the second, from the elders too, — All the estate 
of the Elders. It says, too, in the first account, that his 
letters were to the synagogues, but in the second that they 
were to the brethren." 

Boys of twelve years of age would probably see no far- 
ther tlian to notice such obvious points of comparison as 
those I have mentioned ; but a raaturer mind attempting 
this same exercise would go far deeper, and mth a conse- 
quently stronger interest into the subject. Such a one will 
take great pleasure in observing how every expression in 
the account in the 22d chapter corresponds with the circum- 
stances in which Paul was placed. He was in Jerusalem ,* 



STUDY OP THE BIBLE. 217 

a great popular tumult liad been excited ^against him. A 
few of lus determined enemies had, by the arts with which 
it is always easy for bad men to inflame the multitude, urged 
them on almost to fury^ and an inmiense throng had gath- 
ered around him, with the marks of the most determined 
hostility in their looks, and gestures, and actions. At this 
moment a Roman military force appeared for his rescue. 
He was drawn out from the crowd, and, standing upon the 
stairs of the castle above the tumultuous sea from which he 
had been saved^ he attempts to address the assembly. 

He had been represented to the crowd as a foreigner — an 
Egyptian who had come to Jerusalem to excite sedition and 
tumult — and of course his first aim would naturally be to 
destroy this impression, and present himself before this as- 
sembly as their fellow-countryman — one who had long resid- 
ed among them, and had regarded them as brethren. How 
natural is it, therefore, that he should speak so distinctly ot 
his connexion with the Jewish nation. He commences his 
account with the statement that he is a Jew, — by birth, by 
education, and by feelings. This peculiarity in the speaker's 
condition accounts most frilly, and in a most interesting man- 
ner, for the difference between the expressions which he uses 
here and those used in the narrative in 9th chapter. Where, 
in the narrative, the high priest only was alluded to, in the 
defence the speaker mentions respectfully all the estate of 
the elders. The historian, by employing the simple histor- 
ical style, says that Paul went with letters to the synagogues. 
The orator, in his effort to allay irritated feeling, uses the 
word brethren, a term equally correct, but far more suitable 
for his purpose. 

I make these remarks, not to go into a commentary upon 
Paul's speech, but to show what kind of reflections will oc- 
cur to a mature or to an intelligent mind, in thus collating 
different portions of the sacred volume. Notice every dif- 
ference ; and endeavour to discover in the circumstances of 
the case its cause. You will find by so doing that new and 
striking beauties will arise to view at every step. The pages 
of the Bible will look brighter and brighter with meaning 
hitherto unseen, and you will find new exhibitions of char- 
acter and conduct so natural and yet so simple, as to consti- 
tute almost irresistible evidence of the reality of the scenes 
which the sacred history describes. 



218 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

There are a great many of the events of Scripture history 
of which two different accounts are given in the Bible, which 
may be advantageously collated in the manner I have de- 
scribed. In hopes that some of my readers will study the 
Scriptures in this way, I enumerate some of them. 

LESSONS. , 

Solomon* s Choice, 1 Kings and 2 Chronicles. > 

Dedication of the Temple, I Kings, 2 Chronicles. 

Revolt of the Ten Tribes, 1 Kings, 2 Chronicles. 

Stori/ of Elisha. 

Slory of Elijah, 

Story of Hezekiah, Kings, Chronicles and Isaiah. 

Genealogical Line from Adam to Abraham, Genesis and 
1 Chronicles. 

Catalogue of the Kings of Israel, Kings and Chronicles. 

Catalogue of the Kings qfJudah, Kings and Chronicles. 

Preaching of John the Baptist, Matthew, Mark, Luke 
and John. 

The Temptation of Christ, Matthew, Mark and Luke. 

The Saviour's Arrest, Four Evangelists. 

His Trial, Four Evangelists. 

His Death, Four Evangelists. 

His Resurrection, Four Evangelists. 

Institution of the Lord's Supper. Matthew and 1 Corinth- 
ians. 

Genealogy of Christ, Matthew and Luke. 

The above subjects vary very much in the degree of intel- 
lectual effort necessary for their examination, and in nearly 
all the most intelligent reader will himself often be involved 
in difl&culties which he cannot easily remove. If we mere- 
ly read the Bible, chapter after chapter, in a sluggish and 
formal manner, we see little to interest us, and little to per- 
plex ; but in the more thorough and scrutinizing mode of 
study which I here suggest, both by this mode and the others 
I am here describing, we shall find beauties and difficulties 
coming up together. Let every one, then, who undertakes 
such a collation of different accounts, expect difficulty. Do 
not be surprised at apparent contradictions in the narrative. 
You will find many. Do not be surprised when you find 
various circumstances in the different accounts, which you 



8TUDT OF THE BIBLE. 219 

find it impossible for you to bring together into one view. 
You must expect such difficulties. JLiOok at them calmly 
and patiently ; seek solutions from commentaries, and from 
older Christians ; and what you cannot by these means un- 
derstand^ quietly leave. A book which under divine guid- 
ance employed the pens of from fifty to a hundred writers, 
^scattered through a period of 4000 years ; — ^whose scenes 
extend over a region of inmiense extent, and whose narra- 
tives are involved with the most minute history of all the 
great nations of antiquity — Babylon, Assyria, Persia, Greece 
and Rome — such a book you must not expect to understand 
ftdly in a day. 

5. Studyinff by subjects. Select some subject upon which 
a good deal of information may be found in various parts of 
the Bible, and make it your object to bring together into one 
view all that the Bible says upon that subject. Take for 
instance the life of the Apostle Peter. Suppose you make 
it your business on one Sabbath, with the help of a brother 
or sister, or any other friend who will unite with you in the 
work, to obtain all the information which the Bible gives in 
regard to him. By the help of the Concordance you find 
all the places in which he is mentioned, — ^you compare the 
various accounts in the four gospels, — see in what they 
agree and in what they differ. After following down his 
history as far as the Evangelists bring it, you take up the 
book of the Acts, and go through that, for information in 
regard to this Apostle, omitting those parts which relate 
to other subjects. In this way you become ftdly acquaint- 
ed with his character and history ; — you understand it as a 
whole. 

Jerusalem is another good subject, and the examination 
would affbrd scope for the exercise of the faculties of the 
highest minds for many Sabbaths. Find when the city is first 
named, and, from the manner in which it is mentioned, and 
the circimistances connected with the earliest accoimts of it, 
ascertain what sort of a city it was at that time. Then fol- 
low its history down ; — notice the changes as they occur ;— 
understand every revolution ; — examine the circimistances 
of every battle and siege of which it is the scene, — and thus 
become acquainted with its whole story down to the time 
when the sacred narration leaves it. To do this well, will 
require patient and careftil investigation. You cannot do it 



220 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

as you can read a chapter, — carelessly and with an uncon- 
cerned and unintierested mind. You must, if you would 
succeed in such an inyestigation, engage in it in earnest 
And that is the very advantage of such a method of study ; 
it breaks up effectually that habit of listless, dull, inatten- 
tive reading of the Bible, which so extensively prevails. 

You may take the subject of the Sahhaih, Examine the 
circumstances of its first appointment, and then follow its 
history down, so far as it is given in the Bible, to the last 
Sabbath alluded to on the sacred pages. 

The variety of topics which might profitably be studied 
in this way is vastly greater than would at first be suppos- 
ed. There are a great niunber of biographical and geo- 
graphical topics — a great number which re&te to manners 
and customs and sacred institutions. In fact, the whole 
Bible may be analyzed in this way, and its various contents 
brought before the mind in new aspects, and with a fresh- 
ness and vividness which, in the mere repeated reading of 
the Scriptures in regular course, can never be seen. It may 
assist the reader who is disposed to try the experiment, if I 
present a small list. It might be extended easily to any 
length, 

BIOGRAPHICAL TOPICS. 



Hezekiah. 


Elisha. 


Daniel. 


Isaiah. 


Elijah. 


Jeremiah. 


Herod. 


Nicodemus. 


John the Baptist. 


Judas. 


Peter. 




GEOGRAPHICAL AND HISTORICAL TOPICS. 


Jerusalem. 


Sea of Galilee. 


Egypt. 


Tyre. 


Nile. 


Sidon. 


Babylon. 


Philistines. 


Red Sea. 


Moabites. 


Jordan. 


Ammonites. 


Damascus. 


Ethiopia. 


Samaria. 





STUDY OF THE BIBLE. 221 



TOPICS RELATING TO RELIGIOUS RITES. 

Sacrifices. Fastinff. 

Sabbath. Ark of the CoTenaiit. 

Pentecost. Tabernacle. 

Feast of Tabernacles. Lord's Supper. 

Passorer Synagogues. 

There are various other methods which might be men- 
tioned and described^ but enough has been said to enable^ I 
thinks any one who is disposed, to engage at once, for a 
short time each Sabbath, in such an intellectual study of the 
Bible. Parents can try the experiments I have above de- 
scribed in their families, and Sabbath-school teachers can 
try them in their classes. Sabbath-schools would be as- 
tonishingly improved at once, if the teachers would put 
their ingenuity into requisition to devise and execute new 
plans, so as to give variety to the exercises. There would 
be a spirit and interest e:diibited both by teacher and pupil, 
which the mere servile reading of printed questions, and 
listening to answers mechanically committed, never can 
produce. 

There is far too little of this intellectual study of the Bible 
even among the most devoted Christians. Its literature, its 
history, its biography — the connexion of its parts — all are 
very little understood. It is indeed true that the final aim 
of the Bible is to teach us personal religious duty. It comes 
to the conscience, not to the literary taste of men ; — and is 
designed to guide their devotions, not to gratify their curio- 
sity, or their love of historic truth. But why is it that God has 
chosen the historic form, as a means of communicating his 
truth ? Why is it that his communications with maimnd 
were, for so many years, so completely involved with the po- 
litical history of a powerful nation^ that that whole history 
must be riven ? Why is our Saviour's mission so connected 
with the Itoman government, and all this connexion so fully 
detailed, that no inconsiderable portion of the geography and 
customs and laws of that mighty empire are detailed in the 
Evangelists and Acts ? The moral lessons which our Sa- 
viour taught might have been presented in their simple di- 
dactic form. The whole plan of salvation^ through the bl^od 



222 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

of a Redeemer, might have been given ns in one single state- 
ment, instead of leaving us to gather it piece by piece from 
multitudes of narratives and addresses and letters. Why is 
it, then, that instead of one simple proclamation from the 
Majesty on high, we have sixty or seventy different books, 
introducing us to the public history of twenty nations, and 
to the minutest incidents in the biographies of a thousand 
men ? Why; it is that we may be excited by the interest of 
incident and story; — that religion and impiety may be re- 
spectively presented to us, in living and acting reality, and 
that the principles of God's government and of his dealing 
with men may come to us in all the vividness of actual fact. 
If, then, we neglect to understand this history as history, 
and to enter into all the incidents which are detailed, we 
lose the very benefit which the Spirit had in yiew in mak- 
ing the Bible such a volume as it is. Without such an oc- 
casional effort to make the Scriptures a study— examining 
them intellectually, comparing one part with another, and 
endeavouring to bring vividly to view the scenes which 
they present to our minds, — it may safely be said that no one 
can truly undei'stand the Bible, or enter into the spirit of 
its descriptions, its warnings, and its appeals. 

But, after all, the great object in studying the Bible is not 
merely to understand it. The revelation which Grod has 
made is a message sent, not to the intellect, but to the con- 
sciences and hearts of men ; and unless it reaches the con- 
science and the heart, it entirely fails of accomplishing its 
object. We ought, indeed, to gain an intellectual knowledge 
of it, but that is only to be considered as a means to enable 
us the more fully to apply to our own characters and con- 
duct the practical lessons which it teaches. 

The Sabbath seems for most persons the most proper time 
/ for the systematic study of the Scriptures, but a portion of it 
should be read practically every day. This part of my sub- 
ject does not need so full an illustration as the other, for the 
great difficulty in regard to reading the Scriptures practical- 
ly, is a want of disposition to do it. They who really wish 
to learn their duty, and overcome their temptations, who de- 
sire that the sins of their hearts and lives should be brought 
to their view by the word of Grod, will easily make for them- 
selves an application of the truths which the Bible contains. 
Will not all my readers do this faithfully and persevering- 



RTUDY OF THE BIBLE, 223 

ly ? Resolve to bring a short portion of the preceptive or de- 
votional parts of the Scriptures home to your heart everyday: 
and let your object be, in this daily reading of the Bible, not 
so much to extend your intellectual vietv of the field opened 
to you in its pages, as to increase its moral and spiritual influ- 
ence upon your heart and conduct. Be not so careful, then, 
to read this exact quantity, or that, — ^but to brines home 
some portion really and fully to the heart and to the con- 
science^ — ^to do it so forcibly that the influence of those few 
verses, read and pondered in the morning, will go through 
the day. 

Reading the Bible is, however, sometimes practised with 
a very diflFerent spirit from this. A boy, for example, whose 
parent or whose Sabbath-school teacher has convinced him 
that he ought to read the Bible daily, takes his book and sits 
down by the fire, and reads away rapidly and thoughtlessly 
the portion which comes in course. He looks up occasion- 
ally to observe the sports of his brothers and sisters, — or to 
join in their conversation, and then returns again to the 
verse he left. In fifteen minutes he rises from his seat, 
shuts his book, and pushes it into its place upon the shelf, 
saying, "there — I have read my chapter;" — and this is 
the last he knows or thinks of the Bible during the day. 

Consider, now, another case. In an unfrimished and al- 
most an ui^nished little room in some crowded alley of a 
populous city, you may see a lad who has just arisen from 
his humble bed, and is ready to go forth to his daily duties. 
He is a yoimg apprentice, — ^and must almost immediately 
go forth to kmdle his morning fire, and to prepare his place 
of business for the labours of the day. He first however 
takes his little Testament from his chest, and breathes, 
while he opens it, a silent prayer, that God will fix the 
lesson that he is about to read upon his conscience and his 
heart. " Holy Spirit !" whispers he, " let me apply the in- 
structions of this book to myself, and let me be governed 
by it to-day, so that I may perform faithfully all my duties 
to myself, to my companions, to my master and to Thee." 
He opens the book, and reads perhaps as follows : — " Be 
kindly aflectioned one to another, with brotherly love, in 
honour preferring one another." He pauses — his faithful 
self-applying thoughts run through the scenes through 
which he has that day to pass, and he considers in what 



224 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

cases this verse ought to influence him. ^' Be kindly affec^ 
tioned" I must treat my brothers and sisters, and all 
my companions kindly to-day. I must try to save them 
trouble, and to promote their happiness. " In honour pre- 
ferring one another" As he sees these words, he sighs to 
reflect how many times he has been jealous of his fellow-ap- 
prentices, on account of marks of trust and favour shown to 
them, or envious of the somewhat superior privileges en- 
joyed by those older than himself; and he prays that God 
will forgive him, and make him humble, and land-hearted 
in future to all around him. 

'^ Not slothful in business ; fervent in spirit, serving the 
Lord" He stops to reflect whether he is habitually indus- 
trious — improving all his time in such a manner as to be of 
the greatest advantage to his master ; — whether he is fervent 
in spirit, i, e. cordially devoted to God's service, and full of 
benevolent desires for the happiness of all ; — ^whether he 
serves the Lord in what he does, «. e, whether all his duties 
are discharged from motives of love to his Maker and Pre- 
server. While he thus muses, the fire bums. He shuts 
his book — asks God to protect him, as he now must go out 
Into the labours and temptations of the day. God does 
bless and protect him. He has read, indeed, but two verses ; 
— but these verses he carries in his heart, and they servevas 
a memorial of kindness and love to man, and fidelity to- 
wards God, which accompanies him wherever he goes, and 
keeps him safe and happy. The Bible is thus a light to 
his feet and a lamp to his path. Which, now, of these, do 
you think reads the Bible aright ? 

Let no child who reads this, understand me to say, that I 
consider two verses enough of the Bible to read each day. 
What I mean by this case is, that so much more depends upon 
the spirit and manner with which the Bible is read, than 
the quantity — that a very small portion, properly read, may 
be far more useful than a much larger quantity hurried over 
in a careless and thoughtless manner. No precise rules can 
be given in regard to quantity. It must vary with circum- 
stances, and of these the individual must in most cases be 
the judge. 



225 



CHAPTER IX. 



THE SABBATH. 



i( 



Remember the Sabbath-day to keep it holy.*' 



My readers are undoubtedly generally aware, that the pre- 
sent obligation to keep the Sabbath has been by some perong 
denied, on the ground that keeping one day in seven holy is 
a sort of ceremony, and that it was only intended to be re- 
quired of the Jewish nation. I do not intend in this chap- 
ter to enter at all into a discussion of that subject. Most 
if not all of those who will read this book are undoubtedly 
satisfied in regard to it. I will, however, simply state the 
facts on the ground of which the present binding authority 
of the Lord's day is generally admitted by Christians. 

As soon as God had finished the creation, it is stated that 
''he rested on the seventh day, and sanctified it ;'* — that is, 
he set it apart for a sacred use. The time and the circum- 
stances under which this was done sufficiently indicate that 
it was intended to apply to the whole race, and to extend 
through all time. A ceremony solemnly established at the 
foundation of an empire would be universally considered as 
designed to extend as far and continue as long as the em- 
pire itself should extend and continue, unless it should be 
distinctly repealed. And so with a duty estabhshed at the 
foundation of a world. 

Many years afterwards, the Creator gave a very distinct 
code of laws to his people the Jews. These laws were of 
two kinds, ceremonial and moral. It was the design of the 
former to be binding only upon the Jewish nation, the latter 
are of permanent and universal authority. 

The ceremonial laws were merely repeated to Moses, and 

p 



226 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

he made a record of them ; you will find them in nearly all 
the chapters of Leviticus and Deuteronomy. AH the regu- 
lations relating to sacrifices are of this character. The moral 
laws were, however, given in the most solemn maimer from 
Mount Sinai. They are the ten commandments, and they 
were written by the direct power of God himself upon ta- 
blets of stone, which were carefully preserved. 

Now, as if to remove all possible ground of doubt in re- 
gard to his design, the observance of the Sabbath was made 
the subject of one of these ten commandments, and it has 
been observed from that day to this by a vast majority of all 
those who have wished to obey their Maker s commands. 

These facts are abundantly sufficient to convince those 
who are willing to keep the Sabbath that God intended that 
all men should keep it. They who are not convinced, reveal 
by their doubts their unwillingness to obey. I would advise, 
therefore, any one who has doubts about the divine authori- 
ty of the Sabbath, not to spend his time in looking for the 
arguments pro and con in this controversy, but to come at 
once to his heart. Ask yourself this question ; '' Do I fully 
understand what it is to remember the Sabbath-day and 
keep it holy, and am I cordially and sincerely willing to do 
it ?" In the affirmative answer to this question you will 
find the solution to all your doubts. 

The Sabbath was observed from its establishment down to 
the coming of Christ, on the seventh day of the week, that 
is our Saturday. Our Saviour rose from the dead on the 
day after the Sabbath, and we find soon after his resurrec- 
tion, that the early Christians observed that day instead of 
the former one as sacred time. There is no direct com- 
mand to do this, and no indication that there was any con- 
troversy about it at the time. They all at once simudtane- 
ously change. They keep one day in seven as before, but 
it is a different day. We infer that they had some authori- 
ty for so doing, though it is not at all necessary that that 
authority should be specified. It is the custom in most of 
the schools in New England to consider the afternoon of 
Saturday a half-holiday. Now suppose a boy should leave 
this coimtry to go on a foreign voyage, and after being 
absent many months, should return and find when Satur- 
day afternoon comes that all the boys in his native town go 
to school as usual, but that on Monday afternoon the schools 



THE SABBATH. 227 

are all suspended. He sees that this is the universal custom^ 
and it continues so permanently. Now, it is not, under 
these circumstances, at all necessary that the original vote 
of the school-committee, hy which the change was made, 
should come before him. The universality of the practice 
is the best of evidence in such a case. No boy would wish 
for more. Now, it is just so with the evidence we have 
that the Sabbath was changed. Suddenly all Christians 
changed their practice. They changed together, and with- 
out any evidence of a controversy, and the new arrange- 
ment has been adopted from that day to this. 

But yet all persons are not quite satisfied about it, and 
there are various other questions connected with the time 
of the Sabbath, which have occasioned, in the minds of 
many Christians, serious doubts and perplexities. Some 
imagine that they ought to have more evidence of the change 
from the seventh to the first day of the week ; they think, 
too, that the Sabbath is intended to be commemorative of 
Grod's rest after finishing the creation, and that this object 
is lost by altering the day ; and some lose themselves in 
endless arguments on the question, whether simset, midnight 
or morning marks the beginning of the sacred day. The 
difference of views on this subject produces some difference 
of practice. There are denominations of Christians who 
prefer to keep Saturday as holy time, and not Sunday, re- 
garding the former as the seventh day meant by the com- 
mandment. There is a difference of practice, too, in regard 
to the time of commencing the holy day. In some portions 
of our land the Sabbath is understood to begin on the even- 
ing of Saturday, so that when the sun goes down on Sun- 
day evening, they return to their usual duties and cares. 
In other places, midnight is considered as the limit which 
marks the beginning and the end of sacred time. 

The actual inconvenience arising from this diversity is 
comparatively slight. The great evil which these differen- 
ces of opinion produce, is the interminable disputes which 
arise from them. Perhaps some of my readers, when they 
saw the subject of the Sabbath annoimced, may have been 
curious to know which side I was going to take in regard to 
some of these points ; for example, on the question whether 
it is proper to commence holy time on Saturday evening or 
I n Sabbath morning. Now. in fact, I am going to take both 



228 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

sides. I am going to try to persuade you that it is entirely 
immaterial which is adopted, and that the whole subject is 
completely unworthy of being made a matter of controversy 
among Christian brethren. 

When God gives us a command, I am aware that we 
must obey it exactly. But a command is obeyed exactly, 
if it is obeyed in all the particulars expressed in the words 
of it. I think the following principle may be laid down as 
fundamental in regard to all laws partaking of a ceremonial 
character, human and divine. So far as the ceremonial 
part is essentialy il will he distinctly described in the com- 
mand. The fourth command partakes of the ceremonial 
character. It is for the observance of a particular day. It 
specifies what day, but it does not specify at what hour it 
is to begin, and therefore we are left at liberty to begin it, 
so as to correspond with any common mode of computing 
time. 

But to illustrate the above-mentioned principle — ^for it 
seems to me that if it were cordially and fully admitted, it 
would save a vast number of disputes on many other sub- 
jects — let us suppose that a father, about to be absent from 
his home, leaves his two boys with the command that they 
should work every day a little while in the garden. Now, 
in such a case as this, the boys ought not to consider them- 
selves as limited to any particular time for doing it. They 
must consider their father s design in the command, and act 
in such a manner as to comply with the spirit of it. But 
they may do as they please about the time of beginning. 
They may work in the morning, or in the evening, or at 
mid day, according to their own convenience. 

Suppose, however, he had been a little more definite, and 
had said, " I wish you, my boys, while I am absent, to work 
a few hours every forenoon in the garden." This would have 
been a little more definite. And just so far as it is definite 
in regard to the time, just so far it would be binding in that 
respect. They would not now be at liberty to choose whe- 
ther they would work forenoon or afternoon, but still they 
would be at liberty in regard to the precise time of beginning. 
If one of the boys should attempt to prove that they ought to 
begin exactly at half-past eight, because the father had usu- 
ally begun at that hour, or because the neighbours did, the 
other might reply that the time of beginning was not spe- 



THE 8ABBATII. 229 

cified in the command, and they might, if they chose, hegin 
at an earlier or later hour, if they only honestly fulfilled 
the command by working faithfully as much as they sup- 
posed their father meant by the expression " a few hours,* 
Let us, however, make the command more definite still. 
Imagine the father to have said, " I wish you, my sons, to 
spend from 9 /o 12 6 clock every day in the garden, work- 
ing for me." This leases them much less discretionary 
power. The time for beginning and ending is distinctly 
specified, and the command is binding in. regard to these 
points of form and manner, just so fer as they are distinct- 
ly specified. Still there is room for a dispute. The spirit 
which makes so much of a controversy on the question 
whether holy time begins at sundown or at midnight, would 
have easily made a controversy here. For we will suppose 
that there had been a clock in the hall of the house, and a 
dial in the garden. All my readers are aware, I presume, 
that a clock, if it is a good one, keeps regular, equal time, 
but that there is some irregularity in the motions of the 
heavenly bodies, which prevents the dial from always cor- 
responding with it exactly. Sometimes the dial which 
marks apparent time, that is what appears to be the time 
by the sun, is before and sometimes behind the clocks, for 
they mark the real or true time, as it is called. Now, how 
easily might these boys get into a dispute on the question 
whether their father meant them to keep true or apparent 
time, that is, whether he meant them to begin by the clock 
or by the dial. Sometimes the difference is fifteen minutes. 
They might say that they must obey their father's com- 
mand exactly, and each might undertake to show, from 
arguments drawn from the nature of time, which perhaps 
neither of them understood, or from the father's practice, 
or the practice of other workmen in the vicinity, that one 
method of computation or the other was the proper one. 
How unwise would this be. The proper ground, un- 
questionably, for boys in such a case to take would be, " It 
is no matter which mode of reckoning we adopt ; it was 
not father's object for us to begin at any precise moment." 
" If you prefer the clock," one might say, '^ I have no ob- 
jection to it. I think we have a right to take which we 
please, for father did not specify any thing in regard to it, 
and if he had any preference he would have stated it." 



230 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

Just SO in regard to the Sabbath. God says in substance, 
*• Keep holy one day in seven." There is no minute speci- 
fication in regard to the moment of commencing. "We are 
at liberty, therefore, to commence according to any estab- 
lished and common method of computing time. 

The following, it seems to me, is an uniyersal principle in 
regard to obedience to all laws of a ceremonial nature. So 
far as the form and manner arejdeemed essential, they are 
always distinctly expressed in the larv. Look at the laws in 
these States for the solemnization of marriages. All that 
is essential is strictly expressed. So with the laws in regard 
to the transfer of property. Every form that is intended to 
be required is detailed in the statute. So with the purely 
ceremonial laws of the Jews. If a command required the 
sacrifice of two doves, the Jew would plainly not feel at 
liberty to bring one or three, nor to offer, instead of the bird 
prescribed, vultures or sparrows. But he just as plainly 
would be at liberty to offer doves of any colour. He might 
choose black or white, or any other hue : and if his neigh- 
bour should say to him, ^^your doves are not of the right 
kind, nobody offers such doves as those," his proper reply 
would be, " I obey the command ; the colour is not speci- 
fied." So with Christians in keeping the Sabbath. No 
matter whether you begin at sundown or at midnight ; if 
you keep the Sabbath faithfully according to one method or 
the other, you obey the command ; the moment for begin- 
ning is not specified. 

It seems to me that any person who endeavours to obtain 
a philosophical idea of the nature of our mode of computing 
time by days, must see the impossibility of marking any pre- 
cise limit for the commencement and the close of sacred 
time. Nothing is so indefinite, if we take an enlarged and 
philosophical view of the subject, as the term day. As- 
tronomers commence it at twelve o'clock at noon. Some 
nations begin it at midnight. On shore it is reckoned as 
commencing at one hour, and at sea as at another. The day, 
too, begins at a different time in every different place, so 
that a ship at sea, beginning a day in one place and ending 
it in another, sometimes will have 23 ^ and sometimes 24 J 
hours in her day, and no clock or time-piece whatever can 
keep her time. An ofl&cer of the ship is obliged to deter- 
mine the beginning of their day every noon by astronomi- 



THa SABBATH. 231 

cal observation. A sea-captain can often make a difference 
of an hour in the length of his day, hy the direction in 
which he steers his ship ; because a day begins and ends in 
no two places east and west of each other at the same time. 
At Jerusalem they are six hours in advance of us in their 
time, and at the Sandwich Islands six hours behind. In 
consequence of this it is evident, that the ship changing her 
longitude, must every day change her reckoning. These 
sources of difl&culty in marking out the limits of a day, in- 
crease as we go towards the pole. A ship within fifty miles 
of it, might sail round on a parallel of latitude, and keep it 
one continual noon or midnight to her all the year ; only 
noon and midnight would be there almost the same. At 
the pole itself aU distinction between day and night entirely 
and utterly ceases ; summer and winter are the only change. 
Habitable regions do not indeed extend to the pole, but4;hey 
extend far beyond any practical distinction between noon 
and midnight, or evening and morning. 

The difference between the times of commencing and 
ending days in different parts of the earth is so great, that a 
ship sailing round the globe loses a whole day in her reckon- 
ing, or gains a whole day, according to the direction in which 
she sails. If she sets out from Boston, and passes round 
Cape Horn, and across the Pacific ocean, to China, thence 
through the Indian and Atlantic oceans, home, she will find 
on her arrival that it is Tuesday with her crew, when it is 
Wednesday on shore. Each of her days will have been a 
little longer than a day is in any fixed place, and of course 
she will have had fewer of them. So that if the passengers 
were Christians, and have endeavoured to keep the Sabbath, 
they will not and cannot have corresponded with any Christ- 
ian nation whatever in the times of their observance of it. 
I suppose my readers will believe these facts on my testi- 
mony, but they will have a far more vivid idea of the truth 
in this case, if they will ask some sea-captain who has sail- 
ed round or half round the globe, if it is not so, and con- 
verse with him on some of the interesting questions and 
difficulties which arise from this peculiarity in the nature 
of the computation of time. 

But besides this difficulty, arising from the variation in 
the time at different longitudes, there are also other causes 
which will produce greater difficulty still in the way of 



232 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

marking out a precise moment at which the boimdaiy be- 
tween sacred and common time is to be marked. As we go 
north or south from the equator, the lengths of the days in- 
crease in the summer season, imtil at last, as I have already 
intimated, in a certain latitude the sun ceases altogether to 
set for a period equal to many weeks of our reckoning. Now, 
what will a man, who supposes that our Maker meant to 
command all mankind to keep the Sabbath exactlyfrom sun- 
set to sunset, or from midnight to midnight, — what will such 
a man say to a Christian in Greenland, wh^re the sun does 
not set for months together ? 

Is the moral law limited to latitude in its application, or 
did the great Framer of it not know, or did he forget, that 
the motions of the sun, which he himself ordained, would 

five to some of the people to whom the command was ad- 
ressed no sunset or midnight for months at a time ? No, 
it is absurd to press a written command to any greater 
strictness in regard to the form and manner of its observ- 
ance than the letter expresses. God says to us simply, 
" keep holy one day in seven." We may reckon that day 
in any of the common methods of computing time. If it 
was customary in old times to reckon the day from sundown 
to sundo^Ti, the servants of God would probably reckon 
their Sabbaths so too. If it is customary now to reckon 
from midnight to midnight, we may reckon our Sabbath so. 
We must keep the command in its spirit, but we need not 
press the form any farther than the letter of the command 
itself presses it. 

The same principles apply to the change from the seventh 
day to the first. That is not an alteration of the command, 
but only of practice under the cmnmand in a point which 
the letter of the law does not fix. " Six days shalt thou la- 
bour, and the seventh shalt thou rest ;" three hours you 
must work, and the fourth you may play. Such expres- 
sions fix not any identical day or hour which is pointed out, 
but only the proportion between the days or hours of labour 
and rest, or work and play. Christians labour six days and 
rest the seventh now. By our artificial nomenclature we 
call it the first, but that does not alter the real nature of 
the command, which is simply that after every six days oj 
labour there shall be one of rest. This requirement has never 
been changed or touched. It stands among the ten coid- 



THE SABBATH. 233 

xnands unaltered and unalterable like all the rest. The 
practice in a point not fixed by the phraseology of the com- 
mand, is indeed altered, but that no more affects obedience 
to the law, than a change from parchment to paper, in the 
drawing up of a legal instrument, would violate a law which 
did not prescribe the material. Who would think of say- 
ing in such a case, " The law has been altered. When the 
statute was enacted, the universal practice was to write 
upon parchment, and now men universally use paper. We 
can find no authority for the change, and consequently the 
law is broken." The law would not be broken unless it 
unequivocally mentioned parchment in contradistinction 
from all other materials. The mention of every seventh 
day in the command is not to be considered as a specifica- 
tion of the particular day. If it was, there ought to be a 
second command, as distinct and as formal as the first, to 
alter it. A law cannot be made publicly, and privately re- 
pealed. The command only specifies the proportion be- 
tween the days of labour and of rest ; the day, then, in use, 
to be continued as the holy time, until it is changed by pro- 
per authority, and the change made known in a proper man- 
ner. But that authority and that manner need not be, by 
any means, so formal as was the original command, because 
it does not alter that command at all. It only alters prac- 
tice arising under the command, and that in a point which 
the law itself does not specify. 

Some one may perhaps, however, say that the Sabbath 
was in commemoration of the rest of Jehovah after the cre- 
ation, and that this object is lost by the change. But a mo- 
ment's reflection will remove this difl&culty. After seven 
weeks had passed, the Sabbath would come on the 49th day 
after the creation. Now suppose it had then been changed 
by being moved one day forward so as to come on the 50th. 
Who can tell now what good reason there is why the 50th 
day may not as well be celebrated in commemoration of the 
creation as the 49th ? Besides, if the precise time of God's 
resting is to be reckoned at all, it is to be reckoned according 
to the culmination of the sun at Eden, and the day there is 
many hours in advance of us here ; so that strict precise 
accuracy in regard to hours and minutes is, in every view of 
the case, entirely out of the question : and the fact that the 
command does not attempt to secure it, gives evidence that 



234 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

it was intended for general circulation among mankincL To 
a person standing still in one place^ and looking no farther 
than to his limited horizon^ the word day seems definite 
enough ; but when a voice from Mount Sinai speaks to the 
whole world, commanding all men, at sea and on land, in 
arctic regions, and under an equinoctial sun, under every 
meridian and at every parallel, to remember one day in seven 
and keep it holy, there must be great diversity in the form 
and moment of obedience. We cannot, looking over the 
whole field, find a precise and universal limit. The command, 
if we consider it as addressed to the world, is entirely indefi- 
nite in regard to the precise period of the commencement 
and close of sacred time ,* but the great principle of it is 
clear. Keep one day in seven, according to some common 
fnede of computation, holy to the Lord. 

I should not have spent so much time in endeavouring 
to prove that minute accuracy in regard to the form and 
manner of obeying this command are unattainable, were it 
not that this discussion involves a principle which applies 
to many other cases ; so that if you are induced to see its 
reasonableness and to admit its force fully and cordially in 
this case, you will be saved a great deal of useless perplexity 
about the minutiae of form, in a great many other cases. Re- 
member then this principle, that commands are to be obeyed 
in their spirit, and that the precise form is a matter of con- 
sequence onli/ so Jar as it is a matter of positive and distinct 
specification. Do not therefore perplex or embarrass your- 
self a moment with disputes or speculations on such subjects. 

I have one or two practical remarks to make in reference 
to this part of my subject. 

1. In practice conform to the customs of Christiaiis 
around you, in regard to things not essential. If you live in 
a community where the Sabbath is generally commenced on 
Saturday evening, begin yours at that time. Conform not 
only in this, but in all other unimportant points. Kneel, or 
stand, or sit at prayers, as other people do around you. I 
have known persons so controlled by the narrow-minded de- 
termination to have a right way in all these little things, and 
to consider all other ways wrong, that they could not sit at 
table while a blessing was asked, as is the common custom 
in many places, without being very much shocked at the 



THE SABBATH. 235 

imaginary irreyerence. Some men will be pained if a mini- 
ster says tve in the pulpit, and others will quarrel with him 
if he says I ; and a grave discussion is sometimes carried 
on, on such points as these, in religious journals. One Chris- 
tian cannot endure a writien prayer, another cannot bear an 
extempore one. A. is troubled if there is an organ in the 
church, and B. thinks that music at church is nothing with- 
out one. C. will almost leave the meeting-house if he should 
see the minister come in wearing a silk gown, and D. would 
be equally shocked at seeing him without one. Now, all this 
is wrong. These points are not determined by any express 
command in the Bible, and consequently they are left to the 
varying taste and convenience of mankind. Every person 
may perhaps have a slight preference, but this preference 
he ought at all times to be willing to give up, in considera- 
tion of the wishes and feeling of his Christian brother. He 
who intends to do good in this world, must go about among 
mankind with a spirit which will lead him to conform easily 
and pleasantly with the customs of men, except in those 
cases where the letter or the spirit of the Bible forbid. 

2. This discussion reminds me of one great and striking 
characteristic of all God's commands : Thev are peculiarly 
liable to evasion. This is one of their exceUences, as a part 
of a system of moral discipline. The object of human laws 
is to prevent injury from crime, not to improve and perfect 
the character. The object of divine laws is to discipline mo- 
ral beings, to train them up to moral strength, and make 
them sincere and faithful servants of their Master in heaven. 
This gives rise to a great difference in the form of the com- 
mands themselves. How much pains do men take, when 
making laws, to cut off every possible chance of escape, by 
specifying with minute accuracy all the details of trans- 
gression. Hence the enactments of men are very volumin- 
ous. The laws of a state on the subject of theft would fill a 
volume. But God disposes of the whole subject in four 
words, ^^Thou shalt not steal." The human lawgiver 
studies to cut off, by the fulness and legal accuracy of his 
language, every opportunity for quibbling or evasion. But 
if any man wishes to escape from the laws of God by quib- 
bling and evasion, he may. The door is wide open. And 
that is what gives the law of God its admirable adaptedness 
to be the means of moral discipline to the human souL 



236 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

The reason why it produces this effect is this. The more 
strict and minute are the details of a command^ the less room 
is there for the exercise of fidelity and voluntary obedience. 
God mightj in regard to the Sabbath for example^ have been 
so precise and specific in his command, that the whole world 
might know exactly the moment when sacred time is to be- 
gin, and exactly the manner in which its hours are to be 
spent. Nay more, he might so have interrupted the course 
of nature, that all the business of life must have ceased, and 
men have been compelled to rest on the Sabbath. But this 
would have been no moral trial. It would have afforded no 
moral discipline. God does not accordingly adopt such a 
course. He expresses his command in general^and simple 
language. They who wish to obey can easily ascertain what 
they ought to do, and they who do not will easily find excuses. 

It is sometimes said, if you tell men it is immaterial whe- 
ther Saturday or Sunday evening is kept, they will keep nei- 
ther. It is true that some will keep neither. But those who 
wish to obey God's commands, will keep one or the other faith- 
fully ; and one great design in having uncertainty in such 
cases as this, is unquestionably to try us, — ^to see who does 
and who does not wish, on vain pretexts, to evade Grod's 
commands. 

I proceed now to consider the spirit and manner in which 
the Sabbath should be kept. 

The object of the Sabbath is to interpose an effectual in- 
terruption to all worldly business, and to promote as highly 
as possible the improvement of the character. Do then these 
two things ; 1st, suspend all worldly pursuits ; and 2d, spend 
the day in such a manner as will best promote your spiritual 
improvement. The first point is easy; I shall therefore 
pass it by, and direct my attention immediately to the last. 

There are wise and there are unwise ways of keeping the 
Sabbath holy. James is a boy who has set his he^ upon 
reading the Bible through in as short a time as possible, and 
he thinks there is no way of spending the Sabbath so pro- 
perly as by his carrying forward this good work with all his 
strength. He carries his Bible to bed with him at night, 
and places it under his pillow, that he may read as soon as 
it is light in the morning. You may see him at breakfast- 
time counting up the chapters he has read^ and calculating 



THE SABBATH. 237 

how long it will take him at that rate to get through a cer- 
tain book. He can hardly wait for family prayers to be 
oyer, he is so eager to drive forward his work. He reads 
a great many chapters in the course of the day, and lies 
down at night congratulating himself on his progress ; — ^but 
sdas^ he has made no progress in piely, Reading chapters 
in the Bible, as if he was reading on a wager, is not mak- 
ing progress in piety. He has not examined his heart that 
day. He has not made resolutions for future duty. He 
has not learned to be a more dutiful son, a more affection- 
ate brother, or a more humble and devoted Christian. No, 
— ^he has read trveniy chapters in the Bible I He has been 
making no new discoveries of his secret sins — has obtained 
no new views of his duty — ^has not drawn nigh to God, and 
found peace and happiness in communion with him ; — no, 
he has had no time for that, — he has been busy all day, 
running over his twenty chapters in the Bible ! It were 
well if James was aware that his real motive for this work 
is the pride of thinking and perhaps of telling others how 
much he has read, and that the cultivation of such a spirit 
is a bad way of spending God's holy day. I would not say 
a word against reading the Bible — but it must be read 
aright. Many a boy has broken the Sabbath entirely — 
masted every hour of it, and yet done nothing but read the 
Bible from morning to night. 

Many young persons think there is no way to break the 
Sabbath but by work or play. But the spirit and meaning 
of the fourth command undoubtedly is, that the Sabbath 
should be devoted to the real improvement of the Christian 
character ; and if this is neglected the Sabbath is broken, 
no matter in what way its hours may have been spent. 

Yes ; if this is neglected the command is disobeyed. No 
formal attention to any external duty whatever can be made 
a substitute. A boy sits at his window, studying his Sab- 
bath-school lesson, — his object, I will suppose, is not to learn 
his duty and to do it, but he wishes to surpass some com- 
panion at the recitation, or perhaps is actuated by a mere 
selfish desire to obtain a reward which has been very im- ^ 
properly offered him. He looks out of the window across 
the valley which extends before his father's house, and sees 
a boat full of his playmates pushing off from the shore, on 
an excursion of pleasure. 



238 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

" Ah !'- says he, " those wicked boys ! They are breaking 
the Sabbath." 

Yes, they are breaking the Sabbath, and so is he. Both 
are perverting it. God looks at the heart, and requires that 
all should spend the Sabbath in honest efforts to discoyer and 
confess and abandon sin, and to become pure and holy, and 
devoted to him. Now, both the boys in the boat and the 
one at the window are neglecting this. They are doing it 
for the pleasure of a sail. He is doing it for the honour of 
superiority in his class. The day is mis-spent and pervert- 
ed in both cases. 

Mrs. X. is the mother of several children, and she is ex- 
ceedingly desirous that all her family should faithfully keep 
the Sabbath. She cannot bear the thought that it should be 
profaned by any under her roof. Before sacred time comes, 
therefore, the whole house is put in order, all worldly busi- 
ness is brought to a close, so that the minds of all her family 
may be free. All this is excellent ; but how does she ac- 
tually spend the sacred hours ? Why, her whole attention 
is devoted to enforcing the mere external duties of rehgion 
in her household. She is careful to banish every secular 
book. She requires one child to sit still and read the 
Bible, — another she confines to a prayer-book, or to some 
good book of religious exhortation. A third is kept study- 
ing a Sabbath-school lesson. All, however, must be still, — 
it is her great desire and aim to banish every thing like 
worldly work or play. There must be no light conversation, 
and even the little infant, creeping upon the floor, has to 
relinquish his playthings and spend the day in inaction. 

Now, when night comes, this mother thinks that she has 
kept the Sabbath, and induced her household to keep it too ; 
and perhaps she has. But all that I have described does not 
prove that she has kept it, according to God's original de- 
sign. God did not institute the Sabbath in order merely that 
children might be kept from play, or that they might be 
forced to read mechanically good books — ^but that they might 
improve their characters, and make real preparation for an- 
other world. Now, unless a mother adopts such methods as 
shall most effectually promote the improvement of her chil- 
dren, and unless she succeeds i^ interesting them in it, she 
does not attain the object in view. If your children are 
spending the day in a cold and heartless manner, complying 



THE SJkBBATH. ^39 

with your rules from mere fear of youjr authority, they are 
notj properly speaking, keeping the Sabhath. The end in 
view^ improvement of character, is not attained. 

But many a mother who reads this will ask, " How can I 
interest my children in such efforts to improve ?" You will 
find a hundred ways if you set your hearts upon it. The 
only danger is, that you will not fully feel the necessity of it. 
You are sati^ied, or there is great danger that you will be 
satisfied, with the mere formality oi external decorum on the 
Lord's day, forgetting that the empire in which your influence 
ought to reign on that day, is ihe empire of the heart, not the 
external conduct. You ought, therefore, to aim at adopting 
such means of addressing and influencing your children as 
shall seem best calculated to reach and control their hearts. 
If you really wish to do this, and really try to do it, you will 
soon learn. 

Imagine such a scene as this. A mother with several 
children under eight or ten years of age, collects them in 
her chamber on a pleasant Sabbath afternoon in summer^ 
and with a cheerful countenance and pleasant tone of voice, 
when all are seated, addresses them as follows : 

" Well, children, you know what the Sabbath is for; it is 
to give us time and opportunity to improve. I suppose you 
want to improve. The way to do it is to find out our faults, 
and then try to correct them. Are you willing now to try 
to find out your faults ?" 

" Yes, mother." 

*' I have thought of this plan. How should you like it ? 
I will pause a minute or two, and we shall try to think of 
faults that we have seen among ourselves last week. You 
may try and I will try. After a minute or two I will ask 
you all around. Should you like to do this ?'* 

A mother who manages her children in a proper manner, 
with habitual kindness and affection, will receive a cordial 
assent to such a proposal as this. After a few minutes sh<^ 
puts the question round, — 

^' Mary, have you thought of any thing ?" 

" Yes, mother, I think that John and I quarrel some- 
times." 

" Do you think of any case which happened last week ?" 

Mary hesitates, and John looks a little confused. 

'* You may do just as you please," says the mother, ''about 



240 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

mentioning it. It is unpleasant to 4;liink and talk about our 
faults, and of course it will be unpleasant for jou to describe 
particularly any thing wrong which you have done. But 
then if you do honestly and frankly confess it, I think you 
will be much less likely to do wrong in the same way next 
week.'* 

Mary then tells in her own simple style the story of some 
childish contention, not with the shrinking and hesitation 
of extorted acknowledgment, but openly and frankly, and 
in such a manner as greatly to diminish the danger of fall- 
ing into such a sin again. When Ae has said all, which 
however may not perhaps have been more than two or three 
sentences, the mother continues, addressing herself to the 
others ; — 

" Well, children, you have heard what Mary has said. 
Have you observed any thing in her expressions which 
tended to show that she has wished. to throw the blame off 
upon John ?" 

They will probably say, yes. A child would not be a very 
impartial historian in such a case, and other children would 
be very shrewd to detect the indications of bias. 

'' Now, I do not know," says the mother, " but that John 
was most to blame. Mary told the story on the whole in a 
very proper manner. I only asked the question, to remind 
you all that our object is now to learn our own faults and to 
correct them, and you must all try to see as much as possi- 
ble where you yourselves have been to blame." 

She then turns to some passages of the Bible on the sub- 
ject of forbearance and harmony between brothers and 
sisters, and reads them, — not for the purpose of loading her 
children with invective and reproach, or telling them, with 
a countenance of assumed solemnity, how wicked they 
have been, but of kindly and mildly pointing out what 
Gk)d's commands are, and the necessity as well as the hap- 
piness of obeying them. 

If this is done in a proper manner, if the mother feek 
that she must watch the feelings of her little charge, and 
apply her means of influence dexterously and skilfully, she 
will succeed — certainly after one or two trials — ^in produc- 
ing a dislike of contention, a desire to avoid it, and a re- 
solution to sin in this respect no more. She may in the 
same manner go through the circle ; fault after feult will 



THE SABBATH. 24i 

be brought up; its nature and its consequences kindly 
pointed out, — and those commands of God which bear upon 
the subject plainly brought to view. The interview may 
be closed by a short and simple prayer, that Qod will for- 
give for Christ's sake the sins they have confessed, and give 
them all strength to resist temptation during the coming 
week. Such an exercise, if managed as every kind and 
faithful mother can manage it, mil succeed. The children 
will go away from it with consciences relieved, in some de- 
gree, from the burden of sin ; they will look back upon it 
as a serious but happy interview, and will feel — though a 
wise mother will not try to draw fifom them an expression of 
that feeling — ^that it is a happy thing to repent of sin, and 
to return to duty. I asked my readers, at the outset, to 
imagine the scene, but in fact it is not an imaginary scene ; 
in substance it is reality. 

This, now, is keeping the Sabbath. Such an influence 
comes to the heart, and it accomplishes directly and im* 
mediately the very object that God had in view in the ap- 
pointment of the Sabbath. I only offer it however as a 
specimen. If repeated in exactly this form every Sabbath, 
the sameness might become tiresome. The idea which I 
mean to convey is, that the heart must be reached, — and 
the process of improvement must be advancing, or the 
object of the Sabbath is lost. Let my young readers re- 
member this. Unless you are improving and elevating and 
advancing your characters, discovering your faults and 
correcting them, learning God's will as it applies to your 
own conduct, and confessing and forsaking your sins — ^un- 
less you are doing such work as this, you cannot be keeping 
the Sabbath day. The simple question then is, are you 
willing to devote^ honestly and conscientiously, one day in 
seven to real and sincere efforts to make progress in piety ? 

If you are willing, and every Christian certainly will be, 
you are not to go forward blindly, reading and reflecting 
without system or plan, on the vain supposition that if the 
mind is actually employed on religious subjects, all is go- 
ing on well. You must take into careful consideration the 
nature of the human mind, and the means which, accordini 
to the laws which the Creator has given it, are most calcu 
lated to have an influence over it. This principle will re 
quire attention to several points. 

Q 



242 YOUNG CHmiSTIAN. 

1. Variety in the exercises of the Sahhath. When I was 
thinkmg of this topic, and considering how I should present 
it here, 1 one day accidentally fell into conversation with a 
clergyman who had had far more experience as a religious 
teacher than I hare enjoyed. I requested him to reduce to 
writing the views he expressed, that I might insert them 
here. He soon after sent me the following. 

" Many Christians, who feel deeply the importance of 
spending the Sahhath in a proper manner, find, notwith- 
standing all their endeavours, that the sacred hours do at 
times pass heavily along. Now, the Sabbath should be, not 
only the Christian's moat profitable, but most happy day. 
I once knew a yoimg Christian who resolved that he 
would pass the whole day in prayer. But very soon he 
became exhausted and weary. He, however, persevered 
through the whole day, with the exception of a few neces- 
sary interruptions, and when night came, he felt a deadness 
and exhaustion of feeling, which he imhappily mistook for 
spiritual desertion. No human mind can, in ordinary cases, 
sustain such long and intense application to one subject 
There must be variety, to give cheerfulness and to invigorate. 
It is often that a conscientious young Christian takes his 
Bible, resolving to spend the Sabbath in reading the Bible 
and in prayer. He perhaps passes an hour or troo in this 
way very pleasantly, and then he feels tired. He tries to 
rouse his feelings, and bitterly condemns himself for un- 
avoidable languor. I have known persons to be greaUj 
disquieted and distrustful of their Christian character, be- 
cause they could not pass the whole of the Sabbath pleasant- 
ly in uninterrupted reading the Bible and prayer. 

*' There is a wide difierence between spiritual desertion 
and mental exhaustion. To avoid this mental exhaustion, 
and to keep the spirits animated and cheerful, much variety 
of pursuit is necessary. Who would be willing to go to 
church, and have the whole time occupied with a sermon, 
or a prayer, or a hymn ? How few are there who can with 
pleasure and profit listen to a sermon of one hoiir's length. 
There must be a diversity of exercises to make public wor- 
ship agreeable, and there must be diversity to give pleasure 
to private devotion. 

" Let the sacred hours of the Sabbath, then, be appro- 
priated to a variety of religious employments. Suppose thf 



THE SABBATH. 243 

case of a joung married man. He wishes to pass the Sah- 
bath in a way acceptable to God, and wishes to enjoy his 
religious duties. He rises in good season in the morning, 
and commences the day with a short but fervent prayer for 
the Divine blessing. He then passes the time till breakfast 
in reading the Bible. Perhaps for the sake of variety he 
spends a part of the time in reading the devotional portions, 
and a part in perusing its interesting history. At the break- 
fest-table, with cheerful countenance and heart, he leads 
the conversation to religious subjects. After breakfast he 
passes an hour in reading some valuable religious book. 
Books are so numerous now, that the best practical works 
upon Christianity are easily obtained by all. Bunyan's 
Pilgrims* Progress, Baxter's Saints' Rest, Law's Serious 
Call, Doddridge's Rise and Progress, Imitation of Christ, 
&c. are works of standard merit, and works with which all 
Christians may and should be acquainted. It is very de- 
sirable that the Christian should have on hand some such 
book, which he will read in course, a moderate portion 
every day, imtil he has finished it. 

^' At length the time arrives for the assembling of his 
family for morning prayers. He carries his principle for 
securing an interesting variety here. Sometimes he will 
read religious intelligence from a periodical, for which he 
subscribes, or which he has borrowed from a neighbour. 
Sometimes he reads an interesting narrative from a tract, 
always taking care to select something which will excite 
attention. After finishing this, he opens the Bible and 
selects some appropriate passage and reads it, with occa- 
sional remarks intended to deepen the impression upon his 
own mind, and upon the minds of those in the circle around 
him. He then reads a hymn, and after singing a few verses, 
if the family are able to sing, bows at the family altar in 
prayer. The variety which he has thus introduced into the 
exercise has continued to interest his feelings, and no oc- 
casion has been offered for lassitude or tedium. 

" He now walks the room for exercise, and reviews the 
past week ; he thinks of the opportunities to do good which 
he has neglected ; examines his feelings and his conduct, 
and in ejaculatory prayer seeks forgiveness. When he 
enters the place of public worship his mind is ready for ac- 
tive service there. He unites with his pastor in prayer* 



244 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

Wlien a hymn is read^ he attends to the sentiment^ and 
makes melody in heart to God when singing his praises. 
He listens attentively to the sermon, feehng that the re- 
sponsibility of being interested in it comes upon him, and 
he prays that God will bless it to his own soid, and to the 
conversion of others. 

" Perhaps in the interval between forenoon and afternoon 
service, he has a class in the Sabbathnschool, or is himself 
a member of the Bible class. These duties he performs with 
a sincere desire to do good. After the close of the afternoon 
services, he retires for secret prayer. He appropriates a 
proper period to this duty, and presents his own private and 
personal wants, and the spiritual interests of others, in mi- 
nute detail to God. He looks forward, too, to the duties of 
the week. He brings before his mind the temptations to 
which he will be exposed, — ^the opportunities for exerting a 
Christian influence which he possesses, — and forms his plans 
of Christian usefulness for the week. He thinks of some 
good object he will try to advance, of some individual whom 
he will try to lead to the Saviour. He forms his resolutions, 
and perhaps writes them down, that he may refer to them 
again the next Sabbath, in the review of the week. At the 
appointed hour he assembles his femily for evening prayers. 
Some interesting story, followed by the Bible, singing and 
prayer again, give variety and animation to the exercise. 
And when all the duties of the day are over, as he is retir- 
ing to rest, he passes the few moments which remain before 
slumber has wrapt his senses in forgetfulness, in reviewing 
the duties of the day. The Sabbath has been profitably and 
happily spent. It has been to him a rich season of improve- 
ment and of enjoyment. He has made a Sabbath day's 
journey towards heaven. He has obtained strength to meet 
the allurements and temptations of life. During the week 
he looks back upon the Sabbath with pleasure, and when 
the light of another holy morning dawns upon him, he can 
sincerely say, 

' Welcome delightful morn. 
Thou day of sacred rest ; 
1 kail thy kind return. 
Lord malce these moments blest/ 

' In this way the Sabbath is a delight It is a day of re- 



THB SABBATH. 245 

firesliment^ and the spirit of man longs eagerly for its ap- 
proach. I have introduced the above example simply as an 
illustration of what I mean by saying that there should be 
yariety in the exercises of the Sabbath. Probably no one 
who reads these pages will find it expedient to adopt pre- 
cisely the same course. But all maiy proceed upon the same 
principle, and adapt their plans to their situation." 

2. System in the exercises of the Sabbath. Much time 
is often lost upon the Sabbath for want of a regular plan. 
If a person reads half an hour in the Bible, and then stops 
to think what he shall take up next^ his mind is perplexed 
He says, " shall I now retire for secret prayer, or shall I read 
a tract, or shall I take up Baxter's Saints' Eest ?" Several 
moments are lost in deciding. Perhaps he takes Baxter ; 
but while reading, he hesitates whether it would not have 
been better to have taken something else. And then his 
mind is diverted from his book by thinking what he shall 
next read. Thus much time is lost, and the mind is perplex- 
ed. It is therefore wisdom to have a plan previously formed 
for the whole day. With a little reflection a plan may easi- 
ly be formed, appropriating systematically the time of the 
Sabbath to the several duties which ought to be performed. 
Many persons constantly do this. In all cases there will be 
unavoidable interruptions. But we may derive much assist- 
ance from rules without making ourselves slaves to them. 
If you have domestic duties which must be performed upon 
the Sabbath, if possible have them performed by a given 
hour, that they may not intrude upon all the hours of the 
sacred day. If you are constantly exposed to interruptions, 
if there is no time of the day which you can call your own, 
then let your plans be formed in accordance with this pecu- 
liarity in your situation. Three things all may guard 
against — ^indolence, a worldly spirit, and too long applica- 
tion of the mind to one subject. There are no lawful situ- 
ations in life in which we may not pass the day with 
improvement to ourselves and acceptably to God. 

3. Rest on the Sabbath. We ought to remember that 
God has ordained the Sabbath as a day of rest from labour, 
as well as a day of spiritual improvement, and it ought to 
be made such. 

It is undoubtedly wrong to apply our minds so uninter- 
ruptedly to religious duties during the day, as to feel worn 



246 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

out and exhausted at night. There are, indeed, some ex- 
ceptions. Ministers and Sabbath-school teachers must in 
fact often do a very hard day's work on the Sabbath. They 
are labouring for the religious good of others, and must be 
often fatigued by their efforts. But the private Christian, 
aiming chiefly at the promotion of his own religious im- 
provement, must not so fill up the hours with duties re- 
quiring mental labour, as to prevent the rest which God 
requires on his holy day. 

These three points, variety, system, and rest, ought to be 
attended to, in order to secure the greatest possible moral 
progress in that day. A teacher of a school would be very 
unwise were he to require his pupils to spend the whole of 
a day in actual study, — ^much less would he keep them dur- 
ing all that time upon one single book or subject. Nor 
would he, on the other hand, relinquish all system, and do,, 
every hour, whatever should happen to suggest itself to his 
thoughts. He knows that his pupils will actually advance 
more rapidly if he systematizes and at the same time varies 
their exercises, and allows intervals of rest and recreation. 
The Christian, too, who watches the movements of his own 
mind — and every Christian ought to do this — ^will soon learn 
that he must adopt substantially the same plan, if he wishes 
to make rapid progress in piety. 

I will now proceed to mention, in order to be specific, se- 
veral duties which I think ought to be performed on the 
Sabbath. I advise every one of my readers immediately 
after perusing my account of these duties, to sit down and 
form a plan for himself, assigning to each one of them an 
appropriate place, devoting an hour, or half an hour to each, 
according to his age and lus circumstances in other respects. 
This plan ought not, however, to occupy all the hours of 
the day. Some should be left unappropriated, to allow op- 
portunity to rest, and to perform such duties as may from 
time to time arise to view. Make your plan, and resolve to 
try it, for one Sabbath only. You can then consider whether 
to continue it, or to modify it, or to abandon it altogether. 

1. Self-examination. I do not mean by this the mere 
asking yourself some general questions i|^ regard to your 
heart, and the habitual feehngs of it. I mean, going over 
minutely the various occurrences qfthe week, to see what yoH 



THE SABBATH. 247 

have done, and what motives have actuated you. Yo-i can 
attend to this most successfully by considering the s abject 
under several distinct heads. 

(a) Think what has chiefly interested and occupied you 
during the week,_and what is the flnal^ ultimate object you 
have in view in what you have been doing. Review all the 
labours which have been connected with that pursuit, what- 
ever it may be, and find in what respects you have been 
pursuing your object with a wrong spirit. 

(b) Consider what has been your conduct towards your 
parents, if you are still connected with them. Have you 
had any difl&culty of any kind with them? Have they 
reproved you once during the week, or been dissatisfied 
with you in any respect ? If so, what was it for ? Think 
over the whole occurrence, and see wherein you were to 
blame in it. Look at your habitual conduct towards your 
parents, or those under whose care you are placed. Have 
you at any time disobeyed them, — or neglected to obey 
them with alacrity ? Have you had any dispute with them, 
or been sullen or ill-humoured, on account of any of their 
measures ? You must look also to the other side of the 
question, and consider what good you have done to your 
parents. Self-examination implies the investigation of what 
is right in the character as well as what is wrong. What 
good, then, have you done to your parents? In what 
cases did you comply with their wishes when you were 
tempted not to comply ? When did you give them plea- 
sure by your attention, or your faithful and ready obe- 
dience to their commands ? You can spend half an hour 
most profitably, not merely by answering these individual 
questions but in a careful review of all your conduct to- 
wards your parents, going into minute detail. 

(c) Companions. What has been your deportment to- 
wards your companions? How many have you made 
happier during the past week ? Think of what good you 
have done, and of the way in which you did it. How 
many, too, have you made unhappy ? If you have had 
any contention, call to mind all the circumstances of it ; the 
angry or reproachful or ill-humoured words which you used, 
and the spirit of heart which you cherished. It wUl require 
a long time to review thoroughly all those events of a week 



248 YOUNG CHRISTIAN, 

which illustrate the spirit with which you hare acted to- 
wards your companions. 

(d) Fidelity in business. You have some employment 
in which you ought to have been diligent and faithful dur- 
ing the week. Look over minutely yOur conduct in this re- 
spect. Begin with Monday morning and come down to 
Saturday nighty and see^ by a careful examination of the 
labours of me week, whether you have been " diligent in 
business, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord." 

(e) Secret sins. This is a most important head of self- 
examination. You have committed secret sins ; — ^you have 
cherished feelings which others have not known, or you have 
in secret done what you would blush to have exposed to 
view. Explore dl this groimd thoroughly, and coi^ess and 
forsake such sins. 

I might mention a number of similar points, but it is un- 
necessary, as my object is only to show that self-examina- 
tion, to be eflfeotual, must be minute, and must be brought to 
bear immediately and directly upon the actual conduct. You 
will succeed much better if you divide the groimd in some 
such maimer as above described. 

2. Prayer, This is the second duty which I shall men- 
tion, for which a place ought to be particularly assigned on 
the Sabbath. I have in several places in this book alluded 
to the subject of prayer, and I shall merely here say in what 
respects prayer on the Sabbath should be peculiar. More 
time should be allotted to the exercise, and it should also 
take a wider range. Consider your whole character, and 
look backward upon the past, and forward to the future, so 
as to take a comprehensive view of your condition and pro- 
spects, and let your supplications be such as this extended 
survey will suggest to you. 

There is one thing, however, which I ought to say here, 
though I shall speak more distinctly of it in a subsequent 
chapter. It is this : Take a firm and an immoveable stand 
in the duty of secret prayer j let nothing tempt you to 
neglect or postpone or curtail it, or pass over the season of 
your communion with God in a hurried and formal manner. 
Neglecting the closet is the beginning of backsliding, and 
the end of happiness and peace. 

3. Studying the Bible, In the chapter devoted expressly 



THE SABBATH. 249 

to tliis subject^ I have mentiohed a variety of methods by 
which the study of the Bible may be made more interesting 
and profitable than it now ordinarily is. Every young 
Christian ought to allot a specific and regular time^ every 
Sabbath day, to the systematic study of the Bible by some 
such methods as those. 

4. Conversation, The older and more intelligent mem- 
bers of a family may do much towards making the day pass 
pleasantly and profitably, by making some effort to prepare 
subjects for conversation. Suppose a family take such a 
course as this : — ^A daughter, studying the Bible alone in 
her chamber, finds some difficult and yet interesting ques- 
tion arising fix)m the passage she is investigating. *^ I will 
ask about it at dinner," she says ; '^ my brothers and sisters 
will be interested in it, and in father's answer ; for perhaps 
he will be able to answer it." The mother is reading some 
Christian biography, and coming to an interesting passage, 
she says to herself, " I will tell this story at dinner to-day, it 
will interest the children." The father inquires mentally, as 
the dinner-hour approaches, " What shall we talk about to- 
day ?" Perhaps he recollects some occurrence which has 
taken place during the week, which illustrates some religious 
truth, or is an example of religious duty. Thus each one 
comes to the table prepared to contribute something to the 
common stock of conversation. The dinner-hour, in such a 
ease, will not pass along heavily ; all will be interested and 
profited by the remarks which will be made on the various 
topics which will come up. If any family into which this 
book may come will really try this experiment, they will find 
in a very short time that subjects for conversation will come 
up in far greater numbers, and exciting much greater inter- 
est, than they would at first have supposed. There may be 
an agreement made at breakfast that each one of the family 
will endeavour to bring forward some fact or some ques- 
tion at dinner, and then the father may call upon all in 
turn. 

A great many persons imagine that conversation is some- 
thing that must be left entirely to itself, — that there can be 
no preparation for it, and no arrangements made to secure 
interest and profit from it. But the truth is, if there is any 
thing which demands forethought and arrangement, it is this 
very business of conversation, — especially religious conver- 



250 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

sation on the Sabbath. Without some such effort as I have 
above described, the Cliristian family, when assembled at 
dinner or tea, must spend the time in silence, or in fiivo- 
lous remarks ; — criticisms upon the preacher, or discussions 
on subjects which keep those who are conscientious con- 
stantly uneasy, because they doubt whether the subjects 
upon which they are speaking are suitable to the sacredness 
of the Lord's day. 

Many persons have no idea of religious conversation, ex- 
cepting a forced and formal exhortation j&om the master of 
the family or from a Christian minister. They cannot un- 
derstand how a whole family can be interested, from the 
aged grand-parent down to the youngest child, in a con- 
versation exactly calculated to promote the objects of the 
Sabbath. But let such persons try the experiment I have 
mentioned above, and they will discover their mistake. 
The ways by which a family maybe interested by means of 
judicious and ingenious efforts on the part of a parent or an 
elder brother or sister, are very numerous. Sometimes a 
question may be proposed in regard to duty. A case may be 
imagined, or some real case which has actually occurred 
may be stated, and the question may be asked, what ought 
to be done in such a case. Or some question may be started 
for discussion ; I do not mean for formal argument as in a 
parliamentary assembly, but for free interchange of opinion. 

5. Public Worship, It is perfectly astonishing what a 
tendency there is among mankind, and even amon^ Chris- 
tians, to throw off the whole responsibility of pubnc wor- 
ship upon the minister. The disposition is almost universal. 
— Come with me into this church, and observe the congre- 
gation assembled. The minister reads a hymn, and while 
he is reading it, how great a proportion of the hearers are 
entirely regardless of its contents. He rises to offer a prayer, 
and if we could see the hearts of those present, how many 
we should find who are really making no effort at all to ac- 
company him to the throne of grace. At last he names his 
text, and the eyes of almost all the assembly are turned 
towards him. As he looks over the assembly, he sees an 
expression of interest upon the countenances of his hearers, 
and perhaps expects they are going to listen with interest 
to what he has to say. lie Begins the delivery of his mes- 
Siige, endeavouring to explain to them the principles of duty, 



THE SABBATH. 251 

or to present the considerations which should urge them 
to do it. Now, let me ask, while this exercise is going for- 
ward, upon whom does the responsibility of it chiefly come ? 
Is it the duty of a minister to interest the people, or that of the 
people to be interested by their own efforts, in the .message 
the minister brings ? Are you, in receiving a message from 
above, to reject it, or listen to it carelessly, and with an 
inattentive and listless air, because it is not presented in 
such a manner as to compel you, by the novelty of its illus- 
trations or the beauty of its diction, to give it your regard ? 
A farmer sends his boys into a field to spend the day in 
work. He tells them what to do for an hour, and says that 
after that time he shall send a man to explain to them how 
they are to proceed through the day. The boys go on with 
their work until at length the expected messenger appears. 
He begins to tell them how the land is to to be ploughed, or in 
what way the father wishes the seed to be put in the ground. 
The boys listen to him a minute or two, until one perceiving 
some oddity in the man's manner, bursts into a laugh — an- 
other sits down on a green bank under a tree, and gradually 
falls into a state of drowsy insensibility, — a third looks away 
with a vacant countenance upon the hills and mountains 
around, utterly regardless of the message. The boys conse- 
quently do not learn what their father wishes them to do, 
and do not do it, and when night comes, and they are call- 
ed to account for the labours of the day, they try to justify 
themselves with this preposterous excuse : " Why," they say 
to their father, *^ the man you sent us was not an interest- 
ing man, and so we did not pay any attention to his mes- 
sage. He had no talent at making his mode of explanation 
novel and striking, and so we did not listen to it." '' I could 
not possibly fix my attention," says one. " He was a very 
sleepy talker," says another ; " I could not keep awake." 
" He was dressed so," says a third, " and he had such a tone 
that I could not help laughing at him." 

Such are the excuses which many persons give for not 
giving heed to religious instruction on the Sabbath. They 
try to throw off all responsibility upon the minister, and if 
he does not awaken, by the power of his genius, an interest in 
their minds, they consider themselves entirely excused from 
feeling any. They say in substance to themselves, — " We 
know we have disobeyed God, and he is sending us messeu- 



252 TOimO CHRISTIAN. 

gers to communicate to us tbe offers of foigiveness for the 
past and direction for the future^ but unless he sends us 
agreeable and ingenious and eloquent men^ we will pay no 
attention to any of them." 

Who can stand in the judgment with such an excuse ? 
And yet it is the actual feeling of thousands. But^ my read- 
er, I do urge you to abandon altogether this plan of throw- 
ing off upon the minister whom Providence has sent to you 
the responsibility of the interest you take in public instruc- 
tion. It is his duty to deliver his message plainly and intel- 
ligibly; but it is 1/our duty, most imquestionably, to be 
interested in it. Go to meeting, feeling that you have some- 
thing to do there. You must be interested in what you hear, 
if it is a plain exhibition of religious truth, and you must 
apply it to your own conscience and heart by real active ef- 
fort, or you must incur the guilt of rejecting the message 
from heaven. The less interesting tlie preacher then is, the 
more active and the more arduous the duty of his hearers. 
They should look him steadily in the face, and listen in si- 
lence and in deep attention to what he has to say, and feel 
at all times, though the minister must be faithful in dehver- 
ing his message, that it is their most imperious duty to take 
heed how they hear. 

There are a great many persons who are very constant in 
their attendance upon public worship, and who think their 
motive is respect for religion, and a desire to obey Grod's 
commands, when in fact they are controlled by other motives 
altogether. I do not mean by this, that they attend public 
worship, and sustain by their influence the ordinances of 
religion, through a distinct and deliberate design of merely 
promoting in some way their own worldly interest by it 
Actual, intentional hypocrisy, is a means which few men 
will knowingly adopt to accomplish their purposes. It is 
of so mean and base a quality, that even the honourable prin- 
ciples of this world are usually sufficient to preserve the 
breasts of men from its pollution. It is degrading and hu- 
miliating to admit it knowingly and voluntarily as a princi- 
ple of action. The great danger is, from a hypocrisy or 
something nearly allied to it, which comes in secrecy or dis- 
guise. It is not always an easy thing for us to decide by 
what motives we are governed in the actions which we per- 
form. "We are often swayed by inducements of which, 



THE SABBATH. 253 

without rigid and impartial scrutiny, we are entirely uncon- 
scious ; for there may be one motive, of fair and honourable 
appearance, which stands out to the view of the individual 
as the director of his actions, and there may be another 
of £ax different character, which in reality guides him, but 
which is coiled up, like a main-spring, in a secret place^ 
and thus eludes his observation. The Bible, when it teaches 
us that the heart is deceitful above all things, tells us no- 
thing which an imbiassed observation of human nature will 
not everywhere confirm. 

Now, if some sinister motive is for a time actuating a 
Christian in his religious course, he can very easily detect 
it by the manner in which the public duties of the Sabbath 
are performed. A man who is secretly influenced by some 
worldly consideration in what he does, may be attentive and 
faithful in all the open and public services of religion. If 
we are thus influenced, however, as it is external appear- 
ance only which can bring us worldly advantage, we shall 
go no farther than to the outward appearance. We may 
rise with God's people in his house of prayer, and assume the 
posture of reverential supplication, but if appearances are all 
which we regard, we shall be satisfied with merely assuming 
the posture. We may join with our Hps in the song of praise, 
and if to be seen of men is our object, the service of the lip 
is all that is necessary for its accomplishment, and that will 
be all at which we shall aim. And we may listen with ap- 
parent attention to the message which the preacher delivers, 
but the appearance of attention will be all, if our object is 
such that this appearance will attain it. 

On the other hand, if an honest intention of worshipping 
Grod be the motive which calls a man to the weekly assem- 
bly, it will carry him farther than to a compliance with the 
external form. When in the season of prayer, recognising 
the presence of the great God of heaven and earth, he rises 
to assume the attitude of respectful reverence, his heart will 
feel the reverence which his action implies. His thoughts, 
instead of wandering to the ends of the earth, wiU ascend 
in devout aspirations to heaven. Contrition for the offences 
which he has committed against that being who has been 
kind to him as a father, — ^resolutions to conform his conduct 
and character more completely to the divine will, — ^longings 
for that assistance from above, without which past experi« 



254 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

ence and the word of Grod inform him that his efforts will 
be strength spent for nought, — and ardent supplications for 
blessings upon his fellow-men, dictated bj a benevolence 
which comprises in its view the whole human family, and 
which looks forward, in its good will to men, to the enjoy- 
ments of eternity, as well as to the comforts and conveni- 
ences of time — these will be th** emotions which will have 
control in the heart of the man of sincerity, while the affec- 
tions of the man of form will be grovelling upon the farm, 
the money or the merchandize. 

The song of praise, too, from the one who really worships 
God, will not be merely music on the tongue, it will be an 
expression of warm feeling from the heajrt. The vmce tf 
adoration and praise will arise from a soul which adcyres and 
vraises, and which, as it lifts up that voice, will be itself 
elevated by the emotions of gratitude and love ; while the 
offerer of an external worship will be lost in vacancy during 
the singing of God's praises, or only interested in the mere 
music of the song. 

And in the listening to the sermon, the conscientious wor* 
shipper will give earnest heed to the things which relate to 
his everlasting peace. Knowing that he has in multiplied 
instances transgressed a law which God has established, and 
enforced by dreadful sanctions, he is convinced that it be- 
comes him to attend in earnest to the means of averting the 
consequences of his guilt. With this view his mind is fixed 
in attention to the way of reconciliation with God, and to 
the duties which devolve upon him who cherishes hopes of 
immortality ; and all this time, he who is contented with 
outward conformity is lost in a mental and perhaps in a 
bodily slumber. 

Let me urge my readers, then, to be careful how they 
perform the duties of public worship. The responsibility of 
being interested in them, and profited by them, comes upon 
you alone. You cannot throw it off upon your minister. 
Examine yourself with reference to the spirit and feelings 
with which these duties are performed. They afford you a 
very fine opportunity for close and faithful self-examination, 
for the sinister motives which in a greater or less degree un- 
doubtedly exist in your hearts will show themselves here. 

There is one thing more that I ought to present to the 



THE SABBATH. 255 

consideration of my readers before closing the chapter on 
this subject. It is this : 

In keeping Ike Sabbath, avoid all appearance of evil. I 
have endeavoured in this discussion to accomplish two ob- 
jects. First, to convince my readers that the mere form and 
maimer in which the Sabbath is kept^ except so far as that 
it is a matter of express command, is not material ; and, 
secondly, to convey to the mind a distinct idea of what I 
understand to be the spirit of the command, and to persuade 
all my readers to aim at producing, by the best means 
within their reach, upon their own hearts and lives, the 
effect which God had in view in the establishment of the 
institution. From these views of the subject, were I to 
stop here, it might seem that if we take such a course as 
sh^ really secure our own religious improvement on the 
Sabbath, we may do it in any way ; for example, that we 
may walk, or ride, or visit, provided that we so regulate 
and control our thoughts and conversation as to make the 
spiritual improvement which it is the object of the day to 
secure. But no. We must avoid the appearance of evil. 
We must not seem to be breaking or disregarding God*s 
commands. 

For example. A Christian, living on the sea-shore, after 
having spent the day in the various duties which have pre- 
sented themselves to his attention, stands at the door of his 
house, and looks out upon the glassy surface of the bay 
which strf ^^hes before Jiim, It is a summer evening. The 
sun is jusu setting, thx0wi.ig his bright beams over the 
water, and gilding every object upon which it shines. The 
Christian looks over this scene of beauty, and its expression 
of calmness and peace is transferred to his own soul. He 
feels the presence of God in it all, and rejoices in the power 
and goodness of the great being who reigns in every scene 
of beauty or of grandeur which nature exhibits. 

With his heart filled with such thoughts, he walks down 
upon the beach, to indulge in the contemplation of God's 
goodness to mankind and to him. Now he is, it must be 
admitted, while doing this, accomplishing the object of the 
Sabbath, by meditation on the character of God. He may 
say, perhaps, that his views of divine goodness and power 
are more distinct and vivid while he is walking out among 
the beauties of nature, if his heart is in a right state, than 



256 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

they would be if he was shut up in his study. Why then 
may he not walk out at evening ? 

And why may he not step into the little boat which floats 
in the cove, and unloosen its chain^ and push himself off 
from the shore, that while the gentle, dying swell of the sea 
is rocking him, he may lose himself more completely in the 
absorbing feeling of God's presence, and muse more unin- 
terruptedly upon his Creator's power ? — Shall he go ? 

No ; stop. Christian, stop. Before you spend your half- 
hour in a boat upon the water, or even in your eyening 
walk, consider what will be the influence of the example 
you are going to set to others. Shall you appear, while you 
are doing this, to be remembering the Sabbath day to keep 
it holy ? Is it best, on the whole, that riding, walking, and 
sailing should be among the occupations of holy time? 
Will God be honoured, and his Sabbath kept, if all spend 
the Sabbath evening as you are about to spend it ? 

These questions must be answered on a principle which 
will apply to multitudes of other cases. Take a course 
which, were it universally imitated, would promote the 
greatest good, otherwise you may be doing that which, 
though safe for yourself, will be of incalculable injuiy 
through the influence of your example upon others. 



CHAPTER X. 

TRIAL AND DISCIPLINE 

*' Strangers and pilgrims on the earth." 
T. NATURE OP TRIAL. 

The Bible everywhere conveys the idea that this life is 
not our home, but a state of probation, that is, of trial and 
discipline, which is intended to prepare us for another. Id 
order that all, even the youngest of my readers, may imder- 
stand what is meant by this, I shall illustrate it by some fa- 
miliar examples, drawn from the actual business of life. 



TRIAL AND DISCIPLINE. 257 

When a large steam-boat is built with the intention of 
having her employed upon the waters of a great river^ she 
must be . j^rcwe^ before put to service. Before trial, it is 
somewhat doubtful whether she will succeed. In the first 
place, it is not absolutely certain that her machinery will 
work at all. There may be some flaw in the iron, or an 
imperfection in some part of the workmanship, which will 
prevent the motion of her wheels. Or if this is not the case, 
the power of the machinery may not be sufficient to propel 
her through the water with such force as to overcome the 
current, or she may, when brought to encoimter the rapids, 
be found at some narrow passage in the stream not able to 
force her way against their resistance. 

The engineer therefore resolves to try her in all these re- 
spects, that her security and her power may be properly prov^ 
edy before she is intrusted with her valuable cargo of human 
Uves. He cautiously builds a fire under her boiler ; — ^he 
watches with eager interest the rising of the steam-gauge, 
and scrutinizes every part of the machinery as it gradually 
comes under the control of the tremendous power which he 
is cautiously applying. "With what interest does he observe 
the first stroke of flie ponderous piston! — and when at 
length the ^tenings of the boat are let go, and the motion is 
communicated to the wheels, and the mighty mass slowly 
moves away from the wharf, how deep and eager an inter- 
est does the engineer feel in all her movements, and in every 
indication he can discover of her future success. 

The engine, however, works^ imperfectly, as every one 
must on its first trial, and the object in this experiment is not 
to gratify idle curiosity by seeing that she will move, but to 
discover and remedy every Uttle imperfection, and to remove 
every obstacle which prevents more entire success. For this 
purpose you will see our engineer examining most minutely 
and most attentively every part of her complicated machine- 
ry. The crowd on the wharf may be simply gazing on 
her majestic progress, as she moves off from the shore, but 
the engineer is within, looking with faithftd examination 
into all the minutiae of the motion. He scrutinizes the ac- 
tion of every lever, and the friction of every joint. Here 
he oils a bearing — there he tightens a nut. One part of the 
machinery has too much play, and he confines it, — another 
too much friction, and he loosens it. Now he stops the en- 



258 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

gine, now reverses her motion, and again sends the boat for- 
ward in her course. He discovers, perhaps, some great im- 
provement of which she is susceptible, and when he returns 
to the wharf, and has extinguished her fire, he orders from 
the machine-shop the necessary alteration. 

The next day he puts his boat to the trial again, and she 
glides over the water more smoothly and swiftly than before. 
The jar which he had noticed, is gone, and the friction re- 
duced ; the beam plays more smoothly, and the alteration 
which he has made produces a more equable motion in the 
shaft, or gives greater effect to the stroke of the paddles 
upon the water. 

When at length her motion is such as to satisfy him, upon 
the smooth surmce of the river, he turns her course upwsurds 
towards the rapids, to see how she will sustain a greater 
trial. As he increases her steam to give her power to over- 
come the new force with which she has to contend, he 
watches with eager interest her boiler, inspects the gauge 
and the safety-valves, and from her movements under the 
increased pressure of her steam, he receives suggestions 
for further improvements, or for precautions which will 
insure mreater safety. These he executes, and thus he per- 
hap8 g^8 on for many days or even weeks, tiying mi 
examining for the purpose of improvement every working 
of that mighty power to which he knows hundreds of lives 
are soon to be intrusted. This now is probation, — Irud 
for the sake of improvement. And what are its results ? 
Why, after this course has been thoroughly and faithfully 
pursued, this floating palace receives upon her broad deck 
and in her carpeted and curtained cabins, her four or five 
hundred passengers. They pour in one long procession of 
happy groups over the bridge of planks ; — ^father and son — 
mother and children — young husband and wife, — all with 
implicit confidence trusting themselves and their dearest 
interests to her power. See her, as she sails away, how 
beautiful and yet how powerful are all her motions ! That 
beam glides up and down gently and smoothly in its grooves, 
and yet, gentle as it seems, hundreds of horses could scarcely 
hold it still. There is no apparent violence, but every 
movement is with almost irresistible power. How graceful 
is her form, and yet how mighty is the momentum with 
which she presses on her way. Loaded mth life, and her- 



TRIAL AND DISCIPLINE. 259 

self the very symbol of life and power, she seems something 
sthereal — unreal, which ere we look again will have va- 
nished away. And though she has within her bosom a 
furnace glowing with furious fires, and a reservoir of death, 
— the elements of most dreadful ruin and conflagration, — of 
destruction the most complete, and agony the most unutter- 
able, — and though her strength is equal to the united energy 
of two thousand men, she restrains it all. She was con- 
structed by genius, and has been tried and improved by 
fidelity and skill ,* — and one man governs and controls her, 
stops her and sets her in motion, turns her this way and 
that as easily and certainly as the child guides the gentle 
lamb. She walks over the hundred and sixty miles of her 
route without rest and without fatigue, and the passengers, 
who have slept in safety in her berths, with destruction by 
water without and by fire within, defended only by a plank 
from the one, and by a sheet of copper from the other, land 
at the appointed time in safety. 

My reader, you have within you susceptibilities and 
powers, of which you have little present conception, — ener- 
gies which are hereafter to operate in producing fulness of 
enjoyment or horrors of suffering, of which you now but 
little conceive. You are now on trial, God wishes you 
to prepare yourself for safe and happy action. He wishes 
you to look within, to examine the complicated movements 
of your heart, to detect what is wrong, — to modify what 
needs change, and rectify every irregular motion. You go 
out to try your moral powers upon the stream of active Kfe, 
and then return to retirement to improve what is right, and 
remedy what is wrong. Renewed opportimities of moral 
practice are given you, that you may go on from strength 
to strength, imtil every part of that complicated moral 
machinery of which the human heart consists, will work as 
it ought to work, and is prepared to accomplish the mighty 
purposes for which your powers are designed. You are 
on trial — on probation, now. You will enter upon active 
service in another world. 

In order, however, that the reader may understand fully 
the views to be presented in this chapter, I wish to point out 
particularly the difference between the condition of the boat 
I have described when she was on trial and when she was 
afterwards in actual service. While she was on trial she 



260 TOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

sailed this way and that^ merely for the purpose of ascertain- 
ing her powers and her deficiencies, in order that the for- 
mer mi^t be increased and the latter remedied. The 
engineer steered her to the rapids, we supposed, but it was 
not because he particularly wished to pass the rapids, but 
only to try the power of the boat upon them. Perhaps 
with the same design, he might run along a curved or in- 
dented shore, penetrating deep into creeks, or sweeping 
swiftly round projecting headlands ; and this, not because 
he wishes to examine that shore, but only to see how his 
boat will obey her helm. Thus he goes on placing her again 
and again in situations of difficulty, for the purpose simply 
of proving her powers, and enabling him to perfect the 
operation of her machinery. Afterw£u:ds, when she comes 
into actual service, when she has received her load, and 
is transporting it to its place of destination, the object is 
entirely changed, — service, not improvement, is now the 
aim. Her time of trial is ended. 

The Bible everywhere considers this world as one of trial 
and discipline, introductory to another world of actual ser- 
vice, which is yet to come. A child, as he comes forward 
into life, is surrounded with difficulties which might easily 
have been avoided, if the Ruler over all had wished to avoid 
them. But he did not That child is on trial,— ^moral trial ,* 
and just exactly as the helmsman of the steam-boat steered 
her to the rapids, for the purpose of bringing her into diffi- 
culty, so does Grod arrange, in such a maimer, the circum- 
stances of childhood and youth, as to bring the individual 
into various difficulties, which will try his moral strength, 
and, if the child does his duty, be the means of improving 
them. He may learn contentment and submission by the 
thousand disappointments which occur, and patience and 
fortitude by his various sufferings, and perseverance by 
encountering the various obstacles which oppose his pro- 
gress. These difficulties, and sufferings, and obstacles 
might all have easily been avoided. God might have so 
formed the human mind, and so arranged the circimistanoes 
of life, that every thing should have gone smoothly with us. 
But he wishes for these things as trials, — ^trials for the sake 
of our improvement, and he has filled life wit^ them, from 
the cradle to the grave. 

To obtain a vivid idea of this^ let us look at this little 



TRIAL AND DISCIPLINE. 261 

cliild. She is just able to walk about the floor of her mother's 
parlour^ and though her life is full of sources of happi- 
ness, it is full likewise of sources of disappointment and 
suffering. A moment since she was delighted with a play- 
thing which her mother had given her^ but now she has 
laid it aside, and is adyancing towards a valuable book 
which lies upon the chair. She is just reaching out her 
little arm to take it, when she is arrested by her mother's 
well-known voice. 

" Mary ! Mary I must not touch the book." 

A child as young as this will understand language, though 
she cannot use it, and she will obey commands. She looks 
steadily at her mother a moment, with an inquiring gaze, 
as if uncertain whether she heard aright. The command 
is repeated. 

*' No, Mary must not touch the book." 

The child, I will suppose, has been taught to obey, but in 
such a case as this it is a hard duty. Her little eyes fill with 
tears, which perhaps she makes an effort to drive away, and 
soon seeks amusement elsewhere. Now, if such a child 
has been managed right, she will be improved by such a 
triaL The principle of obedience and submission will have 
been strengtnened ; it will be easier for her to yield to paren- 
tal command on the next occasion. 

But see, as she totters along back to her mother, she trips 
over her little cricket and falls to the floor* The terror and 
pain, though fve should only smile at it, are sufficient to 
overwhelm her entirely. Her mother gently raises ier, tries 
to soothe her, and soon you can distinctly perceive that the 
child is struggling to repress her emotion*. Her sobs are 
gradually restrained, the tear flows less freely, and soon the 
sunshine of a smile breaks forth over her face, and she jumps 
down again to play. This now has been a useful trial ; 
pain and fright have once been conquered, and they will have 
less power over her in future. 

But though there is a real and most important benefit to 
be derived firom these trials of infancy, the child herself 
cannot imderstand it. No child can become prepared for 
the future duties of life without them, and yet no child of 
such an age can understand why they are necessary. The 
mother might say to her in attempting to explain it asfollows : 

" Mary, I might save you from all these difficulties and 



2C2 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

troubles if I chose. I might put you in a room where every 
thing was cushioned, so that you could not hurt yourself, 
and I might keep carefully out of your sight every article 
which you ought not to have. Thus you might be saved 
all your pains and disappointments. But I choose not to do 
this. I want you to become useful and happy hereafter, 
and so you must learn submission and patience and fortitude 
now. So I leave the book in the chair, where you can see 
it, and tell you, you must not touch it, and I leave you to 
fall a little now and then, for the pain only lasts a moment ; 
but if you try to conquer your fears, and to bear the pain 
patiently, it will do you lasting good. Your character will 
acquire firmness and vigour, and you will thus be prepared 
for the duties of future Hfe." 

The child now would not understand all this, but it would 
be true whether she should understand it or not, and the ju- 
dicious mother, who imderstands the design of education, 
and the manner in which children are to be trained up to 
future duty, will not be sorry to have her children repeatedly 
tried. These repeated trials are the very means of forming 
their characters, and were it possible to avoid them entirely, 
instead of meeting and conquering them, the child exposed 
to such a course of treatment would be ruined. Sometimes 
parents seem to make efibrts to avoid them, and in going 
into such a family, you will find the shovel and tongs per- 
Jiaps placed upon the mantelpiece, so that the child cannot 
touch them, and the mother will not dare to bring a plate 
of cake into the room, for fear that the children should cry 
for it. Instead of accustoming them to trials of this kind, 
and teaching them obedience and submission, she makes a 
vain efibrt to remove all occasion for the exercise of such 
virtues. If perchance these remarks are read by any mo- 
ther who feels that she is pursuing the course which they 
condemn, I would stop a moment to say to her as follows: 

Do you expect that you can govern your children for 
fifteen years to come, in this way ? Can you put every 
thing which, during all this perioi they shall want, which 
they ought not to have, upon the mantelpiece, as you do 
the shovel and tongs ? 

" No," you reply smiling, " I do not expect to do it. My 
child will soon become older, and then 1 can teach him obe- 
dience more easily." 



TRIAL AND DISCIPLINE. 263 

You never can teach him obedience so easily as when 
he tsjirst able to understand a simple command^ and that is 
long before he is able to walk. And there is no way by 
which obedience and submission can be so effectually taught 
to child or to man, as by actual trial. That is the way in 
which Gh)d teaches it to you, and that is the way you ought 
to teach it to your child. God never puts sin away out of 
our reach ; he leaves it all aroimd us, and teaches us by ac- 
tual trial to resist its calls. 

*' I know this is right," you reply, " but sometimes I am 
busy, — I am engaged in important duties, and do not wish 
to be interrupted, and on such occasions I remove improper 
playthings out of the reach of my child, because ^1/*/ then 
I have not time to teach him a lesson of obedience." 

But what important business is that which you put into 
competition with the whole character and happiness of your 
child ? If your sons or your daughters grow up in habits of 
disobedience to your commands, they mil embitter your 
life, and bring down your gray hairs with sorrow to the 
grave. You never can gain an ascendency over them so 
easily as in infancy, — and you cannot in any other way so 
effectually imdermine your power, and prevent your ever 
obtaining an ascendency over them, as by accustoming them 
in childhood to understand that, in your endeavours to keep 
them from doing what is wrong, you do not aim at strength- 
ening their own moral principle, and accustoming them to 
meet and to resist the ordinary temptations of lire, but that 
you depend upon a vain effort to remove them entirely 
away from trial, so that, if you could succeed, you render it 
equally impossible for them to do right or wrong. 

Yes, trial is essential in childhood, and God has so ar- 
ranged the circumstances of early life, that parents cannot 
evade it. It must come. It may be removed in a very few 
cases, but that only brings additional difficulty upon those 
that remain. And it is far better not to attempt to evade 
it at all. Come up then, parents, boldly to the work of 
accustoming your children to trial. If you see a child going 
towards an open door, do not run to shut it so that he can- 
not go out. Command him not to go, and enforce obe- 
dience ; if you do any thing to the door at all, throw it vride 
open, and say mildly, " I will see whether you will disobey." 
Do not put the book or the paper which you wish him not 



264 y^OUNG CHRISTIAN. 

to touch high upon a shelf away from his reach. If you 
change its place at all, lay it upon the floor, and tell him 
not to touch it. Remember that youth is a season of pro- 
bation and trial, and unless you ayail yourself of the op- 
portimities of probation and trial which it presents, you lose 
half the advantages which the Creator had in view, in ar- 
ranging the circumstances of childhood as he has. 

Now, the whole of life is, equally with the years of child- 
hood, a time of probation and trial, — ^it is filled up with dif- 
ficulties and obstacles, and sources of slight disappointment 
and suffering, for the very purpose of trying and increasing 
our moral strength. And all these things are, or may be, 
sources of enjoyment. They will be sources of enjoyment, 
if we take the right view of them, as I shall explain more 
fully hereafter. God has so arranged it, that we have, in 
passing through life, a specimen of almost every sort of 
moral difficulty ; and every moral power of the heart may 
be brought into active exercise, and cherished and strength- 
ened by the trial, if the opportunity is rightly improved. 

God has therefore made a double provision for the moral 

§rowth of men. First, he has given us instruction in our 
uty, in the Bible ; and secondly, he has given us opportum- 
ty to practise, in the various difficulties and duties of life. 
The Bible is f\ill and complete as a book of directicms. Hu- 
man life is full and complete as a field for practice. The 
best parade-ground for drilling and disciplining an army 
would not be a smooth and level plain, — but an irregular 
region, diversified with hills and plains, where the inexperi- 
enced army might practise every evolution, — now passing 
a defile, now asceni&ng an acclivity, now constructing and 
crossing a bridge. So human lifi), to answer the purposes 
intended as a field for moral exercise, must have a variety 
of difficulties to enable us to practise every virtue, and to 
bring into active requisition every right principle of heart 

A wealthy man, I will suppose, engaged in commercial 
pursuits in a great city, wished to prepare his son to ma- 
nage his business when he should be old enough to take 
charge of it. He accordingly gave him a thorough com- 
mercial education in school, but before he received him into 
his partnership, he thought it might be necessary to give 
him some practical knovrledge of his fixture duties. 

"My son," says he to himself, "is now theoretically 



TRIAL AND DISCIPLINE. 265 

acquainted with all which is necessary, but he wants the 
readiness^ and the firmness^ and the confidence of practice. 
To complete his education^ I will give him a thorough trial. 
I will fit out a small yessel, and let him take charge of her 
cargo. I will so plan the voyage, that it shall embrace an 
unusual share of difficulty and trial, for my very design is 
to give him practical knowledge and skilly which come only 
through such a trial." 

He accordingly fits out his ship. He thinks very little 
of the success of the voyage in a pecuniary point of view, 
because that is not his object. He rejects one port of des- 
tination, because it is too near. Another, because the pas- 
sage to it is short and direct ; and another, because the dis- 
posal of a cargo there is attended with no difficulty. He 
at last thinks of a voyage which will answer his design. 
The passage lies through a stormy sea. Bocks and quick- 
sands, and perhaps pirates, fill it with dangers. The port 
at which he will arrive is one distinguished by the intricacy 
of its govermnent regulations. His son is a stranger to the 
language of the coimtry, and a great discretionary power 
will be necessary in the selection of a return cargo. " This," 
says the merchant, " is exactly the place. This voyage 
will comprehend more difficulties and dangers and trials 
than any other, and will accordingly be exactly the thing 
for my son." 

Perhaps you may say, a father would not form such a 
design as this, — ^he would not expose his son to so many 
difficulties and dangers. I know he might not go so far as 
I have represented, but the reason why he would not, would 
be because he might be afraid that some of these dangers 
would overpower the yoimg man entirely. He would not 
send him among rocks and whirlpools, for instance, for the 
sake of getting him into danger, because he would fear that 
that danger might result in death. If, however, he could 
be sure of ultimate safety, — if, for example, he could, as 
our great Father in heaven can, go along with his boy, and> 
though tmseen and unheard, could be at his side in every 
danger, with power to bring effectual protection — if earthly 
fathers had such power as this, there would be a thousand 
who would take the course I have described. They would 
see that there could be nothing so well calculated to give 
maturity and efficiency to the character, and to prepare the 



266 yOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

young man for persevering fidelity and eminent success in 
his future business^ as such a discipline as this. 

The young man at length sets sail. He understands the 
object of his father in planning the yoyage, and goes with 
a cordial desire of making it the means of promoting his im- 
provement as far as possible. Instead of being sorry that 
a plan embracing so many difficulties and triads had been 
chosen for him, he rejoices in it. He certainly would re- 
joice in it if he had confidence in his father's protection. 
When he comes into the stonny ocean, through which he 
has to pass, instead of murmuring at the agitated sea and 
gloomy sky, he stands upon the deck, riding from billow to 
billow, thinking of his father's presence, and confiding in 
his protection, and growing in moral strength and fortitude 
every hour. The gale increases, and the fury of the storm 
tries his nerve tcr the utmost, but he does not regret its vio- 
lence, or wish to quiet a single surge. He knows that it is 
his trial, and he rejoices in it, and when through his increas- 
ing moral strength he has triumphed over its power, he 
stands contemplating its fury with a spirit quiet and undis- 
turbed. At length the wind lulls, the clouds break away, 
and the bright rays of the setting sun beam upon the drip- 
ping sails and rigging. The waves subside, — a steady 
breeze carries the ship forward smoothly on her course, and 
he who has been enduring the discipline of the scene, feels 
that he has made progress, — ^that he has taken one step 
towards the accomplishment of the object of his voyage. 

Christian 1 God has planned just such a voyage for you. 
He has filled it with difficulties and trials, that you may, by 
means of them, discipline and perfect all your moral powers. 
When, therefore, the dark gloomy storm arises upon you, 
and night shuts in and danger presses, and your heart feels 
itself burdened with a load which it can scarcely sustain, 
never repine at it. Think how near is your protector. 
Confide in him, and remember that your present voyage is 
one of trial, 

II. THE USES OF TRIAL. 

I think it must be very erident to all who have read what 
I have already written upon this subject, that it is of im- 
mense advantage to moral beings^ who are to be trained up 



TRIAL AND DISCIPLINE. 267 

to virtue and to firmness of principle and of character, that 
they should not only receive instruction in duty, hut that 
they should be thus put upon trial, to acquire, hy actual 
experience^ a firm and steady habit of correct moral action. 
Tlus can, however, be made more clear if I analyze more 
particularly the efiects of such trial upon the heart. 

1. li enables us to know ourselves. People never know 
their own characters till they are tried. We very often con- 
demn very severely other persons for doing what, if we had 
been placed in their circumstances, we should have done 
ourselves. " Ye know not what spirit ye are of," said the 
SavioTir. Very few persons know what spirit they are of, 
until an hour of temptation brings forth the latent propensi- 
ties of the heart into action. How will a revengeful spirit 
slumber in a man's bosom, and his face be covered with 
smiles, till some slight insult or indignity calls it forth, and 
makes him at once the victim of ungovernable passion. Yes, 
trial reveals to us our true character. 

It brings to light the traits of Christian character, which 
would not be understood at all without it. I have a case in 
mind which I will describe, which is a very common case^ 
precisely as I describe it here, so common that very proba- 
bly a great many of my readers may consider it as their own. 

A Christian mother had an only child, whom she ardent- 
ly loved. The mother was an influential member of the 
ch\irch, and Was ardently interested in maintaining a high 
Christian character, and in studying faithfully and persever- 
ingly religious truth. She became much interested in the 
view which the Bible presents of the Divine sovereignty. 
She used to dwell with delight upon the contemplation of 
God's universal power over all. She used to rejoice, as she 
thought, in his entire authority over her ; — she took pleasure 
in reflecting that she was completely in his hands, soul and 
body, for time and for eternity,* and she wondered that any 
person could find any source of difl&culty or embarrassment 
in the Scripture representations on this subject. 

But she did not know her heart. Her beloved child was 
sick — and she stood anxious and agitated over her pillow, 
very far firom showing a cordial willingness that God should 
rule. She was afraid — very much afraid that her child 
would die. Instead of having that practical belief in the 
divine sovereignty, and that cordial confidence in God, 



268 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

which would have given her, in this trying hour, a calm 
and happy acquiescence in the divine will, she was restless 
and uneasy, — her soul had no peace morning or night. 
Her daughter sunk, by a progress which was slow but ir- 
resistible, to the grave, and for weeks that mother was in 
utter misery, because she could not find it in her heart to 
submit to the divine wilL She had believed in the univer- 
sal power of God as a theoretical truth. She had seen its 
abstract beauty, — she thought she rejoiced in God's superin- 
tending power, but it was only while all went well with her. 
As soon as God began to exercise that power which she had 
80 cordially acknowledged and rejoiced in, in a way which 
was painful to her, her heart rose against it in a moment, 
and would not submit. The trial brought out to her view 
her true feehngs in regard to the absolute and unbounded 
authority of God. Now there is a great deal of auch ac- 
quiescence in God's dominion as this in the world, and a 
great deal of it is exposed by trial every day. 

The case of the steam-engine, which I supposed at the 
commencement of this chapter, illustrates this part of my 
subject exactly. The engineer tried the boat for the pur- 
pose of learning fiilly the character and operation oi her 
machinery. Though he had actiially himself superintended 
the construction of every part of the work, he could not 
fiiUy understand the character and the power of the machine 
until he had tried her. While the experiment was inakiDg, 
he was watching every movement with a most scrutiniziiig 
eye. He discovered faults or deficiencies or imperfections 
which nothing but actual trial could have revealed. 

It is on exactly the same principle that discipline and trial 
are useful to us to enable us fully to understand our charac- 
ters ; and in order to avail ourselves of this advantage^ we 
should watch ourselves most carefully when placed in any 
new or untried situation, to see how our moral powers are 
aflected by it. We must notice every imperfection and 
every deficiency which the trial brings to our view. 

2. Discipline and trial are the means of improvement. 
Besides giving us an insight into our characters, they will^ 
if properly improved, enable us to advance in the attain- 
ment of every excellence. I ought however, perhaps, to 
say, they mai^ be made the means of improvement, rather 
than that they actually will be so. The steam-boat was iu 



TRIAL AND DISCIPLINE. 269 

a better condition after the first day's trial than before ; but 
it was because the engineer was attentive and watchfnl, do- 
ing his utmost to avail himself of every opportunity to in- 
crease the smoothness and the power of her motion. So 
with human trials. 

See yonder child going to school. His slate is under his 
arm, and he is going this day to make an attempt to under- 
stand long division. He is young, and tlie lesson, though 
it may seem simple to us, is difficult to him. He knows 
what difficulty and perplexity are before him, and he would 
perhaps, under ordinary circumstances, shrink from the 
hard task. But he is a Christian. He has asked forgive • 
ness for his past sins in the name of Jesus Christ, and is 
endeavouring to live in such a maimer as to please his 
Father above. He knows that God might easily have form- 
ed his mind so that mathematical truths and processes 
might be plain to him at once, and that he has not done so 
for the very purpose of giving him a useful discipline by 
the trial which the effort to Icam necessarily brings. 

He says, therefore, to himself, as he walks along to his 
school-room, my lesson to-day is not only to do this sum, 
but to learn to be patient and faithful in duty, and I must 
learn the arithmetical and the moral lesson together. I will 
try to do it. I will begin my work, looking to Grod for 
help, and I will go on through it, if I can, with a calm and 
quiet spirit, so as to learn not only to divide a number, but 
to persevere in duty. With this spirit he sits down to his 
work, and watches himself narrowly, that he may check 
every rising of impatience, and obtain, by means of the 
very difficulties that now try him, a greater self-command 
thaji he ever before possessed. In fact, he takes a strong 
interest in the very difficulty, because he is interested in the 
moral experiment which it enables him to try. 

Now, when such a spirit as this is cherished, and the mind 
is under its influence in all the difficulties and trials of life, 
how rapidly must the heart advance in every excellence. 
There certainly can be no way by which a young person 
can so effectually acquire a patient and persevering spirit, 
as by meeting real difficulties with such a state of mind as 
I have described. They who have been trained in the hard 
school of difficulty and trial almost always possess a firm- 
ness of character which it is vain to look for elsewhere. There 



270 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

must, however, be effort on the part of the individudl to 
improve the trial, or he will grow worse instead of better 
by it. Learning simple division in schools is perhaps as 
often a means of promoting an impatient and fretful spirit 
as the contrary. It is the disposition on the part of the 
individual that determines which effect is to be the result 
Some men, by the misfortunes and crosses of life, are made 
misanthropes; others, by the same disappointments and 
sufferings, are made humble and happy Christians, with 
feelings kindly disposed towards their fellow-men, and 
calmly submissive towards God. 

The object, then, which the Creator had in view in ar- 
ranging the circumstances of probation and discipline in 
which we are in this world placed, is twofold ; — that we 
may understand and that we may improve our characters. 
We are to learn different lessons from the different circum- 
stances and situations in which we are placed, but we are 
to learn some lessons from all. God might easily have so 
formed the earth, and so arranged our connexion with it, 
as to save us all the vicissitudes and trials and changes which 
we now experience. But he has made this world a state of 
discipline and trial for us, that we may have constant oppor- 
tunities to call into active exercise every Christian grace. 
The future world is the home for which we are all intended, 
and we are placed on trial here that we may prepare for it ; 
and the suffering and sorrow which we experience on the 
way are small evils compared to the glorious results which 
we may hope for in another world. But I must come to 
the practical directions which I intended to present. 

1. Consider every thing that befals you as coining in the 
providence of God, and as intended as a part of the system 
of discipline and trial through which he intends you to pass. 
This wUl help you to bear every thing patiently. An irre- 
ligious man is on a journey requiring special haste, and 
finds himself delayed by bad travelling or stormy weather 
until a steam-boat, which he had intended to have taken, 
has sailed and left him behind. He spends the twenty- 
four hours during which he has to wait for the next boat, 
in fretting and worrying himself over his disappointment, 
— in useless complaints against the driver for not having 
brought him on more rapidly, — in wishing that the weather 
or the travelling had been better, — or in thinking how much 



TRIAL AND DISCIPLINE. 2?! 

his business must suffer by the delay. The Christian, on 
the other hand, hears the intelligence that the boat has left 
him, with a quiet spirit ; and even if he was hastening to the 
bedside of a dying child, he would spend the intervening 
day in composure and peace, saying, ** The Lord has or- 
dered this. It is to try me. Heavenly Father, give me 
grace to stand the trial." 

I say the Christian would feel thus. I should perhaps 
have said, he ought to feel thus. Christians are very much 
accustomed to consider all the great trials and sufferings of 
life as coining from God, and as intended to try them, but 
they fret and vex themselves unceasingly in regard to all the 
/f^/^difficulties which, in the ordinary walk of life, they have 
to encounter, especially in what is connected with the mis- 
conduct of others. You lend a valuable book, and it is 
returned to you spoiled. The prints are soiled and worn ; 
the leaves are turned down in some places, and loosened in 
others ; the binding is defaced, and the back is broken. 
Now, you ought not to stand looking at your spoiled vo- 
lume, lamentingagain and again the misfortune, and making 
yourself miserable for hours by your fretfulness and dis- 
pleasure against the individual who was its cause. He was 
indeed to blame ; but if you did your duty in lending the 
book, as without doubt you did, you are in no sense respon- 
sible, and you do wrong to make yourself miserable about 
it. The occurrence comes to you in the providence of God, 
and is intended as a trial. He watches you to see how you 
bear it. If you meet it with a proper spirit, and learn the 
lesson of patience and forbearance which it brings, that 
spoiled book will do you more good than any splendid vo- 
lume, crowded with prints, and adorned with gilded bind- 
ing, and preserved in a locked cabinet for you for twenty 
years- 

So with loss of every character, whether it comes in the 
form of a broken piece of china, or a coimterfeit ten dollar 
bill found in the pocket-book, or the loss of your whole pro- 
perty by the misfortunes of a partner or the pressure of the 
times. No matter what is the magnitude or the smallness 
of the loss — no matter whether it comes from the culpable 
negligence or fraud of another, or more directly from God, 
through the medium of flood or fire, or the lightning of 
heaven ; so far as it is a loss affecting you, it comes in the 



272 YOUNO CHRISTIAN. 

proTidence of God^ and is intended as a trial. K you are 
really interested in what ought to he the great husiness of 
life^ jour growth in grace^ you will find that such trials will 
help you to understand your own hearty and to train it up 
to a proper action under the goyemment of God^ more than 
any thing heside. 

2. M£^e it your aim to he continually learning the les- 
sons which God^ hy these yarious trials, is endeayouring to 
teach you. Eyery day is a day of discipline and trial. Ask 
yourself eyery night, then, "What progress haye I made to- 
day ?" Suppose the engineer, in the case of the steam-hoat 
on trial, to which I haye already seyeral times alluded, had 
neglected altogether the operation of the machinery when 
his boat was first put to the test. Suppose that, instead of 
examining minutely and carefully the structure and the ac- 
tion of the parts, with a yiew to remoying difficulties, recti- 
fying defects, and supplying deficiencies, he had been seated 
quietly upon the deck enjo3riiig the sail. He might have 
been gazing at the scenery of the shore, or in yanity and 
self-complacency, enjo3ring the admiration which he imagin- 
ed those who stood upon the wharf were feeling for the de- 
gree of success which he had already attained. While he is 
thus neglecting his duty, evils without number, and fi^nght 
with incalculable consequences, are working below. The 
defects of his machinery are not discovered and not re- 
medied. Its weaknesses remain unobserved and unrepair- 
ed, and if at last there should be intrusted to his care 
valuable property, nothing can reasonably be expected but 
its destruction. 

Multitudes of men, and even great numbers of those who 
call themselves Christians, act the part of this infatuated 
engineer. God tells them that their moral powers are now 
on trial. He commands them to consider it their business 
here not to be engrossed in the objects of interest which 
surround them as they pass on through life, nor to be satis- 
fied with present attainments of any kind, but to consider 
themselves as sailing now on troubled waters for the pur- 
pose of trial and improvement ; to watch themselyes with 
constant self-examination, and with honest efforts to rectify 
what is wrong, and to supply what is deficient. He re- 
quires them to consider all the circumstances and occur- 
rences of life as coming from him, and as arranged with 



TRIAL AND DISCIPLINE. 273 

express reference to the attainmeiit of these objects. Not- 
withstanding all this, however, they neglect the duty alto- 
gether. They do not watch themselyes. Thej do not 
habitually and practically regard the events of life as means 
to enable them to understajid their hearts, to strengthen, 
by constant exercise, moral principle, and to grow in grace. 
Instead of this, they are engaged in simply endeayooiing 
to secure as much present good in this world as they can, 
and can see no good in any trial, and get no good firom it. 
When they are sick, they spend the time in longing to get 
welL When they are disappointed, they make themselves 
miserable by useless lamentations. Losses bring endless 
regrets, — and injuries, impatience and anger ; and dxus half 
of life is spent in struggles, which are really the vain and 
hopeless struggles of a weak man to get free from the 
authority and government of God. 

I have now completed what I intended to present on the 
subject of probation ; and I think that all my readers wiH 
easily see, that by taking such a view of life as this subject 
presents to us, ike whole aspect of our residence in this 
world is at once changed. If you really feel what I havie 
been endeavouring to explain, you will regard yourselves as 
strangers and pilgrims here, lookii^continually forward tp 
another country as your home. The thousand trials aii4 
troubles of life will lose half their power by your regarding 
them in their true li^t, that is, as means of moral discipline 
and improvement, x ou must, however, make a constant 
effort to do this. Make it a part of your daily self-exami- 
nation, not oidy to ascertain what is the state of your heart 
at the time of retirement, but to review the incid^its <^ the 
day, and to see how they have operated upon you as means 
of moral discipline. See what traits of character those in- 
cidents have brought to your view, and what effect they 
have had in making you worse or better than you wer^ b^ 
the morning. The little events and circumstances of every 
day must have a very important influence of the one kind 
or of the other. If you neglect this influence, it will all go 
wrong. If you attend to it, it may go well and happQy 
with you, wherever and whatever you may be. 

a 



274 



CHAPTER XI. 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 



** The path of the ju^t is as the shining light, which shineth more and 

more unto the penecl day.*' 



The chapters which the reader has just perused, are on 
subjects connected with the improvement of the character, 
i. e, they are upon the means by which this improyement is 
to be promoted. Studying the Bible, keeping the Sabbath, 
and exposure to discipline, are all intended to be means for 
the promotion of a moral progress. There are some things, 
however, which I wish to say in regard to the character i/- 
self, as it goes on in the process of improvement. Reader, 
do you wish to avail yourself of the opportunities and means 
I have described ? Do you wish to study the Bible, remem- 
ber the Sabbath, and improve all the occurrences of life, as 
the means of promoting your progress in all that is good ? 
If so, look now with me a little while into your character 
itself, that you may see in what respect it needs your atten- 
tion, and in what way you can so employ the means I have 
described as to gain the fullest benefit from them. As I 
think that every young Christian ought most assiduously to 
cultivate his moral and also his intellectual po«fers, I shall 
discuss in order both these points. 

I. MORAL IMPROVEMENT. 

Every young Christian will find, however sincerely and 
ardently he may have given up his heart to God, and com- 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMRNT. 275 



menced a life of piety, that a vast number of fauUs temain 
to be corrected ; faults which he acquired while he lived in 
sin, and which the force of habit has fixed upon him. Now, 
you know what these faults are, or you may very easily 
learn, and your first effort is to correct them. 

In order now to make clear the course which I think 
ought to be taken to correct such faults, I will suppose a 
case, and bring into it the various methods which may be 
adopted for this purpose. And I shall write the account 
with a double aspect, — one towards parents, with the design 
of showing them what sort of efforts they ought to make to 
correct the faults of their children, and the other towards 
the young, to show what measures they should adopt to im- 
prove themselves. 

First, however, I will mention a very common but a very 
ineffectual mode of attempting to correct faults. A father 
sees in his son some exhibition of childish vanity, and he 
says to him, instantly, at the very time of the occurrence, 
^' You are acting in a very foolish manner. You show a 
great deal of vanity and self-conceit hj such conduct. And 
in fact, I have observed that you are growing very vain for 
some months past ; I don't know what we shall do to correct 
it." 

The poor boy hangs his head and looks ashamed, and his 
father, talking about it a few minutes longer, in a half ir- 
ritated tone, dismisses and forgets the subject. The boy 
refrains, perhaps, from that particular exhibition of vanity 
for a little while, and that is probably all the good which 
results from the reproof. 

Another wiser parent sees with regret the rising spirit of 
self-conceit in his son, and instead of rushing on to attack it 
without plan or design, at the first momentary impulse, he 
resorts io a very different course. He notices several cases, 
— ^remembers them, — ^reflects that the evil which has been 
forming, perhaps for years, cannot be corrected by a single 
abrupt reproof, — and accordingly forms a plan for a protract- 
ed moral discipline in the case, and then seeks a favourable 
opportunity to execute it. 

One day, after the father has been granting some unusual 
indulgence, and they have spent the day happily together 
in some plan of enjoyment, and are riding home slowly in 
a pleasant summer evenu?g, he thus addresses his son : 



276 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

^' Well, Samuel, you have been a good boy, and we hare 
had a pleasant time. Now I am going to give you some- 
thing to do, which, if you do it aright, will wind up the day 
very pleasantly." 

" What is it ?" says SamueL 

** I am not certain that it will please you, but you may 
do as you choose about undertaking it. It will not be pleas- 
ant at first ; the enjoyment will come afterwards.*' 

SamueL ^< But what is it, father ? I think I shall like 
to do it." 

Father. " Do you think you have any faults, Samuel ?" 
S. *' Yes, Sir, I know I have a great many." 
F, " Yes, you have ; and all boys have. Some wish 
to correct them, and others do not. Now, I have supposed 
that you do wish to correct them, and I had thought of de- 
scribing to you one of your &ults, and then telling you of a 
particular thing which you can do, which will help you to 
correct it. But then it will not be very pleasant for you to 
sit here and have me find fault with you, — mention a number 
of instances in which you have done wrong, and particular- 
ize all the Uttle circumstances which increased the guilt 
This, I say, will not be very pleasant, even though you know 
that my design is not to blame you, but to help you to 
improve. But then, if you undertake it, and after a little 
while find that you are really improving, then you will feel 
happier for the eflfort. Now, I wish you to consider both, 
and tell me whether you wish me to give you a fault to cor- 
rect or not." 

If the boy now has been under a kind and gentle but ef- 
ficient government, he will almost certainly desire to have 
the fault, and the way by which he is to correct it, pointed 
out. If so, the father may proceed as foUows : 

" The fault I am going to mention now is vanity. Now 
it is right for you to desire my approbation. It is right for 
you not only to do your duty, but to wish that others should 
know that you do it. I think, too, it is right for you to take 
pleasure in reflecting on your improvement, as you go on 
improving from year to year. But when you fancy your 
improvement to be greater than it is, or imagine that you 
have excellences which you possess in a very slight de- 
gree, or when you obtrude some trifling honour upon the 
notice of strangers for the sake of getting their adxniration, 



PERSONAL IMFROITEMENT. 277 

you exliibit vanity. Now, did you know that you had this 

fault r 

S. " I do not know that I have thought of it particularly. 
I suppose though that I do have it" 

F, *' Your haying the fault now is of very little conse- 
quence, if you only take hold of it in earnest and correct it. 
It has grown up with you insensibly ; in fact, almost all 
children fall into it. I presume that I had it as much as 
you do, when I was as young. Do you think now that you 
can recollect any cases in which you have shown vanity V* 

S, " I don't know ; perhaps I could if I should have 
a little time." 

F. " Well, I will give you time to think, and if you 
really wish to correct yourself of the fault, you may think 
of all the cases you can, and tell me of them. If you pre- 
fer it, you may write the list and show it to me." 

Now, if the subject is taken up in this spirit, most boys 
who had been treated on these principles before, would re- 
ceive the communication with pleasure, and would engage 
with interest in the work of exploring the heart. And such 
a boy will succeed. He will bring a list of instances, not 
perhaps fully detailed, but alluded to distinctly enough, to 
recal them to mind. His list might be perhaps something 
as follows : 

" Dear Father, 

'' I have made out a list of the times in which I was 
vain, and I now send it to you. 

" 1. I brought out my writing-book a few evenings since, 
when some company was here, in hopes they would ask to 
fiee it. 

" 2. I said yesterday at table, that there was something 
in the lesson which none of the boys could recite, until it 
came to me, and I recited it. 

" 3. I pretended to talk Latin with Greorge, when walk- 
ing, thinking that you and the other gentlemen would 
overhear it. 

^' 1 suppose I could think of many other cases if I had 
time. I am glad you told me of the fault, for I think it a 
very foolish one, and 1 wish to correct it. 

Your dutiful son, — — ," 

Now, let me ask every one of my readers who has any 
knowledge of human nature, whether, if the effort of the 



278 yOUKG CHRISTIAN. 

father to correct this fault should stop here^ a most power- 
ful blow would not haye been struck ? Do you think that 
a boj can make such a self-examination, and confess fireolj 
his faults in this manner, without making a real progress 
in forsaking them ? Can he as easily, after this, attempt 
to display his accomplishments, or talk of his exploits ? 

The process ought not to stop here, but this is the first 
step ; confession, — ^full, free and particular confession. In the 
first chapter I described the power of confession to restore 
peace of mind, afber it is lost by sin ; and in alluding to the 
subject of confession again here, it will be seen that I look 
at another aspect of it, yiz. its tendency to promote refor- 
mation. It is in this latter respect only, that I consider it 
now. 

The first step, then, which any of you are to take, in order 
to break the chains of any sinful habit which you have 
formed, is, to confess it fully and freely. That single act 
will do more to give your fault its death-blow, than almost 
any thing else you can do. If you are a child, you can 
deriye great assistance from confessing to your parents. If 
you shnnk from talking with them face to face about your 
follies and faults, you can write ; or confess and express 
your determination to amend, to some confidential friend of 
your own age ; but above all, be sure to confess to Grod. 
Lay the whole case before him, in full detail. I cannot 
press upon you too fiiUy the necessity of being distinct and 
definite, and going into full detail in these confessions. 

There is one very erroneous impression which young per- 
sons receive from hearing public prayer. It is always, as 
it ought to be, general in its language, both of confession and 
request. Take for instance, the language of the prayer-book 
of the Church of England, so admirably adapted to its pur- 
pose. 

" We have erred and strayed from thy ways like lost 
sheep. We have followed too much the devices and de- 
sires of our own hearts. We have offended against thy 
holy laws. We have left undone those things which we 
ought to have done ; and we have done those things which 
we ought not to have done. And there is no health in us." 

How general is this language. It is so with our Saviour's 
model of prayer. *^ Forgive us our debts, as we forgive those 
who are indebted to us." Public prayer ought to be some- 



I 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 279 

what general in its expressions^ for it is the united voice 
often of thousands^ and expresses only the acknowledg- 
ments and the petitions which are common to them all. 

But the mistake that multitudes fall into is^ that when 
thej begin to pray themselves, they take public prayer as 
the model for secret supplication, and they spend their sea- 
son of retirement in repeating the same general supplications 
which they hear from the pulpit in the hour of public wor- 
ship. But this is a very great error. The very object of 
secret prayer is to afford the soul an opportunity of going mi- 
nutely into its own particular and private case. There is no 
magic in solitude — ^no mysterious influence in the closet 
itself, to purify and sanctify the heart. It is the opportunity 
which the closet affords of bringing ^forward the individual 
case in all its particularity and detail, which gives to secret 
devotion its immense moral power. The general and com- 
prehensive language which is adopted in public prayer, is 
thus adopted because it is the object of public prayer to ex- 
press only those wants and to confess those sins which are 
common to all who join in it. The language must neces- 
sarily, therefore, be general. But it is always the intention 
of those who use it, that minute detail should be given in 
TOivate supplications. In the prayer of the Church of 
England, for example, the morning prayer for families is 
printed thus : 

'^ We come before thee in an humble 

• ^^ Here let him sense of our un worthiness, acknowledging 
who rectos make a •#« u x • c^\. • ^x 

short pause, that OUT mamiold transgressions oi thy nghte- 

every one may con- ous laws.* But O gracious Father, who 

^I'uJ^ 'y !fH desirest not the death of a sinner, look 
fatltnga of inat , i xt_ • j 

day,'' upon us, we beseech thee, in mercy, and 

forgive us all our transgressions." 
Here you will observe that on the margin it is suggested 
that this entering into detail should be done even in the 
family worship. How much more when the individual 
has retired alone, for the very purpose of bringing forward 
the peculiar circumstances of his own case. 

lids is the only way to make secret prayer interesting, as 
well as profitable. A child, just before retiring to rest, at- 
tempts to pray. He uses substantially the expressions which 
he has heard in the pulpit. " I acknowledge that I am a 
great sinner. I have this day done many tlnngs which are 



280 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

wrong ; 1 have neglected many duties^ and broken many of 
the commands." Now, how easy is it for a person to say 
all this with apparent fenrour, and yet have present to his 
mind, while saying it, no one act in which he really feels 
that he has done Ynx>ng, and consequently no distinct men- 
tal feeling that he is guilty. Our confessions, half of the 
time, amount to nothing more than a general acknowledg- 
ment of the doctrine of human depravity. *' I humbly con- 
1^ that I have been a great sinner this day," says a 
Christian at his evening prayer ; and while he says it, the 
real state of his mind is, '^ I suppose I must have been so. 
All men are sinners, and I know I am." As to any distinct 
and definite feeling of personal guilt, it is often the farthest 
from the mind while using such language. 

It IS astonishing how eamj and how soon we become ha- 
bituated to the general language of confession, so as to use 
it most freely without any sense of personal guilt. A parent 
will reprove a boy for a fault, and the boy will, as the father 
goes over the details, defend and excuse himself at every 
step. Here he will lay off the blame upon his brother, — 
ikere he will say he did not know what else to do,-— and in 
toother respect he will say that he tried to do as well as he 
tJOuld. And yet after he has finished all this, he wiU say 
gravely, " But I do not pretend to excuse myself. I know I 
have done Vrong." I have had such cases oeeur continu- 
ally in the management of the yoimg. 

But do not forget what is the subject of this chapter. It 
is the means of correcting faults, and as the first means, I 
am describing full and particular confession of the ssos you 
wish to avoid in future. Before I go on, however, I wish to 
6ay one thing in regard to the influenoe of going into min- 
ute detail in prayer. It is the only way to make prayer 
interesting. When you come at night with a mind wearied 
and exhausted with the labours of the day, you find your 
thoughts wandering in prayer. No complaint is more 
<K>mmon than this. There is scarcely any question which 
is asked of a pastor more frequently than this : " How shall 
I avoid the sin of wandering thoughts in prayer ?" It would 
be asked, too, much oftener than it is, were it not that 
Christians shrink from acknowledging to their religious 
teachers a fault which seems to imply their want of interest 
in spiritual things. Now, the remedy, in nine oases often. 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 281 

is, coming to particulars in your prayers. Have no long 
formal exordiums. Abandon the common phrases of general 
confession and request^ and come at once to the particular 
circumstances and minute wants and trials of the day. De- 
scribe not only particular faults^ but all the minute attend- 
ing circumstances. Feel that you are alone^ — that the re- 
straints of publicity are removed from you ; that you may 
safely abandon the phraseology and the form which a proper 
respect for the customs of men retains in the pulpit and at 
the family altar^ and come and converse witti your great 
Protector as a man converses with his friend ; and remem- 
ber that if you fasten upon one word which you have spoken 
with an improper spirit^ and confess your guilt in that one 
sin^ mentioning all the circumstances which gave its true 
character^ and exposing the wicked emotions which dictated 
it, you make more truly a confession than by repeating 
solemnly the best expression of the doctrine of human de- 
pravity that creed, or catechism, or system of theology can 
furnish. 

But to return to the modes of correcting faults. If your 
fault is one which long habit has rivetted very closely upon 
you, I would recommend that you confess it in writing. It 
is more distinct, and what you put upon paper you impress 
very strongly upon your mind. Suppose when evening 
comes, in reflecting upon the events of the day, you remem- 
ber an act of unfindness to a younger brother. Now, sit 
down and write a full description of it, and make it appear 
in its true light. Do not exaggerate it nor extenuate it, but 
paint it in its true colours. Express your sorrow, if you feel 
any, and express just as much as you feel. Be honest. 
Use no cant phrases of acknowledgment, but just put upon 
paper your actual feelings in regard to the transaction. 
Now, after you have done this, you may if you please just 
fold up the paper and put it into the fire, but you cannot put 
into the fire the vivid impression of your guilt which this 
mode of confession will produce. Or you may, if you pre- 
fer it, preserve it for a time, that you may read it again, and 
renew the impression before you destroy it. But it will be 
better to destroy it at last. It is not in human nature to 
write its thoughts in such a case, with the intention of pre- 
serving the record, without being secretly influenced by the 
probability that the description will sooner or later be seen. 



282 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

But I must pass to the second step in the progress of 
remoying a fault. It is watchfulness. Suppose that the 
father in the case which I have imagined, in order to illus- 
trate this subject, should say to his son, or which would be 
better still, should write to him as follows : 

" My dear son, — I received your account of the instances 
in which you have shown vanity. I am very glad you are 
disposed to correct yourself of this fault, and will now tell 
you what you are to do next. 

^' You would without doubt, if you had had instances, 
thought of many more instances, but you would not have 
thought of all. A great many would have escaped your no- 
tice. You show vanity many times when i/ou do not know 
it yourself. When we are habituated to doing any thing 
wrong, we become blinded by it, so that the vainest people 
in the world scarcely know that they are vain at all. Now, 
the next step you are to take is to regain moral sensibility 
on this subject, so as to know clearly what vanity is, and 
always to notice when you are guilty of it. The way to do 
this is for you to watch yourself. Notice your conduct for 
two days, and whenever you detect yourself displaying va- 
nity on any occasion, go and make a memorandum of it 
You need not write a mil description of it, for you would 
frequently not have time ; but write enough to remind you 
of it, and then at the end of the two days, send the list to 
me. In the mean time I will observe you, and if I see any 
instances of this fault, I will remember them, and see if I 
recollect any which you have not marked down. 

^' It will not be very pleasant, my son, to watch yourself 
thus for faults, but it is the most effectual means of removing 
them. You may however do just as you please about adopt- 
ing this plan. If you adopt it, send your catalogue to me. 
If you do not, you need not say anything about it. 

" Your affectionate Parent, ." 

Now, I' wish my young hearers to understand, that though 
I have described so fully this case, partly with a design 
to show to parents a good way to lead their children to 
virtue, yet my main design is to explain to the young a 
course which they may take themselves immediately to cor- 
rect their faults. I am in hopes that many a one who reads 



PERSONAL IMPHOVEMENT. 283 

this chapter will say to himself, "I have some faults which 
I should like to correct, and I will try this experiment." 
I wish you would try the experiment ; you all know what 
your faults are. One can remember that he is very often 
undutiful or disrespectful to his parents. Another is aware 
that she is not always kind to her sister. Another is irri- 
table — often gets in a passion. Another is forward and 
talkative ; her friends have often reproved her, but she has 
never made any real systematic effort to reform. Another is 
indolent,^-ofiten neglecting known duties, and wasting time. 
Thus every person under twenty-five years of age is the vic- 
tim of some moral disease, from which, though they may be 
Christians, they are not fully freed. Now, just try my pre- 
scription. Take the two steps which I have described. 
Comess fully and minutely the particular fault which you 
wish first to correct, — ^for it is best to attack one enemy at 
a time, — and then with careful watchfulness keep a record 
of your subsequent transgressions. You cannot do this with 
a proper spirit of dependence on God, and accountability to 
him, without breaking the chains of any fault or any ha- 
bit which may be now domineering over you. The efficacy 
of such moral treatment in these moral diseases is far more 
certain and powerful than that of bark in fever, or of any 
cordial in restoring the fainting powers. I hope therefore 
that every young person who reads this will not merely ex- 
press a cool approbation of these plans, but will resolutely 
set to work in examining his character, and in trying these 
methods of altering or improving it. 

'* Every young person ? — ^And why not those who are not 
young?" says some one. ^^Why cannot the old correct 
their faults in this way ?" They can, but they will not. 
I recommend it exclusively to the young, not because it is 
less efficacious with the others, but because others will not 
cordially try it The difficulty which prevents middle-aged 
persons going on as rapidly as the young in improvement of 
every kind, is because they are not so easily induced to make 
the effort. It is a mistake to suppose that it is easier for a 
child to reform than a man. A child is told of his faults ; 
the politeness of society forbids mentioning them to a man. 
A child is encouraged and urged forward in efforts to im- 
prove. The man is solitary in his resolutions and unaided 



284 rouNO christian. 

in his efforts. A child is willing to do anything. Confes- 
sion is not so humiliating to it. Keeping a catalogue of 
its sins is not so shrunk &om. If the man of fifty is will- 
ing to do what the boy of fifteen does, he may improve 
twice as fast. Some of the most remarkable cases of rapid 
alteration and improvement of character which I have ever 
known have been in the decline of age. 

Let me say, therefore, respectfully to those "who may 
chance to read this book, but who are beyond the age for 
which it is specially intended, — ^that we all have raults, 
which we ought to discover and attempt to improve. They 
affect our happiness. They bring us down lower than we 
should otherwise stand in the estimation of others. Thus 
they impede our influence and usefulness. If we would 
now explore and correct these, taking some such thorough- 
going course as I have described, how rapidly we should at 
once rise in usefulness and happiness. Instead of that, 
however, we listen to moral and religious instruction from 
the pulpit, to admire the form of its expression, or perhaps 
to fix the general principles in our hearts, but the business 
of exploring thoroughly our own characters to ascertain 
their real condition, and going earnestly to work upon all 
the detail of actual and minute repair — ^pulling down in 
this place, building up in that, and altering in the other — 
ah ! this is a business with which, beyond twenty-five, we 
have but little to do. 

But I must go on with my account of the means of cor- 
recting faults, for I have one more expedient to describe. I 
have been digressing a little to urge you to apply practically 
what I say to yourselves, and resolve to try the experi- 
ment. This one more expedient relates to your exposure to 
temptation. In regard to temptation, you have I think two 
duties. First, to avoid all great temptations, and secondly, 
to encounter the small ones with a determination, by God's 
blessing, to conquer them. 

A boy knows, I will imagine, that he has an irritable 
spirit. He wishes to cure himself of it. I will suppose 
that he has taken the two steps I have already described, 
and now, as the morning comes, and he is about to go forth 
to the exposures of the day, we may suppose him to hold 
the following conversation with his father or some other 
friend. 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 285 

Boy. " Now, I have made a great many resolutions, and 
I am reallj desirous of not becoming angry and impatient 
to-day. But I always do, and I am afraid I always shall." 

Friend, **Y)o jou always? Do you get angry every 
dayr 

Boy, " I do sdmost always, whenever any thing hap- 
pens to vex me." 

Friend. " What are the most common things that hap- 
pen to vex you ?" 

''Why, I almost always get angry playing marbles. 
George doesn't play ^sdr, and I get angry with him, knd he 
gets angry with me." 

*' Do you always get angry playing marbles ?" 

*' We do very often." 

'* Then I advise you to avoid playing marbles altogether. 
I know you like to play, but if you find it affords too great 
a tomptation for you to resist, you must abandon it, or you 
will not cure yourself of your fault. What other tempta- 
tions do you have ?" 

" Why, I get put out with my sums at school." 

'' Get put out with your sums ! — What do you mean by 

that r 

" Why, I get impatient and vexed because I cannot do 
them, and then I get angry with them." 

'' What, with the sums !'* 

'' Yes, with the sums and the book, and the slate, and 
every thing else ; I know it is foolish and wicked." 

'' Well now, I advise you to take your slate and pencil 
to-day, and find some difficult sum, such an one as you have 
often been angry with, and sit down calmly to work, and 
see if you cannot go through it, and^ai/ of doing it, and 
yet not feel vexed and angry. Think before you begin how 
sad it is for you to be under the control of wicked passions, 
and ask God to help you, and then go on, expecting to find 
difficulty, and endeavouring to meet it with a calm and pa- 
tient spirit. If you succeed in this, you will really improve 
while you do it. By gaining one victory over yourself, you 
will make another more easy." 

*' Which do you think is the greatest temptation for you, 
to play marbles or to do sums ?" 

" Why, I think playing marbles, because the boys don't 
play fair." 



286 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

^'Well, now I wish you to practise the easiest lesson 
first Conquer yourself in your arithmetical temptation 
firsts and then peihaps you can encounter the other. And 
I wish you would watch yourself to-day, and observe what 
are the trials which are too great for you to bear, and avoid 
them until you have acquired more moral strength. Bat 
do not flee from any temptation which you think you can 
resist By meeting and resisting it, you will advance in 
your course.** 

Now, this is the case in the correction of all faults. The 
temptations which you think you will not be successful in 
resisting^ you ought to avoid, no matter at what sacrifice ; 
and though you ought not to seek the trial of your strength, 
yet where Providence gives you trial, go forward to the ef- 
fort which it requires with confidence in His help, and with 
resolution to do your duty. If you have the right spirit, 
he will help you, and virtuous principle will grow by any 
exposure which does not overpower it. 

I have however spoken more fully on this subject in the 
chapter of discipline and trial, where the general effect of 
such discipline as we have here to pass through was point- 
ed out. I have here only alluded to it again, to show how 
important an auxiliary it is in the correction of particu- 
lar faults. 

But I must pass to the consideration of another part of 
my subject ; for the correction of absolute faults of charac- 
ter is by no means the only or even the most important 
object of attention in Christian progress. The spirit of piety, 
which is the main-spring of all these efforts in the improve- 
ment of the character, is to be directly cultivated. The 
command, '' gi-ow in grace," seems to refer to this progress 
in the spirit ^ piety itself. The correction of external faults, 
and the improvement of the character in all those aspects 
in which intercourse between man and man is concerned, 
will result from it. But it is itself something different from 
these external changes. To grow in grace is to have the 
heart itself so changed that sm shall become more and more 
hateful, the promotion of the general happiness an increas- 
ing object of interest and desire, and the soul more and 
more closely united to God, so as to receive its happiness 
alone from him. 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMBNT. 287 

This now is a change in the affections of the heart. Im- 
provement in conduct will result from it^ but it is in itsdf 
essentially different from right conduct. It is the fountain 
from which good actions are the streams. I wish therefore 
that every one of my readers would now turn his attention 
to this subject^ and inquire with me by what means he may 
grow most rapidly in attachment to the Saviour and in 
natred of sin. A very unwise and ineffectual kind of effort 
is very ofi;en made^ which I shall first describe^ and then 
proceed to describe the means which may be successful in 
drawing the heart closer and closer to Jehovah. 

1. To illustrate the unavailing efforts which are some- 
times made to awaken in the heart a deeper and deeper in- 
terest in piety^ I will suppose a case, and it is a case which 
. is exceedingly common. A professing Christian — and, to 
make the case more definite, I will suppose the individual 
to be the mother of a family — ^feels that she does not love 
God as she ought, and she is consequently unhappy. She 
is aware that her affections are placed too strongly perhaps 
upon her family — ^her children. She knows that she is a 
wanderer from her Saviour, and feels at all times, when she 
thinks of religious duty, a settled uneasiness, which mars 
many of her enjoyments, and often saddens her heart. Now, 
what does she do to remedy this difficulty ? Why, when the 
week is past, and her hour for prayer on the Sabbath has 
arrived, she thinks a little of her cold and wayward condi- 
tion, and tries, by direct effort, to arouse in her heart feel- 
ings of penitence and love. But she tries in vain. I 
acknowledge that she is very guilty in being in such a state, 
but if she is so, her direct efforts to feel will be vain. 
She will have for an hour a weary and melancholy .strug- 
gle, — ^the Sabbath will pass away, rendered gloomy by her 
condition and her reflections, — and Monday morning will 
come, with its worldly cares and enjoyments, to drift her 
still farther away from God and from happiness. 

A man of business engrossed in the management of his 
prosperous affairs knows that he is not living to God. And 
yet he is a member of a Christian church ; — ^he has solemn- 
ly consecrated himself to the Saviour, and when he thinks 
of it, he really wishes that his heart was in a different state. 
The world however holds him from day to day, and the only 
thing which he does to save himself from wandering to a 



288 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. *' 

returnless distance from God^ is to strive a little morning 
and evenings at his short period of secret devotion, iojeel his 
sins. He makes direct effort to urge his heart to gratitude. 
He perhaps kneels before the throne of God, and knowing 
how little love for God he really feels, he exerts eveiy nerve 
to bring his heart to love God. He is tiying to control his 
affections by direct effort, and he probably j^dls. He is 
striving in vain. He soon becomes discouraged, and yields 
himself again to the current which is bearing him away 
from holiness and peace. 

I once knew a young man — and while I describe his case, 
it is possible that there may be many of the readers of this 
chapter who will say his case is like theirs — ^who had a 
famt hope that he was a Christian, but his penitence was, 
in his opinion, so feeble and heartless, his love to God was 
so cold, and his spark of grace, if there was any in his heart, 
was so faint and languishing, that he scarcely dared to 
hope. He did not therefore take the stand or perform the 
duties of a Christian. He thought he must make more pro- 
gress himself in piety, before he endeavoured to do any good 
to others. He was accordingly attempting to make this pro- 
gress. He struggled with his own heart to awaken stronger 
love and deeper penitence there; — but it was a sad and al- 
most fruitless struggle. He became dejected and desponding. 
He thought his heart was still cold and hardened in sLa, 
and that religious feeling would not come at his bidding ; 
and he continued for a long time unhappy himself and use- 
less to others. 

The principle which I have been designing to illustrate by 
these cases, is, that the best way to improve or alter the 
affections of the heart is not by direct efforts upon the heart 
itself. The degree of power which man has directly over 
the affections of the heart is very limited. A mere theorist 
will say, he must have entire control over them, or they 
cannot be blameworthy or praiseworthy. But no oiie but 
the mere theorist will saj this. A benevolent man, dur- 
ing an inclement season, sends fuel to a destitute and suf- 
fering family, and perhaps goes himself to visit and to cheer 
the sick one there. Does not he take a great pleasure in 
thus relieving misery, and is not this benevolent feeling 
praiseworthy ? And yet it is not under his direct control— 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 2^0 

he cannot possibly help taking pleasure in relieving suffer- 
ing. Suppose I were to say to him, " Sir, just to try a 
philosophical experiment, will you just alter your heart so 
as to be glad to know that people are suftering ? I will tell 
you the &cts about a child which perished with the cold, 
and while I do it, will you so alter your heart, (which must 
be entirely under your control, or else its emotions cannot be 
praiseworthy or blameworthy,) — as to delight in that cruel 
suffering ?" How absurd woidd this be. The man must be 
pained to hear of the suffering he cannot help, — and yet 
sympathy with the sorrows of others is praiseworthy. 

Again, sister and sister have become alienated from each 
other. The feeling which was at first coldness has become 
dislike, and now they are satisfied that they whom God has 
placed so near together ought not to be sundered in heart. 
Suppose the parent were to say to them, " I know you can 
lore each other, and you ought to love each other, and 
I command you immediately to do it." They may fear pa- 
rental displeasure, — they may know that they should be 
happier if they were united in heart, — but will affection 
come at once at their call ? 

The entire free agency of man — ^by which is meant his 
freedom from all external restraint in his conduct — cannot 
be asserted too frequently, or kept too distinctly in the view 
of every human being. There is such a thing, however, as 
presenting this subject in such a light as to lead the mind 
to the erroneous idea, that all the affections of the heart are, 
in the same sense, under the control of the will, as the mo- 
tions of the body are. I do not mean that any respectable 
writer or preacher will advocate such a view, but only that, 
in expressing his belief in human freedom in sweeping and 
unqualified terms, he may unintentionally convey the im- 
pression. There is unquestionably a very essential differ- 
ence between a man's freedom of feeling, and his freedom of 
acting. A man may be induced to act by a great variety^ 
of means. A motive of any kind, if strong enough, will be 
sufficient. Suppose, for instance, a sea-captain wishes to 
induce a man to leap off from the deck of his ship into the 
sea, he may attempt in a great many ways to obtain his ob- 
ject. He may command him to do it, and threaten punish- 
ment if he disobeys. He mty try to hire him to do it. He 
may show the sailor that his little son has fallen overboard, 

T 



290 YOC7N6 CHRISTIAN. 

and thus induce ihe parent to risk his life that he may save 
that of his child. He may thus, in various ways, appeal to 
yeiy different feelings of the human heart, love of money, 
fear, or parental affection ; and if hy either of these the 
voUtiofiy as metaphysicians term it, — i. e. the determination 
can he formed, the man goes oyerhoard in a moment. He 
can do anything which, Jrom any motive whatever y he re- 
solves to do. 

In regard, however, to the Jeelings of the heart, it is far 
different. Though man is equally a free agent in regard 
to these^ it is quite a different way ; that is, the feelmgs 
of the heart are not to he managed and controlled hy sim- 
ple determinations^ as this external conduct may he. Sup- 
pose, for instance, the captain wished that sailor to he grate > 
fill for some favour he had received, and of which he had 
heen entirely regardless ; — ^and suppose he should command 
him to he grateful, and threaten him with some punishment 
if he should refuse. Or suppose he should endeavour to 
hire him to be grateful, — or should try to persuade him to 
he thankful for past ^vours in order to get more. It would 
be absurd. Gratitude, like any other feeling of the heart, 
though it is of a moral iiature> and though man is perfectly 
free in exercising it, vrill not always come whenever the 
man determines to bring it. 

The external conduct is controlled by the determination 
of the mind, on whatever motives those determinations may 
be founded, but the feelings and affections of the heart are 
under no such direct control. 

Tliere is, certainly, for all practical purposes, a great dis- 
tinction between the heart and the conduct ; — ^between the 
moral condition of the soul, and those specific acts which 
arise from it. Two children, a dutiful and a disobedient 
one, are walking together in a beautiful garden, and sud- 
denly the gardener tells them that their father did not wish 
them to walk there. Now, how different will be the efiect 
which this annunciation vrill make upon them. The one 
will immediately obey, leaving with alacrity the place which 
his father did not wish him to pass. The other vrill linger, 
and make excuses, or perhaps sJtogether disobey. Just he- 
fore they received the communication they were perhaps 
not thinking of their father at all ; but, though their minds 
were acting on other subjects, they possessed distinct and 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 291 

« 

oj'posite characters as sons^ characters which rendered it 
probable that one would comply with his father's wishes as 
soon as those wishes should be known^ and that the other 
would not. So in all other cases ; a dishonest man is dis • 
honest in character , when he is not actually stealing, and a 
humble and devoted Christian will have his heart in a right 
state, even when he is entirely engrossed in some intellect 
tual pursuit, or involved in the perplexities of business. 

I am aware that among metaphysical philosophers there 
is a controversy on the question, whether all which is of a 
moral nature — L e. which is blameworthy or praiseworthy — 
may not be shown to be specific^ voluntary acts of the moral 
being. Into this question I do not intend to enter at all ; — 
for if what is commonly called character, in contradistinc- 
tion from conduct, may be resolved into voluntary acts, it is 
certainly to be done only by a nice metaphysical analysis, 
which common Christians cannot be expected to follow. To 
illustrate the nature of this question I must give the follow- 
ing narrative, which I take from Hume, with some altera- 
tions of form, to make it more intelligible in this connexion. 

In early periods of the English history, Richard, duke of 
Gloucester, an intriguing and ambitious man, formed the 
design of usurping the throne. The former king had left 
several children, who were the proper heirs to the crown. 
They were, however, young, and Richard gained possession 
of the government, ostensibly that he might manage it until 
they were of age, when he was to surrender it to them 
again, — ^but really with the design of putting them and all 
their influential friends to death, and thus usurping the 
throne. 

One of the most powerful and faithful friends of the 
young princes was Lord Hastings : the following is the ac- 
count which Hume gives of the manner in which he was 
murdered by Richard. 

'^The Duke of Gloucester, knowing the importance of 
gaining Lord Hastings, sounded, at a distance, his senti- 
ments, by means of a lawyer, who lived in great intimacy 
with that nobleman ; but found him impregnable in his 
allegiance and fidelity to the children of Edward, who had 
ever honoured him with his friendship. He saw, therefore, 
that there were no longer any measures to be kept with 



292 youNO christian. 

him ; and he determined to ruin utterly the man whom he 
despaired of engaging to concur in his usurpation. Ac- 
cordingly^ at a certain day^ he summoned a council in the 
Tower; whither Lord Hastings, suspecting no design 
against him, repaired without hesitation. The Duke of 
Gloucester was capable of committing the most bloody and 
treacherous murders with the utmost coolness and indiffer- 
ence. On taking his place at the council-table, he appear- 
ed in the easiest and most jovial humour imaginable. He 
seemed to indulge himself in familiar conversation with the 
coimcillors, before they should enter on business ; and hav- 
ing paid some compliments to one of them on the good and 
early strawberries which he raised in his garden, and begged 
the favour of having a dish of them, a servant was immedi- 
ately despatched to bring them to him; Richard then left 
the council, as if called away by some other business : but 
soon after returning, with an angry and inflamed counte- 
nniice, he asked them, 

" ' What pimishment do those deserve that have plotted 
against my life, who am so nearly related to the king, and 
am intrusted with the administration of government V 
Hastings replied that they merited the punishment of 
traitors. ^ These traitors,' then cried the protector, ' are 
the sorceress my brother's wife, and Jane Shore his mistress, 
with others their associates : see to what a condition they 
have reduced me by their incantations and witchcraft.' As 
he said this he laid bare his arm, all shrivelled and decay- 
ed ; but the councillors, who knew that this infirmity had 
attended him from his birth, looked on each other with 
amazement ; Lord Hastings began to be alarmed. 

^^ ' Certainly, my Lord,* said he, ^ if they be guilty of 
these crimes they deserve the severest punishment.' 

" ' And do you reply to me,' exclaimed Richard^ ' with 
your ifs and your ands ? You are the chief abettor of that 
witch Shore ! You are yourself a traitor ; and by St. Paul 
I will not dine before your head be brought me.' 

" He struck the table with his hand, armed men rushed in 
at the signal, the councillors were thrown into the utmost 
consternation, and one of the guards, as if by accident 
or a mistake, aimed a blow with a pole-axe at one of the 
liords named Stanley, who, aware of the danger, slunk under 
the table ; and though he saved his life, received a severe 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMKNT. 293 

"wound in the head, in Richard's presence. Hastings was 
seized^ was hurried away, and instantly beheaded on a tim- 
ber log which lay in the courts of the Tower. Two hours 
after, a proclamation so well penned and fairly written that 
it must have been prepared before, was read to the citizens 
of London, enumerating his offences, and apologizing to 
them, from the suddenness of the discovery, for the sud- 
den execution of that nobleman, who was very popular 
among them." 

After this act of violence, Richard went forward with his 
plans until he attained complete ultimate success. He caused 
the unhappy young princes whose claims were between him 
and the throne to be confined in the Tower, a famous castle 
and prison on the banks of the Thames in the lower part of 
London. He then sent orders to the constable of the Tower 
to put his innocent and helpless victims to death. The offi- 
cer declined performing so infamous an act. He then order- 
ed the constable to give up, for one night, the command of 
the Tower to another man. He did so, and the Duke sent 
Sir James Tyrrel, who promised to see that his cruel orders 
were executed. But even Tyrrel was not savage enough to 
execute them with his own hand. He had not the hardihood 
even to look on while it was done. He accordingly employ- 
ed three ruffians, whose names were Slater, Lighton, and 
Forrest, who came in the night-time to the door of the 
chamber in the Tower where the poor boys were confined. 
The murderers found them sleeping quietly in their beds. 
They killed them by suffocating them with the bolster and 
pillows, and then showed the dead bodies to Tyrrel that he 
might assure Richard that they were no more. The ambi- 
tious and cruel Duke became, by these means, Richard III. 
King of England. 

Now, in reviewing this story, and a hundred others might 
have easily been found which would have answered the pur- 
poses of this illustration just as well, we see that the guilt 
which it discloses may be easily analyzed into three distinct 
portions. I mean they are distinct for all popular and prac- 
tical purposes. A nice metaphysical investigation may or 
may not, I shall not here consider which, reduce them 
again to the same. 

L The external acts. I mean the rushing in of armed 
men at the table, — the wounding of Lord Stanley^ — the 



294 YOUNG CHllISTIAN. 

beheading of Lord Hastings, — ^the reading of the feJse pro- 
clamation, — and the murder of the children in their bed. 
These deeds were not performed by Richard himself. He 
hired others to perpetrate these crimes, and he had not him- 
self, directly, any thing to do with them. It may be diffi- 
cult to find in the whole story any one external act which 
Bichard did which was wrong. 

2. The internal acts or determinations of mind. That is, 
the plans which Richard formed, and the wicked resolutions 
which he came to. He must, for example, at one time have 
hesitated whether he should have Hastings murdered or not. 
He weighed the difficulties and dangers, on the one side, 
and the advantages to his cause on the other, and at last he 
resolved to do it. This was a mental act. In the same 
manner the determination to have the princes murdered 
was an act of his mind. It was savage and abominable in 
the extreme, but what I wish to have particularly noticed 
in it, isy that it was a voluntary mental act. He deliberated 
about, and then he voluntarily resolved upon it. His 
whole conduct throughout this business is a series of most 
wicked mental acts, which he deliberately performed, and 
for which he was guilty, though he contrived to put off the 
extern/d deeds of violence to the hands of others. 

3. The ambitious and cruel heart rvhich instigated these 
acts. Washington would not have done such things. King 
Alfred would not have done them. No. Richard had, by 
a distinction which, for all the practical purposes of life, will 
always be made, a savage and an unprincipled character, 
without which he would not have done such things. An- 
other man, when hesitating whether to murder two innocent 
boys in order to prepare a way for himself to a throne, would 
have found principles of compassion and of justice coming 
up, he knows not how or whither, — ^but still coming up to 
arrest his hand. Richard had nothing of this sort. He was 
ambitious and sanguinary, and unrelenting in character as 
well as in conduct. Before he performed any of these men- 
tal acts, i. e. came to those wicked determinations named 
under the second head, he had a heart which fitted him 
exactly for them. 

It is evident too — and this is a point of the greatest impor- 
tance — ^that this cruel and ambitious disposition, which was 
the origin of all his wicked plans, is not voluntary in the 



P£IIS0NAL IMPROVBMBNT. 295 

same sense as the plans themselves are. In regard to his 
podtiYe determinations to have the children murdered^ for 
example, he deliherated, and then voluntarily decided upon 
it. But who supposes that he ever deliberated while he was 
carrying forward his schemes^ whether he would be a cruel 
or a merciful man, and decided upon the former ? When he 
awoke each morning, he undoubtedly thought about the 
coming day, and formed his designs. He said to himself 
*' I wiU do this, or I will stop that. I will have this man 
killed to-day, or I will banish that man." But who ima- 
gines that every mondng he considered and decided whe- 
ther he- should be virtuous or vicious that day in heart ? 
Who can suppose that he formed such resolutions as these-— 
'^ I will be a cruel man to-day. I will have no principle 
and no compassion for others, but will delight only in my 
own ambition." No. He was cruel and ambitious and 
sanguinary without determining to be so ; for the question, 
what general character he should cherish, probably never 
came up. All that he deliberated and decided upon un- 
questionably was, by what specific plans he should gratify 
tiie impulses of his wicked heart. He determined upon these 
plans, but he did not determine upon the impulses. He 
would sometimes resolve to plan the destruction of an ene- 
my, or to take certain steps which should lead him to the 
throne, but he never said to himself, " Now I will awaken 
in myself an impulse of cruelty. Now I will call up into 
my heart ungovernable ambition and love of power." No. 
These feelings reigned in his heart from day to day without 
any direct effort on his part to keep them there. How they 
came, and why they remained, it is not my present purpose 
to inquire. All I mean here to insist upon is, that they are 
not, like the plans of iniquity he formed, the result of direct 
choice and determination, and consequently not voluntary 
in the same sense in which these plans themselves are the 
result of direct volition. 

It may be said that this wicked state of heart was the re- 
sult of previous bad conduct, which had formed a habit of 
sin, and perhaps it was. I am not trying to account for it, 
but only to bring it to view. I am simply endeavouring to 
show there is, independently of the conduct, whether exter- 
nal or internal acts are meant by that term, a state of heart 
&'om wliich tliat conduct flows . 



296 YOUNO CHRISTIAN. 

But is there any practical advantage, It may be asked^ in 
drawing this distinction between the heart and the conduct ? 
There is a great practical advantage^ otherwise I should by 
no means have taken so much pains to exhibit it; for although 
the intellectual eflFort which is necessary on the part of the 
reader in going into such a discussion is of great advantage^ 
I should not hare entered upon it with that object alone. I 
design to introduce nothing into this book but what will be 
of practical utility. 

It is then practically important that we should all under- 
stand, not only that our conduct, by which I mean our acts, 
whether internal or external, is wrong ; but also that we 
have within us evil hearts, inclining us to go astray, and 
that this eyil heart itself is distinct &om the going astray 
which results from it. A clear conception of this is the 
only safeguard against that self-sufficiency which is de- 
structive of all reKgious progress. " The heart," says the 
Scripture, '' is deceitful above all things, and desperately 
wicked V* Tlie power which created it alone can change 
its tendencies, so as to make it as easy and as natural for us 
to do right as it is now to do wrong. To this power we 
must look. We must look to God, too, with a feeling of 
distrust of ourselves, and a conviction that help can come 
only from him. '^ Oh wretched man that I am, who shall 
deliver me from the body of this death i" Yes, free as man 
is, and fiilly and entirely accountable as he is for all his 
conduct, there is a sense in which he is a miserable slave to 
sin, in wretched bondage to a tyrant, from whose chains no 
struggles of his own will ever set him free. When he re- 
alizes this, and feels humbled and powerless, and utterly 
dependant upon divine grace, then God is ready to come 
into his soul to purify and to save him. 

Such considerations as these, and many others which 
might be introduced if necessary, plainly show that man's 
moral feelings are far less under his direct control than his 
intellectual or his bodily powers. He may try to lift a 
weight, — he may try to run, to think, or to understand, — and 
he will probably succeed ; but it is hard to love or to hate, by 
merely tr3dng. But after stating this, and illustrating this 
principle, there is one sentence which I ought to write in 
capitals, and express with the strongest emphasis in my 
power. The heart is not independent of our control to such 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 29? 

a degree as to free us from moral obligation and accounta- 
bility. We are most unquestionably ^ree in the exercise of 
every good and of every evil feeling of the heart, and we 
are plainly accountable for them most fully, though we may 
not have exerted a direct determination or volition to bring 
them into being. 

But it is not my intention here to go metaphysically into 
the incomprehensible subject of the nature of moral agency. 
My design is only to show to Christians, that the feelings of 
penitence for sin, and ardent love to the Saviour, are not 
feelings which they are to bring to their hearts by struggling 
directly to introduce them. You cannot be penitent by sim- 
ply trying to be penitent. You cannot hate sin, or love God 
more sincerely than you do, by simply trying to feel thus. 
The heart is to be moulded and guided in other ways. 

Some of these ways, by which the heart is to be led more 
and more to God, I shall describe. 

1. By acquiring true knowledge. If you are a Christian 
at all, your piety will be increased and strengthened by 
bringing often before your mind those truths which show 
the necessity of piety. Instead of struggling directly to 
bring penitence to your heart, by an effort of the wiU, — 
spend a part of your little season of retirement in reflecting 
on the consequences of sin. Look around you, and see how 
many families it has made miserable, — how many hearts it 
has desolated. Think of the power it has had in ruining 
the world in which we live, and how dreadful would be its 
ravages if God should permit it to have its way among all 
his creatures. Reflect how it has destroyed your own 
peace of mind, injured your usefulness, brought a stain upon 
the Christian name. Reflect upon such subjects as these, so 
as to increase the vividness of your knowledge, — and though 
you make no effort to feel penitence, — even if you do not 
think of penitence at all, it will rise in your heart if there is 
any grace there. You cannot look upon the consequences 
of sin without repenting that you have ever assisted to pro- 
cure them. Peter did not repent of his treachery by trying 
to feel sorry. The Lord turned and looked upon Peter. 
That look brought with it recollections. He saw clearly 
his relation to his Saviour, and the ingratitude of his denial. 

It is so with all the other emotions of piety. You will 
not succeed in loving God supremely, by simply making the 



298 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

effort to do so. Look at his goodness and mercy to you. 
See it in the thousand forms in which it shines upon you. 
Do not dwell upon it in generals^ hut come to minute 
] particulars^ and whether old or youngs and whatever may be 
the circumstances of your lives, reflect carefully upon God's 
kind dealings with you. Are you a mother ? — ^As you hold 
your infant upon your knee, or observe its playful brothers 
and sisters in health and happiness around you, consider a 
moment by whose goodness they were given to you, and by 
whose mercy they are daily spared. Are you a child ? — Look 
upon the comforts and privileges, and the sources of happi- 
ness which God has given you, — and while you view them, 
remember that every week there are multitudes of children 
around you suffering from cold, from hunger, from ne- 
glect, or who are summoned to an early grave. I have stood 
at the bedside of a child who was, a fortnight before, in her 
class at the Sabbath school, and seen her sink froin day to 
day under the grasp of sickness and pain, until her reason 
failed, and her strength was gone, and at last she slumbered 
in death. A few days after she was deposited, in the depth 
of winter, in her cold grave. Blustering storms and wintry 
tempests do not indeed disturb the repose of the tomb ; but 
when you are sitting in health and happiness at your own 
cheerfrd fireside, and hear the howling winds which sweep 
around you, or in a more genial season feel the warm breath 
of spring upon your healthful cheek, can you think of the 
thousands of cases like the one I have alluded to, and not 
feel grateful to your kind Protector ? If your heart js not 
entirely unrenewed, (and I am speaking now to Christians,) 
these affections will be warmly awakened while you reflect 
upon God's goodness, and thus learn how much you are in- 
debted to him. 

It is thus with other feelings; they are to come to the heart, 
not by the direct effort to bring them there, but by bring- 
ing to view the truths which are calculated to awaken them. 
If your heart is right towards God in any degree, the pre- 
sentation of these truths will awaken penitence and love; 
and the more knowledge we acquire in regard to our rela- 
tions to our Maker, and his dealings with us, the more 
rapid will be our growth in grace. 

2. The second means of growing in grace is Chrtstinn 
action. Faith will not only show itself by works, but works 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 299 

wiU increase faith. Let a man make an effort to relieve a 
sufferer^ and he becomes more and more interested for him. 
He first sends him a little food^ or a little fire> when he is 
sick, and he finds that this does good. It relieves the pres- 
sure^ and brings cheering and encouragement to the family^ 
before just ready to despair. The benefactor then, becom- 
ing more interested in the case, sends a physician, and when 
the patient is cured, he procures business for him, and goes 
on from step to step, until perhaps at last he feels a greater 
interest in that one case than in all the sufiering poor of the 
town beside. It all began by his simply sending a little 
wood, which was perhaps almost accidental, or at least 
prompted by a very benevolent feeling. This feeling has 
however increased to a strong and steady principle ; and to 
what is its increase owing ? — simply to his benevolent effort, 

I have already once or twice alluded to the benevolent 
Howard, who went through Europe visiting the prisons, that 
he might learn the condition of their unhappy tenants, and 
reUeve their cruel su£ferings. And how was it that he be- 
came so much interested in prisoners ? It devolved upon 
him, in the discharge of some public duty in his own county 
in England, to do something for the relief of prisoners there ; 
and the moment he began to do something for the prisoners, 
that moment he began to love them ; and the more he did 
for them, the more strongly he was attached to their cause. 

The Apostle Paul is one of the most striking examples of 
the power of Christian effort to promote Christian love. He 
gave himself wholly to his work, and the consequence was, 
he became completely identified with it He loved it better 
than he did life, and the strongest expressions of attachment 
to the Saviour which the Bible contains are to be found in 
the language he uses when he was drawing towards the 
close of his labours upon earth. 

If we then would grow in attachment to our Saviour, we 
must do something for him. But notice, it is not the mere 
external act which will promote your growth in piety^ — the 
act must be performed, in some degree at least, from Chris- 
tian principle. You can all put this method immediately 
to the test. Think of something which you can do, by 
doing which you will be co-operating with God. The do- 
sign of God is to relieve suffering, and promote happineG»8» 
wherever there is opportunity. And as sin is the greatest 



300 TOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

obstacle in the way, he directs his first and chief efforts to 
the remoYal of sin. Now, endeayour to find something which 
you can do, hj which sin can be removed, or suffering alle- 
viated, and go forth to the work, feeling that you are co- 
operating with your Saviour in his great and benevolent 
plans. Perhaps you vrill find an opportunity in your own 
£unily^ or perhaps in your neighbourhood ; but wherever it 
is done, if you go forth to the duty under the influence of 
attachment to the Saviour, and love to men, these feelings 
will certainly be increased by the effort You will feel, 
while you do it, that you are a co-worker with Grod, — ^that 
you are as it were making common cause with Him, and 
the bonds by which you were before only loosely bound to 
him are strengthened. 

Go forward then efficiently in doing good; set your hearts 
upon it. If you feel that you have but little love to God, 
bring that little into exerdscy and it will grow. 

3. The last of the means of growing in grace which 
I shall now mention, is a humble sense of dependence on 
the influences of the Holy Spirit, and sincere prayer for 
those influences. I freely acknowledge the difficulty which 
this subject presents. If we attempt to form any theory by 
which we can clearly comprehend how accountability can 
rest upon a soul which is still dependent upon a higher 
power for all that is good, we shall only plunge ourselves 
in endless perplexity. We know that we are accoimtable 
for all our feelings as well as for our words and deeds, and 
at the same time we know that those feelings within us 
which reason and conscience condemn, will come, unless 
the Holy Spirit saves us from being their prey. How em- 
phatically does the language of Paul describe this our me- 
lancholy subjection to this law of sin : 

^^For I know that in me, (that is, in my flesh) dwelleth 
no good thing ; for to will is present with me ; but how to 
perform that which is good, I find not. For the good that 
I would, I do not : but the evil which I would not, that I 
do. Now, if I do that I would not, it is no more I that do 
it, but sin that dwelleth in me. I find then a law, that 
when I would do good, evil is present with me. For I de-- 
light in the law of God, after the inward man. But I see 
another law in my members warring against the law of my 
mind, and bringing me into captivity to the law of sin which 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 301 

IS in my members. O wretched man that I am ! who shall 
deliyer me from the body of this death ?" 

The conclusion to which he comes in the next yerse is the 
right one, that God will deliver us through Jesus Christ our 
Lord. We must feel then humbly dependent on an influ- 
ence from above. Let us come daily to our Father in hea- 
ven, prajdng him to draw us to the Saviour — we shall not 
come imless he draws us. Let us feel dependent every day 
for a fresh supply of divine grace to keep these hearts in a 
proper frame. It is not enough to express this feeling in our 
morning prayer. We must carry it with us into all the 
circumstances of the day. When we are going into temp- 
tation we must say, ^' Lord, hold thou me up, and then I 
shall be safe ;" and we must say it with a feeling of entire 
moral dependence on God. 

We are all very much in danger of blunting our sense of 
our moral dependence on God for fear of impairing our sense 
of guilt. I do not attempt to present any theory, by which 
the two may be shown to be compatible with each other. We 
cfinnot easily understand the theory, but we feel and know 
that both are true. We all know that we are guilty for liv- 
ing in sin ; and we feel and know that our hearts do not 
change simply by our determining that they shall. Since 
then the two truths are clear, let us cordially admit them 
both. Let us, in the spirit of humility and cordial trust 
in God*s word, believe our Maker when he says, that he 
has mercy on whom he will have mercy, and whom he will 
he hardeneth. Let us beheve this cordially, however diffi- 
cult it may be to understand what can, in such a case, be 
the guilt of the hardened one ; and appl3dng the declaration 
to our own case, let us come before him praying that he will 
turn our hearts to holiness, and at the same time let us see 
and feel our guilt in neglecting duty and disobeying God as 
we do. 

This feeling of entire dependence on the Holy Spirit for 
moral progress is the safest and happiest feeling which the 
Christian can cherish. Such weakness and helplessness as 
ours loves protection, and if we can cordially make up our 
minds that there is a difficulty in this subject that no human 
powers can surmoimt, we can feel fully our own moral respon- 
sibility, and at the same time feel that our dearest moral in- 
terests are in God's care. This feeling is committing our 



302 YOUNG CnRISTIAN. 

souls to our Saviour s keeping and care. "Were our hearts 
entirely under our own direct control, we and we only could 
be their keepers ; but if we have given our hearts to him, 
God has promised to keep us by his power. He is able to 
keep us. He has control, after all, in our hearts, and if we 
are willing to put our trust in him, he will keep us from 
falling, and present us at last faultless before tiie throne 
of his glory with exceeding joy. 

II. INTELLECTUAL IMPRO^TSMENT. 

It may perhaps seem strange that I should discuss the 
subject of intellectual progress in a book devoted to an ex- 
planation and an enforcement of the principles of piety. I 
should not do this, were I not firmly persuaded that a regu- 
lar and uninterrupted intellectual progress is a duty which 
is peculiarly binding upon the Christian. Let the reader 
reflect a moment that those intellectual powers which Grod 
has given him are intended to exist for ever, and that if he 
shall be prepared at death to enter the world of happiness, 
they will go on expanding for ever, adding not only to his 
means, but to his capacities of enjoyment. 

The great mass of mankind consider the intellectual powers 
as susceptible of a certain degree of development in child- 
hood to prepare the individual for the active duties of life. 
This degree of progress they suppose to be made before the 
age of twenty is attained, and hence they talk of an educa- 
tion being finished ! Now, if a parent wishes to convey the 
idea that his daughter has closed her studies at school, or 
that his son has finished his preparatory professional studies, 
and is ready to commence practice, there is perhaps no strong 
objection to his using the common phrase that the education 
is finished ; but, in any general or proper use of language, 
there is no such thing as a finished education. The most 
successful scholar that ever left a school, or took his honora- 
ry degree at college, never arrived at a good place to stop 
in his intellectual course. In fact, the farther he goes the 
more desirous will he feel to go on ; and if you wish to find 
an instance of the greatest eagerness and interest with which 
the pursuit of knowledge is prosecuted, you will find it un- 
doubtedly in the case of the most accomplished and thorough 
scholar which the country can furnish, who has spent a long 



PERSONAL IMPROVBMENT. 303 

life in study, and who finds that the farther he goes^ the 
more and more widely does the houndless field of intelli- 
gence open before him. 

Give up then at once all idea of finishing your education 
The sole object of the course of discipline at any literary 
institution in our land is not ijojinish, but just to show you 
how to begin ; — ^to give you an impulse and a direction 
upon that course, which you ought to pursue with unabated 
and uninterrupted ardour as long as you live. 

It is unquestionably true that every person, whatever are 
his circumstances or condition in life, ought at all times to 
be making some steady efforts to enlarge his stock of know- 
ledge, to increase his mental powers, and thus to expand 
the field of his intellectual vision. I suppose most of my 
readers are convinced of this, and are desirous, if the way 
can only be distinctly pointed out, of making such efforts. 
In fact, no inquiry is more frequently made by intelligent 
young persons than this, — '' What course of reading shall I 
pursue ? What book shall I select, and what plan in read- 
ing them shall I adopt V These inquiries I now propose 
to answer. 

The objects of study are of several kinds ; some of the 
most important I shall enumerate. 

1. To increase our intellectual powers. Every one knows 
that there is a difference of ability in different minds, but 
it is not so distinctly understood that every one's abilities 
may be increased or strengthened by a kind of culture adapt- 
ed expressly to this purpose ; — ^I mean, a culture which is 
intended not to add to the stock of knowledge, but only to 
increase intellectual power. Suppose, for example, that 
when Robinson Crusoe on his desolate island had first 
found Friday the savage, he had said to himself as follows : 

'^ This man looks wild j^nd barbarous enough. He is to 
stay with me and help me in my various plans, but he could 
help me much more effectually if he was more of an intel- 
lectual being and less of a mere animal. Now I can in- 
crease his intellectual power by culture, and I will. But 
what shall I teach him ?" 

On reflecting a little farther upon the subject, he would 
say to himself as follows : 

" I must not always teach him things necessary for him 
to know in order to assist me in my work, but I must try 



304 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

to teach him to think for himself. Then he vfiR be fiir 
more yaluable as a servant than if he has to depend upon 
me for every thing he does." 

Accordingly, some evening w^hen the two, master and 
man, have finished the labours of the day, Robinson is 
walking upon the sandy beach with the vnld sayage by his 
side, and he concludes to give him his first lesson in ma- 
thematics. He picks up a slender and pointed shell, and 
with, it draws carefully a circle upon the sand. 

" What is that ?" says Friday. 

" It is what we call a circle," says Robinson ; "1 want 
you now to come and stand here, and attentively consider 
what I am going to tell you about it." 

Now, Friday has, we will suppose, never given his serious 
attention to any thing, or rather he has never made a 
serious mental effort upon any subject, for five minutes at 
a time, in his life. The simplest mathematical principle is 
a complete labyrinth of perplexity to him. He comes up 
and looks at the smooth and beautiful curve, which his mas- 
ter has drawn in the sand, with a gaze of stupid amazement. 

" Now, listen carefully to what I say," says Robinson, 
" and see if you can imderstand it. Do you see this little 
point I make in the middle of the circle ?" 

Friday says he does, and wonders what is to come from 
the magic character which he sees before him. 

" This," continues Robinson, '' is a circle, and that point 
is the centre. Now if I draw lines from the centre in any 
direction to the outside, these lines will all be equal." 

So saying, he draws several lines. He sets Friday to mea- 
suring them. Friday sees that they are equal, and is pleas- 
ed, from two distinct causes ; one that he has successfully 
exercised his thinking powers, and the other that he has 
learned something which he never knew before. 

I wish now that the reader would understand that Robin- 
son does not take this course with Friday because he wishes 
him to understand the nature of the circle. Suppose we 
were to say to him, '^ Why did you take such a course as 
that vnth your savage ? You can teach him much more 
useful things than the properties of the circle. What good 
will it do to him to know how to make circles ? Do you 
expect him to draw geometrical diagrams for you, or to 
calculate and project eclipses ?" 



PERSONAL IJMPROVEMENT. 305 

'' No/' Robinson would reply, " I do not care about Fri- 
day's understanding the properties of the circle. But I do 
want him to be a thinking being, and if I can induce him 
to think half an hour steadily and carefully, it is of no 
consequence upon what subject his thoughts are employed. 
I chose the circle because that seemed easy and distinct,-^ 
suitable for the first lesson. I do not know that he will ever 
hare occasion for the fact that the radii of a circle are 
equal, as long as he shall lire, — but he will hare occasion 
for the power of patient attention and thought, which he ac- 
quired while attempting to understand that subject" 

This would unquestionably be sound philosophy, and a 
savage who should study such a lesson on the beach of his 
own wild island, would for ever after be less of a savage than 
before. The effect upon his mental powers of one single 
effort like that would last, and a series of such efforts would 
transform him from a fierce and ungovernable but stupid 
animal, to a cultivated and intellectual man. 

Thus it is with all education. One great object is to tit- 
crease the powers, and this is entirdy distinct from the 
acquisition of knowledge. Scholars very often ask, when 
pursuing some difficult study, " What good will it do me 
to know this ?" But that is not the question. They ought 
to ask, " What good will it do to me to learn it 9 What enect 
upon my habits of thinking and upon my intellectual powers 
will be produced by the efforts to examine and to conquer 
these difficulties V* 

A very fine example of this is the study of conic sections^ 
a difficult branch of the course of mathematics pursued in 
college ; a study which, from its difficulty, and its apparent 
uselessness, is often very unpopular in the class pursuing it. 
The question is very often asked, " What good will it ever 
do us in after-life to understand all these mysteries of the 
Parabola and the Hyperbola, and the Ordinates and Abscis- 
sas, and Asymtotes V* The answer is, that the knotvledge of 
the facts which you acquire will probably do you no good 
whatever. That b not the object, and every college officer 
knows full well that the mathematical principles which this 
science demonstrates are not brought into use in after-life 
by one scholar in ten. But every college officer, and every 
intelligent student who will watch the operations of his own 
mitid and the influence which such exercises exert upon it, 

u 



806 rOCJNG CHRISTIAN. 

knowg equally well that the study of the higher mathematics 
produces an effect in enlarging and duciplining the intel- 
lectual powers, which the whole of life will not obliterate. 

Do not shrink^ then^ from difficult work in your efforts at 
intellectual improvement. You ought^ if you wish to se- 
cure the greatest advantage^ to have some difficult work^ that 
you may acquire habits of patient research^ and increase 
and strengthen your intellectual powers. 

2. The acquisition ofknorvledge. This is another object of 
intellectual effort ; and a moment's reflection will convince 
any one that the acquisition of knowledge is the duty of all. 
Sometimes it has been said by an individual under the in- 
fluence of a misguided interest in religious truths that he will 
have nothing to do with human learning. He wiU study 
nothing but the Bible^ and all his leisure hours he will give 
to meditation and prayer^ — and thus he will devote his 
whole time and strength to the promotion of his progress in 
piety. But if there is any thing most manifest in God's 
intentions in regard to employment for man^ it is^ that he 
should spend a very considerable portion of his time iipon 
earth in acquiring hnowledgey — ^knowledge in all the extent 
and variety in which it is offered to human powers. The 
whole economy of nature is such as to allure man to the in- 
vestigation of it, and the whole structure of his mind is so 
framed as to qualify him exactly for the work. If now a 
person begins in early Ufe, and even as late as twenty, and 
makes it a part of his constant aim to acquire knowledge, — 
endeavouring every day to learn something which he did not 
know before, or to fix something in the mmd which was be- 
fore not familiar, he will make an almost insensible, but a 
most rapid and important progress. The field of his in- 
tellectual vision will widen and extend every year. His 
powers of mind as well as his attainments wdll be increas- 
ed, and as he can see more extensively, so he can act more 
effectually every month than he could on the preceding. 
He thus goes on through life, growing in knowledge and in 
intellectual and moral power, and if his spiritual progress 
keeps pace as it ought with his intellectual advancement, 
he is, with the divine assistance and blessing, exalting him- 
self higher and higher in the scale of being, and preparing 
himself for a loftier station of service before the throne in 
the world to come. 



PERSONAL IMPBOVEMENT. 30? 

3. The acquisition of skill is a third object of intellectual 
effort. I point out clearly and separately the distinct ob- 
jects which intellectual effort ought to have in view, that my 
readers may ascertain whether tJiey are doing something to 
accomplish them all, and that in all the particular plans 
which they may adopt, they may have constantly in mind 
the purpose which is in view in each, in order the more 
effectually to secure it. I wish therefore that my readers 
would notice particularly this third head, for it is one which, 
though in some respects quite as important as either of the 
others, is not often very clearly pointed out. 

To recur to my illustration of Robinson Crusoe and his 
man Friday. The conversation which I supposed to be held 
with him on the subject of the circle, was not merely de- 
signed to give him information or skilU but to discipline 
and improve his intellectual powers by the exercise. Let 
us suppose now that the next day Robinson had concluded 
to tell him the story of his own past adventures, and, sitting 
down upon a green bank by the side of their hut, had given 
him an outline of his early life in England, — of his first 
coming to sea, — of his wanderings and adventures on the 
great ocean, and of his final shipwreck on the island. He 
describes as well as he can the form and appearance of the 
great ship in which he had sailed, its spacious decks and 
n&merous company, and makes him acquainted with his 
hope that ere long a similar ship coming from that same 
native land, will appear in the horizon, and come, attracted 
by their signals, to the island, and bear him away to his home. 

Now, such a conversation as this is intended to give infor^ 
mation.. It may indeed be a useful discipline to Friday's 
powers to listen to it, but that is not its main design. Rob- 
inson's chief design is to make his savage companion ac- 
quainted with facts which it is on many accounts important 
that he should know. 

Now, let us take a third case. My readers are all doubt- 
less aware that savages can usually count as far as they 
have fingers to illustrate their arithmetic. Some tribes can 
use both hands, counting as far as ten, and when they get 
beyond that they hold up both hands, shake their heads, as 
if in perplexity, and say ''great many, — great many** 
Other tribes can go no farther than one hand, and have no 
names for numbering beyond five. 



k 



30il YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

» 

Now^ suppose Robinson were to undertake to teacli Fri- 
day to count. He might say to Himself that it would often 
be a great convenience to Tiim if Friday were able to count, 
80 that he might ascertain and describe to him numbers 
higher than those which he could express by his fingers. 
He accordingly commences the task, and perseveres day af- 
ter day in the lesson. I say day after day, for, easy as it may 
seem to us, it is a matter of no small difficulty to teach a 
savage to count. Now, although there is unquestionably an 
important mental discipline secured by such an effort on the 
part of the savage, and although the learning to count is in 
one sense the acquisition of knowledge, — ^it is in a much 
more important sense the acquisition of skill. By making 
the process of counting familiar, Friday is not in so proper 
a sense acquiring a knowledge of facts y as learning some- 
thing to do. It is of the nature of skill which he is to use 
in future times for the benefit of himself and of Robinson. 

If you call to mind the various studies which are urged 
upon the attention of the young, you will find that shUy 
that is, learning to do something, is very often the object in 
view. It is so with arithmetic. In studying the funda- 
mental rules, the main design is not to bring information 
to your minds, but to teach you to do something. When 
you read history, you are acquiring knowledge, — ^when you 
•study rhetoric or write composition for practice, you ^e 
acquiring skill. Now, all these three objects in a good 
scheme of education are to be kept constantly in view, and 
to be regularly provided for. A young man at college, for 
instance, will study his demonstration in the higher mathe- 
matics in the morning, for the purpose of improving and 
strengthening his powers. He will listen to a chemical or 
philosophical lecture, or study botany in the fields in the 
afternoon, to obtain knowledge, and in the evening he wiU 
practise in his debating society, to acquire skill. These 
three things are distinct and independent, but all equally 
important in the business of life. If one is cultivated and 
the others neglected, the man is very poorly qualified for 
usefulness ; and yet nothing is more common than such half- 
educated men. 

I have often known persons in whom the first of these 
objects alone was secured. You will know one who is in 
danger of such a result in his education, by his taking a 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 3U9 

strong interest, if he is in college, for example, in those pur- 
suits in his class which require more of great but temporary 
mental effort, and by his neglecting the equally important 
parts of his course which would store his mind with facts. 
He attracts the admiration of his class by his fluent famili- 
arity with all the mazes of the most intricate theorem or 
problem, and he excites an equal surprise by his apparent 
dulness at the recitation in history, making, as he does, the 
most ludicrous blunders, and showing the most lamentable 
ignorance of every thing which is beyond the pale of de- 
monstration. When at last he comes out into the world, 
his mind is acute and powerful, but he is an entire 
stranger to the scene in which he is to move. He can do 
no good, because he does not know where his efforts are to 
be applied. He makes the same blunders in reaJ life that 
he did in college, in its history, — and is soon neglected 
and forgotten. He had cultivated simple power, but was 
without information or skill. His power was consequently 
almost useless. 

On the other hand, a young man may spend his whole 
strength in simply obtaining knowledge, neglecting the 
cultivation of mental power, or the acquisition of skill. He 
neglects his severer studies, and his various opportunities 
for practice. ^* Spherics V says he, " and trigonometrical 
formula ! What good will they ever do me ? I am not go- 
ing to be an almanack-maker, or to gain my livelihood by 
calculating eclipses." So he reads history, and voyages, 
and travels, and devours every specimen of periodical litera- 
ture which finds its way vnthin college walls. He very 
probably neglects those duties which, if faithfully perform- 
ed, woidd cultivate the powers of conversation, and writing, 
and public speaking, and he comes out into the world 
equally celebrated among all who knew him, on the one 
hand, for the variety and extent of his general knowledge, 
and, on the other, for the slendemess of his original mental 
power, and his utter want of any skill in bringing his 
multifarious acquisitions to bear upon the objects of life. 

In the same manner I might illustrate the excessive pur- 
suit of the last of the objects I have named, viz. the acqui- 
sition of skill, but it is unnecessary. My readers will, I 
think, all clearly see that these objects are distinct, and 
that all are of the first importance to every one. To be 



310 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

most extensively usefiil, you must hare original mental 
power and knowledge of facts^ and skill to apply that know- 
ledge in the most effectual manner. 

The illustrations which I hare employed have referred 
more directly to the cases of young men in a course of 
puhlic education^ hut I have not intended that these prin- 
ciples should be exclusively applied to them. Nor are they 
to he confined in their application to the preparatory stages 
of education. Take, for example, a young mother of a 
family. She ought, at all times, to he making daily intel- 
lectual progress, and this intellectual progress ought to be 
such as to secure a proportional attention to all the objects 
1 have named. She ought to investigate something which 
shall task her powers to the utmost, so as to secure discip- 
line and improvement of those powers. She ought also to 
make regular and systematic efforts to acquire information ; 
— by reading and by conversation enlarging as much as 
possible the field of her vision, so that she can the more 
fully understand the circumstances in which she is placed, 
and the means of influence and usefulness within her reach. 
She ought also to adopt systematic plans for increasing her 
skill ; — by learning, for example, system in all her afi^drs 
— ^by studying improvements in the manner in which all 
her duties are performed, — endeavouring to become more 
fiiithful and systematic and regular in all her employments. 
By this means she may acquire dexterity in every pursuit, 
an important influence over other minds, and especially a 
higher skill in interesting, and instructing, and governing 
her children. 

But I must not go more into detail in this part of my 
subject. The best means of intellectual improvement de- 
mand a volume instead of a chapter, though a chapter is all 
which can be properly appropriated to it in such a work as 
this. What I have already said in regard to the three se- 
parate and distinct objects in view in education, has been 
chiefly designed to persuade my young readers to engage 
cheerfully and cordially in all the pursuits which those who 
are older and wiser then they have prescribed, in the various 
literary institutions with which they are connected. I shall 
with these remarks leave the subject of the pursuit of 
study in literary seminaries, t.nd close the chapter with a 
few directions in regard to su h means of improvement as 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 3i 1 

may be privately resorted to by individuals^ in their desire 
to improve. 

1. Reading. There are several detached directions 
which will be of great service to you in your private read* 
ing, if they are faithfully followed. 

1. Read systematically, I mean by this, do not take up 
and read any books because they merely chance to fall in your 
way. You see on a neighbour's table a book which looks as 
if it were interesting, as you say, and you think you should 
like to read it. You borrow it,— carry it home, — and at 
some convenient time you begin. You soon, however, either 
from taking it up at a time when you were interested in 
something else, or from being frequently interrupted, or per- 
haps from the character of the book, you find it rather 
dull, and after wasting a few hours upon the first fifty pages, 
you tumble over the remainder of the leaves, and then send 
the book home. After a few days more you find some other 
book by a similar accident, and pursue the same course. 
Such a method of attempting to acquire knowledge from 
books will only dissipate the mind, destroy all habits of 
accurate thinking, and unfit you for any intellectual pro- 
gress. 

But you must not go into the opposite extreme of draw- 
ing up for yourself a set of rules, and a system of reading 
full enough to occupy you for years, and then begin upon 
that, with the determination to confine yourself, at all 
hazards, rigidly to it. What I mean by systematic reading 
is this : — 

Reflect upon your circumstances and condition in life, 
and consider what sort of knowledge will most increase 
your usefulness and happiness. Then inquire of some 
judicious friend for proper books. If accident throws some 
book in your way, consider whether the subject upon which 
it treats is one which comes within your plan. Inquire 
about it if you cannot form an opinion yourself, and if you 
conclude to read it, persevere and finish it. 

Systematic reading requires, too, that you should secure 
variety in your books. Look over the departments of hu- 
man knowledge, and see that your plan is so formed that 
it vrill give you some knowledge of them all. In regard to 
the precise time and manner in which you shall fill up the 
details, it is undoubtedly best not to form any exact plan. 



312 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

It is better to leave such to be deicided by circumstances, 
and even by your inclinations, from time to time. You will 
enter with more spirit and success into the prosecution of 
any inquiry, if you engage in it at a time when it seems 
alluring and interesting to you. 

Read tfuyroughly. Avoid getting into the habit of going 
over the pages in a listless and meoianical manner. Make 
an effort to penetrate to the full meaning of .your author, 
and think patiently of every difficult passage, until you un- 
derstand it, or if it baffles your unassisted efforts, have it ex- 
plained. Reading thoroughly requires also that you should 
make yourself acquainted with all those attendant circum- 
stances which enable you the more fully to understand the 
author's meaning. Examine carefully the title-page and 
preface of every book you read, that you may learn who 
wrote it, where it was written, and what it was written for. 
Have at hand, if possible, such helps as maps> and a gazet- 
teer, and a biographical dictionary. Be careful, then, to 
find upon the map every place mentioned, and learn from 
the gazetteer what sort of place it is. If an allusion is made 
to any circumstances in the life of an eminent man, or in 
public history, investigate by books or by inquiry the allusion, 
so as fully to understand it. If possible find other accounts 
of the transactions which your author is describing, and 
compare one with another, — reflect upon the differences in 
the statements, and endeavour to ascertain the truth. Such 
a mode of reading as this is a very slow way of getting over 
the pages of a book, but it is a very rapid way of acquiring 
knowledge. 

Do not undertake to read extensive works* A young per- 
son will sometimes commence Hume's England, or Gibbon's 
Decline and Fall, or Hallam's Middle Ages, or some other 
extensive work, beginning it with no calculation of the time 
which will be required to complete it, and in fact with no 
definite plan whatever. Such an imdertaking is almost al- 
ways a failure. Any mind under twenty years of age will 
get wearied out again and again, in going through a 
dozen octavo volumes, on any subject whatever. There is 
no objection to reading such works, but let it be in detached 
portions of time. Select, for instance, from Hume's most in- 
teresting narrative, the reign of some one monarch, Elizabeth 
or Alfred i — or make choice of such a subject as the cm- 



PERSONAlf IMPROVEMENT. 313 

sades or the life of Mary Queen of Scots, and mark off such 
b portion of the whole work as shall relate to the topic thus, 
chosen. This can easily he done, and with no greater diffi- 
culty on account of its compelling the reader to begin in the 
middle of the history, than must be felt in reading all his- 
tory. If you begin at the beginning and go regularly 
through to the end, you will find a thousand cases in which 
the narrative you read is connected with other histories, in 
such a way as to demand the same effort to understand the 
comiexion which will be necessary in the course I have pro- 
posed. 

Form then for your reading short and definite plans. 
When you commence a work, calculate how long it will 
take you to finish it, and endeavour to adhere to the plan 
you shall form in regard to the degree of rapidity with 
which you will proceed. This habit, if once formed, will 
be the means of promoting regularity and efficacy in all your 
plans. 

II. Conversation. This topic deserves a volume in- 
stead of the very brief notice which is all that is consistent 
with the plan of this book. It is known and admitted to 
be one of the most important of all attainments, and per- 
haps nothing is more desired by all intelligent young persons 
who reflect at all upon the means of influence and improve- 
ment, than conversational power. But notwithstanding 
this general impression in its favour, there is nothing of haff 
its importance which is so entirely neglected in education. 
And there is, it must be acknowledged, a very great diffi- 
culty in the subject. It cannot be taught in schools and by 
classes like the other branches of knowledge or skill. Some 
few successful experiments have indeed been made, but al- 
most every effort to make it a distinct object of attention in 
a literary seminary has either failed entirely, or resulted in 
producing a stiff and formal maimer, which is very far from 
being pleasing. Acquiring skill in conversation, therefore, 
must in most cases be left to individual effort ; and even 
here, if the acquisition of skill is made the direct object, 
the individual will notice his maimer so much, and take so 
much pains with that, as to be in peculiar danger of affec- 
tation or formality. To acquire the art of conversation, 
then, I would recommend that you should practise con- 
versation systematically and constantly, but that you should 



314 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

haye some other objects than improvement in your manner ' 
of expressing yourself, mainly in view. You will become 
interested in these objects^ and consequently interested in 
the conversation which you make use of as a means of pro- 
moting them ; and by not having your own manner directly 
in view^ the danger of that stiffaess and precision and affec- 
tation, which is so common a result of efforts to improve in 
such an art as this, will be escaped. I i;\ill mention what 
these objects may be. 

I. Make conversation a means of acquiring knowledge. 
Every person with whom you are thrown into casual con- 
nexion has undoubtedly some knowledge which would be 
useful or valuable to you. You are riding in the stage, I 
will suppose, and the rough-looking man who sits by your 
side appears so unattractive that you do not imagine that 
he has any thing to say which can interest you. But speak 
to liim, — draw him into conversation, and you will find that 
he is a sea-captain who has visited a hundred ports, and 
can tell you many interesting stories about every clime. He 
will like to talk if he finds you are interested to hear, and 
you may make, by his assistance, a more important progress 
in really useful knowledge during that day's ride, than by 
the study of the best lesson from a book that was ever 
learned. Avail yourselves in this way of every opportunity 
which Providence may place within your reach. 

You may do much to anticipate and to prepare for con- 
versation. You expect, I will suppose, to be thrown into 
the company of a gentleman residing in a distant city. Now, 
before you meet him, go to such sources of information as 
are within your reach, and learn all you can about that city. 
You will get some hints in regard to its public institutions, 
its situation, its business, and its objects of interest of every 
kind. Now, you cannot read the brief notices of this sort 
which common books can furnish, without having your cu- 
riosity excited, in regard to some points at least, and you will 
go into the company of the stranger, neither dreading his 
presence nor shrinking from the necessity of conversation, 
but eager to avail yourself of the opportunity of gratifying 
your curiosity, and learning something full and satis&ctory, 
from an eye-witness, of the scenes which the book had 
so briefly described. By this means, too, the knowledge of 
books and of conversation, — of study and of real life, — will 



PERSONAL IMFROVEMENT. 315 

be brought together^ and this is a most important object 
for you to secure. It will give vividness and an air 
of reality to written description^ if you can frequently, after 
reading the description, have an opportunity to converse 
with one who has seen the object or the scene described. 

You may make a more general preparation for the oppor- 
tunities for conversation which you will enjoy. Consider 
what places and what scenes those with whom you may be 
casually thrown into connexion will most frequently have 
visited, and make yourselves as much acquainted with them 
as possible. You can then converse about them. Ascer- 
tain, too, what are the common topics of conversation in the 
place in which you reside, and learn, by reading or by in- 
quiry, all you can about them, so that you can be prepared 
to imderstand fully what you hear, and make your own in- 
quiries advantageously, and thus be prepared to engage in- 
telligently and with good eiBFect in the conversation in which 
you may have opportunity to join. 

On the same principle, it will be well for you, when you 
meet with any diflSculty in your reading or in your studies, 
or when in private meditations any inquiries arise in your 
minds which you cannot yourselves satisfactorily answer, 
not to dismiss them from your thoughts as difficulties 
which must remain because you cannot yourselves remove 
them. Consider who of your acquaintances will be most 
probably able to assist you in regard to each. One may be 
a philosophical question, another a point of general litera- 
ture, and a third may be a question of Christian duty. By a 
moment's reflection you will easily determine to whom each 
ought to be referred, and when the next opportunity occurs, 
you can refer them, and give yourself and your friend equal 
pleasure by the conversation you will thus introduce. 

2. Make conversation a means of digesting your know- 
ledge, I am obliged to use the term digest, because there is 
no other. The food that is received into the system is, by 
a peculiar set of vessels, dissolved, and so incorporated with 
the very system itself as to become actually a part of it. It 
is assimilated completely, and then and only then does it 
promote its growth and strength. Now, it is just so with the 
reception of knowledge. It must not only be received by 
the mind, but it must be analyzed, and incorporated with it, 
BO as to form a part of the very mind itself, and then and 



310 X^OUNG CHRISTIAN. 

not till then can the knowledge be properly said to be reaUy 
possessed. If a scholar reads a passage in an author^ simply 
receiving it into the mind as a mass will do yery little good. 
Take, for example^ these yery remarks on conversation ; a 
reader may peruse the pages theroughly, and fully under- 
stand all that I say^ and yet the whole that I present may lie 
in the mind an undigested mass, which never can nourish 
or sustain. On the other hand, it may be not merely re- 
ceived into the mind^ but made a subject of thought and 
reflection there ; it may be analyzed, — ^the principles it ex- 
plains may be applied to the circumstances of the reader^ — 
the hints may be carried out, and resolutions formed for 
acting in accordance with the views presented. By these 
and similar means the reader becomes possessed, really and 
fully, of new ideas on the subject of conversation. His 
thoughts and notions in regard to it are permanently changed. 
His knowledge, in a word, is digested, — assimilated to his 
own mind, so as to become, as it were, a part of it, and so 
intimately imited with it as not to be separated again. 

Now, conversation affords one of the most important 
means of thus digesting what is read and heard. In fact, 
you cannot talk about what you learn, vdthout digesting it. 
Sometimes two persons read together aloud by turns, each 
one freely remarking upon what is read, making inquiries or 
bringing forward additional facts or illustrations connected 
with the subject. Sometimes two persons reading separately 
come afterwards together for a walk, and each one describes 
his own book, and relates the substance of what it contains 
as far as he has read, bringing down, at each successive 
meeting, the narrative or tiie description, as far as the 
reader has gone. By this means each acquires the power 
of language and expression,— digests and fixes what, he has 
read, and also gives information to his companion. If any 
two of my readers vfill tiy this experiment, they will find 
much pleasure and improvement from it. 

III. Writing. The third, and perhaps the most impor- 
tant of the means of intellectual improvement, is the use 
of the pen. The powers of the pen as an instrument for 
accomplishing all the objects of intellectual effort, disci- 
pline, knowledge, and slall, are almost altogether unknown 
among the young. I am satisfied, however, that any gene- 
ral remarks which I might make would be less likely to 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 317 

Interest my readers in tliis subject, than a particular de- 
scription of the manner in which they can best use the pen 
to accomplish the objects in view. I shall accordingly come 
at once to minute detail. 

1. Personal Journals. Every young person old enough 
to write^ may take a great deal of pleasure in keeping a 
journal of his own personal history. After a very little 
practice the work itself will be pleasant^ and the improve- 
ment which it will promote is iax greater than one who has 
not exactly experienced it would expect. The style should 
be a simple narrative of facts,— chiefly descriptions of scenes 
through which you have passed, and memoranda in regard 
to important points of your history. Every thing relating 
to your progress in knowledge, your plans for your own 
improvement, the books you read, and the degree of inter- 
est which they excited, should be notified. You ought not 
to resolve to write every dai/y because sometimes it will be 
impossible, and then when your resolution has once yielded 
to necessity, it will afterwards more easily be broken by ne- 
ghgence. Resolve simply to write when you can, only be 
careful to watch yourself, and see that you persevere in 
your plan, whatever interruptions may for a time suspend 
it. At the close of the week think how you have been 
employed during the week, and make a record, a short one 
at least you certainly can, of what has interested you. When, 
from forgetfulness, or loss of interest in it, or pressure of 
other duties, you have for a long time neglected your jour- 
nal, do not throw it aside, and take up a new book and 
begin formally once more, — but begin where you left off,—^ 
filling up with a few paragraphs the interval of the history, 
— and thus persevere. 

There should be in the journal, and in all the other sets 
of books which I shall describe, a double running title, with 
two lines ruled, so that the general title may be above the 
upper one, and the particular subjects of each individual 
page above the imder one. This double running title would 
be as follows. 

62 PERSONAL JOURNAL. 1832 



Ride into the country. Begin botany. My sister^s sickness. 



318 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

The reader will understand that the number 62 repre- 
sents the page. Corresponding with 1832 on the right 
hand page should be written the name of the place in which 
the writer resides, and privatb may be used instead of 
PERSONAL if it is preferred. The book should be of such 
a form as can easily be written in, and of moderate or small 
size. You can begin a second volume when you have finish- 
ed the first, and the volumes will in a few years begin to 
be numerous. Some persons adopt the plan of writing in 
little books stitched together, made of ten half-sheets of 
letter-paper folded once, with a plain marble paper cover. 
These Httle pamphlets are more easily written in than bound 
volumes, and after a dozen of them are filled, they may be 
bound up by a bookbinder into a volume of the size of 
this book. I have seen very many manuscript volumes 
made in this way. 

A journal, now, kept in this systematic manner, will be 
interesting and valuable, if you describe in it the things 
that most interested you at the age in which you kept it ; 
and if it is carried on regularly through life, even with such 
interruptions as I have alluded to, it will be a most valu- 
able and most interesting document. You will read its 
pages again and again with profit and pleasure. 

2. Family Journal. Let three or four ofthe older brothers 
and sisters of a family agree to write a history of the fa- 
mily. Any father would, procure a book for this purpose, 
and if the writers are young, the articles intended for in- 
sertion in it might be written first on separate paper, and 
then corrected and transcribed. The subjects suitable to be 
recorded in such a book will suggest themselves to every 
one ; a description of the place of residence at the time of 
commencing the book, with similar descriptions of other 
places from time to time, in case of removals, — the jour- 
neys or absences of the head of the family or its members, 
— the sad scenes of sickness or death which may be wit- 
nessed, and the joyous ones of weddings or festivities or 
holidays, — the maimer in which the members are from time 
to time employed, — and pictures of the scenes which the 
fireside group exhibits in the long winter evening, or the 
conversation which is heard, and the plans formed, at the 
supper-table or in the morning walk. 

If a fiimily when it is first established should commence 



PER80NAL IMPBOV£MENT. 319 

such a record of their own efforts and plans, and the ya- 
rious dealings of Providence towards them, the father and 
the mother carrying it on jointly until the children are old 
enough to take the pen, they would find the work a source 
of great improvement and pleasure. It would tend to keep 
distinctly in view the great objects for which they ought to 
live, and repeatedly recognising, as they doubtless would 
do, the hand of God, they would feel more sensibly and 
more constantly their dependence upon him. 

The form and manner in which such a journal should be 
written might properly be the same with that described 
xmder the last head, the word family being substituted for 
PERSONAL, in the general title. It ought also to be writ- 
ten in such a style and upon such subjects as shall render 
it proper to give children free access to it. On this account 
it will be well to avoid such particulars in regard to any child 
as may be flattering to his vanity when he shall become old 
enough to read them, and to refrain from making a record 
of faults, which will remain a standing source of suffering 
and disgrace when perhaps they ought soon to be forgotten. 
It is true that one of the most important portions of such a 
journal would consist of the description of the various plans 
adopted for correcting faults, and for pronioting improve- 
ment — the peculiar moral and intellectual treatment which 
each child received, the success of the various experiments 
in education which intelligent parents will always be dispos- 
ed to try, and anecdotes of children illustrating the language 
or the sentiments or difficulties of childhood. With a little 
dexterity, however, on the part of the writer, a faithful re- 
cord of all these things can be kept, and yet, by an omission 
of names, or of some important circumstances, the evils I 
have above alluded to may be avoided. 

3. Notes and Abstracts, It is sometimes the case that 
yoimg persons, when they meet any thing remarkable in the 
course of their reading, transcribe ity with the expectation of 
referring to their copy afterwards to refresh their memo- 
ries, and thus, after a while, they get their desks full of 
knowledge, while very little remains in the head. Now, it 
ought to be remembered that knowledge is of no value, or 
at least of scarcely any, imless it is fairly lodged in the mind, 
and so digested, as I have before shown, as to become a per- 
manent possession. Now, if transcribing and writing notes 



320 YOUNG CHKISTIAN. 

and abstracts of what you read, is made the mean of fixing 
thus firmly in the mind your various acquisitions, it is of 
immense value ; if made the substitute for it, it is worse than 
useless. It may be a most powerful mean, as any one 
may prove to himself by the following experiment. 

Read some history in the ordinary way, without the use 
of the pen, with the exception that you select some chapter 
in the middle of the work, with which you may try the ex- 
periment of an abstract. After having read it attentively, 
shut the book, and write the substance of the narrative it 
contains. The more you deviate in style and language 
from your author the better, because by such a deviation 
you employ more your own original resources, you reduce 
the knowledge you have gained to a form adapted to your 
own habits of thought, and you consequently make it more 
fully your own, and fix it more indelibly in the mind. Aft«r 
finishing the abstract of that chapter, go on with the remain- 
der of the book in the usual way, by simply reading it at- 
tentively. You will find now, if you carefully try this 
experiment, that the chapter which you have thus treated 
will for many years stand out most conspicuous from all 
the rest in your recollections of the work. The facts which 
it has stated will retain possession of your mind when all 
the rest are forgotten, and they will come up when wanted 
for use, with a readiness which will show how entirely you 
made them your own. 

It is on this principle and with such a view that notes 
and abstracts are to be written. Some very brief practical 
directions will be of service to those who wish to adopt the 
plan. 

Do not resolve to write copious abstracts of all that you 
read. The labour would be too great. Never read, however, 
without your abstract-book at hand, and record whatever 
strikes you as desirable to be remembered. Sometimes, 
when reading a book of great importance, and full of in- 
formation which is new and valuable, you may write a full 
abstract of the whole. Gibbon, the celebrated historian, at- 
tributed, it is said, much of the success of his writing to the 
influence of his having made a very copious abstract of 
Blackstone's Commentaries, a most interesting book, and 
one which no young man of intelligence can read without 
profit and pleasure. 



PERSONAL IMPROVKMENT. 321 

Let the form of your books be like the Journals aboye 
described ; with ruled lines at the top for a double running; 
title, to facilitate reference. These lines should be ruled on 
through the book at firsts at least they should be kept ruled 
far in advance of the writing, or the writer will inadvertent- 
ly omit to leave a space for them. I have known many 
books commenced on this plan, but never one, I believe, 
without having this accident occur to vex and discourage 
the writer. 

Let your abstracts be of every variety of form and man- 
ner. Sometimes long and sometimes short, sometimes fully 
^vritten in a finished style, and sometimes merely a table of 
contents of your book. There may be a blank line left be- 
tween the separate articles, and the title of each should be 
written before it, and doubly underscored, that is, dis- 
tinguished by a double line drawn imder it This is repre- 
sented in printing by small capitals. When this is the title 
of the book read, and is prefixed to a long abstract, it may 
properly be placed over the article. Sometimes the writer 
will merely copy a remarkable expression, or a single inter- 
esting fact ; at other times, a valuable moral sentiment, or 
a happy illustration. He will often insert only a single para- 
graph from a long book, and at other times make a full ab- 
stract of its contents. But I must give specimens, as by 
these means I can much more readily give my readers an idea 
of my meaning. These specimens are not imaginary ones. 
They are all taken from three or four abstract-books of dif- 
ferent young persons, who lent them to me for this purpose. 
The titles in capitals represent the underscored words de- 
scribed above. To suit the running title at the top, which 
should be like the specimen already given, with the excep- 
tion, that the words Notes and Abstracts should be 
substituted for Personal Journal. 

Friendship. A man should keep bis friendship in constant repair. 

Reynolds. Sir Joshua Re3moIds, a celebrated portrait-painter, 
cotemporary and friend of Johnson, Goldsmith, &c , one of the 
founders of the Royal Academy, and for many years its president. 
He was bom near Plymouth, but resided in London during most of 
his life, occasionally making tours to the continent. He nearly lost 
his life in the close of life, and died at an advanced age, of a disease 
of the liver. — Northcote*8 Life of Sir Joshua Reynolds, 



322 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

Florence. The Academy of Fine Arts in Florence is the most 
celebrated school of painting in the world. 

HuKB0U3T*8 New Spain. Introduction gives an account of his 
own geometrical and astronomical observations in attempting to deter- 
mine the position of several points, and likewise the other sources of 
information which he had. There are nine points at each of which 
a communication has been proposed to be made between the Atlantic 
mnd Pacific, — Vera Cruz, the eastern, and Acapulco, the western 
port of Mexico. Gold and silver, he says, travels from west to east ; 
— 4he ocean, the atmosphere, and civilization, in a contrary direction. 

The Andes in Peru are more broken and rough than in Mexico ; 
the plains, though elevated, are comparatively small, and hemmed in 
by lofty mountains, or separated by deep precipitous vallies. 

In Mexico the chain of mountains spreads itself out into immense 
plains, with few sudden declivities or precipices. Fruits of every 
climate may be cultivated on these elevations, at the various heights, 
but not with so much success, on account of the rarefaction of the at- 
mosphere, as they can in northern latitudes. At certain seasons of 
the year both coasts of Mexico are inaccessible on account of storms. 
The navigation on the east side is impeded by sand-banks, washed 
in by the westerly currents of the ocean. 

Chronology. Difference between the chronology of the Hebrew 
and Septuagint manuscripts. 

Ml Ararat probably in the north of India, in Shuckford*s opinion. 

English Empire in India. The English and French had, about 
the middle of the last century, several factories on various parts of 
the coasts of Hindoostan. In their quarrels with each other, they 
endeavoured to secure to themselves the co-operation of the natives, 
and in this way the Europeans and the Hindoos became involved in 
the wars of each other. The English were generally successful, and 
in this way gradually extended their influence and their power. 

Rajah Dowlah, sovereign of Bengal, a wealthy, extensive, and po> 
pulous country, became a little alarmed at the progress which the 
English made in their contentions with the French, concerning their 
respective settlements in that country. He -endeavoured to oppose 
them, and, in consequence, the English fomented a conspiracy- against 
his government, enticed his prime minister to treason, and then, after 
fighting a single battle, placed him in command. Col. Olive was the 
instrument of this revolution. The province of Bengal thus came 
into the hands of the East India Company. 

A short time afterwards the French were conquered at Coroman- 
del, and the natives brought under the power of the English. 

Synagogues. It is generally supposed that the Jewish synagogues 
originated during the captivity, and were continued after their return. 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 323 

I should suppose^ &om the appearance of these articles, 
which were the first few pages of a large hook of this kind, 
that they were all the notes taken of the reading of some 
weeks, as several hooks of considerahle size are quoted as 
authority. It is perhaps not hest that the writer should 
resolve upon any particular quantity each day, or for each 
book ; and as I remarked in regard to the Journal, when 
you find that you have for some time neglected your pen, 
do not he discouraged and give up the plan, but calmly be- 
gin where you left o£F, and renew your work and your re^ 
solution together. 

Sometimes the abstracts may be in a more abridged style, 
like a table of contents. They can be more rapidly written 
in this form, but the benefit derived from the exercise is less. 
The following is an example from another book, by another 
writer. You will perceive that the style is so condensed 
that the notes can merely serve as memoranda for the wri- 
ter's own use. They are scarcely intelligible to another 
person. 

History of the Bible. 

Old and New Testaments, Hebrew and Greek. Continua Scriptio. 
At various timeR and places. Samaritan Pentateuch : discrepancies 
between it and the Hebrew Bible. Controversy. Discovery in mo- 
dern times of these manuscripts. 

Its preservation hy successive transcripts. Old ones worn out and 
lost. Exemplars. 

Greek Testament. Why in Greek. Circulated in manuscript. 

Textus receptus. £lzevir Edition. Pres. Manuscripts imperfect. 
Written about 1000 or 1400. Alexandrian Manuscripts. Vatican. 
Modes of determining antiquity. British Museum. 

Translations, Septuagint. Vulgate. Printed editions of the 
Bible and Greek Testament. Complutensian Polyglot. Sources of 
Information. Manuscripts. Septuagint. Samaritan Pentateuch; 
quotations, 1514. 

English, Wickliffe*s. Oppositions made to it* Circulated in ma- 
nuscripL Tindal's printed in Holland. Efforts to keep copies out of 
England. Bishop of London bought up the whole edition to bum. 
James* Bible. Fifty-four men, at various places, Cambridge, Oxford, 
and Westminster. Later translations, 1607. Forty-seven men of 
the fifty met to compare, and after three years* labour, issued, in J 660, 
the most commonly approved version. 

Another form in which these abstracts may be written, 
where the importance of the subject or the interest of the 



324 TOUNO CHRISTIAN. 

reader renders it desirable^ is by giving a full and complete 
view of the facts on some one topic. The following, taken 
from a third abstract-book, is a specimen. 

Sir Huhphrey Davy. 

Born at Penzance, Cornwall, Eng. Dec. 1 779. His family were in 
the middle rank in life, and in reduced circumstances, so that he was 
thrown upon his own efforts and resources at an early age. At the 
age of nine years distinguished for his poetical talents. At 18, his 
acquirements in many of the sciences were good, but chemistry par- 
ticularly arrested his attention. His first experiments showed origi- 
nality, and his pursuit promised useful discoveries. EKs first exami- 
Jation of sea-weed proved that marine plants exert the same influence 
upon the air contained in the water of the ocean, as land-vegetables 
exert upon the atmosphere. Two years after commencing his chemi- 
cal studies, he published his ** Researches,** which exhibited great 
skill, and gave to the world many original experiments and discoveries. 
He first tried the experiment of inhtding the nUrous oxide — the exhila- 
rating gas* When not much over twenty years of age, he was design- 
ated to fill the chemical chair in the Royal Institution of Great Britain, 
founded by Count Rumford. His first efforts in this elevated sphere 
were turned towards endeavouring to render his powers useful and ad- 
vantageous to the arts employed in the humbler walks of life The 
tanning of leather, and agricultural implements, were among the sub 
jects of his first attention, and he adapted himself admirably to the 
circumstances of the practical agriculturist. In 1806-7, he made his 
brilliant discoveries in Galvanism ; in 1810, he brought forward his 
theory respecting the nature of chlorine or ox3rmuriatic acid, which 
gave rise to a memorable controversy that agitated the schools of 
chemistry ten years. At the close of this period, nearly the whole 
army of chemists came over to his side. In 1812, be was knighted by 
the Prince Regent ( George iy.),and was thus released from the ardu- 
ous duties of the Professorship, and was enabled to devote himself 
wholly to his pursuits. His attempts to unrol the valuable MS S. found 
in the ruins of Herculaneum* 1696 in number, were frustrated by un- 
avoidable obstacles thrown in his way by jealous superintendants of the 
Museum ; but the enterprise was not wholly fruitless, 23 MSS. being 
partially unrolled. 1818 was rendered memorable by the invention of 
the Safety-Lamp. Terrible disasters had occurred in the coal-mines 
in England for years — a species of gas, extricated from the coal, on 
mixing with atmospheric air, takes fire from a lamp, and explodes with 
great violence. All previous efforts to obviate these dangers had 
proved ineffectual, but the experience of fourteen years, while this 
lamp has been in constant and extensive use, ¥\nthout the occurrence 
of a single explosion, proves its importance, and the benefit conferred 
on the world by its invention. In 1820, by a majority of 200 to 13, 
he was elected President of the Royal Institution. His last great 
scientific effort was the discovery of a method of protecting Ae copper 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 325 

iheathing of ships from corrosion by sea-water. His method of pro* 
ceeding in this and all similar cases was simple and obvious, yet one 
rarely followed, viz. first to ascertain the cause of the evil, and then 
to find out how to control it by studying its nature. He died at 
Geneva, where he had resorted for his health, of apoplexy, aged fifty 
years six months. 

I haye one more form to describe, in whicli these notes 
and abstracts may be kept. It requires a little higher intel- 
lectual effort, and is consequently more useful than the 
others. You meet, in conversation or in readings with some 
fact, which illustrates a useful and important general prin- 
ciple, or which suggests to you an interesting train of 
thought. You record the fact and the reflections which it 
suggests together. For example, to make use of a case 
wluch actually occurred, a sea-captain remarks in your 
hearing that it is unwise to promise sailors extra pay for 
their extra exertions in difficult emergencies, for it soon has 
the effect of rendering them indolent unless such extra pay 
is offered. They are continually on the watch for occasions 
on which they can demand it. This conversation might 
suggest the following entry in a note-book. 

Hiring Children. Parents should never promise their children 
any reward for doing right, or from refraining from doing wrong. A 
sea-captain was once so unwise as to promise his sailors, in a storm, 
that if they would exert themselves, he would reward them by an 
addition to their wages when the storm was over. They did make 
an unusual effort, and received the reward ; but the consequence was, 
that he could never afterwards get them to do their duty in a storm 
without a reward being promised. In the same manner, if parents 
begin by hiring their children to do right, they will not afterwards do 
right without being hired. 

The follovring are similar examples, but on different sub- 
jects. The second was written by a pupil in a female 
school. 

The Saviour's thirst on the Cross. The dreadful thirst of the 
Saviour on the cross was occasioned by the violent fever produced by 
the inflammation of his wounds. I met with the following passage 
to-day, in the narrative of a soldier, which illustrates this subject. 

** I remember well as we moved down in column, shot and shell 
flew over and through it in quick succession. We sustained little 
injury from either, but a captain of the twenty-ninth had been dread« 



326 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

fiilly lacerated by a ball, and lay directly in our patb. We passed 
close to him ; he knew us all ; and the heart-rending tone in which 
be called to us for water or to kill him, I shall never forget. He lay 
alone, and we were in motion and could give him no succour, for on 
this trying day such of the dying as could not walk, lay unattended 
where they fell. All was hurry and struggle ; every arm was wanted 
in the field.** 

Deceiving Children. Returning from school yesterday after, 
noon, my attention was arrested by the loud voice of some one ad- 
dressing a child ; I turned, and as I walked very leisurely, I over- 
heard the following conversation. 

Latfy. John, do you leave off playing in the snow ; see your clean 
clothes now, and your shoes are filled with snow. 

John. I don't care for that, I shall play here if Tm a mind, for 
all you. 

Ltub/. You little impudence — I don't love you, I don't love you 
at all. 
John. Well, that's no matter. 

Za(fy. rU go off, then — good night. I am going to the jail. 
She turns round and walks down the street a little distance. 
JLaA/, You see I'm going, John. 
John. I don't care if you are. 

Presently she walked slowly back and came up to John ; at the 
same time he gave a hearty laugh, saying, ** I thought you were going 
to the jail.** 

I had now got so tar as not to be able to hear what more they said, 
but I could not help pitying the child, who thus was early taught to 
disobey his superiors, for surely it is nothing less. 

Many parents, and even brothers and sisters, complain of the con- 
duct of the younger members of their families, while they are conti- 
nually treating them in this manner ; they certainly need expect 
nothing better from them, while they endeavour thus to deceive 
them. 

The above examples illustirate well what I mean by turn- 
ing knowledge to account^ drawing from it the practical 
lessons which it may help to teach. This is in fact the 
most important part of your object in mental cultivation. 
Many yoimg persons err exceedingly in seeking simply 
knowledge, which they treasure up in a cold and speculative 
form, without drawing from it any moral lessons, or making 
it the means of awakening any of the strong emotions of 
the heart. But I wish my reaiders would always remember 
that moral progress is &r more valuable than intellectual ; 
the latter in fact is but the instrument of the former. In 
all your writing, then, aim at accomplishing the real object 
which ought always to be kept in view. In selecting from 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 32) 

your reading, or from your personal observation, what you 
will impress upon your memories with the pen, choose those 
facts and occurrences which touched your hearts, and whose 
impressions your pen may strengthen or renew. I close the 
chapter with two specimens which will illustrate this. One, 
as will be eyident from its own allusions, was written by a 
pupil in a female boarding-school ; and it will be observed^ 
in reading it, how the ordinary occurrences of life may be 
made the means, through the instrumentality of reflection 
and of the pen, of fixing in the heart the lessons of the Bible. 
Both narratives are true. 

BOAST NOT THYSELF OF TO-HORROW. 

Yesterday our summer term closed, and a day of bustle it was. 
Every moment that could possibly be spared from our studies was de- 
voted to preparations for returning home — packing trunks, exchanging 
parting words, and talking over various plans for enjoyment during the 
vacation, which all seemed to anticipate as a continued scene of unal- 
loyed happiness. 

My afflicted room-mate, Ellen, was then the happiest of the happy. 
She is an only daughter, a most affectionate, warm>hearted girl, and 
has been so much elated for the last few days, at the thought of meet* 
mg her beloved parents and brothers, that she has seemed to tread 
on air ; but I fear now, that when they meet it will be in a deep 
sorrow. 

Last evening we assembled in the hall for our devotions, and as is 
customary, each young lady repeated a text of Scripture, before we 
united in prayer. <* Boast not thyself of to-morrow, for thou knowest 
not what a day may bring forth," — was Ellen*s text. It was particular- 
ly observed by several, on account of the appropriate warning it seemed 
to convey. She little thought how soon her owti experience would 
confirm its truth. After bidding our teacher good night, she skipped 
up stairs with a glee and light-heartedness that could scarcely be re- 
strained within proper bounds, exclaiming, " to-morrow — to-morrow, 
how happy shall I be.'* 

Remember your text, dear Ellen, said one of our beloved compan- 
ions with a smile, as she passed on to her room. ** I wish J. would 
not talk so seriously,'* said Ellen, as we closed our door for the night, 
'* but then, after all, I love her the more for it. I heard some one say 
that she had been much afflicted for one so young.** 

This morning Ellen was awake at the peep of dawn, and waked 
roe, that I might enjoy with her, through our half-closed curtains^ 
the deepening glow in the east, which gave promise of a fine day for 
her ride home. When the bell summoned us to prayers, every thing 
was ready for her journey, and she met the family in her riding-dress, 
that no time might be lost after her father, whom she expected for 
her, should arrive. 



328 TOUNO CHBISTIAN. 

** Boast not thyself of to-morrow, for thou knowest not what a 
day may bring forth,** were the first words that met our ear from the 
•election of Scripture which our teacher had chosen for the morning. 

« We have had your text again, Ellen,** whispered one of the 
girls as we went to the breakfast-room. ** Ominous of evil — say you 
not so?** 

«* / am not superstitious,** said Ellen, smiling ; " besides, it refers 
to to-morrow, not to to-</(^.** 

At the breakfast-table, little was eaten and little was said. There 
were happy faces there, but the joyous excitement of the preceding 
evening had given place to deeper ^ling. Many were in a few hours 
to meet their beloved parents, from whom they had been separated for 
several months ; and all were expecting some friend to take them 
to their respective homes. Our parting was not, however, to be par- 
ticularly painful, as all expected to meet again at the expiration of 
the vacation. 

As we were rising from the table, a servant came in with the letters 
which had arrived in the morning's maiL One was given to EUen. 
She broke the seal, and glancing at the contents, hastily placed it in the 
hands of the governess, and rushed up to our own room. I followed, 
and found her in tears, greatly agitated. Her emotion was too great 
to allow her to tell me the cause. The governess came up, and gave 
me the letter to read, kindly saying at the same time, that I had better 
leave Ellen alone a few minutes, imtil the first burst of sorrow should 
be over, and then she would be in a better state to listen to the voice 
of consolation. 

The letter was from her parents, brief, yet evidently written under 
the influence of strong excitement They had just heard of the sud- 
den and dangerous illness of their eldest son, a young gentleman of 
high promise, who had nearly completed his professional studies. His 
physicians gave not the slightest hope of his life. His parents made 
immediate preparations for leaving home, with the funt hope, that by 
rapid travelling, they might be enabled to be with their beloved child 
in his dying moments. They could not take Ellen with them, and the 
best arrangement they could make for her, was to have her remain 
where she then was until their return. 

I returned to Ellen, but found her scarcely more composed than 
when I left her. To this brother she was most fondly attached. He 
had written to her frequently, and taken a deep interest in her studies 
and amusements. He expected to have been at home during a part 
of her vacation, and now the thought of never meeting him again 
was agony. I knew not what to say, I could only weep with her, 
and silently commend her to ** Him who healeth the broken in heart,** 
entreating that she might be enabled submissively to say, *< Thy will 
be done.** 

My fath^ consents that I should remain for two or three days with 
Ellen. I know that more striking instances of the uncertainty of 
earthly prospects are constantly occurring, but I feel that the scenes 
of to-day have made an impression upon my own heart, and the hearts 



PKKSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 329 

of my companions, that can never be effaced. I shall never again 
hear others planning with confidence for the future, without thinking 
of poor Ellen's disappointment and affliction, and of the text, *< Boast 
not thyself of to-morrow, for thou knowest not what a day may bring 
forth." 

The other narrative is more serious still in its subject. 
Both might have been given with propriety as specimens of 
Personal Journals, though, as they do not give strictly the 
personal history of the Wter, this may. perhaps, better be 
inserted here. I admit this last the more readily, as the 
thoughts of the final accoimt which we all must render 
are brought up very distinctly to view hy it; and this 
thought is a very proper one to be presented, now that this 
volume is drawing to a close, as a means of fixing the re- 
solutions which I trust some of my readers at least have 
formed, and stimulating to diligence in duty. 

THE DYINO-BED. 

On Monday, a few minutes befi^re breakfast, a messen- 
ger came to me with a note from a gentleman whom I shall 
call Mr. A., whose wifis, the Saturday previous, was taken 
suddei^y ill. She became worse and worse, until she was 
considered in a dangerous situation. And now her husband 
addressed a note to me requesting me to visit his wife, " fi^r 
she is," said he, *' as sick as she can well live." 

Immediately after breakfast I hastened over to their house, 
and found her very weak and low. She seemed near her 
end. Having understood that neither herself nor husband 
were professing Christians, I attempted to point out to her, 
without delay, the way to he saved, and directed her mind 
at once to the Saviour of sinners. She could just speak a 
few words in faint and broken whispers, — just enough fox 
me to ascertain her anxious and agitated feelings. I en- 
deavoured to compose her mind, and to explain l£e fiselings 
which were becoming in us as sinners when we look to the 
Saviour for pardon and peace. She looked and listened 
with intense interest, and I have seldom felt, as I then did, 
the responsibility of trying to direct any one, but especially 
any one in the immediate prospect of eternity, to the Lamb 
of God who taketh away the sins of the world. I looked to 
the Saviour to help and to guide me, to put such thoughts 



330 YOUNO CHRISTIAN. 

in my lieart^ and words in my mouth, as lie saw were ne 
cessaiy^ and as would be suited to the sick and as I sup- 
posed dying woman. I besought him earnestly^ in silence^ 
that he would assist me in being feithfiil and useful to her 
immortal soul. 

After some few questions and some remarks, and quota- 
tions from the Saviour's words, at her request I engaged in 
prayer. Her husband, one son about 12, another son about 
6, and her youngest child, about 18 months, were present. 
Several other relations and fiiends were also there. We 
kneeled around her bed-side, and besought the Lord for her. 
Occasionally the voice of prayer was interrupted by the 
swoon into which she was falling every few minutes. After 
a short prayer we rose. All was silent except the sighing 
of her friends around her, the noise of the i^ and the 
catching of her breath as she recovered from a swoon. 

After a few minutes had elapsed, during which she seem- 
ed struggling with sickness and with a tumult of feeling in 
her bosom, she called the different members of her &mily 
around her. First to her husband she addressed herself, 
somewhat in these words : — 

*' And now, my dear husband, I hope you will keep your 
resolution, and not let the next conmiunion season pass with- 
out making a profession.* I have been more lukewarm 
than you. If I had been as much engaged as you have, we 
should have both of us been members of the church long 
ago, but I have held back. I hope you will not fail to 
keep your resolution." 

She then most affectionately bade him farewell, express- 
ing the tenderest interest in his religious purposes, and in 
the hope of a happier meeting in heaven. After a moment*s 
pause, she took her eldest son by the hand, and addressed 
him as follows : — 

" And now, my dear son William, I am going to leave 
you. Your poor mother is going, and you will be left with- 
out father or mother in the worla,t but Mr. A. has always 
treated you as one of his own children, and if you will be 

* They had, at a communion-service in their neighbourhood, a 
short time before, unitedly resolved to improve the next occasion, 
which was expected in a few weeks, to connect themselves with 
the church, and enter upon all the duties of Christian life. 

f He was the son of her former hu^ibaiid. 



PERSONAL IMPROVEMENT. 331 

good and obedient, he will always be a father to you. Be 
a good boy, my son, and God will take care of you." 

The poor little boy, as he held his mother's hand in one 
of his own, and covered his eyes with the other, wept and 
sobbed as though his heart would break. She then took 
her little Edward by the hand, and bade him a similar and 
equally affecting adieu. 

The youngest, about 18 months old, she requested to be 
laid upon her pillow in her bosom. She tenderly em- 
braced it, and all wept. 

She then called for her mother-in-law, who was behind 
her, (the bed standing in the middle of tiie room,) — *' And 
what shall I say to you," said she, " you have been a mother 
to me." She turned to a gentleman who had been a long 
and valued friend, and who was now at her side fanning 
her and in tears, and taking his hand, expressed her ar- 
dent affection and gratitude towards him, for his kindness 
and attention during their long acquaintance. She alluded 
to an interview with him many years ago, and seemed 
most deeply affected in remembrance, as I Qiought, of some 
proofs of real fraternal kindness which she received from him. 

She sent her last message to her parents, brothers and 
sisters, and when her strength and voice ^ed her, she just 
uttered in a faint whisper, 

" Please to sing, ' Life is the time to serve the Lord.' " 

A lady who was present, and whose eyes and heart were 
full, said, 

" I would take another, — ' O for an overcoming faith.' ** 

The hymn-book, however, was given to her husband, 
who read two lines at a time, of the hymn his wife had 
named, when all who could sing and whose emotions would 
allow it, joined in singing, until the husband, completely 
overcome, dropped his head, unable to proceed. Another 
then took the book, and as well as we could, with tears 
and faltering voices, we closed the hymn. 

As I read over my description of this scene, I am so 
struck with its utter weakness, that I almost regret that I 
attempted to make it. It made an impression upon my 
mind, that I cannot transcribe. O that the delusive hope 
of preparing for death upon a death-bed were banished for 
ever from the earth. 



332 TOUKG CHiUSTIAK. 

I have inserted the two foregoing specimens, in order to 
bring up as distinctly as possible tlus principle, viz. that in 
all your efforts at intellectual improyement, you ought to 
look with special interest at the moral bearings and relations 
of all which you read or hear. The heart is the true seat 
both of yirtue and happiness, and consequently, to affect 
the heart is the great ultimate object of all that we do. The 
intellect then is only the avenue by which the heart is to 
be reached, and you will derive, not only more benefit, but 
fox greater pleasure from reflection and writing, if you are 
accustomed to consider the moral aspects and relations of 
every thing which you observe, or of which you read or 
hear. 

A great prominence has been given in this chapter to the 
use ^ the pen, as a means of intellectual and moral im- 
provement. I assure my readers that the power of the pen 
for such a purpose is not overrated. I am aware that a 
great many persons, though they may approve what I 
have said, wUl not make any vigorous and earnest efforts 
to adopt the plan. Still more will probably begin a book 
or two, but will soon forget their resolution, and leave the 
half-finished book in some neglected comer of their desks, 
finally abandoned. But if any should adopt these plans, 
and ^thfully prosecute them, they will find that practice 
in expressing in their own language, with the pen, such facts 
as they may learn, and such observations or reflections as 
they may make, will exert a most powerful influence upon 
all the habits of the mind, and upon the whole intellectual 
character. 



333 



CHAPTER XII. 



CONCLUSION. 



" And now I commend you to God, and to the word of his grace» 
which is able to build vou up, and give you an inheritance amon^ 
them which are sanctil^ed/^ 

As I draw towards the close of this volume, I think of the 
influence which it is to exert upon the many who will read 
it, with mingled emotions of hope and fear. I have endea- 
voured to state, and to illustrate as distinctly as I could, the 
principles of Christian duty ; and if, my reader, you have 
perused these pages with attention and care, they must have 
been the means of bringing very plainly before your minds 
the question, whether you will or will not confess and for- 
sake your sins, and henceforth live to God, that you may 
accomplish the great object for which life was given. I 
shall say nothing in these few concluding paragraphs to 
those who have read thus far without coming in heart to 
the Saviour. If they have not been persuaded ere this to 
do it, they would not be persuaded by any thing which I 
have time and space now to say. I have, however, before 
ending this volume, a few parting words for those who have 
accompanied me thus far with at least some attempt at self- 
application — some desire to cherish the feelings which I 
have endeavoured to pourtray — some penitence for sin, and 
resolutions to perform the duties which I have from time to 
time pressed upon them. 

It is, if the Bible is true, a serious thing to have opportu- 
nity to read a religious book, — and more especially ror the 
young to have opportunity to read a practical treatise on 



334 TOUNO 0HRI8TIAN. 

the duties of pietj, written expressly for their use. The 
time is coming when we shall look hack upon all our priyi> 
leges with sad reflections at the recollection of those which 
we have not improved, and it is sad for me to think that 
many of those who shall have read these pages will^ in a 
future and perhaps a very distant day^ look upon me as the 
innocent means of aggravating their suflerings^ hy having 
assisted to hring them lights which they nevertheless would 
not regard. This unpleasant part of my responsihility I 
must necessarily assume. I share it with every one who 
endeavours to lay hefore men the principles of duty^ and 
the inducements to the performance of it. He who en- 
lightens the path of piety, promotes the happiness of those 
who are persuaded to walk in it, hut he is the innocent 
means of adding to the guilt and misery of such as will 
still turn away. To one class of persons^ says Paul, '^ we 
are the savour of death unto deaths and to tibe other^ the 
savour of life unto life." 

It is not merely to those who absolutely neglect or refuse 
to do their duty to God, that the ill consequences of having 
neglected their privileges and means of improvement will 
accrue. These consequences will Jbe just as sure to those 
who partially neglect them. I will suppose that a young 
person, whose heart is in some degree renewed, and who 
has begun to live to God, hears of this book and procures it 
to reaa. She feels desirous of cultivating Christian princi- 
ples, and she sits down to her work with a sincere desire to 
derive spiritual benefit from the instructions. She does not 
run over the pages, dissecting out the stories, for the sake of 
the interest of the narrative^ and neglecting all the applica- 
tions of them to the purposes of instruction, but she inquires, 
when a fact or an illustration is introduced, for what pur- 
pose it is used — what moral lesson it is intended to teach — 
and how she can learn from it something to guide her 
in the discharge of duty. She goes on in this manner 
through the book, and generally understands its truths and 
the principles it inculcates. But she does not cordially and 
injull earnest engage in the practice of them. For example, 
she reads the chapter on confession^ and understands what 
I mean by full confession of all sins to God, and forms the 
vague and indefinite resolution to confess her sins more 
minutely than she has done ; but she does not, in the spirit 



CONCLUSION. 335 

of that chapter, explore fullj all her heart, and scrutinize, 
with an impartial eye, all her conduct, that every thing 
which is wrong may he brought to light, and frankly con- 
fessed and ahandoned. She does not, in a word, make a 
serious and an earnest business of confessing and forsaking 
all sin. 

In another case, a young man who is perhaps sincerely 
a Christian, though the iidfluence of Christian principle is 
yet weak in his heart, reads that portion of the work which 
relates to the Sabbath. He knows that his Sabbaths have 
not been spent in so pleasant or profitable a manner as they 
might be, and he sees that the principles pointed out there 
would guide him to duty and to happiness on that day, if 
he would faithfully and perseveringly apply them to his 
own case. He accordingly makes a feeble resolution to do 
it. The first Sabbath afier he reads the chapter, his reso- 
lutions are partially kept. But he gradually neglects them, 
and returns to his former state of inaction and spiritual tor- 
por on God's holy day. Perhaps I express myself too 
strongly in speaking of inaction and torpor as being a pos- 
sible state of mind for a Christian on the Sabbath ; but it 
must be admitted that many approach far too near to it. 

Now, there is no question that many young Christians 
t^ill read this book in the manner I have above described, 
that is, they throw themselves as it were passively before it, 
allowing it to exert all the influence it will, by its own power, 
but doing very little in the way of vigorous effort to obtain 
good from it. They seem to satisfy themselves by giving 
the book an opportunity to do them good, but do little to 
draw from it, by their own active efforts, the advantages 
which it might secure. Now, a book of religious instruction 
is not like a medicine, which, if it is once admitted into the 
system, will produce its effect, without any further effort on 
the part of the patient. It is a tool for you to use indus- 
triously yourself. The moral powers will not grow imless 
you cultivate them by your own active efforts. If you satisfy 
yourself with merely brinmng moral and religious truth 
into contact with your mind, expecting it, by its own power, 
to produce the hoped-for fruits, you will be like a farmer 
who should in the spring just put a plough or two in one 
part of his field, and ha& a dozen spades and hoes in an- 
other, and expect by these means to secure a harvest in the 



336 TOUNO CHRISTIAN. 

£ill. Many persons read religious books continuallj^ bat 
tihey make no progress in piety. The reason is^ their own 
moral powers are lAert while they do it. The intellect may 
b^ actiye in reading and understanding the successiye pages, 
but the heart and the conscience lie still, hoping that the 
truth mai/ of itself do them good. They bring the instru- 
ment to the field and lay it down, and stand by its side, 
wondering why it does not do its work. 

I beg my readers not to treat this volume in that way, and 
not to suppose that simply reaHing and understanding it, 
however thoroughly it may be done, will do them any good. 
The book, of itself, never can do good ; it is not intended, 
strictly speaking, to do good. It is intended to show its 
readers how they may do good to themselves, and it will 
produce no effect upon any who are not willing to be active 
in its application and use, except to increase the sorrows of 
remorse in future years. 

Do you, my reader, really wish to derive permanent and 
real moral benefit from this book ? If so, take the following 
measures. It is a course which it would be well for you al- 
ways to take at the close of everjr book you read on the 
subject of duty. Recall to mind ail those passages which, 
as you have read its pages, have presented to you something 
which at the time you resolved to do. Recollect, if you can, 
every plan recommended, which, at the time when you 
were reading it, seemed to be suited to your own case, and 
which you then thought you should adopt. If you have 
forgotten them, you can easily call them to mind by a little 
effort, or by a cursory review. You will thus bring up 
again to your minds those points in which the instructions 
of the book are particularly adapted to your own past his- 
tory and present spiritual condition. 

After having thus fiilly reconsidered the whole ground, 
and gathered all the permanent points which are pecu- 
liarly adapted to your own case into one view, consider de- 
liberately, before you finally close the book, what you will do 
with regard to them. If any thing has been made plain to 
be your duty, consider and decide distinctly whether you 
will do it or not. If any thing has been shown to be con- 
ducive to your happiness, determine deliberately and un- 
derstandingly whether you will adopt it or not. Do not 
leave it to be decided by chance, or by your own accidental 



i 



CONCLUSION. 337 

feelings of energy or of indolence^ what course you will take 
in reference to a subject so momentous as the question of 
religious duty. I fear, howeyer, that notwithstanding all 
that I can say, very many, even among the most tho^^t- 
ful of my readers, will close this book without deriving nom 
it any permanent good, either in their conduct or their 
hearts. It will hare only produced a few good intentions, 
which will never be carriea into effect, or aroused them to 
momentary effort, which will soon yield again to indolence 
and languor. 

There is no impression that I would more strongly desire 
to produce in these few remaining pages, than that you 
should be in earnest, in deep and persevering earnest, in 
your efforts after holiness and salvation. If you are inter- 
ested enough in religion to give up the pleasures of sin, you 
lose all enjoyment unless you grasp the happiness of piely. 
There are, at the present day, great numbers in whose 
hearts re^gious principle has taken so strong a hold as to 
awaken conscience and to destroy their peace, if they con- 
tinue to sin ; but they do not give themselves up foith all 
their hearts to the service of their Saviour. They feel, con- 
sequently, that they have lost the world ; — ^they cannot b^ 
satisfied with its pleasures, and they are unhappy, and fe^ 
that they are out of place, when in the company of its 
votaries. But though they have thrown themselves out of 
one home, they do not in earnest provide themselves with 
another. They do not give all the heart to God. No life 
is more delightful than one spent in intimate communion 
with our Father above, and in earnest and devoted efforts 
to please him by promoting human happiness ; and none is 
perhaps more tmhappy, and prepares more effectually for a 
melancholy dying hour, than to spend our days with the 
path of duty plam before us, and conscience urging us to 
walk in it, while we hang badk reluctantly, — and walk with 
a slow and hesitating step, — and look away wistfully at the 
fruits which we dare not taste. Do not take such a course 
as this. When you abandon the world, abandon it entirely; 
— and when you choose God and religion for your portion, 
do it with all your heart. Outrun conscience in tne path 
of duty, instead of waiting to have your lagging steps quick- 
ened by her scourge. 

Once more. Much less of life is left to you than you ge« 

Y 



338 YOUNG CHRISTIAN. 

nerally suppose. Perhaps theayexage age of the readers of 
this book is between fifteen and twenty, and fifiteen or 
twenty jears is probaMy, npon an average, half of life. I 
~call you young because'you are young in reference to the 
active business of this world. You have just reached the 
fiill development of your powers, and have consequently 
but just be^n the actual work of life. The long years that 
are passed nave been spent in preparation. Hence your are 
called young — you are said to be just begUming life, under- 
standing by life the pursuits and the business of maturity. 
But life, if you understand by it the season of preparation 
for eternity, is more than half gone ; — h£e, so w as it pre- 
sents opportunities and facilities Smt penit^ce and pardoli, 
— so far as it bears on ihe formatioa of chaiaeter, and is to 
be considered as a period of probation, — ^is unquestionably 
more than half gone to those -who are helween fifteen and 
twenty. In a vast number of cases, it is more than half 
gone even m duration, at that time ; and if we consider the 
thousand influences which crowd around the years of duld- 
hood and youth, winning to piety and makiog la surrend^ 
to Jehovah easy and pleasant t&^i, and, on iliHe other hand^ 
look forward beyond the years of matiuiiy, and see these 
influences losing all their power, and the heart becoming 
harder and harder under the deadening elfects of continu- 
ance in sin, we shall not doubt a moment that the years of 
immaturity make a far more important part of our time of 
probation than all those that follow. 

•You will do tight, tiien, when you are thinkii^ of your 
business or your profession, to oonsider life as but begun, 
but when you look upon the great work of preparation fioc 
another world, you might more prop^ly consider it as nearly 
ended. Almost all moral changes of character are usually 
effected before the period at which you have arrived, and 
soon all that will probably remain to you on ^arth is: to ex- 
emplify, for a few y«ars, the character which in eady life 
-you formed. If, therefore, you would do any thing in your 
own heart, fi>r the cause of truth and dufy, you must do it 
in earnest, and you must do it now. 

I have intended this book diiefly for the young, but I 
cannot close it without a word at parting to those of my 
readers who have passed the boundary of youth. If th« 



CONCLUSION. 339 

work shall at all answer the purpose fin: which it is intended, 
it will^ in some instances at leasts he read hy.the mature ; 
— and I may perhaps^ without impropriety^ address a few 
words respectfully to them. 

You are prohahly parents ; your children have heen read- 
ing this hook> and you have perhaps taken it up hecause 
you are interested in whatever interests them. You feel 
also a yery strong desire to promote their piety, and this 
desire leads you to wish to hear yourselves whatever on this 
suhject is addressed to them. I have several times in the 
course of this work intimated, that the principles which it 
has heen intended to illustrate and explain are equally ap- 
plicahle to young and old. It has heen adapted in its style 
and manner only to the former class, and I have hoped, 
as I have penned its pages, that a father might sometimes 
himself he affected hy truths which he was reading, during 
a winter evening, to his assembled family, or that a mother 
might take up the hook purchased for her children, and be 
led herself to the Saviour, by a chapter which was mainly 
written for the purpose of wimimg them. I do not intend, 
however, to press here again your own personal duties. I 
have another object in view. 

That object is, to ask you to co-operate fully and cordi- 
ally in this, and in all similar efforts to promote the welfare 
of your children. If you have accompanied them through 
this volume, you will know what parts of it are peculiarly 
adapted to their condition and wants. These parts you can 
do much to impress upon their minds by your explanations, 
and by encouraging them to make the efforts they require. 
The interest which a father or a mother takes in such a 
book, is a pretty sure criterion, — ^it is almost the very regu- 
lator of that felt by the child. 

If you notice any thing in the volume which you think 
erroneous, or calculated to lead to errw, — or if there is any 
fault which your child discovers, and brings to you with a 
criticism which you feel to be just, — do not deny or attempt 
to conceal the fault, because it occurs in a book whose ge- 
neral object and aim you approve. Separate the minute 
imperfections from the general object and design of the 
whole, and while you freely admit a condemnation of the 
one, show that it does not affect the character of the other, 
and thus remove every obstacle which would impede what 



340 TOUNG OHBISTIAN. 

is the great design of the book, — ^to press the power of re« 
Hgious obligatioii in its most plain and simple form. 

On the other hand, do not magnify the &ults which yon 
may find, or thiak you find, or turn off the attention of your 
children firom the serious questions of duty which the book 
is intended to bring before the conscience and the heart, 
to a cold and roeculative discussion of the style, or the logic, 
or the phraseology of the author. A religious book is in 
some degree entitled to the privilege of a religious speaker. 
Parents easily can, on their walk home from church, obli- 
terate all serious impressions from the minds of their children, 
by conyersation which shows that they are looking only at 
the literary aspects of the performance to which they nave 
listened. In the same manner they can destroy the influ- 
ence of a book, by turning away attention from the ques- 
tions of duty which it brings up, to an inquiry into the bgic 
of an aimiment, or a comment upon the dulness or the in- 
terest of a story. 

There is one thing more which I may, perhaps, without 
impropriety say. Your religious influence over your child- 
ren will depend far more on your example than upon your 
efforts to procure for them good religious instruction. They 
look to you for an exempufication of piety, and if they do 
not see this, you cannot expect that diey will yield them- 
selves to its principles on your recommendation. Yourchild- 
xen, too, must see pie^ exemplified in a way which they 
can appreciate and understand. To make vigorous efforts 
Ibr the support of the gospel,— to contribute generously for 
the various benevolen objects of the day, — and even i;o cid- 
tivate in your hours of secret devotion the most heartfelt 
and abasing penitence for sin, will not alone be enough to 
recommend piety effectually to your children. They look 
at other aspects of your conduct and character. They ob- 
serve the tone of kmdness or of harshness with which you 
speak,— the tranquillity or the irritation with which you 
bear the little trials and disappointments of life, — ^your pa- 
tience in suffering and your calmness in danger. They watch 
you, to observe how faithfrdly you perform the ordinary 
duties of your station. They look with eager interest into 
^our countenance, to see with what spirit you receive an 
injury, or rebuke what is wrong. 

By making i^thful and constant efforts to live like 



CONCLUSION. 341 

Christians yourselves^ and to exhibit to your children those 
effects of piety upon your conduct and character which they 
can understand and appreciate, and by adapting religious 
instruction to the peculiar intellectual habits of tne young, 
you may anticipate a sure and an abundant blessing upon 
your labours. Childhood is a most fertile part of the Tine- 
yard of the Lord. The seed which is planted there vegetates 
very soon, and the weeds which spring up are easily eradi- 
cated. It is in fact in every respect an easy and a pleasant 
spot to till, and the flowers and fruits which, with proper 
effort, will bloom and ripen there, surpass all others ia 
richness and beauty. 



342 



Note on Page 58. 



I cannot let tMk interesting publication pass out of my 
kands wilhout noticing one exception to the general tenor of 
the wo]i&--exception at least in the form, of omission — 
which occurs in page 58. I refer to the prayer there sup- 
posed to be offered during a storm at sea. I confess in 
reading it I was much surprised at the total absence of the 
recognition of the peculiar doctrines of Christianity, the in- 
troduction of which in such circumstances we would so 
naturally expect. In publishing this work as that of the 
author, I did not feel myself at liberty either to suppress 
this prayer or to alter it, though it certainly seems very sus- 
ceptible of improvement. I have only to say, it is not in 
keeping with the rest of the volume ; and here I would ap- 
ply the excellent advice addressed to parents at p. 339, 
where the author invites them to co-operate with him in 
promoting the improvement of their children. I may add, 
that the advice is applicable to almost every publication 
that can be put into their hands, and should be steadily 
kept in view by every reader in this case, or in every other 
where an author uses modes of expression of which he may 
not fully approve. '' Do not," says he, *' deny or attempt 
to conceal the fault, because it occurs in a book whose ge- 
neral object and aim you approve. Separate the minute 
imperfections from the general object and design of the 
whole ; and while you freely admit a condemnation of the 
one, show that it does not affect the character of the other, 
and thus remove every obstacle which would impede what 
is the great design of the book, — ^to press the power of re- 
ligious obligation in its most plain and simple form." 

Editor. 



THE BNI>. 



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I 




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